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Post by Taun-Lok on Jan 16, 2017 4:47:11 GMT
Taun-Lok kneeled before the Spirit of Totutl, the King of his Gods. Blood dripped from the Lizard warrior's head onto the stone floor and from his jaws following the ritualistic sacrifice. In truth, the God was merely a spirit that had trapped itself in limbo so that it could continue to guide its people long after his mortal death. Its edicts and those of its brothers and sisters had been the utmost power in the City of Gold since before the Mapheri Dynasty ever rose to power, and for a species that grew more powerful as they aged, Totutl's spirit was not to be taken lightly, though Godhood was beyond him.
Taun-Lok was actually somewhat surprised, the Helm of the Horned King had only rarely been taken beyond the walls of the City of Gold and never had it been used to actually commune with the Gods before. <I seek wisdom. Guidance. Survival.> Taun-lok spoke his native tongue as he stayed head bent. "You find yourself twice cursed now my son. Look to the Sun's cage, and you will know what it is you seek."
The ocean? He was miles from the nearest river, weeks travel on foot from the Ocean, where Tehaun held the Sun each night so that it would not burn the earth when it fell. How could it be the answers he sought? It meant nothing for his current predicament. Perhaps the God's meaning was water? The moat and then swim from moat to river. He could swim underwater, but not the warmbloods. Perhaps it was meant that they should die and he should live, that their lives were meaningless in the Gods' plan for the world and his still held worth.
The spirit turned its attention to the woman, scared and afraid she stood back. "And you? What wisdom do you seek?"Mirielle Merlon
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 16, 2017 5:24:47 GMT
Taun-Lok The breath froze in Miri's throat, cold as the stone wall against her back. Without question, in that hiss which spoke two languages at once, the spirit-god was addressing her. She put aside the frankly puzzling advice the spirit had given the lizard-man. "I've offered no gift," she said to the wavering outline, "but if you'll advise me, I'll be grateful." One concern had taken her north. Another had impelled her in the last few hours. Now a straight line drew itself from one to the other and became a coherent question, all on its own. "I need to get home. My father is a king and the unquiet dead are pressing in on our borders. I need to help him find a way to keep our kingdom safe." The spirit clacked its jaws, perhaps in amusement. <<Who can bottle mist? Can a creeping fog have substance? What light can spring forth from the heart of a cloud?>> It fell silent. "Uh..." The spirit's jaws clacked again, and it returned its attention to its living compatriot, the injured lizard-man. Miri was, apparently, forgotten. Then axes splintered the door and the image faded. "Huh."
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Post by Taun-Lok on Jan 16, 2017 5:46:07 GMT
Taun-Lok's face was one of confusion, his reptilian features twisted with raised brows as he looked at the woman who spoke with his God without raising his head. She neither kneeled nor offered him anything. She had no purpose that he knew of and she wasn't a great warrior, she could not channel the divinity of the Gods. She could not speak for the Stars and she could not see the winds of Magic. The Gods had never spoken to an outsider before, never acknowledged them for they were not the chosen people made to serve the Gods. How was it that She was able to speak with the Mighty Totutl who had taken a darkened world with no light and given it the Sun, which breathed life into all things?
The words Totutl spoke were quickly marked on a piece of parchment. Fog, mist, clouds? It meant nothing to Taun-Lok who was unaware of the magical fog around his city's purpose or origin. He didn't even draw the connection, but the words were spoken by the Most Almighty of the five, so they must have meaning even if nothing else about the conversation did. For the City of Gold, certain points in time always came to pass, only the journey to those destinations were unknown. Whoever this woman was she must hold some great importance to the Gods' great plan for the world.
The sound of axes chipping through wood returned Taun-Lok to the here and now, the Spirit of Totutl fading just as quickly as he had arrived, offering no more wisdom. One heart, for one question was how it had always been for the Priest-Kings. That is what puzzled him so much about the Woman, she had no offering and yet, she had received the God's Wisdom. She must be protected and taken to the Gods themselves.
