Mac Dowd |
Dowd pulls out his knife and starts carvings some graffiti into the table. g-o-t-t-a c-a-t-h-c 'e-m a-l-l. Yeah, that's how you spell it.
"No fear for the immortal soul. You should keep those toys in the toybox. I dont want to play with them. They dont want to play with them.
He gestures around the table with his carving knife.
I could like you, Allen, if you weren't mad. You see Allen, whether you know it or not, your pets want to play with you.
Henry S. Richardson |
Richardson watches as Madman Dowd carves a new act of vandalism into the table. As mad as ever. He tried to shrug it off - there were bigger issues at hand. Though Cole certainly wouldn't appreciate it.
"I... agree. I think." Henry scratched his head, trying to keep up with Dowd's meandering thoughts.
"Perhaps your pets are drawing more of the demons out. It seems rather imprudent to keep such dangerous creatures about, regardless of your intentions."
Henry S. Richardson |
Henry quickly pipes up after Allen's rather nonchalant response to what he believed was a serious matter.
"We will see to it. No offense, Allen, but I'd like to see the beasts dead and buried with my own eyes."
He took a slow sip of ale, while trying to measure up the newcomer. He seemed to have a legitimate desire to help - and he hadn't been wrong about the danger to Devil's Fork. And yet he lived among demons, claimed to practice witchcraft, and seemed only moderately bothered by this entire ordeal.
He made a mental note to send the Stranger packing when this was all over - best to keep this supernatural stuff far, far away from his new home.