The Bite of Crystal

[FennWenn]

“Sir!”

A man stood in the doorway, boots bright and armor oiled and polished till it shone. Scarcely more than a lad, Corporal Reice thought as he glanced up from his paperwork. “Yes, Peter, what is it?”

The boy was partially bent over, breathing harshly, as if he had ran all the way over without a break. “Lt. Damsteran... left this. You need to see it.”

The quill broke in in Reice’s hand. Damsteran shouldn't have "left" anything. He stood quickly, walking around, just about to slap the boy for the failures of his betters. Reice hesitated as the boy took a step back, offering up the letter as if it would shield him from his superior.

“Dammit, Peter!” he yelled, snatching the paper from his hands. “He was to be confined to quarters! He killed three of us!” Still seething with anger, he turned his attention to the note. It was a rambling, nearly incoherent affair.

YES!

I have it! The blue sword of the ancestors! The sword will make me immortal, if I can find the others. It speaks to me, if I am quiet enough. Ah, but the world is too loud! That’s what they were doing, making so much noise! Had to make them quiet. I can almost hear it, I just have to go somewhere that isn’t so loud! It says go somewhere deep, where it’s quiet. Underground, inside a mountain, yes. Deep in the earth is where I have to go. I will have the swords, and they will guide me to my destiny!

Reice pinched the bridge of his nose, cursing whatever mother that birthed the snapped Lieutenant. But, he hadn’t risen through the ranks of the bladesingers on his indecision. “Bring me the mayor," he commanded the boy, who straightened himself and nodded curtly. "I want Damsteran dead or alive, and we’ll set every hunter in a dozen miles on his trail if we have to.”

[FennWenn]

(I should probably note that these first two posts were cowritten w/ Red, maybe)

A wrinkled poster grasped in his fist, Fenn guided his massive direwolf companion through the forest, his mount gingerly sniffing at the ground with her great, wet nose. Though they were surrounded by deep woods, she could pick up the faint scent of a nearby human settlement. They picked their way around the underbrush with silent care. A house came into view between the trees. Fenn squinted up at it and grinned; the big man’s house was unmistakeable. He only hoped that John would be home today. A sigh escaped him; it was too bad this visit wouldn’t be for pleasantries. He needed to visit his friend more often!

Though he had come here for more serious business -- as serious as the little Fae liked being, at least -- he couldn’t help but enjoy the gentle ride anyway. Only the paper he held kept his urgency and curbed the good mood that threatened to distract him with a pleasant nap in the hollow of Daugi’s back. For once, the wanted poster wasn’t his own, but for some other wrongdoer.

Fenn tugged at Daugi’s scruff. The wolf wuffed in understanding and trotted up to the front of the house. She plopped down just outside the entrance, glad for a moment of rest. Fenn gave her a quick scratch on the chin and hopped off of her back, skittering up to the front door. He hesitated a moment, his hand poised over the weathered wood, as if to knock. Nah. It wasn’t as if it was ever locked anyway - no need for announcing himself. The little Fae was welcome here. Instead, he merely shrugged and pulled the door open, poking his head into the house with a gleeful glint in his eyes as he took a quick gander around.

Indeed, John was home. Fenn startled as the door swung open fully, looking with the utmost surprise stamped on his face. The big man was curled up comfortably on his couch, a lovely lady in his arms. Whoopsie! Had he interrupted something? They looked up at him with an equal amount of surprise.

Well, since they didn’t seem to be copulating, it probably wasn’t anything important. The Fae bounced in impudently, waving the piece of paper in his hands around in order to grab their attention.

The girl looked up at John. “Friend of yours?” she asked with a smile.

Fenn gave her a inquisitive sideways glance and nodded back. He wondered who, exactly, this lady that he hadn’t yet been introduced to was. But he didn’t come here to meet ladyfriends today! She would have to wait a moment; however long it took for the overenthusiastic Fae to come down from his current state of excitement. Insistently, Fenn ran up to John and shook the paper once more, this time in his face. It seemed he wasn’t eager to wait for whatever it was he had come here for.

John lazily reached for the paper, looking back at Jamie. “Depends on what he’s got, I suppose.” He did look sideways at the boy for interrupting him though.

