Shadewood His hair's on fire and his heart is burning

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Though he feasted longer, he stopped far short of his fill, unwilling to gorge himself in the presence of foreign company. He stepped back several moments after his host had retreated, passing a quick tongue over sanguine jowls that collected a thick string of muscle that had been dangling unnoticed from the fold of his lip. He licked his chops again just to be sure.

“The generosity shown to me here shall not be forgotten,” he rumbles slowly, always ready to be an ally before an enemy. Though his mere presence (and sometimes his grating habits) often elicited very negative responses from those who would be better off pretending he didn’t creep them out. And by this age, making enemies seemed almost automatic to him; so, in the rare instances when he was shown even the slightest bit of respect, he took it greedily.

The devil could pay it back tenfold.

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