Gyrfalcon

Gyrfalcon thrust aside another broken branch and swarmed to his feet, hearing Daryl spit curses and leaves beneath a pile of branches and Annael mutter a few things that wouldn't have been approved of in her former home as she sought to untangle her wings from the branches caging them without losing too many of her precious feathers. Gyrfalcon kicked his way out of the fallen treetop, seeing that Ayshela was fighting two skeletal creatures in fine robes, who ducked back to avoid her slashes, weaving hands and muttering words with rotting tongues. Ayshela got in a good blow against one of them, only to have her blade deflect harmlessly high, as if it had met a shield, confirming Gyrfalcon's fears about what they were. Then one of the creatures pointed a skeletal finger at the fallen tree top and finished a chant. Gyrfalcon's eyes widened as a ball of fire came into existence. "Daryl, Annael, get clear of the treetop, now!" the half-elf roared, charging the undead wizard, the fireball soaring over his shoulder. Annael looked up and her eyes widened in shock. She beat the air, black wings lifting her free of the treetop, leaving behind a few feathers to grasping branches, but she considered it well worth not being near another raging fire! The fireball exploded among the tree branches, converting a large portion of the treetop to a raging bonfire. Daryl snarled a curse as he felt the flames lick at him, flinching away from the pain. Cursing, he brought his knee straight up, cracking the heavy branch that had been pinning him to the ground. He heaved himself to his feet, the weakened branch snapping, and hurled himself away from the burning pyre behind him. The angry werefox looked up, his golden eyes catching the fire light and reflecting red as he started towards the lich that Ayshela was battling. Gyrfalcon growled and cleaved the air as he swung at the lich before him, sword deflecting off its defensive spells. The lich jerked suddenly, as a flaming sword clove its skull straight down to the spine. Annael landed behind it and wrenched her sword free before hammering it to the ground with a vicious chop. "I just cleaned my clothes and now they're covered in soot again!" she said, grumbling, her ever present butterflies swirling in agitation. Gyrfalcon chuckled, then turned and lifted his blade, letting a jumping lich impale itself on his katana. Grunting, Gyrfalcon tossed the dead weight aside and chopped down two more leaping ghouls. "Damn, where are these things coming from?" Daryl snarled, giving the lich Ayshela was dueling a passing kick that broke its concentration, allowing Ayshela to take its head off. Without bothering to look back, Daryl leveled a heavy punch that smashed a zombie's skull in and tried to brush another one's weapon aside with his forearm. It didn't quite work, the weapon freeing a bright stripe of blood. Daryl recoiled in pain, then smashed the zombie with a heavy blow. "Their weapons are magical!" he said, eyeing the zombies with new respect as they moved to surround him, waving a variety of barbed and hooked weapons. Annael, Gyrfalcon and Ayshela drove hard into the zombies' ranks, easily cutting through the clumsy creatures. Daryl liberated a halberd with a cruelly hooked and serrated head and proceeded to hammer a zombie into the ground with it, his strength allowing him to ignore subtle aspects such as finesse or using the blade of the halberd. Looking around, Gyrfalcon grimaced as ghouls swarmed over the walls, and the gates gave way beneath the hammering press of undead flesh. The ground bubbled and boiled throughout the courtyard, skeletal hands dragging more undead from beneath the ground. "This is not good." Annael muttered quietly, her butterflies fluttering in agitation. "Tell me about it." Gyrfalcon said dryly. The half-elf nodded and pointed towards the far wall, where the old druid was holding his own with staff and spells. "First we grab everyone in the courtyard, then we retreat into the Hostel. Daryl, you go with Annael and help the druid. Ayshela, there's a pair of guests over there, lets go help 'em." The four split up, fighting only when they had no choice, crippling enemies rather then pausing to finish them, knowing that to stop meant to be surrounded and overwhelmed.

That's cool, and it's good you get that much- The way they explain the author's commisions, it sounded like you would hardly get anything unless your story proved wildly popular.