His deep growl returned to him as the Spirit left the pair and the Orcs became intent on joining them in the keep. "Come." Taun-Lok rose, snatching up the Sun Mace that Totutl had wielded since the dawn of time according to legend, which he had given to the Horned-King to banish the Undead from the Jungles of the City. "Out?" He asked as best as his bestial throat would allow. Even being a Sunblood, the chosen children of Totutl, and the Eldest of them all, he could only barely speak their language and never in sentences. It was hard enough for him to form single words and give them the proper inflection.
For now he needed a way out of this keep so he could get her to safety. The others were of no importance, and for now, he was only of importance to get Mirielle Merlon to the Gods. If they would speak with her so freely perhaps the Gods too longed for the continuation of his people and would help him prolong the City of Gold through her.
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 16, 2017 6:08:24 GMT
Taun-LokBetween the arrhythmic thuds of axes and the steadier but quicker beat of Miri's heart, she heard another sound: a quill on parchment, or something close enough. For all his brevity of speech, the lizard-man could write dexterously, it seemed, and he was writing down the spirit-god's words. And speaking of words, she made a note to learn the proper nouns for the species and both individuals as soon as possible. This being was nothing like a lizard. "I found one way," she said. She blinked, realizing they were alone. The other survivors had fled in the course and aftermath of the orc sacrifice. No doubt they were throwing themselves into the moat or hiding in dark corners. "The others might have used it and drawn attention to it, but it'll be easy enough to tell. Follow me." She eyed the spiral stair, which ought to fit him, and hurried up. Some limited sense of normalcy returned once the sacrifice was out of her sightline. She'd reclaimed her bow; now she fitted a shaft to it as the sounds of orcs filtered down from above. They'd clearly gotten in through the walltop door after following her, but from there they'd spread through the gigantic keep. Guessing that the window she'd seen might have a lower equivalent, she exited the stairwell and put an arrow through the chest of a lone orc. He'd been engaged in firing a bow out the hoped-for window, a broad cruciform arrow-slit designed for the broken ballista on the floor. Down below, in the river that served as a moat, bobbed several arrow-studded bodies. Others lay twisted on the rocks. Twenty yards' fall, and a lot of arc needed, and unknown numbers of orcish archers at the windows above. Better than being stuck in here, though. She set the bow aside and took the quiver off her shoulder. "We'll have to jump for it. I hope you can fit through."
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Post by Taun-Lok on Jan 16, 2017 6:26:43 GMT
Taun-Lok followed her to the window. It would be a tight fit but he could make it if he had to. The bodies in the river didn't bode well for the princess, or for him. Arrows sticking out of his chest would be equally bad for him but his back could take some punishment. Plus he could swim at the bottom of the moat and out into the river much quicker than a human. The problem was her welfare. It wasn't like she would magically learn to breath underwater in the next sixty seconds.
Taun-Lok shoved his way into the window, pushing against stones and ancient mortar until he was hunched in the window slot and propelled himself to the wall with a surge of his leg muscles. Once he landed the large lizard turned back to the window and held out his clawed hands to catch her when she jumped.
He intended to catch her and make the jump with her held against his chest, sink to the bottom and swim for as long as she could hold her breath before surfacing as far away as possible. He could shield her with his own body during the initial leg of their journey, and if need be he could surface with her below him, covering most of her body with his hardened back scales until they got out of range.
Taun-Lok hissed low, "Come." Holding his arms wide so that she would understand to jump to the wall into his grasp. Every second counted now and fatigue of battle was wearing upon the large lizard warrior.Mirielle Merlon
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 16, 2017 6:34:42 GMT
Taun-LokThe idea had been hers, but in the moment, she found herself unable to jump -- at least until a quarter of orcs stormed into the room. A hand gripped the hem of her skirt as she leaped out the broad arrow slit. Fabric tore, and for a gut-liquefying moment she wondered how much forward momentum she'd just lost. But she'd judged right, maybe even over-propelled herself, and her full weight thudded into the lizard-man's arms. His square bracer or bracelet dug into the small of her back with bruising force. Then they were jumping again, arcing out between the crenelations and down toward the sluggish river. Arrows slashed through the air past them, but night was coming on, and they constituted a moving target. So far as she could tell, they weren't getting hit. At least, she wasn't. The water rushed up at them, blotting out her field of view. She caught a glimpse of the defenders' faces, caught in perpetual surprise and transfixed by arrows. Someone up there was a frighteningly good shot. Impact would come at any moment. She clung to the bloody lizard, because what else could she do?
