where no wolf may tread

Dunban isn't part of the elite. He's not someone who benefited off the powerlessness of others, when the struggle came to his doorstep. He's lost people, and those that have been brought back to him haven't made it unfairly.

But he has that daring little look in his eye that says, somehow, it's all still a game to him. Like he came from a fantasy society in somebody's toybox, and his only purpose is to dance about with a wobbling katana and make nice with funny foes.

It might be stakeless, whatever it is they're here for. But Lao isn't having it.

"Can't you stand still?!" he calls out, wishing Balance Breaker would hurry up and take, already. No one stays stable forever.

Dunban grins. "What, and let you have a potshot?"

"Grr...this isn't funny!" With an unhealthy snap of Lao's wrist, the javelin is planted in the ground behind him as he pulls out his rifle, but not before Speed Demon surrounds him.

"I know it isn't," Dunban's voice runs to gravel. Suddenly he's standing very, very far away - and it's not just the sniper scope that makes it seem so.

Suddenly, Lao gets the distinct impression that he's been surrounded, and from one demon to another, Dunban makes to clear those surroundings, imploring Lao as he surges closer, "That's why I'm laughing."