Prepare for the #LodanRespawn2024 Existing characters may choose to be displace from/have memories of different timelines, thereby allowing returning members the option to retcon their whole character. These changes are the result of the "Unnatural Fog" plot device that is running between now and the Respawn. The plot is simple: no matter where your character is, that place is shrouded in a thick fog that suspends time, but not thoughts or memories, so even if they're repeating the same day over and over again, they continue to remember, so each time feels like a new day. For those retconning OCs; this is where new versions of themselves have the opportunity to replace the old versions. Official lore and tree updates will be announced asap
Of all the things the girl could want to make her guild mask out of, she picked seashells. The headquarters of Magicae Incolentium was located in a forest. There were a grand total of zero seashells in the forest. And the girl herself, she was small but not incapable given that she was sixteen years of age. She could certainly get up, walk to the ports, and find seashells to make her mask out of. Except that she couldn’t. Because she was a wanted fugitive. Because she didn’t want the EIRAL to arrest her for a crime she didn’t commit, which led her to flee from the authorities into the borderland forest, and thus meet Lasair, thinking she was a new recruit. And as faith would have it, she turned into one.
But now she needed to hide out in the headquarters until they stopped looking for her. And she needed to make her mask before having her trial. And she wanted to make her mask out of seashells.
…Which was why Lasair found himself at the ports, confused as to where he should go. Most of the beaches by the docks had very little shells to be found. But where else could he look? He pondered it, wondering if he should try his luck with the clean-looking sands, or try venturing elsewhere, searching different sands. Better yet, perhaps he could get a hold of someone who knew the area, a deckhand perhaps, and ask them where it would be best to look. It wouldn’t hurt trying, at least. It came down to how long it would take him to possibly find someone to talk to, and if it took too long, he’d simply have to try the sand himself.
Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Jul 12, 2016 20:06:13 GMT
"Let... me... see... here..." Thrakazog half-muttered, and half-grunted as he tried to reach a hand and arm into a place that was far, far too small to accommodate it.
He was working on an engine, the type of machine on one of Captain Caitlin's many ships in the harbor. This particular one, 'The Vengeful Gull' was at the docks though, as its steam engine was malfunctioning. And Thrakazog's job, when he wasn't tasked with hiding in a cloak, jumping from high places with a parachute, or running for his life from enemy bombardment of Lodan, was to fix and maintain the engines on Caitlin's fleet. It was a job he liked, and one he was surprisingly good at, given that most people thought of him as a 'big, dumb, ox'. For some reason, he was just good with machinery - 'like a duck in water', his mother used to say - and that's how he found himself here, in the Gull, at work.
But the reason the engine wasn't working had been something of a mystery. Thrakazog had meticulously checked the linkage, greased the fittings, and oiled the gears. He'd cleaned the sea salt from any unprotected metal surface, and had replaced a questionable fitting between the boiler and the primary pistons. But despite his best efforts thus far, he'd only cleaned and maintained - he hadn't actually fixed the engine.
And that was how he found himself, on hands and knees, reaching one arm into a long, tube-like device that was essentially a cooling intake pipe. It allowed seawater to be pumped up into the engine to cool it when it needed to have temperature maintained during operation. Sometimes, those pipes could get clogged. Kelp wasn't usually the culprit, because it was forced through and spat out the other side of the bilge. But once in a while, something got in with the kelp, caused a wadded-up ball of blockage, and had to be removed. This was normally done with a gaff hook, but the tube wasn't too long, and the gaff hook was all the way up on deck, and Thrak figured it'd just be easier to reach in and pull out the clog. It would be no big deal. Except just as his fingertips reached the clogged spot in the pipe, and felt something hard, something felt him back in return.
Thrakazog's eyes grew wide as he slowly withdrew his arm from the pipe, and when he did, there, on the end of his finger, dangled a fair-sized blue crab. It's pincer was firmly locked on his meaty digit, and it wriggled as Thrakazog held it up before his eyes to get a look at it. Finally, the pain in his finger traveled the length of his arm, detoured through his sizeable torso, and eventually made its way to his brain, causing his jaw to slacken, his mouth to open, and his lungs to fill with air for a few seconds before he bellowed out a loud, "OOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!"
