[center][h2]Krunk Fortress[/h2]
[sub]And the fury?[/sub][/center]

The glassy stare of Zerraf contended with Krink's willpower. A master of suspense, Zerraf continued to stare wordless, motionless, left hand softly hovering just above his cloak pocket. The shrieking became louder, coming from the side, a build up. A slow blink from the wind mage. You could hear his eyelids colliding, reopening as a castle gate before a moat. Half-open, slouched, Zerraf's mask shifted. Shrieking.

His hair became more wild. Wind picking up, gusts, more noise. Zerraf's cloak ruffled against his body as he picked up his hand as a crane, slowly, coming to eye-level with Krink over agonizing moments. A drooping finger, pointed directly at Krink's head, less than an inch away. Just in front of that stone face, those unmoving eyes. The sound was deafening now, nature's cry. An exhale of breath creeping from behind Zerraf's mask. Words: 

[color=ed1c24]"Where do you keep your blankets?"[/color]