T25.127 The Sellsword, Part 8.7

As the scents of the triangle that was being cooked began to surge out from the hole in the wall, one of the curling convergences of smoky aroma slowly morphed into the likeness of a short man dressed in in rags, with a gruesome, jagged scar across his eye.

As he took form, he gazed at the cooked food while licking his lips but also eyed the stout Jumian that was Hajer, turning the triangle about, causing another burst of scents to gradually take the form of a feline.

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