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Yevaud
The spell energy had been gathered, directed, and... misfired. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs, scanning the room for any new developments when he saw Marcos... the elf's eyes narrowed. He could smell the unwashed human, his sweat, old blood, arrogant supremacy tinged with fear. The smell disgusted him, caused his stomach to turn a bit at the thought that this human was responsible for the abominable undead scourge in this place, while not his own fault it was the fault of his ancestors, likely within Yevauds own lifetime. The treacherous humans had been responsible for destroying the glens that had abounded in the area, replacing them with stonework that a dwarf would laugh at. Yevaud bit back an oath as his knuckles turned white under the grip he had on his sword. He would let the human go first and die, then come and save the day. Forcing an air of courtesy Yevaud looked at Marcos, and said "After you, milord."
[ 08-10-2005, 02:01 PM: Message edited by: Morgeruat ]
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