"You should never judge by appearances my beauty from Elsewhere. You can never know what is lying just under the shallow surface of one's looks." Tagorn said with a slight smirk. While he was putting on his jest Tagorn was in a rage on the inside. Not only was he outside during the day, the burning feeling on his skin slowly becoming more and more intense, but he was surrounded by the weakest the city had to offer, worthless sacks of diseased flesh and blood in his eyes. Tagorn could feel the voice of Mol Bal screaming at the back of his mind, telling him to paint the allies with the blood of the weak. He managed to shove the urge aside for now but his patience for this area was wearing thinner by the moment. "I hate to rush you lot, but we are kind of on a schedule are we not?" Tagorn said crossing his arms and leaning back slightly. "So if we are to get these glorified kitten cut throats we should really start moving."