A terrified child holds Gikka at knife point, their voice shaking, yet their hands are strong as they look at the wizard and the cat and asks... "Why should I trust you? Ones like you kill ones like me all the time. I have no one, but I still don't want to die." -- Anon Guest
Half of the kid's camouflage was filth. The other half was a mottling of hues. If they were in a city, the people would have dismissed them as a Halfbred. A mixture of intelligent creatures, and a blending of traits. There were scales, tusks, and fangs in the mixture. Claws and burning eyes. And a visible collar bone. They were barely bigger than Gikka, a full-grown Kobold.
Wraithvine could see the bones of the hand that held the blade.
Ze had an important question to answer. "I would appreciate it if you didn't kill my friends while I try to prove myself to you," ze said. "That will take some time. You've run afoul of too many heroes."
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