A thin old man, dressed in a simple brown robe leaned against the door, tired pale blue eyes looked back from under a thinning batch of white hair.
“You lot have a death wish then? What do you think you’re doing here? It isn’t some happy fairyland you know!”
“Name’s Narg,” said Narg, leaning on Bloodletter and looking around the small room, now crowded with his companions. “Everyone okay?”
Everyone seemed to be in reasonable condition, Shogun was the worse off, but Mistral and Gorgus were tending to his wound.
Narg turned back to their rescuer. “Not that I don’t wish to seem grateful, because I am, but who are you and what are you doing here?”
“Narg eh?” The figure chuckled and tottered over to a desk laden with books. “Seems I have heard that name somewhere. Some sort of hero maybe?”
