"Oh, sure, John. I'll be delighted to meet your friend, John. Maybe he can make a tabletop character for me, too, John —"
With another muffled curse, Augustine the First, impatient Saint of Patience, shoves another tree branch away from his face, letting go not immediately after passing, but only when he can barely maintain a grip on it — letting it whip back behind him with tremendous dynamic force. Whatever the hell monster has been trying to stalk him gets a facefull of pollen-filled spring new-growth, and lets out an unpleasantly piercing shriek of rage or dismay — or maybe that's because of the tremendously large spinosaurus skull, stripped of flesh but still decorated with most of its feathers, traipsing along fifteen or twenty feet behind him — carried by fifteen or twenty feet, on little spindly legs that don't even remotely look like they ever belonged to a dinosaur — and occasionally snapping its gigantic and overly-toothy maw, for instance at beasts trying to stalk the Lyctor animating it.
Why bring a dinosaur head with him? Two reasons: one, it's wicked cool — just LOOK at it! And two: thanks to Paul, Augustine has a theory that the dinosaur came from the same place as the weird letters, and has heard that this Ford guy is doing ... something ... that's somehow related to them. And that has the potential to be novel, and maybe even intriguing!
(These are the same reasons he's carrying around the very large, leathery egg that the spinosaurus was trying to eat when he lost his mind and then his head — bit of a pity, maybe, that he's carrying it around in something that looks so much like a gigantic monorchid nutsack, but what are you going to do?)
Well, this should be it, he thinks, eyeing the dilapidated ruin of a shrine in the clearing in front of them, as the skull takes a cavalier's place just behind him. "Hello the... portal?" he calls.
Gotta Meet A Guy About A Thing
With another muffled curse, Augustine the First, impatient Saint of Patience, shoves another tree branch away from his face, letting go not immediately after passing, but only when he can barely maintain a grip on it — letting it whip back behind him with tremendous dynamic force. Whatever the hell monster has been trying to stalk him gets a facefull of pollen-filled spring new-growth, and lets out an unpleasantly piercing shriek of rage or dismay — or maybe that's because of the tremendously large spinosaurus skull, stripped of flesh but still decorated with most of its feathers, traipsing along fifteen or twenty feet behind him — carried by fifteen or twenty feet, on little spindly legs that don't even remotely look like they ever belonged to a dinosaur — and occasionally snapping its gigantic and overly-toothy maw, for instance at beasts trying to stalk the Lyctor animating it.
Why bring a dinosaur head with him? Two reasons: one, it's wicked cool — just LOOK at it! And two: thanks to Paul, Augustine has a theory that the dinosaur came from the same place as the weird letters, and has heard that this Ford guy is doing ... something ... that's somehow related to them. And that has the potential to be novel, and maybe even intriguing!
(These are the same reasons he's carrying around the very large, leathery egg that the spinosaurus was trying to eat when he lost his mind and then his head — bit of a pity, maybe, that he's carrying it around in something that looks so much like a gigantic monorchid nutsack, but what are you going to do?)
Well, this should be it, he thinks, eyeing the dilapidated ruin of a shrine in the clearing in front of them, as the skull takes a cavalier's place just behind him. "Hello the... portal?" he calls.