- Writing Levels
- Adaptable
- Genres
- I'm wary of magic with lots of rules.
"You .. "
Medwick stared at them over a cup of his infusion, then took a deliberate, loud sip and carefully set it down. The tin clinked loudly in the cavern. "You met the khasidim?" He almost immediately rounded on Ethelwen, who shrunk back before he could even open his mouth. "What were you even doing in the sewers? Did you not get the memorandum?"
"We only just arrived-" Amara volunteered.
"So why ... " Medwick's vision blurred and he saw Shardis staring at him, blank faced, instead of Amara, "WHY DIDN'T YOU CHECK THE NOTICE BOARD?"
If they had not summoned more of the shamans before, his echoing shout would certainly do the job. Ethelwen had heard stories of Medwick's legendary lectures. But as the venerable sage-archaeologist slapped backhand into palm to emphasize his point, the anima felt that he was slightly unhinged.
"We didn't-"
"Oh, that excuse again! Medwick, I didn't know that grabbing onto the dragon's wing would send me flying around like that! Medwick, I didn't know that the spores in the jungle were poisonous! Medwick, I didn't know that the natives communicate in dance - I just guessed and got lucky, teehee!"
Medwick flung his arms wide. "Ilium's sake! Did you not go to school? Your teachers took you on the learning walks, taught you philosophy, skepticism, curiosity .. what happened to the lot of you?!" He sunk to the ground and buried his face in his palms.
"Well," Art ventured, "Maybe you could tell us about-"
"Shut up." Medwick gave a loud, resigned moan. "You have, at least, noticed that we've been killing many dragons recently?"
"Uh .. " The aldus rogue pursed his lips. "There was news about the one at Barvelle, and the one in Tavark ... "
"One for each city. Baited or descended from the storms caused by the Aviary's crash." Medwick pushed some dirt around with his boot. "And we must have made someone - somebody, very angry."
"There are a group of organized pests-" He spat the word, "that have been squatting in Barvelle for many weeks. They know very well how a city works, how the waste is managed and how we grow our food. The most worrisome part is that they know how to get in and out of the city in ways we do not."
"SO." He heaved himself to his feet and rattled his sword in the scabbard, "You fou -- thre .. three and a half idiots are going to come down with me. Because if we don't stick together, we'll die."
"Can't we just go back? Sage Medwick, you must have an alternate route .. "
"Can you rock climb?"
"No?"
"Come along then."
"And what are you doing down he-"
"Research." He limped on ahead, scratching at the burn on his chest. Despite how cool it was in the caverns, he was in a cold sweat.
Medwick stared at them over a cup of his infusion, then took a deliberate, loud sip and carefully set it down. The tin clinked loudly in the cavern. "You met the khasidim?" He almost immediately rounded on Ethelwen, who shrunk back before he could even open his mouth. "What were you even doing in the sewers? Did you not get the memorandum?"
"We only just arrived-" Amara volunteered.
"So why ... " Medwick's vision blurred and he saw Shardis staring at him, blank faced, instead of Amara, "WHY DIDN'T YOU CHECK THE NOTICE BOARD?"
If they had not summoned more of the shamans before, his echoing shout would certainly do the job. Ethelwen had heard stories of Medwick's legendary lectures. But as the venerable sage-archaeologist slapped backhand into palm to emphasize his point, the anima felt that he was slightly unhinged.
"We didn't-"
"Oh, that excuse again! Medwick, I didn't know that grabbing onto the dragon's wing would send me flying around like that! Medwick, I didn't know that the spores in the jungle were poisonous! Medwick, I didn't know that the natives communicate in dance - I just guessed and got lucky, teehee!"
Medwick flung his arms wide. "Ilium's sake! Did you not go to school? Your teachers took you on the learning walks, taught you philosophy, skepticism, curiosity .. what happened to the lot of you?!" He sunk to the ground and buried his face in his palms.
"Well," Art ventured, "Maybe you could tell us about-"
"Shut up." Medwick gave a loud, resigned moan. "You have, at least, noticed that we've been killing many dragons recently?"
"Uh .. " The aldus rogue pursed his lips. "There was news about the one at Barvelle, and the one in Tavark ... "
"One for each city. Baited or descended from the storms caused by the Aviary's crash." Medwick pushed some dirt around with his boot. "And we must have made someone - somebody, very angry."
"There are a group of organized pests-" He spat the word, "that have been squatting in Barvelle for many weeks. They know very well how a city works, how the waste is managed and how we grow our food. The most worrisome part is that they know how to get in and out of the city in ways we do not."
"SO." He heaved himself to his feet and rattled his sword in the scabbard, "You fou -- thre .. three and a half idiots are going to come down with me. Because if we don't stick together, we'll die."
"Can't we just go back? Sage Medwick, you must have an alternate route .. "
"Can you rock climb?"
"No?"
"Come along then."
"And what are you doing down he-"
"Research." He limped on ahead, scratching at the burn on his chest. Despite how cool it was in the caverns, he was in a cold sweat.
Last edited: