"Does it?" marvels the elven mage. And one of the undead as well. He's never seen - or felt... Antares does a little dance of hesitation - back, then forth, then, with a breath, forth all the way to the intersection by brother Myst's side!
"Oh," he exclaims as he sees the advancing beast, the moving backs of Muzdin and Stellan silhouetted before it, weapons and armor gleaming in the torchlight...
His delighted smile fades some after just a few heartbeats, dread starting to take its place:
"Ah... It's floating. With coins. And a ghostly aura." The reality of battling this... thing are starting to surface -- like mud-encrusted leviathans of black ice rising madly towards the surface of his mind. The first one breaches hard as Stellan and the dwarven priest just - keep - on - advancing:
"Are we even sure it's corporeal?!"
Breathing heavy, eyes starting to show the surrounding whites, Antares claws dirt and rock from the tunnel side, not caring at the moment what it does to his carefully tended nails.
"If I may?" he asks/warns - pure, unthinking reflex of the way he was raised - before tossing the pebbly clump at the thing without pause for hypothetical replies.
(He's, really, *really* hoping it goes right through, actually. Because then he and his friends will be free to RUN AWAY!)
OOC:
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Move equivalent to pick up a handful of dirt and pebbles, please, then throw them at the skeleton using the gap over Muzdin's head.
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