For the next minute or so, he stood up, danced about holding his arm out at length, and repeating the word, over and over, "Owww! Owww! Owww!" He then managed two complete words, "Get OFF!" as he flung his hand against the side of a porthole, sending the crab flying out of the belly of the ship in an arc, only to land in front of a passerby on the docks. At that point, the crab, momentarily stunned from its brief foray into flight, and shell fully intact, looked up into the passerby's face. It seemed to be daring the man to say something or do something (Though to be honest, it was hard to read a crab's facial expressions - especially the blue crab's normally stoic countenance.)
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jul 13, 2016 8:12:23 GMT
His thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of a man screeching in pain. Well, maybe screeching wasn’t the right word for it because his voice was too deep. Either way, he was in pain and as Lasair tried to squint his eyes so he could see the source of the commotion, something came flying through the air and landed with a soft “thud” in front of him. After a few confused moments passed, he realized that it was a crab housed in a blueish-gray shell, complete with a pair of red pinchers on its arms.
And the crab was staring at him. While he stared back at it. Suddenly he found himself in a staring contest, daring the crab to blink before he did. Perhaps it was the wind that got to him. Or maybe the sand, or the sun, or something else from a varied list of excuses. Whatever it was, Lasair was the one to blink first, lifting a hand to rub his eyes from the strain. The movement was the only sign the crab needed to scurry away, perhaps heading off to find some other poor soul to lock its pinchers on.
Which left Lasair to turn his attention back towards the source of the yelling he had heard before. With the man being so far away, Lasair could only somewhat make out his features, and certainly couldn’t see his face at this distance. But that was alright, he could tell the person was still there at the very least, so he lifted a hand to wave before calling out to him. “Are you alright?” he asked, shouting so he could hopefully be heard from such a distance. His voice had to carry over the ocean and crowds, after all.
Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Jul 13, 2016 16:41:57 GMT
Thrakazog was pressing his face to the porthole that the crab exited from, looking to make sure it went on its way, or more accurately, making sure it wasn't trying to come back! But the hole was smaller than his head, so he had to move and jostle his face from inside to look 'around' at the outside. His efforts were finally rewarded when he spotted the crab scuttling away from a young man on the docks. On the plus side, the crab was moving away. On the downside, Thrakazog realized he might have hit the man with the crustacean.
He quickly ducked his head, hoping to avoid contact (and accusations!), but the sound of a voice came back to him, "Are you alright?" So he poked his head back up to peer out again, and saw the man waving in his direction. He backed away from the porthole again.
"Oh noes..." Thrak groaned, and then let out a heavy sigh. He had been spotted after all.
Another peek through the portal showed him that the man had not gone away, and saw him still waving. So Thrakazog waved back reflexively, not realizing the man couldn't see through the side of the ship (that he knew of!) And he bellowed out a return call as nicely as he could, "Ug dere, youz!"
It seemed like he hadn't been heard, which was rare in Thrakazog's experience, but he was shouting into the side of the engine room, and waving at a wall, so perhaps it wasn't so strange as all that. Still, he wasn't oblivious to the circumstances, and decided he'd better go apologize to the poor man.
Thrakazog took to climbing out of the engine room through the roof, up onto the deck of the ship, and then he peered over the railing to try again. He waved his big, meaty, grease-covered hand at the fellow, and shouted his greeting again, "Ug dere, youz!"
He followed that up with, "Me bery sorry dat me flung da crab at youz. Me nub knew you wuz dere. Youz okie dokie?"
But now that he could see more clearly, Thrakazog noticed the man's clothes - and the lack of a crab-sized stain on the front of them. While not flashy, they seemed reasonably well-kept, which was a relief. At least he hadn't hit a noble with the crab! At least, the man didn't look like nobility.
Thrakazog wiped his face with the back of his hand, leaving a greasy streak there. "Ummm," he offered, eloquently. "Isn't dis weather nice, yub?"
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jul 13, 2016 23:18:09 GMT
At first Lasair was confused; was the man trying to hide from him; embarrassed from throwing the crab? It seemed like he was for the moment, until he reappeared at the deck of the ship, waving down at him. By this time, Lasair had walked several paces closer to the vessel itself, trying to get a better view of the man, as well as the ship itself. Now that his eyes could adjust (somewhat) he could tell the man was large, muscular, and looked like your standard deck hand or crewmen. Which was good, because it meant he might know the best places on the beach to find the objects he was searching for.