It seemed that the sheet of paper Fenn had been offered was a freshly-inked wanted poster issued by the Bladesingers. Though some of the etchings were obscured by wayward frost, it was still quite readable; in short, it called for the head of one Lt. Damsteran. The picture showed a young man with short black hair, and sharp features. There was a determined look in his eyes, which were bright with both youth and experience. Apparently, he was armed and dangerous, wanted for murder and theft. Though the number was mostly marred out by Fenn's unfortunate affinity for frost, it seemed that he had quite a bounty on his head.

Fenn couldn’t really blame Damsteran for his thievery and backstabbery. If the Fae himself ever became a force to reckon with, he wouldn’t be surprised if he gave into his baser nature and simply took as he wanted. Or, took more than he already did, that was.
Still! An adventure awaited them, and there was a rogue Bladesinger to deal with.

The Fae clasped his hands together with a sly look on his face, awaiting John’s opinion of his interesting discovery.

[redford]

John sighed, clutching the paper from Fennik The Wolf-Tamer, or so he had taken to calling the tiny fae since the addition of the direwolf to his party. He cast a sly glance to Jamie and stood, walking over to the kitchen to take a bit of jerky from the deer he'd slain last week. Wonderful stuff, really, and the forest around Radasanth seemed thick with them. He walked back, sitting at the table as Daugi trotted pleasantly up to him, accepting a proffered chunk of the meat and a scratch behind his massive ears. A soft growl escaped it, and he leaned into John's fingers. Jamie spoke up, yanking him from his musings about the bounty.

"He's sweet, how old is he?"

"Thirty, give or take, or so he says. Fae don't grow like us," he said, looking over to Fennik, continuing. "Bladesingers are awful dangerous, boy."

The ice fae met his gaze with a scowl, and his hands found his hips with an insistent posture.

"And it's quite a ways away, you know."

The boy stepped forward, nodding at the paper quickly. John sighed a bit, looking back at the paper for a moment before deciding. It was definitely dangerous, but the promise of the sword in question, plus the bounty, made him reconsider.

"Alright, we can go," he said, ignoring the tiny person's ecstatic expression. "You need to take Daugi."

He raised an eyebrow at him, pointing at a selection of weapons decorating the wall. "And you'll need one of those."

[FennWenn]

As he was being addressed, Fenn was still prickling and eying Jamie somewhat frostily -- he hadn’t expected any acquaintance of John’s to speak as if he weren't there. Or, as he well knew, as many adults spoke about children. As she probably didn’t know better yet, the boy sighed and simply let let it slide.

Fenn smoothly hoisted himself onto a seat at the living room table. As John laid out a couple of concerns for him, he plucked an apple from a bowl at the center of the table and twisted off the remaining stem. For a moment, he scowled and placed his hands on his hips. The big man's worries amounted to, “bladesingers are dangerous and it’s far away”. Lazily leaning forward in his seat, Fenn tapped the tabletop, watching a patch of frost crystals spread forth from his touch, etching a reply. JUST THOUGHT IT MIGHT INTEREST YOU. HEARD A FEW RUMORS ABOUT THIS GUY BEFORE FINDING THE POSTER. THE LAST THING I HEARD, HE WAS ON HIS WAY TO SALVAR. CRAZY PEOPLE ALWAYS LEAVE A TRAIL BEHIND, BUT NOT EVERYONE’S BRAVE ENOUGH TO FOLLOW IT. He decided to leave out the bit about him liking the monetary reward attached to the poster as well.

John seemed to mull it all over a moment. "Alright, we can go," the big man said. Fenn was surprised he agreed so easily; his bright green eyes lit up with glee. "You need to take Daugi." The wolf rolled over on the floor, yawning, and wuffed in soft agreement.

Duh, the boy thought with a quiet snort. He licked his lips as he looked at the juicy apple in hand. But before he could actually bite into it, John gestured to a wall on the other side of the room, one absolutely taken over by hanging weaponry. "And you'll need one of those." Incredulous, Fenn’s jaw dropped for a few seconds, still poised above the apple. It wasn’t often that someone entrusted him with sharp shinies. The last time had been… oh, never. Hopefully he wasn’t expected to wield one of those with any sort of expertise. The only weapon he knew how to use -- sort of -- was his magic.

Still, free stuff was free stuff. The boy pocketed the apple and got up with a quiet consideration of the weapons laid before him.

