Zevran woke with a start. Someone was calling out. Then his expression turned to a grin. Someone had fallen into one of his traps. He jumped up and grabbed one of his daggers, then went over to his trap near a cluster of trees he'd used for the trap. Zevran paused and looked up at the elf that had fallen into the trap, tipping his head slightly. He noted the pack on the ground. The man didn't look all that threatening.
How is the view from up there?He asked, sarcasm his third fluent language. Just because they didn't look suspicous or threatening, that didn't mean they weren't. Zevran walked around the man.
Why should I help you, how do I know you aren't a threat, I could let you go and you could try and slit my throat. I'm far too pretty to have my throat slit.
05-05-2023, 03:11 PM
