Hearing the arcane vibrations of a magical beast speaking, Daemos and his troops bolted outside. The gryphons stood upright and had their bows full drawn. The ornamental banners of the Orcish tribes twisted open to reveal deadly spears. With a complex flick of his wrist, Daemos managed to flick the helm of the beast of his head with his weapon. As he drew his blade a hum similar to that of a vibrating wineglass came from the sword. White runes shone on one side of his blade as black runes burned on the other. He held the blade tight to the creatures throat to the point where a bead of blood rolled down his throat

"Speak, Beast" Bellowed Daemos "I know you know how. Tell me what you know of the feymen. If, as you say, he has chosen the true lord of england then why hasn't he smitten the Lord of the Scots yet? Why should we trust you, when the bastard king sill has a head?