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Oh, wait. I already sang my high C and the wolves didn't emit a single note. I guess that won't work. So I don't have any better plan for the moment than the previous suggestion to speak out in debate.
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If it's high pitch you crave, I urge you to try my enchanted whistle. Handmade of pure lithuanium, mined from a mountain near Srobrocznya, winked at by jackals, and guaranteed to send shivers up the spine of any cani--er, lycan. This whistle, of course, is worth twice its weight in gold, but as things do seem to be getting a little tense around here I'll allow you to have a free tootle.
As for the rest of you, I'm hard at work concocting an anti-Wolf ointment. Crackerjack stuff, and as always guar-an-teed.
I'm as dedicated as anyone to rooting out these lycans, and Shamville's wish is my command.