[ The attempt to grab the unseen servant by the arm and twist it until it pops out of it's socket fails thanks to their lack of solid form.
So obviously the next step is grabbing the nearest firmly solid object – a fine celadon vase in goryeo style, likely a priceless and irreplaceable piece rescued from the sand of time -- in a blind rage and throwing it at them.
The Servant's “voice” is barely above a whisper, a haunting symphony of distorted groans that sound like they're filtered through water. Honestly, Dito would have found them kind of beautiful if they hadn't tried to lay hands on him earlier.
Finally, he turns towards the person who happened to stumble into the kitchen as the scene unfolded. ]
Are you just going to stand there looking like an idiot? -because it'd be really helpful of you if you could tell me how to kill these things or drop dead.
off with your head – audience.
[ The flower lambs and talking lake monsters don't take much to get used too. They're not much different than the humans really. The smile when they're happy, cry when they're sad and bleed like stuck pigs when you shove a knife through them.
Some of them even have useful information when threatened with those knives. Which is how he bypasses the gates and takes a seat next to a gently swaying Nymphs and a bundle of chattering tent bats snacking on overripe plums.
The checkered floor begins to fill with people and Dito watches in vague interest for a first few minutes, but as time passes and the fighting ring continues to offer him no fighting he starts to pick at the dirt under his nails and eaves drop on the bats gossip about colony happenings. ]
Hey, are any of of those – the plums, yeah. Are any of those really nasty? Too nasty to eat?
[ A few of the bats tilt their heads curiously, but the youngest of the cluster sifts through their collection before rolling a plum with a large green-grey mold spot and sagging skin over to him.
He picks up the plum; sticking his thumb into the mold spot and watching the brown juice and grey flesh ooze out under pressure. ]
Thanks.
[ He launches the plum at the nearest card holder. Aiming for the head, naturally. ]
communications.
dshgfdgfjhgkjhlhlkjljlkjlkjljk fgfhfgjhgthtkukuyil dgfgfhgfjghjh wh asat the fucvk
dito | drakengard 3
[ The attempt to grab the unseen servant by the arm and twist it until it pops out of it's socket fails thanks to their lack of solid form.
So obviously the next step is grabbing the nearest firmly solid object – a fine celadon vase in goryeo style, likely a priceless and irreplaceable piece rescued from the sand of time -- in a blind rage and throwing it at them.
The Servant's “voice” is barely above a whisper, a haunting symphony of distorted groans that sound like they're filtered through water. Honestly, Dito would have found them kind of beautiful if they hadn't tried to lay hands on him earlier.
Finally, he turns towards the person who happened to stumble into the kitchen as the scene unfolded. ]
Are you just going to stand there looking like an idiot? -because it'd be really helpful of you if you could tell me how to kill these things or drop dead.
off with your head – audience.
[ The flower lambs and talking lake monsters don't take much to get used too. They're not much different than the humans really. The smile when they're happy, cry when they're sad and bleed like stuck pigs when you shove a knife through them.
Some of them even have useful information when threatened with those knives. Which is how he bypasses the gates and takes a seat next to a gently swaying Nymphs and a bundle of chattering tent bats snacking on overripe plums.
The checkered floor begins to fill with people and Dito watches in vague interest for a first few minutes, but as time passes and the fighting ring continues to offer him no fighting he starts to pick at the dirt under his nails and eaves drop on the bats gossip about colony happenings. ]
Hey, are any of of those – the plums, yeah. Are any of those really nasty? Too nasty to eat?
[ A few of the bats tilt their heads curiously, but the youngest of the cluster sifts through their collection before rolling a plum with a large green-grey mold spot and sagging skin over to him.
He picks up the plum; sticking his thumb into the mold spot and watching the brown juice and grey flesh ooze out under pressure. ]
Thanks.
[ He launches the plum at the nearest card holder. Aiming for the head, naturally. ]
communications.
dshgfdgfjhgkjhlhlkjljlkjlkjljk
fgfhfgjhgthtkukuyil
dgfgfhgfjghjh
wh asat the fucvk
wild card.
feed me seymour