Sherral (
fluffiest_archadian) wrote2013-12-30 08:29 pm
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[OOM] Labyrinth / Krampus Plot with Eric
Mrlgh, there's - fuzz on Sherral's face. A kind of cloying, drying fuzz that clings even to dry skin.
As Sherral opens his eyes, he sees that it's woollen yarn, in bright pink and orange, from the suspiciously snug floor where he's sprawled beneath a cheerful woollen lamp with a knitted lightbulb inside.
This is not what he was expecting. A room full of yarn - a quick glance around confirms that everything seems to be either covered in or made of wool, checkered in various coloured patterns. A knitted puppet the size of a man stares at him from one of corner - is never really expected.
"Faram's balls," he growls.
As Sherral opens his eyes, he sees that it's woollen yarn, in bright pink and orange, from the suspiciously snug floor where he's sprawled beneath a cheerful woollen lamp with a knitted lightbulb inside.
This is not what he was expecting. A room full of yarn - a quick glance around confirms that everything seems to be either covered in or made of wool, checkered in various coloured patterns. A knitted puppet the size of a man stares at him from one of corner - is never really expected.
"Faram's balls," he growls.
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"I think there is something ahead of us. There's a shadow in the wind. "
He looks back at Sherral.
" How far can you walk? "
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In truth, the cold is already starting to chill his bones. But he's withstood colder, for a while at least.
Besides. He's a soldier of the Archadian Empire. Archadian soldiers are not defeated by inclement weather.
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And then he strides off, clearly unaffected by the cold.
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He keeps pace with Eric well enough for the moment, even if he does have his arms wrapped around himself for warmth.
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For all that he is still really angry about being trapped, this has turned out to be if not outright fun, then at least therapeutic. Ripping heads off; it always works.
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He flexes his fingers slightly, summoning up a small flicker of Mist. Not enough to use to warm himself up yet.
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Then he grins.
"At least magic that works. "
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He pauses. Mildly: "The sword helps. I might even go so far as to call it a painstakingly crafted crutch."
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"I find I have little use for weapons these days."
He grins.
"Or nights. As it were."
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Beat.
"So long as you're not facing ungulates."
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"I should like to find that thing,"he says ominously.
"I am sure it bleeds."
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"And I am hungry."
The wind has picked, whipping them with tiny shards of ice.
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Besides, he's more concerned with shielding his face from the ice right now, ducking behind one arm with a growl.
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"Let me know when you turn into a wilting maiden," he says with barely suppressed mirth.
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"Should it be a fantasy you would have to have been a truly comely maiden. With rosy cheeks and soft, warm breasts."
He smiles to himself.
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Eric is nothing if not honest. Except when he is devious.
"Though I do not know what people like where you are from. You might be thought of that way where you are from."
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Or rather, what flows.
They are getting ever closer, but now the wind is picking up.
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As the wind picks up, he falters a little, then flicks two fingers, mumbling an incantation. A few sparks fly from between his fingers, but he still needs more Mist before he can cast a decent fire spell to warm himself up, and the Labyrinth is scarce in the stuff.
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They are definitely closer now to the door.
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