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Stefan Ionescu [the frog prince] (unimpressive) wrote in bellumlogs,

“Stefan,” he replied with a nod as his greeting. The animal remark made his eyebrows rise, “Cat?” for he hadn’t made it as far as the plaque. His confusion only made him forget to enlighten anyone on his other form.

“Necronomicon. You know, little black book of the dead? Or something like that.” He waited a moment to see if any lights went on for anyone. “Or even watch the Evil Dead movies?” He didn’t really want to know the answer to that - a travesty if they hadn’t – and pressed on with the explanation, leaning away from the movie angle as this one’s cover lacked the creepy face. “Cthulhu? Lovecraft?” Anything? “They're a bunch of stories that talk about these fucking ugly bizzaro alien god things with like tentacles and wings and shit.” Stefan even held his free hand up to his chin, fingers waving to simulate feelers in what he thought was a decent representation of the Old Ones.

“They kill everything, drive people batshit, etcetera, etcetera, but the book? The book is supposed to help you call them. Summon them.” He waved the book slightly, waiting to see if someone would be curious enough to go through it. He was, but not enough to flip through the pages. “So. Someone said something about a beast?”