And idly watches the dwarf try to stave off the hordes of mosquitos that had decided he would make a fine lunch. Though he had lived long, and seen much, he couldn't help but give the dwarf his due: the humaniod could weild a weapon, possibly better than any the wizard had ever seen. Still technical skill and prowess in battle were seperate affairs, so judgement could wait.

He himself was not beleagured by any of the insects himself, pests and vermin avoided his touch like the plague they undoubtedly carried. One of the perks to his magick, animals knew he commands death at his touch, and would not be sparing to nuisances.

not having much to say, he contented himself with mentally running through his spells, fingering the book within one of the many secret pockets in his robes. One could not know when it necessary to recall information, especially for a spellcaster.