"Thine mouth speaks of questions thine brain has already seen fit to answer, young one." came the reply, soft and warm, yet with slight crackles of varying depth. Everything about the Satyr screamed "Fire!", from the torch ritually forged with his head and the smoky tones of his voice, and though Eli could not appreciate the significance of such seemingly minor things yet, destiny had a strange way of unfurling itself in strange ways - something the younger inhabitants of Tailteann rarely understoof.

"Perhaps nobles sitting complacent on their silk cushions would offer more coin, young one, but there are commodities and crafts more valuable to one of mine own nature than one of thine could perhaps appreciate. Coin does not buy favour with the Ashen God - rituals and prayers do. This is a service mine self is providing for all parties' mutual benefit." he added, still keeping his eyes closed and his hand conspicuously at his side, idly grasping the blackened hilt of Perdition's Flame. It was not uncommon for thieves to attempt to steal the beautiful weapon - it was even less uncommon for them to leave with burned-in scars in the shape of the hilt. Still, the motion was not inherently threatening, and looked almost subconscious, as if it were something that Phanyx had gotten so used to doing in careful, co-ordinated movements that his body remembered and practiced them without taxing his consciousness.

It was then that he opened his eyes and turned to the owner of the gruff voice, looking up and down him before settling his eyes briefly on the bracers that he wore.

"Thine flesh is young, but perhaps thine blood is not, hmm? In mine homeland, the Runecarved Deadlands, before the collapse of the old satyric society smiths oft created pieces of armour that could change their shape. Mine sense tingle in thine presence, young one, that thine body has given way to the ancient beasts' blood... Useful, that thine bracers do not fragment under the weight of thine transformation." he added, turning back to his original stance of eyes closed and facing forwards.