[ well. yeah, the vibes on this guy sure are something, but it's not like he's unused to dealing with this kind of thing. and besides, therion's on his guard every waking moment of his life. he's got twenty two years of practice.

so, he listens. some kind of lawless wastepit, huh? aside from the consuming flesh bit, it's really not that different sounding from the seedier parts of home. there's no laws anywhere when the guards are paid off, after all. and besides, it connects to some of the information he's heard topside, some of the murmurs around the meridian city.

therion flips the dagger he was testing in his hand with the sheath on, once or twice, the motion practiced and professional. silent, as he ponders this, and then, eventually: ]

So, what are you, its advertising committee? [ dry as a desert. ] Or just trying to catch free entertainment from an 'over eager fool' or two?