Thwip
“Any objections or refinements?”
“Tis isn’t much, but ifin tey’re anny-mated metal ten t’ spell might lose its anny-matin’ power if tey’re not solid. Try t’ cut t’ straps on tere plate ifin yir able t’ go hand t’ hand.”
Thwip unslings his rifle. He does not feel the same fear and disgust at the thought of shooting the automatons as he did shooting at the centaurs. Presumably there aren’t any little armor suit children running around the vault wondering when dad is coming home.
“Before we haff t’ fight, I wan t’ try one last ting.”
He speaks to Jabril as he takes the rifler’s kneeling position, “Do y’ haff inny idea bout famous wizards of yir history? And do y’ tink y’ can do a passybul imitation off t’ voice tey spoke to us wit a minnit ago? Yir t’ only one off us wittout 'n Anglish acksent.”
