At my words of praise, the little white fox behind me beams, his fur bristling with hues of pink and orange and red, a kaleidoscope of colours. It is somewhat spectacular that such a tiny little creature can hold such an immaculate array of powers, but I am promptly reminded that this is no ordinary woodfox. After all, trapped in the body of this fluffy forest creature is the soul of a warrior, and angel whose life's training has revolved around the destruction of vampires and the ways of the sword, he would not be succumbed so easily to a mere illusion.
It is clear as I look over to the white haired vampire before me that the same thoughts are crossing his mind, the cogs turning behind his eyes as he struggles to comprehend the sheer impossibility of the situation. To him, Ithuriel is simply another woodfox, meek under most circumstances, aside from their admirable ability to ward off vampires at a moments notice. He is, at best, entirely perplexed.