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Post by Taun-Lok on Jan 16, 2017 6:47:34 GMT
An arrow thudded into Taun-Lok's thick scales painfully. Just one more wound for the Priest-King to have to deal with, that would limit how long he would be able to swim for. If they were chased without relent, he wouldn't be able to outrun them and this would be the end. Even in the water where he was swiftest, it was cold, and his blood chilled.
With a splash the pair sunk like an armor covered stone, Taun-Lok holding her below him so that his back would take any arrows, which was provided them both with the greatest chance of survival. And if he succumbed of his wounds, then at least he would not be the last Priest-King and his species would survive until they found the Helm and anointed a new leader and his Vision-Quest would be completed so long as she made her way to the Gods.
Taun-Lok knew she couldn't breathe underwater and that time was ticking away, they stood at a pivotal moment where his future could only go one of two ways. Either they struggled with one another and he would be forced to surface too soon and would take an arrow to the eye, or she would work with him and the arrow would fall short as they skimmed through the river.
His clawed hands worked to tuck her fingers over the lip of his breastplate so she could hold onto him, and his legs worked to trapped hers against the length of his body as he began the slithering motion of swimming, powerful crocodilian-tail sweeping from side to side, the spines on his back raised to cut through the water and push him as steadily as any alligator or crocodile she may have encountered in her travels. Even the water seemed to be flowing in a favorable direction, the current of the river pushing him in the direction he wanted to go. Away from the Orcs.
And this was the fulcrum point in his immediate future. Would his vision quest be over just as it began, or would his life continue to the next fulcrum.Mirielle Merlon
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Post by Aldacer on Jan 16, 2017 7:00:43 GMT
Though he was unaware of the siege, Aldacer had taken the offer from the Council in Idmidium to take a medium sized airship out on an expedition to test speed and ability. Eventually, though they had spotted Taun-Lok and Mirielle Merlon fleeing, and their enemy. A shout from on high rose, and whirring and humming could be heard in the very air as the dreadnought sunk low and ballistae began firing, the three in the prow worked by a repeating crank wheel, able to fire a dozen or so bolts before reloading. The forward most ones first bolt hit with a crack in the rank of the pursuers and virulent green fire erupted from it as air touched the contents. Heat and hissing filled the air, along with the rough voice of a dwarf. Thin threads of fire streaked from the sky to strike, trying to dismay and break up the pursuit. The thick viscous green fluid resisted even the flow of the water, burning and cutting off the pursuit for the lizard and princess. A long, sturdy ladder was flung over the side and a brisk voice barked out a stunted command in common bidding them to come aboard as spears and return fire skittered off the brazen hull of the strange dwarven craft.
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Post by Taenor Stormwind on Jan 16, 2017 18:44:42 GMT
Ruins of Taer Loun, Great Eastern ForestTaenor stepped carefully along the path, a stone walkway skillfully carved and engraved with runes. The light filtering in through the canopy overhead was enough to show that the runes were something Pre-Imperial. He had taken several rubbings of them, every time he saw a new shape to them so he could study as complete a lexicon as possible when he got back to civilization. The Great Eastern Forest was even less explored than its Western cousin. Taenor had traveled here following rumors of an artifact. The rumors actually stated that a great evil resided in the forest near the foothills of the mountains. Taenor had taken a long while triangulating the location by traveling to remote villages. He encountered a tribe of wild halflings that had led him to the edge of this ruin, but refused to enter. Their dialect was strange, but so far as Taenor understood, most people who entered this ruin was never seen again. Now, Taenor knew many of the laws that the natural world existed by. If it was just a matter of something killing those that entered, they would know it. Animals would be skittish around the place, trails would lead in and out, etc. Animals didn't seem very skittish around here, as he stood there pondering a dozen species of birds he had never seen to the west of the mountains were flitting about, unperturbed by whatever was going on. That meant no killing. Beyond that, Taenor could only guess until he could examine it. So, Taenor continued on. Carefully, he tread the stone walkway. After a few dozen meters, and a handful of turns in the walkway, he came upon a doorway. There was nothing closing it down, but a cold aura surrounded it. " Lesaen'ta" he spoke, and his eyes glowed a luminous green. Before his eyes, the