>>5906150<span class="mu-r">He takes a deep breath in.
“Yes?” he demands through locked jaws and razor teeth.
The figure who has appeared unsolicited in his quarters bows deeply, pressing her forehead to the floor. He waits a fair few moments before he speaks again, to assure there is no mistake as to his relative statin, or his displeasure with the interruption of his private meditations.
“Rise,” he commands, and the on adds: “Speak.”
“Yes, Superior One!” says what appears superficially, to be a female elf—one of the pointy-eared, so-called ‘fair folk’ of the Sylvan Realms. “Thank you, Superior One!”
He waves a taloned hand dismissively, brushing away the formalities, and then rolls his wrist as if to say: ‘Continue, lackey.’
“We’ve found him.”
He is silent—a pregnant, meaningful silence.
“Yes?” he eventually demands.
“A-ah, yes, apologies, Superior One! It is… We were approached by an enemy of our enemy, a defector against the decadence of the False Gods of the fairy-kin! One called… ‘Unseelie.’”
He furrows his brow at the unfamiliar term. He knows of the True Fey, but for all his affection for elven artistry, he is not studied in these foreign and false demigods, save to know that they fear cold iron and the touch of dark magicks. He does not say so, though, instead maintaining a stoic silence as his agent—a Reptilian Infiltrator of his race’s prior administration fallen into his service—presents a ragged, forlorn-looking creature with shaggy wings, grey skin, and pitch-black eyes. He does not recognize this creature, but if it has the information he seeks…
“Where isss he?” the figure in shadows hisses, adopting the common-tongue of the northwestern apemen. “I have little patience for those who would wassste my time… Essspeccially where matterss ssuch as these are concccerned.”
“I promise you, Dragon King of Bloodrise, this is no lark or lackadaisy!” the so-called ‘Unseelie’ fairy says. “I know where it as, which you now desire… That which you journeyed far and wide in search of, forsaking even your pretty little wife.”
“Where is he?”
The Unseelie Fey wags his finger and his face spreads in a shit-eating grin. In his arrogance, this foul little fairy believes he has the upper hand.
“Not so fast!” he crows. “First, you must promise to deal with a problem of OURS… To end an adversary who has wronged us, deeply and terribly, and offended our very HONOUR!”</span>
