[Nero's eyes narrow as he scans the snow-crusted mountain around them. Plenty of outcrops, cliffs, jagged rocks tall enough to hide a body behind it. He's not exactly worried about being ambushed out here; if Geralt wasn't some weird not-human guy, Nero doubts he'd be weathering this so well already.
Honestly, anything pickin' a fight with the two of them is really gonna have a bad day.
The wind howls against the mountain, over its peak, but there -- there it is. The telltale sound of creaking ice, like a frozen lake indelicately stepped onto.
He doesn't need to see it to feel it -- demons still ping through his blood like a laser shot. The Devil Bringer was a part of him, and while he's not out here glowing like a lamp, it's not about to let one get the drop on him, either. Nero sidesteps just as a trio of jagged icicles shoot through the space he'd previously occupied, thrown with so much force they embed right into solid rock past him.
He whistles.] Man, you guys are still around? It's been so long! I was thinkin' you'd forgotten about me. [And out of the storm of snow around them step a trio of Frosts, standing like knights with ice shaped like shields forming their right arms. The one that shot off the icicles that form its hand raises its arm, regrowing them as Nero watches. He grins.] Oh. If looks could chill. [He gives Geralt a glance.] Well, you need some more practice with demons.
[He punches a fist into his other hand, spreading his legs. Fine. If the Horizon wants to throw some shit at him, why not? He could use the distraction. (Outside the flash of light just past the Frosts, drawing his attention again. Is it -- beckoning?]
Come on, Geralt. Let's break the ice!
[Nero dives straight for the one in front, punching it right in the face with a yell. Ice cracks underneath the force of his fist, and even if the skin of his knuckle splits and spills blood over the demon's face, it heals almost as fast as it happens.]
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Honestly, anything pickin' a fight with the two of them is really gonna have a bad day.
The wind howls against the mountain, over its peak, but there -- there it is. The telltale sound of creaking ice, like a frozen lake indelicately stepped onto.
He doesn't need to see it to feel it -- demons still ping through his blood like a laser shot. The Devil Bringer was a part of him, and while he's not out here glowing like a lamp, it's not about to let one get the drop on him, either. Nero sidesteps just as a trio of jagged icicles shoot through the space he'd previously occupied, thrown with so much force they embed right into solid rock past him.
He whistles.] Man, you guys are still around? It's been so long! I was thinkin' you'd forgotten about me. [And out of the storm of snow around them step a trio of Frosts, standing like knights with ice shaped like shields forming their right arms. The one that shot off the icicles that form its hand raises its arm, regrowing them as Nero watches. He grins.] Oh. If looks could chill. [He gives Geralt a glance.] Well, you need some more practice with demons.
[He punches a fist into his other hand, spreading his legs. Fine. If the Horizon wants to throw some shit at him, why not? He could use the distraction. (Outside the flash of light just past the Frosts, drawing his attention again. Is it -- beckoning?]
Come on, Geralt. Let's break the ice!
[Nero dives straight for the one in front, punching it right in the face with a yell. Ice cracks underneath the force of his fist, and even if the skin of his knuckle splits and spills blood over the demon's face, it heals almost as fast as it happens.]