dark doorway became a spectral door that consisted of what looked like planks of magic bound together by runes of the same sort he had been examining on the walkway. Taenor spent a long moment examining the spells bound into the door way. Always shifting, he couldn't get them to focus in his vision, so he moved closer. Then closer. Then the spectral door shifted, and part of it contacted the skin of his nose. In an instant, Taenor was whisked away from the ruins the locals called Taer Loun. The wild halflings waited until nightfall, then left with their theory confirmed. The strange tall mage had vanished. EthenveldAfter a few moments of seemingly not existing, Taenor found himself standing in a room. The architecture of the room spoke of high imperial, and the sunlight streaming through the window told him he had traveled a good distance to the west. The room held many books, some with the same runes on them as he had found in the ruins he had just, unexpectedly, vacated. The room also held a pair of brutish Orcs, and so Taenor's focus was pulled from what had been a potentially dangerous academic expedition into a real life and death situation. "Grrrrngh?" An orc reared back as Taenor filled the space near where he had been relieving himself. He and his companion were stupendously confused. It was that confusion that saved Taenor. " Kaelva To'lok!" He spat out twice. In quick succession, light transfigured both of his hands, then shot out. The two orcs stood stock still for a moment, rigid at the instant of death as the lightning coursed through their bodies. Then, they slumped to the ground, scorch marks riddled their exposed flesh where arcs had gone between their bodies. It was then that the sound of orcs pillaging the castle broke through into his conscious mind. The edges of tingling sensations began, as he had cast a handful of spells in short succession. He hadn't prepared to battle, but he had a will of iron to remain alive a long while. Taenor moved quickly, grabbing a couple of the books that were titled in the strange runes, then vacated the room. He shoved them into his satchel, closed the clasp on a bag that seemed no bigger than it had before, and began to move. He figured the orcs would start on the bottom floor and move up. That gave him time to figure out how to escape is he could get to the top of the tower. So, up and up Taenor ran. His adventures in strange lands had kept him in decent shape, but even so he was tired when he reached the top parapet of the tower and looked out over the carnage. "This isn't a raid on someone...this castle is practically a ruin already, and that is a veritable horde!" Taenor said to himself. As he watched, a pair of creatures emerged from the moat far below and hundreds of yards away. An airship of obvious Dwarven craftsmanship floated overhead and shot at the orcs following the pair. "Is that a...lizardfolk? Working with a Dwarven crew, and dragging along a human...person..." He continued to murmur to himself as he looked on. A crash from below reminded him, and he set about securing the door up to the parapet, leaving the edge and ducking down. He pulled a stylus of cold iron from a pouch, and began to inscribe warding runes into the wood of the trap door. As he did, he pushed magic slowly through the stylus. Each rune he inscribed glowed as soon as he finished it, and slowly he began to encase the trap door in a magical ward. And slowly, the tingling crept in from the edges of his consciousness. Taun-Lok Velaeri Mirielle Merlon Aldacer
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 17, 2017 2:35:02 GMT
Taenor Stormwind Aldacer Taun-LokHer body wanted to struggle, to flail, squirm free of the lizard's iron grip and claw for air. But her body had wanted to run back in the keep's entry hall, with a sacrifice bleeding on the table and a reptilian god staring her down. She'd kept her feet then and she could keep her balance now. She doubted the lizard-man would have saved her only to drown her. They broke through to the air with a torrential splash. She gasped in a deep breath, but they didn't submerge again. Wiping her eyes, she caught a glimpse of a ladder hanging from the sky. An arrow protruded from the cunning craftsmanship: the ladder had clearly been designed to roll up as compactly and efficiently as possible. Another arrow slashed past her and slurped into the river, and she found her strength. Half-way up the ladder she paused to catch her breath. When she glanced back she saw fire burning on the water, and streams of it shooting from the vehicle above. That kind of fire had featured in the occasional old book, but had no place in the science or military doctrine of most established, civilized nations. Then again, neither did flying boats. The pertinent facts scrolled through the back of her mind, cold and precise as the way she'd understood the sacrifice. How she could think that clearly, despite the panic in her mind and chest and limbs, was anyone's guess. A hand gripped hers and jerked her over the top lip of the ladder. She sprawled on the deck. "He's hurt," she said, lips numb. "The lizard-man."
