I give permission to maim/kill Sarge! Deal out the consequences.
Of course. No direct assistance from the cursed entity that had sent them on this search. He let out a rough sigh, nothing to do but move forward. Now that he knew a crevice was what they needed, he began his search in earnest.
Sarge turned his attention to the mountain itself, scouring its base for any sign of what they sought. As he searched, he called out for his companion.
Wisp? We have our target. Focus. We’re close. Then we can get the fuck out of this damned fog.
He hadn’t noticed Wisp stumbling about behind him, too focused on the task at hand. Time crawled by at a slug’s pace. He flexed his muscles in agitation but pressed on, sniffing along the mountain for any foreign scent, eyes sharp for cracks in the stone.
He found several, pressing his nose close and batting a paw inside without much thought. If this is how he died, so be it. Yet nothing came of it, and his frustration mounted. Crevice after crevice yielded nothing, until finally, he shoved his paw into one and felt something... scaly.
He froze, breath bated, waiting to see if he had just sealed his fate.
