Amal pressed the goblin's nose to the chakram, threatening to cut its face on the honed blade. It squirmed, but was powerless to be loosed from Amal's grip. Had it been any other greenskin, Amal would have listened to it and then slit its throat, but he had decided to save on time and go back to gather the one he had knocked out. He wasn't exactly growing fond of it, but he did find it funny in hindsight. 

"Yes, this one! Yes!" It cried, and Amal dropped it. Behind him the carpet trudged around as if it were perusing the weaponry itself, but when Amal snapped, the carpet sprang to action and floated upwards. The thief leaped atop it with the disk in his hand, and the two zipped away, the goblin hyperventilating and cursing its luck. If Amal died, Zar Tan Zhou would skin the goblin alive and keep it breathing through magical means even as he cut out his beating heart! 

Luckily, Amal didn't intend to lose. 

As the procession went underway, Amal watched from the darkness of one of the dozen corridors, and he had mixed feelings on the whole affair. On the one hand, he was glad he had thought ahead when he saw the armor, and he had seen Emmaline in some nice outfits before, but she was all but bursting out of this one (and the hair suited her too). But of course, the dark sigaldry of the tapestries and unnamed, eldritch signs, not to mention someone trying to marry his woman...that didn't sit well with Amal. 

"Don't I get an invitation?" Amal asked in his smoothest riekspeil. He liked to think he cut quite the figure when he cleared his throat, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed, cloaked but unhooded. Zar Tan Zhou spun in bemused bewilderment, blinking at the sight of the Arabyan thief. Chilling hatred entered his eyes for so brief a moment, it was almost as if it had never been there at all. But then the chill turned into cold curiosity. 

"So, you're the one." The sorcerer calmly stated, the barest flicker of recognition in his eyes. Amal wasn't certain what he meant, but he supposed dead, cut up goblins drew attention at some point. "I should have come looking for you myself, but I incorrectly thought my minions would solve the problem for me." As Amal yawned, Emmaline was suddenly scooped up by the carpet and ferried to the other side of the room. It was far more gentle, but it felt as sudden as a hawk plucking an unsuspecting rabbit off the ground. 

Amal indicated the sorcerer look behind him with his head. Curiously, Zar Tan Zhou did, and to say he was angered when he saw Emmaline gone was an understatement. If he was enraged there, however, he would be even more pissed once he realized Amal's plan. A discus chakram was flung through the air with a deft flick of Amal's wrist, landing to horseshoe spin atop the chaos chosen's helm, which caused the item to begin to glow a vicious red and white as the armor began to shift and change before their very eyes. It looked like the goblin's tale had been truthful. The armor of Hanra was a sacred metal suit for a chosen of tzeentch, unbreakable and unassailable in all ways, and Zar Tan Zhou had taken precautions to gather up all the items in the Old World that could possibly dispell the armor. Unfortunately, he didn't plan on someone fighting him with it within his sanctum, so the key to the dispellment was very close for any would-be attackers like Amal. 

The armor melted, Zar Tan Zhou cursing Amal in his native tongue in frustration. To everyone'e surprise, the armor's disappearance left the sorcerer utterly naked at the alter, and Amal burst out laughing when he saw the man in his birthday suit. 

"Tzeentch did not bless you in all ways, did he?" Amal chortled. 

With a word of power, the robes he tended to don reappeared upon the Cathayan's form, his staff materializing into existence. He had a noticeable lack of mutations on his torso and legs, but as he spoke, Amal could see his tongue was forked and slithering as if it had a mind of its own.