Hm... is there any chance they'll plan to lower their prices at all? Granted, it means new things to read every week, but economically, they're a lot more pricy then buying a book. To match the novel beside me (hardbound, 348 pages for $25.95), it would take 14.5 to 21.75 months. At $3.33 a month, that equals out to $48.28 to $72.42 per story. Granted, it is probably unlikely that a story will reach 348 pages, but the point remains that the subscriptions are two to three times as expensive as buying a hardbound book, and even worse if you get a paperback. And, of course, if too many of the stories are too good to pass up, I'd blow my entire budget allowance for books on the subscriptions. I do wish the site and you a lot of luck, however! I hope they'll decide to publish books of their best stories later, and I'm sure you'd be among the authors. After reading your teaser to bring readers in, I'm tempted to subscribe despite all my reasoning above. I truly hope they decide to publish books, for I will buy the first one your story is located within. How much of the subscription are you getting, anyway? Warning, math ahead! 4-6 pages a week x 4 weeks a month (not quite right, but close enough) = 16-24 pages a month. 348 / 24 = 14.5 348 / 16 = 21.75 14.5 months * $3.33 = $48.28 21.75 months * $3.33 = $72.42 $48.28 / $25.95 = 1.8 times as expensive $72.42 / $25.95 = 2.7 times as expensive

Gyrfalcon sneaks in as well to sit near Peredhil, snacking on a helpfully provided handful of popcorn. Gyrfalcon slowly works his way through the handful, waiting for Brute to gather his thoughts and continue the tale.

Daryl whispered in Jehane's ear a moment, then drew Gyrfalcon off to the side. Daryl grinned at Gyrfalcon "You said you were going to dance if Jehane could actually make it." the thief reminded Gyrfalcon, who blinked before remembering and responding. "I was joking, you fur ball!" the half-elf exclaimed. Daryl snickered. "Too bad, a promise is a promise. And look, Salinye wants to dance. Ask her to dance." Gyrfalcon looked uncomfortable, eyeing the first dancers, who were whirling through a complex pattern. He studied the pattern more closely, and he shook his head. "Heh, amazing how memories come back. I actually know that dance, though it's been a good hundred years since I had to dance it." the half-elf admitted. Daryl smiled "I guess when they call it a classic dance, they really mean classic!" He glanced at Jehane and Salinye, who were talking quietly, then at Gyrfalcon, grinning. "Ask her." The half-elf sighed. "You're a cruel, cruel werefox, Daryl, making me dance." Daryl grinned "The ladies like dancing, and we should live to please them. Or at least, that's what Jehane tells me." The two share a chuckle. "You two go on, I'll catch up to you in a moment." Gyrfalcon said. Daryl nodded and returned to Jehane's side, whisking her out onto the dance floor. Salinye stared after them with a muted sigh, wishing she could join in on the dance, one she had quite enjoyed dancing in her home city, before... well, before too many things had happened. It had been a long time since she had had an opportunity to dance. "Greetings, oh beautiful elven princess," she heard a familiar voice begin by her side, and she closed her eyes, a blush finding its way to her cheeks. That.... ranger! "I couldn't help but notice that you seem to be without a dancing partner at the moment. Unfortunately, Daryl seems to be occupied, so may I offer myself as a poor substitute?" Salinye opened her eyes and stared at Gyrfalcon. "You actually want to dance?" she asked, a bit incredulously. Gyrfalcon grinned, his eyes dancing with humor as he continued. "With such a beautiful lady to dance with? What man would dare refuse?" He said, teasing her. Salinye blushed again on cue and glared at him. "You stop making me blush! I'm warning you, I am a great and eeeeevil sorceress!" Salinye threatened. Gyrfalcon continued to grin. "Then I must dance with you now, for now that your beauty and grace have lured me in, for fear of your dread powers I must continue my course!" Salinye blushed a little deeper, but then couldn't help but start laughing. "You sound like a cheap novel." she chided the ranger, who chuckled and nodded. "I know, that was the point. I would like to dance with you, however." Gyrfalcon said, switching from humor to seriousness. Salinye started to protest that she didn't want Gyrfalcon to have to make himself uncomfortable for her sake, then changed her mind and merely smiled slightly. After all, he had offered to dance with her, she might as well take him up on it. Gyrfalcon held out his arm, and Salinye took it, letting the half-elf lead her out onto the dance floor. "I assume you know this dance?" Gyrfalcon asked quietly, question already being answered as each fell into the appropriate pose to begin this dance, waiting for the correct beat to start. "Of course!" Salinye said indignantly as they slowly begun to spin on the first beat, their feet stepping slowly at first in what looked to be a complex pattern, but was in fact a fairly simple one... when moving slowly. The test of skill came as they slowly sped up their motions, wheeling through the steps of dance, each repetition coming a bit faster. Salinye floated through the dance with the typical elven grace, and Gyrfalcon flowed with the smooth balance of a trained fighter, the steps of the dance vivid in his mind as he unconsciously responded to the flow of the music and the dance. "I thought you said you couldn't dance!" Salinye said, laughing at him. Gyrfalcon grinned but didn't shrug, not wanting to break the flow. "Of course I can't, I'm just walking and letting you dance, can't you tell?" he said. Salinye laughed again, both in response to his words and as she caught site of Daryl and Jehane. If they were dancing to the music, it was only by implication, for they were lost in a slow dance of their own, their attention focused solely on the private world they existed in at the moment. Salinye couldn't help smiling for them, and Gyrfalcon chuckled. "I swear, put them together and they could just sit in utter silence, watching each other." the half-elf observed. "I think they're cute together." Salinye said. "Very true." Gyrfalcon said, shaking his head slightly as he and Salinye spun a circuit around the two oblivious lovebirds. The song continued for many minutes before slowly winding down to its end, and the dancers stopped as applause rose from the observers around them. Daryl and Jehane blinked as they broke free of their private little world and looked around. "Oh yeah. I guess the dance is over." Daryl observed. "It seems that way. Let's dance another time." Jehane responded, and the two whirled away as the musicians struck up a quicker tune. "Up for another dance, ranger?" Salinye challenged. Gyrfalcon grinned. "You're on."

