[i]If left unhindered the headhunter would stride right up to Nicoli, stopping only a short pace away. If Zande hadn't been so tall, they'd be eye to eye. A skinning knife of prodigious size hung from his belt along with a few small leather flasks. Upon his back were a set of wicked battleaxes, the thick handles jutting up over each shoulder. He'd give the assassin a feral grin before speaking again, his yellowed, creamy teeth filed into sharp fangs. His breath stunk of graverot and adrenaline. If there lived a human wild enough to sleep at ease amongst the obscene secrets of the darkest jungles, then now did it stand before Nicoli.[/i]

[color=aba000]"Bwana mean friend mon'! Whattu doin' all da way out 'ere, bad bwoy?"[/color]