A quif of the wind rustled against the polka-dot shorts that sported the strong, tiger-tinted thighs of Lexiconus as he clunked his hands against the warmth of his white coffee. His eyes darted down the southern hall, which seemed ghostly as the charcoal banners curled and glided across the marble floor. Still not a soul in sight to collect a warm drink on this frosty winter’s morning, as the dew of the fields close by crawled through the open windows. The Quarren was unsure of what to do here, as he regularly use to chat with Daedric about the current affairs of the battleteam. The Warrior turned on his blue knitted squid slippers and pulled up a leather-faux chair in the cantina, then sat near a circular glass table and proceeded to groggily search for brown sugar. He scooped up two sachets between his dry fingers and tapped them lightly against the ceramic of his favourite silver mug. As the thin paper bags of sugar crystals tapped the rim of his steaming mug, a small clink could be heard from somewhere afar, living as just an echo. At first the sound was just part of the ambience inside the citadel, new building with new machinery.

“It just needed warming up.” Lexic thought to himself, ripping the heads of the satchels and slowly pouring them in the concoction of stimulants. The pieces of sugar that disappeared into the fluids scratched and grinded against one another so clearly, and yet the same sound was heard into the ambience around Lexic. The very same grinding of something heavy, and the scratching against something afar, stuck inside his head. His cerulean eyes darted across the immediate area and assessed the dimly-lit and abandoned room, nothing out of the ordinary. Another shiver shot up his spine as his mentality was getting the better of him, he thought it was silly to think something was monitoring him in such a well-armed fortification. However considering the lack of Force-users in this normally bustling room, his conscience began to ponder on the possibility of invasion. Suddenly like a shock to his body, a cracking shot through the air from the southern corridor and caused the Quarren to spill his luke-warm coffee onto the table and his shorts. His wide and twitchy eyes darted down the hallway, trying to pierce through the wispy veil curling and rising like a dance of phantoms.

From inside this unnatural cloth from the morning, a pale complexion arose and limped down towards Lexic. It’s muddy and bony hands extended and clawed the air, as chains snaked and constricted it’s arms with padlocks. Coming further into clarity, the figure was covered from head to toe in a snow white cloth that was unnaturally spotted with rustic stains. It’s twig-like legs slowly moved as the feet of this spectral grazed against the tiles, the same chains twisted and locked into place by strange chests of unknown origin. A raspy and wheezy whisper echoed from under the cloth as the figure limped closer and into the dim lights of the cantina. Unarmed and unprepared, Lexic whom became stunned in paralysis did not move from his soaked chair, and dug his fingers into the fabric of his seat. The clinks of the chains, and the grinding of the boxes against the flooring became all too familiar now, as the phantom now limped directly in front of the petrified Quarren until it was in reach. As if from exhaustion the being fell into Lexic and snarled out in a grotesque and frothy manner, shoving it’s face directly against the shrieking expression of Lexic. Then a small titter arose from behind the sheet as it were slowly pulled upwards.

“It’s amazing was a bit of chicken blood onto an old cloth and some mechanical gear from the hangar can do. Right, Lexic?” Bentre Stahoes appeared from behind the rags and chuckled louder this time, as he sponged the spilt coffee from the chair, then stood and tapped the Warrior’s shoulder.

“C’mon sport, you’re late to our long scouting mission. We’re cleaning up the last of Chelidon’s men and I know you’d never miss that.” The Devil’s Shroud leader then left the cantina with a peach, Lexic still hanging with a shocked expression.