Congratulations Annael, on a promotion well-deserved.

Gyrfalcon paused at entrance to the Ballroom, tugging gently at the cuffs of his shirt. He felt vaguely uncomfortable, despite the fact that the clothes he was wearing were among the most comfortable he had ever felt. They consisted of a pair of black pants and a white shirt with golden embroidery around the collar and cuffs and curling around the buttons down the front. The outfit seemed fairly plain, except that both the shirts and the pants were both crafted from a material that Gyrfalcon couldn't identify easily, and were light yet warm. He realized that his discomfort was a subconscious reaction to his nervousness. Despite his mental acknowledgement of why he felt uncomfortable, the half-elf again adjusted the ornately trimmed cuffs, golden threads picking out a subtle pattern of roses and vines. "Come on, Gyr, it's a ball! It'll be fun!" Daryl said from behind the half-elf. Gyrfalcon looked over his shoulder and smirked at Daryl, who was currently in his human form. "Oh, that's what you say. Where's your date, anyway?" he said, changing the subject. Daryl grinned at Gyrfalcon. "She'll be along in a few minutes. You know women always like to take some time to adjust their hair one last time and make sure everything's just right." Gyrfalcon shook his head and leaned against the wall, prepared to wait quite a while, and closed his eyes. The tapping of heels on stone opened his eyes, and Daryl was grinning broadly even before the slim elven woman rounded the corner, dressed in a white evening dress that shimmered in the light. It was cut just low enough in the front to show a hint of cleavage, mostly to show off a small pendent that hung from a silver chain. She smiled warmly at Daryl and spun. "How do I look?" she asked impishly, her question answered by Daryl's somewhat slack expression. "Wonderful, Jehane..." he breathed, grinning a little foolishly as the two hugged and brushed lips before separating. Jehane motioned imperiously, and Daryl chuckled and turned around slowly to show off the black tuxedo he was wearing for her inspection. "Very nice." Jehane approved, adjusting his lapels slightly. "Well, now that we're all here, shall we go in? I hope you remembered that invitation, Gyrfalcon." Gyrfalcon smiled and pulled out Ayshela's Fall Ball invitation. "Well, if this isn't it, someone gave me a very clever forgery." Gyrfalcon said dryly. Then he looked at it closely. "Or a not so clever forgery. Daryl?" Daryl looked innocent. "Are you accusing me of something, Gyrfalcon?" He said, turning large golden eyes on Gyrfalcon, his lip quivering. "And I thought you were my friend!" Jehane poked him in the side, and Daryl broke down and chuckled as he slipped the invitation out of an inside pocket and handed it to Gyrfalcon. The other two chuckled and shook their heads, used to Daryl's antics now. Gyrfalcon took the lead and presented the invitation to the doorman. "The two with me are Daryl and Jehane, and they are my guests." Gyrfalcon said, and the doorman nodded and opened the door. "Enjoy the celebration." he rumbled, and the three thanked him as they entered. Gyrfalcon was the first in line to greet Ayshela among the three, and he bowed deeply to her as he took her hand, brushing his lips across the back of her hand. "Thank you for hosting this Ball, Ayshela, and thank you also for the invitation to attend." The half-elf straightened and smiled. "Despite not being a fan of formal events, I think I'll enjoy my time here, thanks to your efforts." He slipped away, allowing Daryl and Jehane to greet Ayshela as well before moving on. Standing at the entrance to the ballroom, Gyrfalcon looked around for familiar faces, interested by how familiar people could look so different in a new setting. Then again, he himself wasn't nearly attired his familiar garb, so he didn't have room to talk. The half-elf chuckled to himself as he walked down the stairs, slipping through the crowd to approach the refreshment table. As he did so, the crowd swirled and cleared, and he and Salinye bumped into each other. The half-elf stepped back reflexively and caught Salinye's arm to make sure she did not fall before releasing his grasp and bowing his head to her. "My apologies, Salinye." he said, a faint flush of embarrassment reddening his face. Salinye stared at him for a long moment, then blinked and smiled. "What did Daryl have to threaten you with to get you to wear something nice?" Gyrfalcon chuckled as he offered Salinye his arm. "Actually, I planned to dress up for once. Daryl just reminded me that this outfit was in my closet... and then hid the other two. Small loss, your gift is much more comfortable then they were. I don't know if I said thank you then, but I do say thank you now." Salinye smiled as she took his arm. "You're welcome. I noticed Daryl enter with an elven woman on his arm. Was that Jehane?" Gyrfalcon nodded, and Salinye laughed softly. "They look happy together." He nodded and chuckled. "They are, from everything I can tell." He said, offering Salinye a glass of elven wine. Salinye laughed again, and he considered the wine before putting it down and offering her a glass of sparkling water. "More to your taste?"

