The sun has long since slipped past the boundry of the world as Isaac comes bounding through the trees, having opted to take a longer way home this time 'round. Soon the sights, clear as day to his eyes, and the smells of the area start becoming more and more familiar. Landing lightly in the boughs of a strong old oak, the kelvezu inhales deeply, smiling his small little smile. "Ah," he says softly, "To homecomings..." With that, he hurls himself from the branches, landing easily in the midst of his home. As he straightens, his hands rest lightly upon the hilts of his scimitars. Finally, he once more carries two. All in all, the daemon is pleased with himself. This last outing was not all that difficult, if a bit time consuming, and it ended fortuitously. Tonight should be...a...good...

Dark violet orbs narrow as he suddenly realises all is not what it should be. He begins to become aware that he is not alone...though he already knows Issy to be gone at the moment. Clawed digits tighten about his weapons as he closes his eyes, his keen hearing aiding him. Suddenly he steps quickly to the right, throwing himself into a spin as he does, blades whipping from their scabbards, glinting in the starlight as they arc through the night air. There is a growl of suprise and pain as the curved steel strikes home, slicing through bone and sinew. A large form, feathered and deep purple, falls writhing to the ground. Isaac turns slowly, blackish ichor dripping from his blades. He kicks the vrock hard in the side, growling out something in a strange and profane tongue.

The screeching response given by the vulture-like creature sets Isaac back on his heels, picking only one word from the dying cry. Errtu.