Down the road and around the bend emerges the source of the singing. A humanoid in sliver armor, with a white tunic over it and a sword belted at his side, the hilt gleaming faintly. I say humanoid, for the person was most certainly not human. He had red skin, the color of bricks in an oven, with a pair of large horns like an antelope’s growing out of his forehead, starting just about his golden eyes, and pushing through his unruly mane of dark red hair, which came down to about halfway down his neck.
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