User blog comment:Guildmaster Grovyle/JLE Role Play, Spring 2015/@comment-5837525-20150520223214

Decibelle: Great work, Glaive! You got an address?

Blackthorn: ...

(Blackthorn looks toward the captive changeling, taking note of his apparently blank eyes. He looked like a dog on a leash. Blackthorn couldn't help but feel a little sympathy. And however much sympathy Aspen shared, it still felt immoral. So very... "un-deer.")

Blackthorn: ...I understand, sire. Consider the matter closed.

(He turns on his heels and faces away from Aspen, hiding his grim expression.)

Blackthorn: (Forgive me, my king... But by this time tomorrow, one way or another... Thicket will be changeling-free.)

(With a return nod to Glaive, Star-Lord sets out on his own as well back down to the Maretropolis streets. Looking up to the Death Dragon, Star-Lord reactivates his mask to shield himself from its decaying breath and reenters the fray.)

Star-Lord: Round 3, bitch! And I am fifty kinds of pissed!

(Taking aim with his Quad Blasters, he fires upon the dragon with charged bullets of white-hot energy.)

(Phetlock, High Heel, and Shadowmane pack into the elevator. Killer Hock attempts to squeeze inside as well, pushing his fellow elevator riders against the walls.)

Shadowmane: Agh! You're... scratching my coat with your stupid scales!

Hock: Well, sorry. It ain't like I'm Ant-Mane or something.