oh the weather outside is frightful
Today is Friday, excellent day for a war if you ask Weir. Not like Thursdays, Thursdays are no day to start battle- everyone knows that. He’s just left the Gates, the resident Magician takes it from there and the roan winter-wielder bids him adieu. Jason he’s called, a nice sort of fellow Weir decides, even if he looks a bit sickly. Being blue all the time probably had something to do with that.
Anyhow, he decides he’s no longer needed and that his powers would be of better use somewhere else- he guesses he can head over to the Chamber now, see what all the fuss is over.
Weir stands at the meeting place, or what he is sure is the meeting place had they decided on one. Waiting, looking around the entrance of the Chamber while he himself is invisible. This invisibility thing wasn’t so bad, especially in a time like this, now if only Ramiel or Ely would arrive. They were all supposed to meet right here don’t you know? He told them like, last week, maybe the week before- okay so it was closer to three but who’s counting.
It’s just so, hot. Too hot yes, the fire’s that rage against the Chamber pines and dead leaves littering the floor is roasting. Yuck, enough of standing here, besides he can hear all the shouting and commotion from within.
Still invisible but with a nice cold winter wind blowing up his backside, he enters the foray. There is gore every where he looks, chaos, fighting, screaming, bellowing of horse and beast alike. It’s madness is what it is, even for a battle. Everywhere he looks there are strangers, a Dragon overhead, a snarling wolf shifter over there, that winged brute that came to the Dale once. “Darwin, which one’s are ours?” he asks, the tortoise blinking into existence (on this plane that is).
“Ours? You all look alike to me.” the great reptile grunts, clearly peeved by the scene before him.
“Oh wait, isn’t that..Joscelin?..Ely’s kid?” he comments, as the sunlight-filled mare flies above them. “Think so..” Darwin trails off, clearly not as interested.
The Magic filling the air is palpable, from every corner he can feel the tickle of it creeping along his spine. He doesn’t know much what to do with it though, not until he spies Eight overhead, changing into an osprey to attack a gigantic dragon.
Nasty creatures dragons, moody, ill-tempered. But, if Eight was set on attacking this one it had to be someone he himself was sided with. That’s how his reasoning of context clues worked and so he knew just where to place a little fumble in the tethers of that which was Magic.
It’s terribly hard to attack a fire-breathing creature with duck feet, where had he been aiming for anyway? No matter, Weir can just imagine the webbed toes slapping uselessly against the Dragon’s face. The thought is enough to send him snickering in amusement to the opposite end of the battle, closer to Shippy- he’s got to check on his best friend you know.
Anyhow, he decides he’s no longer needed and that his powers would be of better use somewhere else- he guesses he can head over to the Chamber now, see what all the fuss is over.
Weir stands at the meeting place, or what he is sure is the meeting place had they decided on one. Waiting, looking around the entrance of the Chamber while he himself is invisible. This invisibility thing wasn’t so bad, especially in a time like this, now if only Ramiel or Ely would arrive. They were all supposed to meet right here don’t you know? He told them like, last week, maybe the week before- okay so it was closer to three but who’s counting.
It’s just so, hot. Too hot yes, the fire’s that rage against the Chamber pines and dead leaves littering the floor is roasting. Yuck, enough of standing here, besides he can hear all the shouting and commotion from within.
Still invisible but with a nice cold winter wind blowing up his backside, he enters the foray. There is gore every where he looks, chaos, fighting, screaming, bellowing of horse and beast alike. It’s madness is what it is, even for a battle. Everywhere he looks there are strangers, a Dragon overhead, a snarling wolf shifter over there, that winged brute that came to the Dale once. “Darwin, which one’s are ours?” he asks, the tortoise blinking into existence (on this plane that is).
“Ours? You all look alike to me.” the great reptile grunts, clearly peeved by the scene before him.
“Oh wait, isn’t that..Joscelin?..Ely’s kid?” he comments, as the sunlight-filled mare flies above them. “Think so..” Darwin trails off, clearly not as interested.
The Magic filling the air is palpable, from every corner he can feel the tickle of it creeping along his spine. He doesn’t know much what to do with it though, not until he spies Eight overhead, changing into an osprey to attack a gigantic dragon.
Nasty creatures dragons, moody, ill-tempered. But, if Eight was set on attacking this one it had to be someone he himself was sided with. That’s how his reasoning of context clues worked and so he knew just where to place a little fumble in the tethers of that which was Magic.
It’s terribly hard to attack a fire-breathing creature with duck feet, where had he been aiming for anyway? No matter, Weir can just imagine the webbed toes slapping uselessly against the Dragon’s face. The thought is enough to send him snickering in amusement to the opposite end of the battle, closer to Shippy- he’s got to check on his best friend you know.
W E I R
Invisble- Magic manipulating - Winter wielder of the Dale
okay duck feet slapping against Yael's eyeballs was too hilarious to pass up mkay - and its not a whole duck, weir just changed his feet- well i can change it if needed