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Post by Taun-Lok on Jan 17, 2017 2:56:06 GMT
Taun-Lok had released her when he broke the water's surface, letting her climb up the ladder on her own. Partially because his injuries and fatigue were causing him to fade and flag already, but mostly because he didn't want to climb the ladder at all. If his charge hadn't climbed it, it was likely he would not have and would have died somewhere nearby. Fire shot from the ship, thick ballistae bolts launched in waves, and it flew in the air, the Domain of Totutl. Apparently the Cage of the Sun had provided him a ship with which to escape on after all.
Wearily, the warrior pulled himself up behind the Princess one rung at a time, the ladder creaking. It was designed for dwarves, which were hardy folk and hefty, but Taun-Lok was about the size of a Kodiak bear in height and weight. The ladder was finely constructed and made excellently, but holding the girl and the lizard-man at the same time was certainly a stress test for it.
As he came level with the deck hardy hands reached for him, helping him over the railing of the air ship. The lizard's tongue was hanging from his open mouth, chest rising and falling as though trying to catch his breath. With a lurch, Taun-Lok slumped to the deck of the air ship laying on the metal and wood as he gathered his surroundings.
Despite being his saviors, provided to him by the Gods, they were warmbloods and they might seek that which was his. Namely, the Princess he was charged with returning to the Cradle of the World. They needed to know immediately that none would impede his divine mission. A deep growl rumbled up from his chest as he rose, stepping over the woman on the deck, looming over her in a defensive posture even if he didn't bother to unsling the mace from his back.
Blood dripped from the worst of his wounds, mixed with the water of the moat down his chest and back and onto the deck. "Leader?" He did need some medicine, some form of healing, but it could wait. First and foremost he needed to get the air ship traveling in the right direction and the woman off the dangerous open deck.Mirielle Merlon Aldacer Taenor Stormwind
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Post by Velaeri on Jan 17, 2017 3:17:00 GMT
A piercing screech echoed through the sky as a massive shadow fell over the castle towers. In various posts and wall ledges great talons eeked out from beneath the expanse of feathered wings, grabbing and tossing orcs from their vantage points before swooping out of the reach of the archers. The great golden gryphon curved upwards through the air, circling the parapets in search for enemies and innocents alike. As she peaked in a wide arch, wingtips cutting through smoke rising from the stronghold below, movement at the very top caught her eye. A man, not an orc, stooped by a doorway surrounded by an aura of ethereal powers. He was alone and, so far as she could tell, vastly out-armed by the heathens saturating the castle proper. Wouldn't be long 'fore the orcs found another way - they were already looking out through the tower windows and slinging grapple hooks up the walls. SCRAAAAAAWWWWW She peeled around the tower once more, broad wings catching an updraft to slow her glide. With several gusty beats the gryphon dropped to cling at the edge of the tower top, incapable of reaching the man at the door for her own bulk. There came an emphatic wave of communication - no words, no images, simply an insistence of safety. SHHHIIIK KLAK KLIK Arrows bounced off the stone around her. She felt the tingling of one lodging into the spread of her wing feathers. The mage would need to hurry. Taenor Stormwind
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Post by Madog Hier on Jan 17, 2017 4:09:28 GMT
"Battle formations, Captain," the order came, Madog's voice steady and calm. "I want both companies on a line, line formation. Place the Rangers on either flank, cavalry in the rear. We advance on my order." The captain nodded once and moved on, passing orders to junior officers and sergeants. Madog watched for a moment as the man moved on his way and then turned his head to the fighting around the castle. Old and in disrepair, the structure wasn't exactly the best defensive position in the world, but understandable for whoever had taken refuge within the crumbling walls. Around him men rushed to follow their orders, the crimson red of their uniforms seemingly mocking the verdant greens and browns of the terrain around them. They'd driven the orcs out and across the land, running them down one by one at times and in whole droves when pockets stood to fight. He'd taken casualties here and there, but nothing major. Nothing that had slowed him down significantly or dissuaded him from the task at hand. The orcs had ventured into Northern Arlek and the King had sent a force to stop them. Madog was the best choice for the task at hand, having just returned from patrols in the North, and so here he