Sleepy Fox Hollow Catacombs and water mains.

To Anselm, the game wasn't about the bloodshed. It was about the inexplicable look his presence conjured in Etienne's gaze. Even the way Etienne spoke titillated him and caused a stirring of his bladed hackles.

He too, was unafraid.

 The distance between them was eaten by another bold step.

Anselm's cold eyes fell upon the sea-borne man, so far from the warm stretch of beach he'd known as a child. The harsh mountains of Paleo were a series of teeth around Etienne, trapping him within. Vhat is it you call me? His hard voice pressed between a show of smiling teeth, all warmth bled from the expression by the sheer ugliness of his leer.