A creature came by our camp yesterday. He said he had a gift, and we asked him what it was, but he professed not to understand us. Of course, he could have been right: we know that we become harder to understand as our voices merge imperceptibly closer to the pure khora, with the exception of a recent addition to our company, Banno the Magnificent, as he likes to style himself. He is redolent of the crocodile, and when he speaks words like teeth pour from him and we all stand aside to avoid inevitable consequences. The creature gave him a strange look; but then, any look from this creature would have been strange, given that there was something dreadfully the matter with his eyes. He advised us (or we think he did) to look for his gift after he was gone. Then, in some mysterious fashion unknown to us, he went.
David Punter 