The accent was a little hard to understand, but not impossible. Besides, less than normal speech patterns were something Lasair had heard quite a few times before. Now that he didn’t have to shout (as loudly), he was able to talk in a more average voice to the man. “Very nice weather,” he said with an oversized smile. “I was hoping to find some seashells today, but this beach looks pretty barren.” He swept an arm out to gesture to the sands next to him. Near the water there was a grand total of three (broken) shells to be seen, sticking out of the sand with pink tones. Not much for picking, but he’d take them if there were no other options.
Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Jul 14, 2016 22:06:20 GMT
"Oh, yub! It's a bery nice day!" Thrakazog agreed wholeheartedly, lifting a meaty hand to his forehead to shield his eyes as he looked upwards towards the sky. The pinch from the crab seemed completely forgotten. And the man didn't seem angry at all, so Thrakazog treated him just like any other person on the docks - friendly and sociably.
His barrel chest was somewhat covered by what was once a brown shirt, but was now mostly a stained, threadbare excuse for such a garment. He owned a much nicer shirt, of course, but the gift from the doctor, Vieka, was carefully folded and stashed with his few possessions where it would be safe until he needed such a thing again. Similarly, the nice pants and laced shoes she got for him were packed away. But he had a (single) change of clothing, minus a pair of boots, and so he was wearing that now, even though he'd torn off the sleeves of the shirt because frankly, his arms and shoulders wouldn't fit in them. Even if they did girth-wise, the limbs were far too long for the sleeves anyway. The pants were fairly threadbare too, and weren't long enough for his legs. And his feet were bare, as were most of the less-fortunate sailors and dock-workers. People who threw themselves in water often didn't necessarily need such things. And Thrakazog's big head was partially covered by a bandana - probably one of the sleeves of his shirt.
He looked back towards the man, blinking rapidly from having the bright light in his face, and he concurred with the man. "Oh, yub... dis nub a great place to find shells dat are still whole. For dem, youz gotta go out ob da harbor, and on da beaches out dere. Or maybe da shoals... yub, da shells are much nicer dere."
He looked thoughtful for a moment though, and that 'look' was one where he squinted his eyes, and creased his forehead, and even rubbed his stubbled chin, spreading more grease onto his face in the process. "It nub really safe out dere tho... nub wit da war goin on. Maybe if youz went along da shore on land tho... den da ships nub prolly fire on youz cuz youz just a person by youzself."
Thrakazog really didn't care for this whole war business... not one bit.
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jul 15, 2016 5:29:21 GMT
He watched as the man spoke, think about what he said as he spoke. Out there, huh? Lasair glanced towards the ocean, wondering just where out there the man was referring to. Perhaps an island? He had visited one in the past, a very long time ago. But he hadn’t been paying attention to see if there were any seashells there. Heading down the coast line might have its own results though, but then again, anywhere near the city was probably picked clean by the many people who resided around the docks.
Then the burly man when on to mention how the war made it not very safe. That phrase right there helped make up Lasair’s mind, as he certainly didn’t want a little war to get in his way. Besides, it could be fun to out and see what they encounter. “Any chance your ship will be taking a test ride to the beaches out there?” he asked with a pristine smile; one of the gifts from his ander heritage. Of course he could have asked if they were setting sail, but Lasair didn’t much fancy being out at sea for more than a day. He couple perhaps head out for one or twos if need be, but any longer would be problematic. And given how some ships disappeared for months at a time, he had to be careful about how he spoke.
Of course, if the possibility of even stopping by a foreign shore was slim to none, he’d forget the prospect and go hunting along the beaches. But maybe he could get lucky. The large man might even feel indebted to him after nearly throwing a crab at his head. It was hard to be sure about anything, really, but he would try to see what he could do and maybe, perhaps, get lucky in at least one pursuit.
Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Jul 15, 2016 18:11:29 GMT
Thrakazog rubbed his head now. So far, he'd managed to smear grease on his cheek, chin, and now his forehead where it met his makeshift bandana. By the time he was done with this conversation, he might be in danger of requiring more than just a bath.
"Ummm..." he offered intelligently, "Me tink... nub... da boss-lady nub would want Thrak to take her ship out ob da harbor... but..." Imaginary trails of smoke trailed from his ears. "... me tink mebee me could take one ob da rowboats out, yub. Dem nub so great in da deep water, but we nub hab to go dere. yub... dat could happun."