It was a pretty good array of shinies, the boy had to admit as he looked up at all those sharp edges and pointy bits; he figured that most, if not all, had been wrought into being by John himself. An embarrassed smile was shot back at the big guy. Even with all of the variety on display, there was very little here that was actually suited for Fenn. Many of the weapons were just too large for him. He grabbed the end of a mace only to find that he couldn’t even lift it from it’s place on the wall. Worse than that, the boy realized with an unheard inner groan, is that most of these are iron and steel. As if he would need any help hurting himself with such things.

One particular weapon easily caught his attention. Mostly, it was the appearance that did it. It was a dagger was crafted of strangely light grey metal, with a simple leather hilt and crossguard. What caught Fenn's eye was the design of the blade. It was fine, sharp, and carefully shaped to resemble an icicle.

Fenn sneakily poked the flat of the blade with the tip of his pinky. It surprisingly left no burns on him, so it couldn't be iron. A sigh of relief escaped him as he picked it up and turned it over in his hands, inspecting it. He sensed no enchantments on the weapon when he touched it, no inner brightness that would indicate magic, and yet it seemed to absorb the frost his touch normally left on things. Each flicker of ice quickly faded away and was stolen into the material. Damascus, he mused. Of course.

This would be good to borrow. The boy made some clumsy slashing motions with the knife and nodded eagerly at John, brandishing the weapon around not much differently than an excited child might a toy. He stopped only to point at the wanted poster and then back at the door. Right, their mission. When to be off?

[redford]

Jamie smirked at the lad, who eyed his new toy as one might gaze at...well...a new toy. She stood, snatching the wanted poster as she walked by John.

"Well I for one think you should go," she said, placing it back down and tangling her hand in his hair and sending another around his neck affectionately. "you've been having cabin fever lately. Besides," she continued, extricating herself and pointing to the room, most of which was filled with papers about magical sigils, books on forging, and ingots and tools repurposed as paperweights. "It'll give me the opportunity to organize some of this ridiculous mess."

John smirked knowingly and replied, reaching a massive hand up to grab her, pulling her over him quickly as she burst into laughter. She fell into his lap and relaxed, still giggling as John pointed a finger at her nose.

"You're ridiculous, you know that? Sending me to my almost certain doom, you are!" he said dramatically.

She pulled herself off him, leaving the paper on the table where it began. "Oh please. You killed a dragon last year, I hardly expect you to be outdone by some minor spellsword who's gone insane."

Her eyes narrowed, and she smiled playfully. "And if he does outdo you, then I guess I'll go see him sometime then."

John smiled genuinely, thinking that he'd snatch her up if she were just in arm's reach; but as their gaze met, the moment faded, and his thoughts returned to logistics.

"Right. You and Daugi can sleep in the spare room tonight, we'll pack and leave in the morning."

Fennik smiled broadly, snatching the paper and riding Daugi off toward his new bed.

Jamie took a step towards the half-giant, playfully pouting a little. "Aww, does this mean I have to go home?"

John reached out a hand, pulling her into an embrace. "Not necessarily."

[FennWenn]

The next morning, Fenn woke up under two unusual circumstances. The first was that he was nestled in the blankets of a big, soft bed as opposed to a thick patch of grass or the protective embrace of a tree’s branches. The second was that Daugi was sitting on his legs, and they were numb as fuck. He snorted and gave her a skeptical look. You dumb puppy. You’re lucky your weight didn’t collapse the bed. Upon her little friend’s stirring, the direwolf lifted her sleepy head and snuffled his face, licking the morning crust from his eyes.

Fenn snorted and stuck out his tongue at her. She licked that too, with a somewhat cheeky smirk stretched across her jowls as the boy hastily shoved her face away from his. Ew, gross! Rubbing his poor tongue on his shirt sleeve, the tiny boy wormed his way out from under her and set his tingly, numbed legs on the floor.

Today, he was going on an adventure with John!

Fenn wobbled his way over to a rack that hung on the wall right by the entrance to his guest room. From it hung his much-battered bag and his sorely-patchy verdant cloak. He checked inside his satchel to make sure that everything he needed was in there. Wanted poster, check. Shiny sharp dagger, check. Fenn flung his cloak over his shoulders and was pleasantly surprised at the weight he felt in one of his pockets. Slightly-overripe apple, check -- but that wasn’t enough food for the entire journey! If John didn’t want Fenn to fish through a few pockets on their ensuing journey, he had better have some hearty meals prepared.

