Zaraknvyr steps from the lit warm coloration of the tavern into the familiarity of grey tones of shadow and darkness. The descent into dimness calms his own edge. Sure, the gnoll could sniff him out and see in the dark, but most other threats would be ill-advised to attempt his back in the dark. Fyodor's eyes remained in Zaraknvyr's mind for a few moments longer. The way he reached for the hammer. That one had fight. That one wasn't quite as bleak as the others. Yet.

His attention is brought back to the present as Abasi speaks. Zaraknvyr meets the feline gaze, but speaks to Tabiah's back.

"Does this familiar die with you, or is this feline true flesh and blood?"