A quick slash of Caleb's hand and a warm-gold flicker of energy springs up between himself and the incoming projectile. It splats wetly against the barrier, sluices downward against the translucent energy for a moment before the spell fades.
Gross.
"A head is usually the custom. Or an ear."
There's a pause as Caleb eyes the messy scattering of parts on the ground.
"Are they paying us?"
The crucial question. Caleb is in a division devoted to research but he hasn't done much of it so far, apart from getting a very good look at the creature's mouth and many, many eyes before blasting fire at it. If they aren't getting paid and they've killed it, then they might as well begin trudging back to the village. He can't really presume what Sylvester hopes to do, but Caleb would like to clean the dirt off himself and return to Kirkwall.
frisbees a late tag to you
Gross.
"A head is usually the custom. Or an ear."
There's a pause as Caleb eyes the messy scattering of parts on the ground.
"Are they paying us?"
The crucial question. Caleb is in a division devoted to research but he hasn't done much of it so far, apart from getting a very good look at the creature's mouth and many, many eyes before blasting fire at it. If they aren't getting paid and they've killed it, then they might as well begin trudging back to the village. He can't really presume what Sylvester hopes to do, but Caleb would like to clean the dirt off himself and return to Kirkwall.