The enemy had locked the harbor down, but couldn't approach close enough to shore without Lodan's defenses sinking their ships. As long as they stuck to the shoreline, Thrakazog reasoned, they should be relatively safe and sound. And he knew a few beaches with lots of shells just outside the mouth of the harbor.
Nodding to himself and his supposed brilliance, he confirmed, "Yub. We kin do dat. Ooo! But first... gimme five minutes!"
Without waiting for a response, he disappeared back down into the hold, and the engine room. From there, a series of loud clanks, clangs, and other mechanical noises emerged as Thrak quickly buttoned up the remaining pieces of engine, reattaching them where they were supposed to be. He'd have to test it later, after he fired the boiler and got the steam good an hot, but he figured Caitlin's first mate wouldn't come looking for him too soon.
With the job done, Thrak got back up on deck and then hastened down to the dock where a rowboat was tied. He waved a massive arm at the man who had such a smile that Thrakazog couldn't help but trust him. He called him over, motioning to the boat. "Youz sit dere. Me will hold it steady for youz." He didn't know if the man was familiar to the seas, but most land-lubbers often had balance issues during their first attempt to get in a rowboat.
When the man took his seat, Thrak tossed the length of rope into the back of the boat, and then hopped down into it - fairly nimbly for his size. But that same nimbleness was offset a bit as he sat down near the rear of the boat, lifting the front end up several inches as he did. Then, taking an oar in each hand, he began moving the small vessel quickly out into the harbor.
It never quite occurred to the big sailor that this man could possibly not be nice and well-meaning. Thrakazog was a trusting soul on most days, even though that blind faith had bit him on the arse many times over the years. Even now, with a wide smile on his face while he rowed, he asked, "Why youz want shells, dere? Youz visit Lodan and when youz go home, youz wanna hear da ocean?"
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jul 16, 2016 5:35:03 GMT
Big boat or small boat, a boat was still a boat. Lasair continued to hold his smile as he walked closer to the larger boat, watching as his newfound acquaintance untied the rowboat so it could float in the water. It had been quite some time since Lasair traveled by sea, well, actually traveled that is. If he ignored the ferries he took to and from the city, it had to have been at least four years since he served as a part of a crew for a few months. Maybe even five years. It was hard to tell when the past began to blur together as new experiences replaced it.
Still, it seemed he remembered enough of that time to be able to get into the boat and sit down with ease. When the man took over the rowing without so much as even asking Lasair to help out, it made Lasair all the more pleased. He was even getting a free escort out of the exchange and not just directions or an invitation to work for said directions. It was rather pleasant for a change. “Thank you,” he said sincerely once the two of them were getting away from port.
To the new question directed at him, Lasair had to think for a moment before answering it, scratching the back of his head as he chuckled a little. “Well there’s this girl…” he started, hoping to lead the sailor into his story. “I just met her and I’m hoping I’ll get to spend more time her and get to know her a little better. And uh, well. She mentioned to me that she really likes seashells. And the shops in the city sell some, yeah. But I’d rather pick some right from the ocean to give her. Ones that no one has touched before us.” He smiled to himself as he finished stitching together his story. It was true, just probably not in the way the sailor would expect. Which reminded Lasair that he still didn’t know the name of this big man with whom he was sharing a small amount of space with. That was a first.
Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Jul 17, 2016 19:55:02 GMT
Thrakazog's big arms, and big torso pulled at the oars effortlessly, pushing the boat through the water surprisingly quickly. This was fairly common work for him - manual labor - and he thought nothing of doing it. As they moved in the still waters of the harbor, he listened to the man talk, and heard his explanation for shell-hunting. It was interesting, and Thrakazog immediately made a point to remember this idea of shells as a gift. Considering he had no real money to speak of, he struggled with ways to give his friend, Lorraine, something nice. A shell or two were positively brilliant, and he had this fair-faced gentleman to thank for it.
He chattered as they went, "Oh yub... dat's a good plan. Me know dis girl who sells da sea shells. She has a littul shop down by da sea shore. Me neber thought ob just getting dem myself tho - dat's purty smart ob you."
