Necromancy was no strange thing to a man whose daily life consisted of the oddities of Jerusalem's Lot, so the moving corpses were not particularly unsettling to him. He seemed more intrigued by the artistry in the architecture than the horror of the living dead and hung onto Tivader's every word of the history. When he gave them a few moments to look around freely.
"What splendid moulding on the pilasters," Klaus remarked aloud, adjusting his spectacles and peering more closely at the elaborate stone carving.
ii. Battle
It had seemed inevitable - things were far too peaceful for far too long without chaos erupting. There were, he reflected, worse things than heavily armed walking corpses going on the offensive. Quite a few things, in fact. If there was one lesson he'd learned in his life, it was that things could always be profoundly worse.
Using his blood arts was out of the question - not in front of so many people who had very negative opinions on blood magic - so it was his martial skills he needed to rely on. The cavernous catacombs were, fortunately, roomy which gave him plenty of space to move - and move he did, with much more speed and agility than his size and build would denote. He was quick and efficient, tearing fragile skulls from shoulders, and flinging bodies into the swarms of undead to send them stumbling. He did this with practiced ease, and a sort of eerie serenity. There was no bellowing war cry or barking of orders - he was utterly focused on helping to clear a path through the throng of zombies.
no subject
i. Tour
Necromancy was no strange thing to a man whose daily life consisted of the oddities of Jerusalem's Lot, so the moving corpses were not particularly unsettling to him. He seemed more intrigued by the artistry in the architecture than the horror of the living dead and hung onto Tivader's every word of the history. When he gave them a few moments to look around freely.
"What splendid moulding on the pilasters," Klaus remarked aloud, adjusting his spectacles and peering more closely at the elaborate stone carving.
ii. Battle
It had seemed inevitable - things were far too peaceful for far too long without chaos erupting. There were, he reflected, worse things than heavily armed walking corpses going on the offensive. Quite a few things, in fact. If there was one lesson he'd learned in his life, it was that things could always be profoundly worse.
Using his blood arts was out of the question - not in front of so many people who had very negative opinions on blood magic - so it was his martial skills he needed to rely on. The cavernous catacombs were, fortunately, roomy which gave him plenty of space to move - and move he did, with much more speed and agility than his size and build would denote. He was quick and efficient, tearing fragile skulls from shoulders, and flinging bodies into the swarms of undead to send them stumbling. He did this with practiced ease, and a sort of eerie serenity. There was no bellowing war cry or barking of orders - he was utterly focused on helping to clear a path through the throng of zombies.