They sell out of all the adventure rather quickly in warmer climes, you know. P-particularly hard to find on s-sun drenched sandy beaches - but we can have a l-look the next time we find ourselves at one.
[ His ears twitch, one tilting to track the sound of that something in the dark, seeking more. A second later, green light flares to life down the corridor and he turns to take in the newly illuminated path with a laugh. ]
Will I be cross?
[ Though he has no cane, no axe at his back, Viktor is hardly unarmed. He could call for Ingrimm, he knows, can picture the gnarled branch leaned in a corner of their quarters. But that hardly feels necessary down here. Instead he crouches to retrieve the dagger tucked into his boot, scanning the flickering green light for signs of unnatural movement.
He spots something, a glint of a carapace, a glimpse of something large clung to the ceiling.
What waits down here? Only vilekin? Undead? Another wretchedly arrogant necromancer, perhaps? He is, he must admit, excited to find out. Excited to delve into the dark in a way he has not been in a long, long time. ]
Emet-Selch... [ An audible grin, an incredulous arch of one brow ] You must reach them first to eradicate them. We'll talk of whether I'll be cross a-after.
[ He punctuates his words with a flick of the wrist. The dagger flashes, flies, and a second later, embeds itself with a crunch in the nasty creature stuck to the ceiling down the hall. It screeches and falls, and Viktor bounds after it, a hound scenting its hunt. ]
no subject
[ His ears twitch, one tilting to track the sound of that something in the dark, seeking more. A second later, green light flares to life down the corridor and he turns to take in the newly illuminated path with a laugh. ]
Will I be cross?
[ Though he has no cane, no axe at his back, Viktor is hardly unarmed. He could call for Ingrimm, he knows, can picture the gnarled branch leaned in a corner of their quarters. But that hardly feels necessary down here. Instead he crouches to retrieve the dagger tucked into his boot, scanning the flickering green light for signs of unnatural movement.
He spots something, a glint of a carapace, a glimpse of something large clung to the ceiling.
What waits down here? Only vilekin? Undead? Another wretchedly arrogant necromancer, perhaps? He is, he must admit, excited to find out. Excited to delve into the dark in a way he has not been in a long, long time. ]
Emet-Selch... [ An audible grin, an incredulous arch of one brow ] You must reach them first to eradicate them. We'll talk of whether I'll be cross a-after.
[ He punctuates his words with a flick of the wrist. The dagger flashes, flies, and a second later, embeds itself with a crunch in the nasty creature stuck to the ceiling down the hall. It screeches and falls, and Viktor bounds after it, a hound scenting its hunt. ]