With Daugi padding cheerfully after him, the boy strolled out of his room and into the main space of the house, curious as to if John and his ladyfriend were up this early. If they weren’t awake yet, well, he and Daugi would have to rouse them.

Passing through a hallway with several doors, Fenn crept to John's door at the end of the hall. He and Daugi peered through the open door at the farthest end of the hall. The room was mostly taken up by a massive bed. John's might was a mite too much for one of normal size. Curled up underneath the sheets were none other than John and the ladyfriend wrapped in his arms. Both were still fast asleep.

Perfect.

As Fenn trod back a few steps, Daugi cocked her head in confusion. But as the boy took a running start and streaked past her, she snorted, understanding his intentions.

He sailed into the room and landed in the middle of the bed, which was to say, directly on top of John. Under the force of this tiny child's leap, the mattress bounced a little. "Oof!" The couple woke up with a start at the unannounced intrusion. They stared up in groggy surprise at the delighted Fae who was sprawled over the big man. He had the goofiest grin stretching from cheek to cheek. "Morning Fenn," John grunted back with a bit of amusement.

You're welcome!

[redford]

A grin formed at John's mouth as he lifted himself, tossing the blanket across his body and over Fennik, sealing the boy inside the cover, and pulled the corners lightning quick so it was a makeshift sack. He looked back at Jamie, seeing a bemused expression on her face perched atop folded arms.

John leapt to his feet, throwing the sack across his shoulder and scowling dramatically, stalking back around the bed to Jamie. Daugi followed, simply staring at the spectacle, not quite sure to bark or play along.

"I've got all our food right here in this sack! We got a few meals in there, I think," he continued, grumbling playfully as he stomped out of the room, carrying the boy with him.

He stalked into the kitchen, with Daugi following, unsure if there was food waiting. John set the bag down and went to the pantry, snatching a leather bag for their food and provisions. Dried meats, cheeses, and waterskins made their way into the bag as Fennik crawled out of the blanket and John chuckled as he finally extricated himself. The boy gave a mighty HUMPH, well, as mighty as the child could manage, and planted his hand on the countertop, and frosty wording snaked out from his palm.

HOW DO WE GET INTO SALVAR? YOU HAVE A WARRANT.

John smiled, remembering the last time he was out there.

"I know a guy."

[FennWenn]

The snow at the border of Salvar was thin and crunchy-loud under John and Daugi’s weight.

Fenn twirled his new shiny knife between his fingers, pretending that his manual dexterity was a good enough substitute for real practice. John had tried teaching him how to use it on the way over. It was a good distraction from the long trip and just as good an outlet for the excitement that was building up in the little Fae’s twitchy fingers. Even after a lot of messing around, he hadn't quite gotten the hang of it.

Really, the best that could be said for his skill at the moment was that he knew well enough not to hold the dagger by the pointy end.

For a moment, Fenn’s grip slipped in the midst of his attempt at a flashy twirl, and he fumbled the dagger. Daugi flattened her ears and give a low growl as the hilt bonked her forehead. It made a bit of a hollow sound as it connected with her skull. Sheepishly, the boy grabbed the falling knife and stashed back in his bag, avoiding her keen glare back at him.

Bored now, Fenn thought as he stared into the snow around. He flashed a skeptical look up at John and swept his hand across the vacant hills, conveying his annoyance at their lack of haste in finding their destination.

The big man, who was dressed rather warmly, smiled in return. “We’re almost to meeting him.”

Surely enough, another figure appeared over one of the glistening dunes of snow. Fenn squinted to make him out amid all the bright white. As it turned out, John’s “contact” was an older man with soft eyes and dark hair peppered with sprinkles of salty grey. For someone his age, he strode through the snow almost as spryly as Fenn might. The crows feet around his eyes wrinkled pleasantly as he waved to the two from a ways away.

The boy peered right back between Daugi’s pricked ears, and gave a little wave in reply, waiting for John to introduce them.

[redford]

John had but few friends, most of them being from what he had begun to call his 'new life'.

Only one of them lived in Salvar. the half-giant looked up at an old man descending a pile of snow, rather spryly considering the man was in his seventies already. He smiled, his eyes bright with not-yet-forgotten purpose, and he let his walking stick fall beside him as he picked up the pace for the last few steps, looking up at John as he offered a forearm, clasping John's in a grip. His lightly-wrinkled eyes seemed a little misty, maybe it was just the cold, and he embraced John warmly.

