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The sound of wings filled Toasty's chambers. Many small, fluttering wings. A cluster of bats descended from the high ceiling of his personal chambers, and coalesced in a vague swarm practically atop of where he laid immobilized. Dark mist filled the gaps between the swarm, and eventually the form of Nostromo, the vampiric loremaster of the Aesir Syndicate. Dressed only in his more casual Vampire Prince armor, his cloak billowed threateningly, revealing the Parasite Blade hanging heavily at his hip. Red eyes looked down on the entwined forms of Shammura and Toasty disdainfully, arms crossed and face twisted in agitation.

"[color=9e0b0f]Loathe as I am to interrupt your disturbing tryst,[/color]" Nostromo began, in the queer accent he used when he wanted to sound serious and in-character, "[color=9e0b0f]I believe our time would be better spent deliberating our next course of action.[/color]"

Nostromo reached down to pry the succubus off of the ailing dwarf, pulling her away with an expression that seemed as though he were touching something disgusting. Handling Shammura by the nape of her neck like some misbehaving cat, Nostromo snapped his fingers with his free hand. At his command, the pitter-patter of small footsteps bounded up the steps to Toasty's chamber. Eventually Nostromo's curious little underling, Kizumono Mary, was visible, hauling a rather large chest of medical supplies. She bounced over to the prone form of Toasty as fast as her tiny, misshapen legs would carry her, dropping various medical implements all the while, and quickly set to work at addressing his wounds.

"[color=8dc73f]You'll be right as rain in no time, Toasty-sama.[/color]" Mary assured the guild leader in her rough yet charmingly childish voice.

As Mary set about forcing an antidote into Toasty's mouth and bandaging his wound, Nostromo dealt with Shammura. "[color=9e0b0f]Leave us. Try to make yourself less of a detriment.[/color]" He set her down and flicked his hand to shoo her off. Looking back to Toasty, he didn't seem any more pleased. "[color=9e0b0f]Half of your misfortunes are self-inflicted, I swear. We have fresh reconnaissance reports from the Syndicate, and will be meeting in the Copper Hall to discuss them within the hour. I've already sent out the round of messages, but this damned anti magic field around your quarters seems to have kept you out of the loop. You're lucky that I'm considerate enough to keep you informed on these things, otherwise you'd most likely be dead.[/color]" He seemed smugly pleased with himself, but looking down at the now mostly-restored Toasty, a tone of genuine concern seemed to creep into his expression. "[color=9e0b0f]We should be off. Can you walk?[/color]"