raises an eyebrow with the faintest hit of interest at the mention of 'sorcerer', looking with a cold, arrogant humor toward Grogbaargh
"The real fool is he who opens his mouth without using that piece of haunted meat between his ears. If you'd like to prove your -fascinating- little theory, you're welcome to try and slap me. It would probably be more productive, however, for us to find the demons. I'm sure our coming victory will do more than enough to fill that tremendously monstrous ego so inherent in your people."
Kiserai then sighs quietly, closing his large book and placing it back into his satchel with a shifted glance toward the dark wilderness that spreads out only a short distance from the warm, protective-seeming firelight of the camp, raising a hand to rub at his forehead, clearly an attempt to assuage a headache
sighing quite loudly to show a bit of boredom and possibly a little disdain at the perceived theatrics of his soon-to-be comrades...
"So much talk, so much chest-beating. Do you all think the demonkin and their rotting allies are traipsing around their little den out there, proclaiming their own greatness? Idle talk will be fine when you're sitting around the hearth telling your grandchildren this tale many years from now, but if you want to live to see those days we'd best be served by ending this unholy infestation before it grows in power, more than it already probably has. In my long studies if these kind, they do not sit around for long. We should probably count ourselves lucky to not already find them at the walls, ready to suckle every drop of marrow from the bones of all who dwell here."
"I'll be waiting at the gates as well."
with a level, momentary stare Kiserai heads straight for the gates of the encampment, producing a large, unmarked and notably dusty book from a traveling satchel that he proceeds to page through as he walks
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A dripping sword / removes all memories.
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"The real fool is he who opens his mouth without using that piece of haunted meat between his ears. If you'd like to prove your -fascinating- little theory, you're welcome to try and slap me. It would probably be more productive, however, for us to find the demons. I'm sure our coming victory will do more than enough to fill that tremendously monstrous ego so inherent in your people."
Kiserai then sighs quietly, closing his large book and placing it back into his satchel with a shifted glance toward the dark wilderness that spreads out only a short distance from the warm, protective-seeming firelight of the camp, raising a hand to rub at his forehead, clearly an attempt to assuage a headache
"So much talk, so much chest-beating. Do you all think the demonkin and their rotting allies are traipsing around their little den out there, proclaiming their own greatness? Idle talk will be fine when you're sitting around the hearth telling your grandchildren this tale many years from now, but if you want to live to see those days we'd best be served by ending this unholy infestation before it grows in power, more than it already probably has. In my long studies if these kind, they do not sit around for long. We should probably count ourselves lucky to not already find them at the walls, ready to suckle every drop of marrow from the bones of all who dwell here."
"I'll be waiting at the gates as well."
with a level, momentary stare Kiserai heads straight for the gates of the encampment, producing a large, unmarked and notably dusty book from a traveling satchel that he proceeds to page through as he walks