"John my boy, it's so good to see you!"

John smiled. James Loriol had never lost faith in his son-in-law, for reasons John could still not fathom. His smile broadened as he remembered fondly his life in Salvar.

"James, how are you holding up?"

James pushed John's chest away, looking him up and down for a moment. "Ah, I'm getting old, my son, but seeing you again gives these bones new life." he looked down at John's unusual friends, raising an eyebrow.

"Travelling companions, James, they're helping me track the murderer."

James' mouth straightened for a moment and his visage turned sour. For a moment, he looked less like a loving father and more like a battlefield warrior. He spoke quickly, turning.

"Well any friend of John's is a friend of mine, especially if they're hunting the man who killed my cousin."

John reached forward, clasping the older man's shoulder.

"You cousin, James? Was is Kerath?"

A sigh from James, misting the air in front of him. His shoulders sagged and his back hunched for a moment before he turned back to John.

"Aye, him and his three bodyguards," He waved his hands in front of him, shaking his head for a moment. "Nevermind that! I have mourned my cousin and I will have my justice. Tonight is for bringing a lost son home," he finished, smiling again as he jutted a thumb to the east.

"Come! I've got us a carriage and horses, take us wherever we need to go. Maybe your friends can pick up a trail from our murderer."

John waved Fennik and Daugi forward, following his adoptive father.

Gods, he hadn't had proper reindeer stew in months.

[FennWenn]

Fenn listened to the two talk on as they walked, sticking his tongue out once behind John’s back for leaving him unnamed. “Traveling companions” indeed. Oh well. They could catch up on introductions later. As of the moment, the boy had bigger problems to worry about. Problems like an antsy direwolf.

It was easy to forget, but the loyal direwolf wasn’t entirely under Fenn’s control; she was loosely tamed, not domesticated. Fenn tugged insistently at her scruff as she lowered her nose to the ground. He could sense a tenseness about her shoulders, a sure indication that she was readying herself to spring into action, regardless of whether or not.

She had caught wind of something.

The wolf growled and butted her head into John’s side suddenly. The big man looked down at her quizzically. “Yes?” She whined loudly at him. Fenn could only return John’s quizzical look and shrug before she took off. If the boy could holler, he’d probably have cried out in surprise as they streaked ahead of the other two, making a beeline to a dark patch on the landscape. He clung to her neck with a strangled squeak, just barely holding on.

WE’VE BEEN OVER THIS, WHY DO YOU STILL DRAG ME AROUND-

A burned husk of a carriage lay prone on the side of the road like the discarded skin of a fruit. Daugi skidded into the wreckage, her nose and tail twitching like made. She snuffled around in the ash and snow, yipping back at her tiny friend in confusion. Fenn squinted at the planks around them and quickly came to realize how screwed up this scene was. For one, there was blood spattered liberally around the planks; that must have been what Daugi picked up, along with the charred smell. The scene was recent enough to reek of smoke and blood, but the bodies had been removed. On top of that, the walls of the carriage were streaked with deep cuts, especially around the doors.

It seemed that there had been a struggle here.

Even though they were in no immediate danger, Fenn hugged himself closer to Daugi and felt for the hilt of his knife inside his satchel. Goddamn, that Lieutenant guy was a psycho. It was about then that John and James caught up with the surefooted wolf and her rider. They stopped at the edge of the wreckage. While John seemed mildly taken aback, his father in law merely clenched his jaw.

“This was where my cousin was struck down,” James announced dourly. That hardened warrior-look was hanging about the old man again. “The murderer was last seen here, babbling about the trail to an orange blade.”

With a bit of prodding from Fenn, his wolf buddy backed out of the carriage ruins and trotted back towards his friends. As they did so, Daugi bumped up against a broken wheel, which shifted aside. Something odd gleamed out from under it. “Hmm?” John picked the object up. It appeared to be a slightly-singed scabbard, one as deep a blue as the ocean. “Well this isn’t orange,” he mused.

“The murderer was wielding a blue sword,” James clarified. “What he was going on about an orange one, I can’t say.”

Then this scabbard must have belonged to- Fenn and John looked up from it at the same time, having come to the same conclusion. “Fenn,” John said, holding out the unusual scabbard towards him. “This must have belonged to the Lieutenant. You think your wolf could sniff him out?”

