- Invitation Status
- Writing Levels
- Intermediate
- Adept
- Advanced
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Genres
- Fantasy, Modern, Magical, Romance, Action, Urban Fantasy
Sleep didn't come to Atlas and instead he laid in bed, blue eyes open. He played through that day's events through his mind, watching his comrades move through the wilderness and some of the others pick for herbs and edible plants. Atlas would have joined as well but alas, he had to keep his wards up. But now that he was mulling over the events, he wondered why he was even needed. Nothing horrible happened... He was drained of energy and magic for almost nothing.
Drowsiness was starting to overtake him, causing his eyelids to droop. The sound of running feet shook him awake. The woman he bedded that night still slept, which was a miracle. Despite how well she performed in bed, Atlas did not like having to deal with a fretting woman. He sensed something was amiss - the mage couldn't explain why, perhaps it was intuition. He donned his robes on as quickly as possible, slipped into his leather boots and left his home. The footsteps he heard were those of Corben. Not wishing to alarm the city by hailing him, Atlas merely followed. In his rush the mage forgot to bring his equipment. He had a moment's respite from using his magic, hopefully the brief rest was all he needed to perform. He arrived at Helm Street shortly after Ferrick finished speaking.
Panting from the run, his eyes fixed onto the dead body and the knife. The mage was itching to get a closer look but didn't dare in case there was some sort of poison or disease on the corpse. Instead the man watched with a stern and straight face.
Drowsiness was starting to overtake him, causing his eyelids to droop. The sound of running feet shook him awake. The woman he bedded that night still slept, which was a miracle. Despite how well she performed in bed, Atlas did not like having to deal with a fretting woman. He sensed something was amiss - the mage couldn't explain why, perhaps it was intuition. He donned his robes on as quickly as possible, slipped into his leather boots and left his home. The footsteps he heard were those of Corben. Not wishing to alarm the city by hailing him, Atlas merely followed. In his rush the mage forgot to bring his equipment. He had a moment's respite from using his magic, hopefully the brief rest was all he needed to perform. He arrived at Helm Street shortly after Ferrick finished speaking.
Panting from the run, his eyes fixed onto the dead body and the knife. The mage was itching to get a closer look but didn't dare in case there was some sort of poison or disease on the corpse. Instead the man watched with a stern and straight face.