Post by Lord Muryllis II on Jul 26, 2009 17:48:08 GMT -5
Years of military practice and arcane study had given the Spellblade unparalleled insight into the ways of the universe, bordering, in a certain sense, on limited premonition; he could practically see the intended capture of the red dragon going awry the moment he was plucked from its hind leg by a... by a gryphon?
What an interesting day this had turned out to be.
"Hold," Muryllis called to General Freed, now perched quite comfortably on the back of the noble beast. He was unarmed, having left his sword lodged in the dragon's leg; at this point, all seemed lost. Then, the newly-arrived gryphon mentioned her innate treasure sense, throwing the wizard's mind into gear.
"We still have a chance to catch this thing," he shouted, watching as Bloodwing escaped an army of siegecrafters, archers, arcanists, spellblades, wizards, and several blade- and talon-wounds... all in the space of two sentences. It would seem that having a giant f*cking gryphon slam the hell into you out of nowhere made it easier for you to escape an entire thread's worth of restraining efforts. Whatever.
The monster was still trailing enchanted red smoke from a beacon conjured by one of Muryllis's battlemages at the start of the fight, and he now bore an enchanted signet - a sort of tracking device - that alerted his presence to the entire Society of Spellblades.
"Let's see what you're capable of, gryphon. Follow the dragon at a safe distance; at this point, he has no chance of successfully escaping us if we are to put even a sh*t's worth of effort into tracking him."
"General," he called, having spoken to the gryphon, "can you mobilize a suitable force to follow us wherever we manage to pin the pest down? I'm sure the Academy can authorize a mass teleportation ritual for your men, as that is what my Spellblades will be using."
At this point, he realized he had completely forgotten his manners. Turning back to the gryphon, he said, "I am Lord Muryllis II, Commander of the Academy's Society of Spellblades. What name do you go by, friend?"
What an interesting day this had turned out to be.
"Hold," Muryllis called to General Freed, now perched quite comfortably on the back of the noble beast. He was unarmed, having left his sword lodged in the dragon's leg; at this point, all seemed lost. Then, the newly-arrived gryphon mentioned her innate treasure sense, throwing the wizard's mind into gear.
"We still have a chance to catch this thing," he shouted, watching as Bloodwing escaped an army of siegecrafters, archers, arcanists, spellblades, wizards, and several blade- and talon-wounds... all in the space of two sentences. It would seem that having a giant f*cking gryphon slam the hell into you out of nowhere made it easier for you to escape an entire thread's worth of restraining efforts. Whatever.
The monster was still trailing enchanted red smoke from a beacon conjured by one of Muryllis's battlemages at the start of the fight, and he now bore an enchanted signet - a sort of tracking device - that alerted his presence to the entire Society of Spellblades.
"Let's see what you're capable of, gryphon. Follow the dragon at a safe distance; at this point, he has no chance of successfully escaping us if we are to put even a sh*t's worth of effort into tracking him."
"General," he called, having spoken to the gryphon, "can you mobilize a suitable force to follow us wherever we manage to pin the pest down? I'm sure the Academy can authorize a mass teleportation ritual for your men, as that is what my Spellblades will be using."
At this point, he realized he had completely forgotten his manners. Turning back to the gryphon, he said, "I am Lord Muryllis II, Commander of the Academy's Society of Spellblades. What name do you go by, friend?"
