// not yet corpses, still we rot //
There’s a nod of greeting offered to the blacksmith when he arrives, a small fanged smile accompanying it. And before he knows it, they’re off on their own little adventure to hopefully not get lost within the bundle of shrubbery and speaking squirrels in the maze. He supposes, however, that he does still have that manticore shift locked and loaded, that he could (if everything else failed) get them out of the labyrinth by flight if need be.
For now, however, he follows their little group – eyes peeled for anything of note, anything out of place, any specific line of shrubbery that seems to hold more than just the regular bushes that the labyrinth was known for. That’s how he intends to find the Efas Herb after all. So he draws up beside Wessex, the metal hand pushing his dark hair back from his eyes as he scans the routes ahead. “I vote left.” He muses, leaning forward to squint down the path.
For now, however, he follows their little group – eyes peeled for anything of note, anything out of place, any specific line of shrubbery that seems to hold more than just the regular bushes that the labyrinth was known for. That’s how he intends to find the Efas Herb after all. So he draws up beside Wessex, the metal hand pushing his dark hair back from his eyes as he scans the routes ahead. “I vote left.” He muses, leaning forward to squint down the path.
VARUS
