"Well.. isn't this.. cheery," A midnight-black dragon commented to himself as he sat among all the doom-stones trying to figure out just what it was that had happened to him. This place looked even more dilapidated than the abandoned Night Kingdom and was twice as odiferous since it wasn't as if the Night Wings had used their own residences as trash heaps. It was all that Rain Wing's fault, wasn't it? Though from the description of what she had allegedly written on a scrap of his animus-touched scroll this wasn't at all what should have happened.
That's the problem when dealing with amateurs. There must have been something wrong in her phrasing, or something written on the back that she hadn't accounted for, but who would have wanted to come here? Wherever here was.
While Darkstalker was relieved to still be himself, he could already sense the absence of some aspects of his character that were quite troubling. To test it, he lifted up the least offensive looking object from the pile in his talons and attempted to do something with it. It was just a pebble, but it would be enough. "I enchant this pebble to fly out and strike the nearest living creature that isn't me." When the rock didn't immediately take flight he knew there was no sense in waiting any longer. Not only were his Animus powers currently sealed, but he also didn't seem to be able to seek out other minds with his telepathic ones either. For a dragon that's been able to do that for as long as he's been alive to suddenly be cut off, it was more devastating than he was trying to let on. It was like being sealed within that mountain again, trapped with no one for companionship but a solitary mouse... until he'd needed something to eat of course.
Maybe the spell had partially worked. Giving his wings an angered flap, he sent garbage flying out in all directions. The lighter scales on the underside of his wings shimmered when they caught the light like a blanket of stars. Clearly, a magnificent being like him, just didn't belong here.
Darkstalker | Wings of Fire
"Well.. isn't this.. cheery," A midnight-black dragon commented to himself as he sat among all the doom-stones trying to figure out just what it was that had happened to him. This place looked even more dilapidated than the abandoned Night Kingdom and was twice as odiferous since it wasn't as if the Night Wings had used their own residences as trash heaps. It was all that Rain Wing's fault, wasn't it? Though from the description of what she had allegedly written on a scrap of his animus-touched scroll this wasn't at all what should have happened.
That's the problem when dealing with amateurs. There must have been something wrong in her phrasing, or something written on the back that she hadn't accounted for, but who would have wanted to come here? Wherever here was.
While Darkstalker was relieved to still be himself, he could already sense the absence of some aspects of his character that were quite troubling. To test it, he lifted up the least offensive looking object from the pile in his talons and attempted to do something with it. It was just a pebble, but it would be enough. "I enchant this pebble to fly out and strike the nearest living creature that isn't me." When the rock didn't immediately take flight he knew there was no sense in waiting any longer. Not only were his Animus powers currently sealed, but he also didn't seem to be able to seek out other minds with his telepathic ones either. For a dragon that's been able to do that for as long as he's been alive to suddenly be cut off, it was more devastating than he was trying to let on. It was like being sealed within that mountain again, trapped with no one for companionship but a solitary mouse... until he'd needed something to eat of course.
Maybe the spell had partially worked. Giving his wings an angered flap, he sent garbage flying out in all directions. The lighter scales on the underside of his wings shimmered when they caught the light like a blanket of stars. Clearly, a magnificent being like him, just didn't belong here.