Nova Peak hangfire

Nowkē danced on the knife's edge between cheekiness and insolence, as the young were wont to do. Bold, Miska thought, to antagonize a brotherhood veteran as someone who had yet to grow into his legs. Very bold.

The first fool earned a hearty bruahahaha! as Miska finally hit level ground. There was soil, teeth, and yet more ballsy bravado, and now the laugh was a low, rumbling chuckle in the black beast's throat.

Miska lowered his head and squared his stance, following the kid and his cloak with sharp eyes. "You have luck today, Nowkē Winsook," he said, "Miska not in kiss mood."

And then there was only teeth.

Play it how you prefer, roll to dodge or just decide, I don't mind either way!