Gyrfalcon strides in and quietly places his wrapped gifts next to the etchasketch pad, grinning at the decorations. "Personalized birthday room... I'm amazed at how quickly you can clean up and reset this room, Ayshela." The half-elven Elder said, bowing respectfully to Ayshela. Gyrfalcon smiles and bows to Jonathan Wolfe as his friend tears open the gifts, to reveal a new sketchpad and high quality pencils, as well as a small working model of a Templar IX, right down to pivoting weapon mount and a selection of back weapons that can be swapped in and out. "Daryl helped out with the model, so that's mostly his gift." Gyrfalcon notes, grinning at his friend. "Happy Birthday."

Gyrfalcon steps into the Recruiter's office, wincing as Wyvern slumped forward, unconscious, with Melba standing behind him panting heavily and holding the broken remains of an Anti-Wyvern mallet. Gyrfalcon had wondered why her expenses claims were so large... now he knew. Wincing again in almost-sympathy for the almost-dragon, Gyrfalcon cleared his throat to capture the somewhat horrified Alzorath's attention. "Congratulations, Alzorath. I hope your stay here at the Pen is a long one! By the way, we don't mind seeing any art you want to share with us- it just happens that most of the members of the Pen are focused on writing more then the visual arts." Gyrfalcon inspects Wyvern's wounds to make sure he's alright and applying a touch of healing before nodding politely to Melba and departing, leaving Melba to decide if healing Wyvern constituted giving aid to the enemy. By the time she decided it did, Gyrfalcon was back in the Cabaret Room quietly telling Guido the Bartender that Alzorath's first drink was free that evening.

Congratulations, Reverie.

*laughs* I dunno Alaeha, it satisfied my urges towards the dramatic, and all I did was read it. Excellent work, Peredhil, and good look Annael. Try to avoid setting your wings on fire, a'right? Attaching feathers gets a bit difficult when they're charred.

*laughs* But if you didn't have to go through all those extra steps, finally getting your cat to swollow the pill and keep it down would hold so much less meaning.

*laughs* I have to say that I love your stories, Aardvark. There's a lot of dry humor about them that I enjoy a lot. Keep it up, and make sure to take your next fare on the scenic tour of the city... at a hundred miles an hour. It should be an interesting experience for them.

