"Liking my wares, are we?" The Death Lord materialized behind Aldrich, and he immediately whirled around, the blade of solid sunlight in his hands. The tip of the golden sword hovered just an inch away from the Death Lord's pale, dainty neck.
The Death Lord's serpentine tongue slithered out, curling around the blade tip in quite the suggestive manner before she smirked and drew it back in. "Always ready for a fight. Admirable."
"It's just you." Aldrich sighed and lowered the blade. The weight felt nice in his hands, perfectly tailored to his preferences. He had some knowledge of how to use swords because vibroblades, monofilament whip-blades, and heatrend swords were pretty commonplace.
Guns were nice and all, but against heavily armored mutants or Alters with skin that could bounce missiles off? Techblades were the way to go.
"Just me? How rude." The Death Lord pouted.
"And Chrysa?" Aldrich asked about what was most important to him at the moment.
