After many months he came to his destination, although later than he'd expected (should've taken a right turn at that peat bog guarded by dark elves...) but he was still on time enough to fufill his task. Still smirking, he bowed his head slightly and made his way inside, his staff clanging against the stone floor as he walked.
He could hear the sounds of festivity echoing throughout the hallways and corridors and he followed them to the place he was headed. He strolled into the party without a glance at anyone, the snide look never wavering as he approached his target- the short fellow in the colorful outfit. Recognising him as the one he seeks, he strolls over and promptly taps him twice on the head with his staff. "Either you, sir, are Pikel Thunderstone or you've killed him and stolen his coat AND skin, both of which would be too small for most to wear. As such, if you are he I promptly provide salutations and if the latter scenario proves true, know that I will not hesitate to kill you where you stand, you tiny, flesh stealing fiend!"
Thinking you're sane is the first sign you're not.
~Alastar Silver