[ Sleipnir sighs, scrunching his face up in a manner most unbecoming of the theatrical mask he was wearing before. A wraith. Excellent. Admittedly, Sleipnir has no knowledge of what one is, and has never had to see one, in a land normally besieged by dragons more so than ghouls. But it doesn't sound good, anyway. There is a side of him that vaguely wishes this could be Barnabas's problem instead.
The furrows between his brow soon return to their usual pristine neutrality. As Sleipnir opens his blue eyes, he lifts his voice just slightly, calling the conjurer back in: ]
Harlan, if you would?
[ The middle-aged Hyuran gentleman from earlier rushes back into the room with a bit of a frazzled fluttering of his robes, casting a curious glance between his lord and the newly hired mercenary before returning to the wounds he was attempting to treat.
Seemingly unbothered by either the healer's or the witcher's attentions, Sleipnir casts a lazy glance back towards Geralt, sighing. ]
Well, then. Describe to me the manner of beast we are facing.
no subject
The furrows between his brow soon return to their usual pristine neutrality. As Sleipnir opens his blue eyes, he lifts his voice just slightly, calling the conjurer back in: ]
Harlan, if you would?
[ The middle-aged Hyuran gentleman from earlier rushes back into the room with a bit of a frazzled fluttering of his robes, casting a curious glance between his lord and the newly hired mercenary before returning to the wounds he was attempting to treat.
Seemingly unbothered by either the healer's or the witcher's attentions, Sleipnir casts a lazy glance back towards Geralt, sighing. ]
Well, then. Describe to me the manner of beast we are facing.