neron
It was a shame, Neron thought, that - based on the personality of his fellow leader and his decidedly icy countenance - there were not more good-humoured minds about to enjoy the comic display of the two guards. As it was, Neron was simply glad that Wessex had loped out into the Tundra so as not to have to watch the embarrassment. In turn, he turned back to his own work. A big, black obelisk... How wonderfully phallic.
The majority of the wasteland was quite the opposite colour, but Neron located plenty of ash from a fire not long burned out, gathering it together to stand at the beginning of their trail. A deep breath, a modicum of concentration, and the Hailstorm’s work began.
It would appear, at first, as a wobbling, shimmering thing on the horizon; creating water at his fingertips, Neron mixed it with the charcoal until it was black as pitch, before coaxing it up and up and up. The temperature, in the meantime, worked to freeze it into shape, until there was a similar black obelisk jutting into the sky.
As Neron finished, a crack of leather drew his attention to the Ursur, whose harness had snapped in the middle of plowing. Wonderful.
On the horizon, too, there was movement. Wessex would not find bears, or giants... but the brief wink of blades, of people wrapped in furs. Watching, wild eyed, hungry.
No post order!
The majority of the wasteland was quite the opposite colour, but Neron located plenty of ash from a fire not long burned out, gathering it together to stand at the beginning of their trail. A deep breath, a modicum of concentration, and the Hailstorm’s work began.
It would appear, at first, as a wobbling, shimmering thing on the horizon; creating water at his fingertips, Neron mixed it with the charcoal until it was black as pitch, before coaxing it up and up and up. The temperature, in the meantime, worked to freeze it into shape, until there was a similar black obelisk jutting into the sky.
As Neron finished, a crack of leather drew his attention to the Ursur, whose harness had snapped in the middle of plowing. Wonderful.
On the horizon, too, there was movement. Wessex would not find bears, or giants... but the brief wink of blades, of people wrapped in furs. Watching, wild eyed, hungry.
No post order!
you're so cold, put your hand in mine
