Change everything you are and everything you were
Your number has been called
The catapult continued its consistent rolling, and Oliver’s apprehension kept mystifying. The confusion was now a paramount thing in the Sword’s mind, churning over any of the other misgivings he had about the world, thoroughly immersed in furrowing his brows and shaking his head at the bizarre, ridiculous connotations of this conversation. If the blacksmith was frightened of the potential here, and Deimos could only guess in what details, ways, or predilections (more foreboding, forthcoming storms?), then why linger in the threshold? “If you fear for your safety, then why would you stay?” Was he misunderstanding? Were there other key factors at play?
Shaking his skull again, persisting and pushing, he waited for the weapon of choice to be decided upon. A staff – which seemed safer, in some regards. There weren’t any serrated edges. There weren’t any sharpened expanses where he’d likely end up hurting himself before launching an assault. Imbued and infused with defensive capabilities seemed more up Oliver’s alley anyway – though he nearly made a comment about how often the fellow Hybrid assumed he’d be running into those with darker incantations. Probably not a grand time for poor humor.
He paused in his broad steps and strides, grabbing hold of the catapult so that it ceased momentarily. “A staff to deflect dark magic.” He nodded, ascertaining this was correct, before his palms became gilded and glowing, the beacon in his mind already taking shape. It appeared readily, embossed, lacquered, and sculpted in a silver hue, plain, unadorned, unassuming, not a decorative piece, but a functional one. Layered within its range were the elemental reaches, his own manifestations of enchantments unfurled and unleashed, until it was done, complete, and extended out to the requester.
--
Deimos has made:
Staff: A staff capable of deflecting dark magic cast at the wielder.
Shaking his skull again, persisting and pushing, he waited for the weapon of choice to be decided upon. A staff – which seemed safer, in some regards. There weren’t any serrated edges. There weren’t any sharpened expanses where he’d likely end up hurting himself before launching an assault. Imbued and infused with defensive capabilities seemed more up Oliver’s alley anyway – though he nearly made a comment about how often the fellow Hybrid assumed he’d be running into those with darker incantations. Probably not a grand time for poor humor.
He paused in his broad steps and strides, grabbing hold of the catapult so that it ceased momentarily. “A staff to deflect dark magic.” He nodded, ascertaining this was correct, before his palms became gilded and glowing, the beacon in his mind already taking shape. It appeared readily, embossed, lacquered, and sculpted in a silver hue, plain, unadorned, unassuming, not a decorative piece, but a functional one. Layered within its range were the elemental reaches, his own manifestations of enchantments unfurled and unleashed, until it was done, complete, and extended out to the requester.
--
Deimos has made:
Staff: A staff capable of deflecting dark magic cast at the wielder.
DEIMOS
