Strange things are afoot tonight. Octavo doesn't like the way the wind is blowing, whipping the bare mountain trees back and forth erratically and threatening to douse his campfire. The firelight gleams on the golden face of the Lute as he plucks the strings, the sound quickly stolen by the breeze.
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But it was merely a harbinger of worst things to come as Vaati saw that and it piqued the demon's interest.
Octavo rights himself and scans the skies in case there are more of them around, but at the moment, he doesn't see anything but the wispy clouds drifting across the stars.
And as Vaati gets closer, The more erratic the winds around Octavo gets.