[center][color=7bcdc8][h3]Arthek Yarnspin[/h3][/color][/center]

[color=deepskyblue]"It's not polite to stare. Care to join us? Your other hand is invited."[/color] 

If his death and subsequent resurrection had left any colour in Arthek's cheeks, it would have vanished the moment those words flowed into his mind. [color=7bcdc8]"Oh dear,"[/color] he muttered to himself. [color=7bcdc8]"Well, this is [i]not[/i] a plot twist I saw coming."[/color] After a moment, the shock and bewilderment in his expression shifted to curiosity, and he stood from his chair. [color=7bcdc8]"But I am eager to know where it leads. Come along, old chum,"[/color] he said, motioning for his Mage Hand to follow him. [color=7bcdc8]"And keep notes. Accurate notes. I want a word-for-word account of this upcoming conversation."[/color]

The spectral hand gave him a thumbs up before gathering up the quill and book, and the two made their way over to where the small gathering was forming. [color=7bcdc8]"Rockmar! Grimi!"[/color] he said, opening his arms up in a welcoming gesture. [color=7bcdc8]"And two strangers. Who I do not know the identities of. Hence why I called them strangers, and not by their names. Which I do not know."[/color] Any sharp-eyed observer would note that while he was saying that last bit, he was making a concerted effort [i]not[/i] to look at Iota. He clapped his hands together. [color=7bcdc8]"And what are we all doing this fine evening?"[/color] 

As he was speaking, his Mage Hand had laid out his notebook on the nearest table and was already starting to scribble down what its master was saying.