by The Kingpin » Mon Jan 30, 2012 1:04 pm
Andruil nodded, looking closely at the wound before rising to his feet. "The wound will need to be cleaned first. Then we'll be able to see the extent of the damage" he said as he reached for the bandages, cutting a small piece free, picking up a small bowl amidst the various medicines and herbs, before heading for the lake, dousing the cloth in the water and filling the bowl halfway with it, before returning, setting the materials down. "This may...sting somewhat. Bare with me" he warned the Dragon as he brought the wet cloth to the eye, making sure to rub along the length of the wound and not across it, to avoid stretching the injury and causing unneeded pain. He was fairly sure whatever dirt was on the wound was likely from the thing that caused it, as the Dragon's head seemed like it rarely would've been in contact with the ground or any other surface. Perhaps, if he was fortunate, this would be easy to fix...
"No being stands once it has been dealt it's fate at the hands of The Council. Be it soon or late, this 'knight' you speak of will be slain. But it appears to me that you keep information from me. Information that may potentially limit the cost in time and lives spent to bring down this abomination. For instance, when would it be vulnerable, as you say? Many Demons of this calibre do not sleep. they do not need to eat, and they are not blind to subterfuge and deceit. If it were so readily vulnerable, your masters would have destroyed it long ago" stated the Vindicator firmly. It appeared this order knew nothing of the concept of metaphors. Or, it had forgotten the very memory it showed him, and failed to see this thing as such a threat as to suit the metaphor he had put forward...
With the sun well beyond the horizon's brim, Septimus looked towards the enormous icy peaks in the distance. The snow-cloaked stony walls of the mountains were amongst the most jagged and steep of any in Aster, the peaks standing high above almost everything else on the continent. A thick cloud swirled around it's upper half, seemingly innocent at this distance. Septimus however knew that cloud formed the first of many lines of defence concealing what lay beyond from the outside world. "Thurduunax?" growled the young Dragon, the Elder turning his head slightly, the unnerving gaze and glowing scars of the ancient falling upon the younger Dragon as Septimus accelerated until he was beside the Elder. "How will we get past the Cloud Barrier? I was exiled. My name and sign have been stricken from the memory of Drakhunmiir's defences" growled the Scholar, enticing a chuckle from the Elder Wyrm. "You worry far too much for your age, Septimus. Be at peace. Let the Elder worry about our entrance. I assure you it will be one our Clan-mates will not soon forget" rumbled Thurduunax with a smirk, which seemed oddly out of place on the ancient's grizzled face...
"Ah yes, organised chaos. the sign of a clever but ever-busy mind. To the perpetrator, a carefully woven web of belongings and intrigue, but to the bystander? Madness!"
–William Beckett, Lore of Leyuna RPG