Of course. The Fae beamed slyly and nudged Daugi forward. The direwolf eyed the scabbard and took a few deep whiffs of it (and a few licks for good measure, the dumb dog). Her ears perked up with interest as she set her nose to the ground, starting westward through the icy plains.

A trail had been found.

[redford]

A light snow began to fall as John and company stood around the carriage, and James shook the building flakes from his cloak. He spoke, his gaze still trained on the bloody husk of the carriage.

"His wife lived, barely. Lost an arm trying to protect his wife."

John looked around, gazing at the mountains thoughtfully. How much will James lose protecting me?

"Have you seen my mother of late?"

"Elizabeth? Afraid not, my boy. News is that she keeps herself in the old Cromwell house, never leaves."

John's mouth set itself in a grim line. This had all been his doing.

"Any news of Richard?"

James sighed heavily. "Grief makes a man do strange things, John. After all of it happened, and you were gone....I'm not sure. Maybe he went mad, maybe it was too much for him to bear." James pressed a hand to John's shoulder, having to reach up slightly.

"Your father disowned you, John.

John took a step away, pulling from James' touch. "What?"

James followed, reaching out for his adoptive son again, who pulled away further.

"No," he said, he pleaded. Disowned me?

"Please, John," James said again, reaching out. "He was doing what he thought best for Hou-"

John stepped away, turning toward the carriage. "House Cromwell, yes! Always his devotion to House Cromwell, always above his loyalty to the people."

"John..." James said, looking past him.

"No, James, I will speak and you will listen," he said, pointing a finger toward the older man. "What good did it do my father to disown me? What good? House Cromwell is a pariah, James, and nothing can change that stigma but time. Anyone who remembers what I did will remember the name Cromwell with fear. What does it benefit the people or the name that I am cast out after the fact, hm?"

"John!"

The half-giant then understood, turning to see Daugi with her nose pressed close to the ground. His mind snapped back into reality, he clutched the scabbard and nodded in the direction she was pointing.

"Your province, yes? What lies over there?"

"One of the older, deeper mines. We've been recently having some trouble with mercenaries who've holed up in the mountain. Come, I have a carriage nearby, we can follow that way."

John turned his back to the dog, following James, and feeling a little ashamed of himself.

[FennWenn]

(Let me know if the bunnies are acceptable! I really wasn't sure where to go with this, so let me know if you have any ideas on improving it too! <3)


Oh dear.

If Daugi wasn’t counted, Fenn had no family. Thus, Fenn did not normally get involved in any sort of family affairs. What would be bad about being disowned? he wondered, reigning in his eager mount with with gentle tugs on her scruff. It was likely, the little Fae knew, that he himself had been somehow disowned or discarded the day he was born. He recalled no birth parents. He remembered nothing more than fending and forging for himself in the wilds. Something someone had told him seemed to quietly indicate that he wasn’t quite accepted by other Frost Fae -- but that was a while ago, at the foot of a dragon hoard, and in a dream nonetheless. What worth were parents if they weren’t there for you..?

It made him quietly ache for his long-dead adoptive father.

Maybe he didn’t understand the context of the discussion, but Fenn could definitely tell that it left James and John quite a bit upset. When the discussion had quieted down, and with a tug of her shaggy scruff, Fenn prompted Daugi to momentarily pull back next to John. He gave him a wordless, consolatory pat on his arm. The big man ruffled his hair in turn. He still seemed dour. “Sorry you had to hear that. Why don’t we get going, before your wolf runs off without us?”

“WUFF!”

They set off on a detour for Jame’s carriage. It took a bit before Daugi understood that carriages couldn’t follow her into the deep snow and scattered trees, and then the were on their way with her keen nose leading the charge. Preferring the cold and his mount to the reasonably warm carriage interior, Fenn bounced precariously as his direwolf friend dashed at maximum enthusiasm after the lieutenant's scent. She did love a good hunt.

Statues scattered the roadside at random intervals. They were crumbling and decrepit, slowly being worn away by the elements. As they whisked past them, Fenn couldn’t help but lean towards them, staring. They seemed vaguely humanoid, no, primate-like in appearance. He could’ve sworn it to be his imagination, but Fenn seemed to catch sight of a white-furred monkey peering right back from behind one of the statues.