St. Clover
Member
Anshelical
Milianor frowned, eyeing the floating box in front of her. Arcane energy swirled around it, shifting and churning in a colorful cascade of infinite potential, drawn from the four torches sat around her on the mountain's peak. High above the clouds rumbled and flashed, lightning streaking across the sky in great arcs, illuminating the gloomy midday air. Wind howled and blew against the trees down the pathway, filling the area with the creaking of a hundred flexing wooden bodies. To many, this environment would have been one to avoid. Not to Milianor, though. To her, it was perfect.
"Come on, you stupid thing!" she groused, shifting in place where she sat on the old stone platform. "We're right in the middle of a storm! What else do you need?! A tornado?!"
Sat out in the middle of an ancient ritual site, a place of power, Milianor attempted once more to enact the spell needed to awaken the phylactery before her. Beyond it she could make out the great mountain range ahead of them, and the forest below. Nothing but miles and miles of it. If the ancients could've picked a more isolated place to harness the power of nature, she couldn't imagine how much worse it could be.
Behind her the satchel she had laid out shifted and rumbled, threatened to be blown away by the wind, and down the long stony path she'd taken to get there.
Milianor frowned, eyeing the floating box in front of her. Arcane energy swirled around it, shifting and churning in a colorful cascade of infinite potential, drawn from the four torches sat around her on the mountain's peak. High above the clouds rumbled and flashed, lightning streaking across the sky in great arcs, illuminating the gloomy midday air. Wind howled and blew against the trees down the pathway, filling the area with the creaking of a hundred flexing wooden bodies. To many, this environment would have been one to avoid. Not to Milianor, though. To her, it was perfect.
"Come on, you stupid thing!" she groused, shifting in place where she sat on the old stone platform. "We're right in the middle of a storm! What else do you need?! A tornado?!"
Sat out in the middle of an ancient ritual site, a place of power, Milianor attempted once more to enact the spell needed to awaken the phylactery before her. Beyond it she could make out the great mountain range ahead of them, and the forest below. Nothing but miles and miles of it. If the ancients could've picked a more isolated place to harness the power of nature, she couldn't imagine how much worse it could be.
Behind her the satchel she had laid out shifted and rumbled, threatened to be blown away by the wind, and down the long stony path she'd taken to get there.