[center][h2]Lord Krunk's Quarters[/h2]
[sub]The pen is mightier[/sub][/center]

Zerraf's rapier shrieked from within Spike before bursting forth from his carcass. The blade flipped as it sailed forth through the air. The wind mage caught it before it collided with the ground, palm open and ready to receive the sword. He sheathed it back into its holster. Zerraf lightly treaded as he turned, seeing the false lord now greater than double his original form in size. He wiped his gloved hand within itself, attempting to erase the smudges of dirt.

[color=ed1c24]"He-eh. When did surrendering become so complicated?"[/color] Zerraf muttered.

Zerraf's noted the acrobatic Jenso leaping to a window sill and firing a showy assault on the giant before them. He took this distraction for its opportunity. Continuing to tread lightly, the wind mage reached for his hat. Upon it was a monochromatic feather, white in its sheen and beauty. It had merely flayed to the wind's power until this point. Many would find it aesthetic. Zerraf found it useful. He cupped the delicate feather in his gloved hand and closed it entirely. Bringing it to his masked face, he whispered words unheard into his hand. Upon the opening of his palm, he made a great gesture upward toward Lord Krunk. The feather was deviously dextrous, and stunningly quick. It floated as a leaf may upward, hidden by distraction and minute size, seeking a position between the fat finger of Lord Krunk and the ring upon it.

If successful, the feather would attempt to spin the ring off of the Lord's finger and carry it away.