He then asked a few questions to make small-talk, like what did this girl the man was fond of look like, and how long had he known her. Casual questions were meant to pass time, and if the man expanded on them, offering more story, then Thrak was just as happy to let him talk.
Eventually, they made it to the mouth of the harbor, where Thrak turned the small boat to the left, following the shoreline. Sure enough, they could spot the towers and protective walls near the mouth, offering protection to the city from attacking ships. Thrak made sure to stay fairly close to them as they made their way along the shoreline. He explained, "Da beaches are nub bad for da shells, but most people can get to dem easy. So we nub go dere. Me take youz to dis lil cove... prolly about an hour from here. Da seas make dese pools, and da shells get trapped in dem. And da gulls fish da waterz cuz it nub too close to da people, and dey drop da shells on da rocks to open dem."
Even as he said that, it didn't make a lot of sense to Thrakazog. If gulls broke the shells, then they wouldn't be whole and pretty. But he knew that those places were great for finding shells intact too, so maybe only half a shell actually broke when dropped. He would have scratched his head if he wasn't rowing.
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jul 18, 2016 21:47:17 GMT
The beach along the wall was where Lasair was expecting to get off, but the man said otherwise, explaining that there was a better beach another hour away. That was alright, the boat trip was actually rather relaxing. And this man was very friendly in fact, something Lasair wasn’t used to when it came from big guys. Maybe all the big burly grunts weren’t the same.
“I appreciate you taking the time to show me,” he said as he looked down into the water, spying the shadows of a fish or two swimming underneath. And then he looked back at him, unable to contain his curiosity any longer. “What’s your name anyhow? I’m Lasair Lupen.” He would have held his hand out to shake the others, but given that he was rowing, perhaps it was better not to interrupt him. “How long have you been a sailor?” he asked next, hoping to turn the conversation away from him and his girl, and instead on the man. Lasair hoped he could learn a bit more about the other and, if he were lucky, establish some kind of connection between him. It was always handy to have friends in a variety of places, and one on a ship could be very handy indeed. There was also the fact that the man just plain sounded interesting by the way he spoke. It was like he was inviting others to come and learn more.
Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Jul 20, 2016 12:45:01 GMT
The man didn't answer the questions about the girl he was finding shells for, but it didn't bother Thrakazog - especially when questions came back to him. He assumed the man wasn't much of a talker, and so he carried the conversation as much as he could. The best part was that the first question was one he delighted in answering - not because he was self-centered, but because it was a difficult word he had mastered.
"Youz can call me Thrakazog, yub," he said, pronouncing the multi-syllabic word flawlessly. He then went on to explain the origin of the name - a nickname, as it turned out - that belonged to a sea monster of massive proportions. He grinned, because it was always fun to imagine that he could be as powerful or frightening as the legendary leviathan, but really, he was just a man.
The small talk continued, as Thrak explained how most sailors earned nicknames... John 'Pegleg' Anders, Thomas 'Patches' Gunter, and Willy 'Tiller' O'Brien were some examples. He followed up with, "If me wuz to give youz a nickname, it'd be sumting like... Lasair 'Shells' Lupen, cuz youz are luukin for da shells, see? Den, other sailorz would call youz Shells... or maybe da ladies would call youz Shelly, yub?"
Not all nicknames were perfect, and to date, Thrakazog had never actually given one out that he'd thought up on his own.
He kept rowing, and explained, "Me been a sailor for long time, yub... define... definit... yub, at least fifteen years, yub. But wut me really love to do is work on da engines. Dem is nub a myste... mister... dem just makes sense to me, yub. Yub," he affirmed, "dem makes sense."
By that time, they were nearing a rocky-looking part of the shoreline, and Thrakazog - who didn't seem to tire from the rowing - deftly steered the boat into a cove-like cropping that was too small to be an actual cove, and too large to just be an outcropping of rock. It was more likely a cave that had been eroded over time, revealing the top and part of the side, but leaving the rest to form a perfect, natural place where water could pool during low tide, and high tide could bring in new shellfish from the sea. It was about half-way in between now, with the tide going out, and Thrak steered the small boat to a spot just inside the mouth of the 'cove' where he guided it to the rocks and then tossed out the rope. He hopped out, yipped a bit as his bare feet were bit by some sharper spots of rock, and then he tied off the boat to a cropping of rock.
