Sleep was something that Specter Knight doesn't really do much of, these days. Brooding and plotting is more his speed, even if it seems that doing so got him stuck here, possibly. On the other hand, he almost immdiately found himself disliking this Jorgmund group even more than the Enchantress. He at least had the illusion of dignity while working for her. For as mad as he was about it, he was also mad at himself - for getting so heated about something ultimately minor, but in the end, it was a small sliver of agency that he was previously afforded, and maybe clinged a bit much to, and now it was taken away under threat of punishment.
How much, though, he had to wonder, pausing in a currently-vacant hallway, though not far from an intersection. He straightens up, focusing and trying to call up just his hood. It tries to swirl into existence for a few moments, then sputters out as small shocks hit him, disrupting the concentration, and making him sputter in pain and frustration, punching at the nearby wall.
On the Run
Angry furniture is definitely something new, but not terribly strange to Specter Knight. He's leading this swarm of chairs on a merry chase: a mix of running, parkouring off the walls to turn corners faster, short bursts of flight around obstacles, and manifesting his scythe to grind along handrails and edges when they're available. He's desperately seeking some more open space than these tight corridors, though eventually, he's bound to run into someone else - figuratively, literally, or both.
Specter Knight | Shovel Knight
Sleep was something that Specter Knight doesn't really do much of, these days. Brooding and plotting is more his speed, even if it seems that doing so got him stuck here, possibly. On the other hand, he almost immdiately found himself disliking this Jorgmund group even more than the Enchantress. He at least had the illusion of dignity while working for her. For as mad as he was about it, he was also mad at himself - for getting so heated about something ultimately minor, but in the end, it was a small sliver of agency that he was previously afforded, and maybe clinged a bit much to, and now it was taken away under threat of punishment.
How much, though, he had to wonder, pausing in a currently-vacant hallway, though not far from an intersection. He straightens up, focusing and trying to call up just his hood. It tries to swirl into existence for a few moments, then sputters out as small shocks hit him, disrupting the concentration, and making him sputter in pain and frustration, punching at the nearby wall.
On the Run
Angry furniture is definitely something new, but not terribly strange to Specter Knight. He's leading this swarm of chairs on a merry chase: a mix of running, parkouring off the walls to turn corners faster, short bursts of flight around obstacles, and manifesting his scythe to grind along handrails and edges when they're available. He's desperately seeking some more open space than these tight corridors, though eventually, he's bound to run into someone else - figuratively, literally, or both.