Neverwinter Forest the slightest touch forced to fold

He couldn't stop it—a wince crossed his features at the word skewered.

But a fountain of information turned into what Dirge guessed next as a bit of a history lesson on Elysium in the next breath. Whatever it had to do with the kid was lost on him at first and in essence, he almost felt as though Mal answered his own question as to why the kid had teeth set to him in the first place.

It was still troubling, if only for the fact that kid only drew a thought of his own, and how easily they too could meet the same misfortune if they encountered the wrong sort. Though certainly by now he thought they would be able to know the difference—they certainly would know how to conduct themselves, knowing not all were friend outside the range of Moonspear's claim.

An uneasy expression set his jaw; he did not like this information.

"If he's old enough to know better and where he shouldn't have been, the biting on our part is likely, I'd admit... but skewering isn't quite our style," though note made, maybe it should have been. He wouldn't tell Hydra about that note. "Though generally we don't seek to maim where a warning will suffice. I'd expect more of that from our neighbors to the south, or that Blackhead mongrel and her lot." And if he had been younger than that? Dirge felt they would have taken him in, but that was beside the point.

He shook his head; was this even worth getting to the bottom of?

Probably not. It would go on the docket regardless.

"I'll see what I can find out from our end of things... but did he heal? Or does he need more aid?" He wanted to say that they had a healer, but even that seemed worth warranting a harsh reply that he could already piece together.