The blade loops around Sharpspike, biting into his back before whirling back into your outstretched hands. The gnoll roars in pain. As he recovers, he glares at the blade in your hand.<br/><br/>"Well, I see that drunken fool Razormane is dead. Pity, I was going to come for him once I had the dragon bone's power in hand..."<br/><br/>The gnoll rises, and a phantasmal mask forms in front of his face- the three eyed jackal, like the pendant he had left on your body.<br/><br/>"The next time I bind you, you will be chained more than a Kyton... and you will spend your days as a toy for the men, to be harmed and bred and flayed anew each day..." The eyes of the mask darken, and the air around the gnoll seems to warp and twist...<br/><br/>The mites take advantage of his casting to charge in, one coming to you while the other two converge on Sharpspike. For his part, the kobold meets them head on, bringing his stolen club around like he's swinging at a stickball. The swing seems good... until he loses his grip, and the oversized club goes spinning away. Then the mites are upon him, flailing wildly, but thankfully being deflected at every turn.<br/><br/>Like many others, the mite that attacks you is stopped cold by the wall of force protecting you, and his attacks slide harmlessly away from your body. Frustrated, the mite hisses at you.