Aneron watched as the dying man emerged from a corner. While the sight of his blood didn't perturb him, it sure as hell was startling in contrast to the relative peace of the busy market. Immediately recognizing what this meant, Aneron reached for the hilt of his sword. As it made contact with his hand, he received a small jolt that served to speed up his heart rate and make him more aware of his surroundings. It was a spell, however Aneron had gotten so used to using this particular one that it was almost an unconscious action when he sensed danger. Aneron moved forward from the corner, and halted when he saw a shadowy figure glide up to the man. Putting two and two together, he figured that the figure was one of the many realms' embodiment of death when he noticed both the shadowy cloak and scythe. Aneron moved quickly now, and in a few moments found himself next to the pair.<br/><br/>"Wait just a moment please. You can attend to your business once he has passed on what he needs to say." Aneron says, looking into the shadowy hood of the dark figure.<br/><br/>"Tell me." Aneron told the dying man. He was no stranger to the look in someone's eyes when they know they are going to die. The fact that a Death had appeared insured this fact like nothing else could. Aneron knew that the only thing he could do now was to ensure the man had vengeance upon whomever did this. Still alert, he awaited for an answer while scanning the crowds for any strange or conspicuous movement, his left hand gripping his now exposed, sheathed sword by the pommel, ready to draw it at a moments notice.