Lezard gives Turlough a look that could best be described as oh, ffs. So, he's going to use magic and then have another detention, probably something just as stupid and pointless as this one. Why can't people just accept and embrace Lezard's magic as the wonderful thing it is? His greatness should be celebrated, not hampered!
In his most long-suffering and aggrieved tones, he says: "Very well." (The utterance, and the tone, would have been familiar to his old traveling party: Leone, Arngrim, Dylan, Alicia, especially that fruitcake Rufus, always prone to inconvenient objections.)
Bloop! Lezard Valeth is gone.
In the very center of the perfectly circular grove, a cascade of sparks begins to geyser from the ground. The sparks are accompanied by a more mundane spray of dirt, as though a very small but powerful gopher is at work. Amidst this spray, there emerges upward a hardened and twisted stave of petrified wood, twiglike in shape with a cradle-like crook at its end.
Petrified wood is not really wood: it's stone, its minerals leaching into the places where rot has eaten the wood away. Yet it retains the magical properties of wood. It's akin both to tree and rock, air and earth.
Beside the twig, a second shower of sparks shoots up from the ground, this one taller, as tall as a man. With a sound not unlike the clash of steel against steel, it rushes up to take form: Lezard Valeth.
If someone had been standing where he emerged, they totally would have suffered so many thousands of hit points' worth of damage.
"Behold the dais," he says happily, holding his arm out to indicate the twig.
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2008-07-29 02:36 pm (UTC)In his most long-suffering and aggrieved tones, he says: "Very well." (The utterance, and the tone, would have been familiar to his old traveling party: Leone, Arngrim, Dylan, Alicia, especially that fruitcake Rufus, always prone to inconvenient objections.)
Bloop! Lezard Valeth is gone.
In the very center of the perfectly circular grove, a cascade of sparks begins to geyser from the ground. The sparks are accompanied by a more mundane spray of dirt, as though a very small but powerful gopher is at work. Amidst this spray, there emerges upward a hardened and twisted stave of petrified wood, twiglike in shape with a cradle-like crook at its end.
Petrified wood is not really wood: it's stone, its minerals leaching into the places where rot has eaten the wood away. Yet it retains the magical properties of wood. It's akin both to tree and rock, air and earth.
Beside the twig, a second shower of sparks shoots up from the ground, this one taller, as tall as a man. With a sound not unlike the clash of steel against steel, it rushes up to take form: Lezard Valeth.
If someone had been standing where he emerged, they totally would have suffered so many thousands of hit points' worth of damage.
"Behold the dais," he says happily, holding his arm out to indicate the twig.