The more he saw of the muzzle-contraption, the darker his mood got. His lips pressed into a tight line of discontent, but his fingers stayed gentle as they continued to trace the engravings and the metal. No matter how much he hated the object, Wyl had to admit that it was excellently crafted. The magic imbued in it was very subtle and very mean, but even that was done by a master of the art. Most people who got this thing put on them got the cheap bog standard version. This? This was a masterpiece, and it probably cost more to make than most people ever made in their entire life.<br/><br/>It did make him truly curious about who this bag-o-bones truly was, and exactly what god he had pissed off to get people powerful and rich enough to buy something like this, after him.<br/><br/>That, however, was a question that could wait until they got the muzzle-collar off.<br/><br/>Wyl reached his most precious possession. It was secreted away under the first layer of his clothing, hidden further by magic runes etched into the sheath, and by the nature of the thing itself. He held it up so that the bag-o-bones could see, to make sure that the man didn’t think he was about to stab him.<br/><br/>“Now this, darlin’, is Alverstone. An elf-blade.” He set the dagger’s point at the tip of his finger, and it balanced perfectly. It almost seemed to be made of crystal, shining and sheer as it was, and only the grip wasn’t a beacon of light because it was wrapped in leather. “It’s a high-elf blade at that. The same sanctimonious pricks who taught humans the magic that created your little monstrosity there.” Wyl gestured at the muzzle-collar.<br/><br/>“Since it’s full of magic, I’d prefer usin’ this to try to open it. If we’re lucky, the elf-magic in both items will cancel itself out – high-elf magic’s funny like that – but it doesn’t always work. If it works, we’ll get that collar off before sunrise. If not, we’ll have to work for longer than that. Probably find a hedgewitch to deal with the magic. What say you? You willin’ to trust me close to you with the Alverstone in hand?” he asked. “It’ll probably pick and cut you more than once before we’re done, so you’ll have some wounds. I have a paste for those so no fear there.”<br/><br/>Grabbing the dagger by the grip, Wyl grinned darkly. “So, what say you? Want that thing off? Just imagine how much it’ll piss off the people who put it on you in the first place!”