industrygothica
Adventurer
Abel pauses for a second when the duskblade speaks. He respected his skills as a fighter, and as a spellslinger, for that matter, but there was always something about the man that didn't settle right with him. He'd long ago conceded his handiness in combat, but that didn't mean that he necessarily had to like him.
"In time," he said finally. "I too am wounded, and so is Sandor, but I prefer to use Lathander's gifts more sparingly, and when they are in greater need." He finally turns to look at the man in the eye. "Unless of course you'd rather I be out of spells the next time you are in dire peril."
He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but he wasn't really sorry for it as he turned and continued on the path ahead.
"In time," he said finally. "I too am wounded, and so is Sandor, but I prefer to use Lathander's gifts more sparingly, and when they are in greater need." He finally turns to look at the man in the eye. "Unless of course you'd rather I be out of spells the next time you are in dire peril."
He hadn't meant to sound so harsh, but he wasn't really sorry for it as he turned and continued on the path ahead.