Before the stranded human can answer Gryviix growls, indicating he has sensed something strange in the surroundings. Morgan flashes her eyes around and a second later sees it: a red skinned humanoid dressed in a jangling overcoat of some cheap plant material, patches in it revealing the glint of small metal chain links below. In each hand the humanoid holds a rust speckled kukri of mundane quality, although your eyes are drawn to a silver bracelet studded with smooth round turquoise gem stones on the left arm. He grins, his narrow sharp fangs matching the fleshy spikes lining the edge of his face. His black, pupils-less eyes focus on the still form of Aeryn. “Give her to us, she is ours,” he demands in a gruff voice, his long neck leaning forwards. “Our master foresaw her coming. She Who Burn the Beast from Beneath,”