"MY dear friend. You wound me. but i take the hint. You know full well i did not tell the blade to do such, Nor would i. But i will not begrudge you for believing so." the young gremlin bows and  grabs his blade,  turning to leave the fall kings halls. This is the only tie he will Nearly apologize.  He returns to the realm of snow and frost, to his halls.  High vaulted metals forming a palace,  heated, and driving away the chill and cold... Smiths hammers ring, kitchens pleasantly bustling.  Lask  walks to his throne, sitting and leaning back, Furiously throwing the sword, planting it firmly into a wall. "One bedeviled job...."  he growls, holding his head "Sending my own daughter Shiva would work better. At least then i could actually Get Results!"