Utterly Mad

Zar froze. Shit. He'd been expecting some street brats, rusty razors and wrapped hands, ready to try and pinch some drunken sailor and loot his drinking money. Well, unless street brats grew wings and got a helluva lot more ugly, then this was a damned Black Sea monster. Obviously a small one, probably not very dangerous, but he didn't exactly have experience in this area, he'd maybe seen three in his life. Crouching lower and nodding to Blackjack, Zar keeps his hand on his knife, ready to lash it out at the slightest movement from the beast.