was. Driving them out was the easy part. Hunting them down had been difficult, at least until now. In a few moments the Arlekkians had rushed out, the red of their uniforms and the glint of their armor visible from afar in the light. Nearly six hundred men arrayed themselves into a single line six ranks deep facing the rear of the orc horde and as the last of the men fell into position, a single order was barked out and the front two ranks lowered pikes. Behind them stood two more ranks of men armed with swords and metal shields while two rows of crossbowmen held the rear ranks, their weapons at the ready. On either flanks, small groups of men took cover where they could, the muted grays of their uniforms at stark contrast to their comrades' crimson. These were the Rangers, the Arlekkian men of the wilderness. Trained huntsmen and woodsmen all, each was a crack shot and a skilled fighter. Each was armed with a crossbow specially made by the small enchanter's guild within Arlek allowing them to cock the weapon one handed with modest effort and firing from a small magazine mounted atop the weapon. Behind the line rode a dozen men on horses, a detachment of the Arlekkian 1st Regiment of Light Horse. As far as Madog was concerned, they were the weak link of his forces. To his mind, nobles had varying levels of training and there was absolutely no guarantee that such men would fight as hard or harder than his regular troops. Ahead, the orcs had spotted the men that had arrived behind them, the same ones that had driven them out at the tip of a pike. The rear of the orc horde turned to face the Arlekkian troops, readying themselves to charge the line with strength of numbers. Madog hefted his two handed blade, a traditional weapon of his people, and moved to stand next to the captain he'd spoken with earlier. "Standard orders, Captain," was all the man said. The captain nodded once and cleared his throat. "At one hundred yards, volley fire!" the man shouted. "Present!" At the order, the pikemen and swordsmen dropped to one knee. Behind them, two hundred crossbows clicked, their safeties released, the men waiting only for the order to fire as the green horde grew closer. Taun-Lok Mirielle Merlon Aldacer Velaeri Taenor Stormwind
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Post by Taenor Stormwind on Jan 17, 2017 12:47:21 GMT
VelaeriTaenor wasn't a man to look a gift horse, or in this case gryphon, in the mouth. He'd heard tales of vaunted wizards in ages past being able to call on the aid of creatures when in dire need. Gryphons, giant eagles, hippogriffs, and all manner of other flying creatures featured in such tales, whisking wizards and their companions out of danger in their hour of need. He knew he needed to hurry, but he couldn't help but to leave a little surprise. With a few quick strokes, and an outporing of mana, he sketched a last pair of runes on the door. Instantly, the wards on the door changed from protective to offensive. The moment the door parted from jam, the whole thing would explode into splinters. The tromp of footsteps came from below, and Taenor knew they had little time. Lunging, he leapt up onto the battlement, then carefully slid onto the gryphons back. "If you understand me, thank you, and lets go!" He said with all haste. He worked himself up until he was able to secure himself on as if astride a horse, careful to keep his legs away from her beautiful wings, and holding on with one hand deep in her fur. Certain mundane, but certainly unusual, pastimes he had come across had taught him how to hold onto hair and fur without truly harming. The closer to skin you got, the less likely there would be pain. Taenor just hoped it worked the same on animal fur as it did on red heads and brunettes. This would allow him one hand free to cast, hoping to aid their escape by deflecting projectiles. He was already forming the spell in his mind, readying to release it with but an utterance and a gesture, hoping the increasing edge of tingling numbness at the edges of his consciousness wouldn't claim him in the process.
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Post by Velaeri on Jan 18, 2017 0:12:38 GMT
SHHIK KLAK THP THP The mage was met with a strangled sound of pain, barely given enough time to find his seat before the gryphon curled and dropped away from the tower. Several large blocks of stone followed their descent, crashing and crumbling against the tower walls. Seconds of freefall took them before those massive wings splayed, catching the updraft once again. Up, up, up they went, arrows skirting past. KABOOM! A blast of magical enchantment filled the sky with ethereal light, catapulting shrapnel and orc-mess through the open air. The gryphon did her best to avoid the brunt of the explosion - turning away from the fire now caught on the towers to bank low towards the only other thing presently claiming the skies: Aldacer and his amazing airship. Taenor Stormwind
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