Gyrfalcon leaned forward to rest his arms on the table, smiling faintly despite the gravity of the issues being discussed as Daryl huddled on the other side of him, keeping the half-elf between himself and Annael's vicious butterflies. Gyrfalcon looked up as Tamaranis spoke and watched Salinye's reactions, noticing the lines of tension around her eyes and the whiteness of her knuckles where she clutched the table. Gyrfalcon sensed that something was worrying the half-elven woman, something beyond the bad dream they had all shared. Gyrfalcon cleared his throat as Tamaranis finished speaking. "He has a very good point, Salinye." Gyrfalcon said quietly. "The undead don't dream in the same fashion that the still living do, not to mention that the statistical possibility of all of us sharing the same dream, including the same exact details are almost impossible. I suspect that some external source has imposed this dream upon us. That leaves the question though, of who or what did this... and why."

Gyrfalcon paused in the hallway outside the Cabaret Room, puzzled by the sounds of tearing cloth all around him. He was even more puzzled as a horde of squirrels rushed by, scampering along trailing little scraps of cloth in their wake. As the squirrels petered out, Gyrfalcon cautiously advanced down the hall they had come out of, passing the occasional laggard squirrel and sighing. His eyes take in the tapestries, the lower portions having been clawed into dangling threads. At the end of the hallway Peredhil slowly rose, his expensively tailored Armani suit now merely strategically held rags. "Peredhil?" Gyrfalcon said, stopping dead in his tracks in shock. "What in the name of the gods happened to you? Well, that's a stupid question, actually, since I just saw a giant horde of squirrels go by..." Gyrfalcon said, hurrying to Peredhil's side and holding out his cloak. Peredhil shook his head, his thoughts fuzzy from his head being tromped on by several thousand squirrels. "Those were squirrels? I thought someone had managed to hit me with a wagon..." the Ancient half-elf muttered as he gratefully accepted Gyrfalcon's cloak and wrapped it around himself. He looked around carefully and sighed. "I suppose that means that Lewis and Simon aren't around?" Gyrfalcon shrugged. "Sorry Peredhil, if they were here, they left in that horde of squirrels. Excuse me a second while I check to see what's happened in there." Gyrfalcon took a deep breath and peeked around the corner, prepared to run for it if another horde of squirrels was seen. Instead, he saw Wyvern staring helplessly at a pile of overstuffed squirrels, candles sticking out from various angles. "Wyvern... what sort of cake is that?" Gyrfalcon said curiously, stepping into the room as he saw that the squirrels were so overstuffed that it was unlikely that they'd be able to manage a sedate walk, much less a scamper or charge. Wyvern whirled around, grinning desperately. "Gyrfalcon, great to see you here! I just got here, and here these squirrels were-" Gyrfalcon smirked as he cut off Wyv. "Strange I didn't see you in the hallway helping Peredhil, then." Wyvern blanched. "That was Peredhil?" he said, gulping. Visions of Guido and Nuncio floated through his head, along with Peredhil's sons... particularly, Elladan. Wyvern threw himself at Gyrfalcon, clutching his shoulders. "Please, you have to hide me!" Gyrfalcon sighed and disengaged Wyvern's hands. "Relax, Wyv. Peredhil wasn't hurt, and I'll pay for Peredhil's suit myself. You owe me a couple hundred more geld... but not like that's anything new, eh? What was this all for, anyway?" Wyvern looked abashed but hugely relieved. "Ah... actually, it was supposed to be a birthday cake for Cheyenne. It... got a little out of hand." Gyrfalcon chuckled and shook his head helplessly. "You're a master of understatement, Wyv." OOC: Happy Birthday, Cheyenne!

Happy Birthday, Tralla and Seii! May you both have many more.

*Gyrfalcon lights his own candle for so many online friends who have faded away over the years.*

Happy Birthday, Hopper Wolf, may your years be long and your days full of fun. And try not to follow Canid's example of cat-snacking.