Looking around, he nodded satisfactorily, "Yub... dis will be a good spot to find da shells."
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jul 21, 2016 6:25:49 GMT
“Thrakazog?” he repeated back to the man, rather certain that this would be a name he wouldn’t forget any time soon. Lasair listened closely to the tale about the sea monster, captivated by the different details this man was able to give. It seemed that he rather enjoyed telling this story, something Lasair took note of. It was always good to take pride in something, and one’s name was one of the best things to start with.
At the prospect of earning his own nickname, he smiled and laughed a little bit. “Shells huh? I can get used to that sort of name. It’s simple, at least. But I have a feeling it’d turn into Shelly rather quickly. Lads and Lasses alike.” Not that it was a bad name, just something most men would be uncomfortable with. Thankfully Lasair wasn’t like most men.
“Mystery.” Lasair cut in, filling in the word Thrakazog had been struggling with. He didn’t say it in a condescending or know-it-all-manner, but instead as just a part of normal conversation, like it was a common thing to trip over words and be unable to recover them. “But the engines, huh?” he continued, working the information over. “That’s really impressive. I’ve never been able to get the knack for them myself, but that’s alright. I enjoy doing simple things, like traveling to a cove to collect seashells.”
As they arrived, Lasair smiled, eager to hop out as soon as the boat stopped moving. He would have helped the large man tie the boat down, but it was obvious no help was needed. So instead, he approached the first pool he saw and crouched down, looking at the collection of sea life living in it. A starfish was the brightest creature, and there was also a ball of spikes and some other wiggly things. They were rather pretty but also dangerous in a way, Lasair knew that. At the bottom of the pool though, were a series of discarded shells. All of them whole and shiny from staying within the water and away from desert sand. Dipping his hand into the water, he pulled a few of them out and set them on the rocks nearby. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a folded up pad of cloth. Once it was unfolded, it was revealed to be a bag that most people used to buy food during the day. But today it was going to be used for shells instead.
Moving over to a few other pools, he was happy to find so many shells, all so pretty, and all in one piece. It was making him smile in a real way, seeing this hidden trove of nature and he was going to be sad when it came time to leave. “Maybe I need to take this girl out to see this spot herself. It’s beautiful here. Just look into the pools, this one has two starfish hanging out in it.” He grinned down at the colorful seastars, taking a few steps over to give the other man room to see.
Post by Thadeus "Thrakazog" Stevenson on Jul 22, 2016 16:35:02 GMT
But Thrakazog wasn't looking towards the starfish. It wasn't that he didn't want to, but rather that something else had his attention. He was standing up fairly straight, which had his big frame well beyond six feet from the ground, and he was shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand. By following his intent stare, one could see a small spot out on the ocean. That spot was slowly growing larger, and clearer.
It was still pretty far away, but Thrakazog whispered anyway, "Sveden... dat nub guud."
The Sveden were a party of four, aboard a small skiff, with two rowers working the oars, one on the tiller, and one looking out the bow. It seemed that the seashell-hunter's rowboat had been spotted as it left the mouth of the safe harbor, and Thrakazog and Lasair had become persons 'of interest' to the enemy. It was possible that the Sveden were simply hunting them down to ask their business - but that wasn't likely. There was a far better chance that they assumed the rowboat contained spies or saboteurs, or maybe emissaries trying to get to some other port city to enlist aid. No matter what the case was, it looked like they had followed the rowboat, and were now nearing the all-but-unassailable lair of the starfish.
Post by Lasair Landevier Lupen on Jul 23, 2016 7:18:25 GMT
It took Lasair a few moments to understand what Thrak had meant with his words. His eyes weren’t the best, but he could see the dark splotch against the blue waves. Standing up straight, he brushed his hands off on his pants and pushed the handles to the bag up to his shoulder, so that the shells could be safely against his back in case he needed to work some magic (literally).
“Stay calm. They want information we don’t have. Either they’ll leave peacefully or they won’t.” His magic was already starting to heat up under his fingertips; thoughts of Viktor crawling up into his mind. His eyes shifted sideways to Thrak. He wasn’t Viktor in any sense, but the comparison was there. And Lasair was certain he wouldn’t allow a repeat of those events to happen again; else he’d have a new name to add to his list.
"All you need is love." -John Lennon
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