Gyrfalcon waits until the Goons drag a badly shaken Wyvern back into the hall, looking disgusted as they inspect the sad collection of pocket lint, dust bunnies, and one copper penny. Wyvern desperately throws himself at them. "Take the lint, take the dust bunnies, but for the gods sakes, don't take my penny!" the almost draconic Elder cries desperately. Gyrfalcon taps a Goon on the shoulder and hands it a few gold coins. "That should cover his fees, now give him his penny back, please." The goons take the gold and drop the penny in Wyvern's hands, but it slips through his fingers and through a crack in the floorboards. Wyvern's face falls nearly as far as the penny does. Gyrfalcon clears his throat and waits until Wyvern looks up. "Wyvern, congratulations and welcome my brother Bard." the half-elf says with a broad grin. "In honor of this occasiona, I'll cut your debt in half... which given interest rates and number of years elapsed, puts your right back at the cost of the first two Conservatories you wrecked. Don't worry, you'll eventually manage to pay that debt off... somehow." In honor of the celebration, Gyrfalcon hands Wyvern a small dragonhide cup of Ole 'Pecuiliar. "Congratulations!"

Excellent Work, Valdar, it kept me smiling and chuckling the whole way through. Somehow, it WOULD figure that Wyvern would accidentally break all the seals of Armageddon at once, wouldn't it?

Heh, if it looks like it's being ignored, I'll unpin it in a few weeks.

Gyrfalcon felt all the world fall in on him, and as he sagged to the floor, he felt his eyes inexorably close, despite his mental protests. As he slipped into a dream of New Muriska, he thought he could hear a whisper on the morning breeze. "I'm sorry I could not let you succeed." He drifted deeper into his dream, striding the walls of New Muriska. The weeks and months had been peaceful since he had decided not to journey after that strange rumor of a Well of Eternal Reflection, and Gyrfalcon smiled and chuckled to himself, remembering how concerned, even obsessed with the idea he had been. Gyrfalcon stopped suddenly as a guardsman looking out over the southern marches dropped his pike, his face sheet white inside his helmet. Gyrfalcon whirled to see what the man was staring at, and the rushing light consumed them both. Gyrfalcon woke with a start, as a ringing voice echoed down the corridor. "I am Jagon. Arriving here has been part of my destiny, a destiny that has nearly been fulfilled. I was sent from the farthest reaches of the Heavens with a mission... to view the current state of humankind and to bring back news of its progress." Gyrfalcon forced himself to his feet, shaking off the last remnants of his forced nap and checked to make sure he still had his blade. Surprisingly, it was still in its scabbard, and Gyrfalcon forced himself down the corridor, one foot at a time. "However, I have been disgusted to find nothing here but false idols, greed and selfishness. I decided to take matters into my own hands, to judge humanity for the corruption it has caused... I have found only one cure for this: humankind's ultimate destruction." Gyrfalcon forced himself to move faster, feeling his blood begin to surge more quickly as adrenaline and anger flooded through him. No one, and he meant no one was going to destroy his city without getting through him! "This 'Pool' which you seek, this 'bringer of life' is in fact nothing more than a grave. Centuries ago, in the early years of humankind's existence, the great sea beast Leviathan laid waste to cultures and civilizations, eliminating everything in it's monstrous path. Here is where it rests in eternal sleep. I have come to awaken him, to restart the process of elimination and lay waste to humanity. You and your kind are doomed... May I suggest using your last moments on this Earth for prayer?" Gyrfalcon unsheathed his katana and growled. "Jagon, I think I'm going to be a little guilty later on about how much I'll enjoy killing you." He breathed easily as he ran, but the end of the corridor still wasn't in sight. "I am no mere angel, I am a seraphim... a second-hand to only the most powerful of deities. Am I to understand that you wish to face me? Absurd..." The voice said, its powerful tones puzzled. Gyrfalcon paused for a second, but then he picked up speed again. Jagon wanted to destroy the world. Against that, it mattered not if he was angel or devil. Gyrfalcon saw the end of the corridor and tried to run faster. "Not so absurd when you don't see us backing down, is it?" He heard Myth say, her voice quietly cold. "Fools!" Jagon's voice boomed, his voice now ringing with anger. "You cannot stop what destiny has dictated! If you wish to waste your lives and be the first to fall, then so be it! Behold! Gaspoliner, the sword of faith itself! Pray you petty creatures, for these breaths shall be your last..." Jagon darted forward, and Myth agilely rolled out of the way. Kaleyra, never trained as a fighter, looked up with wide eyes as Gaspoliner swung back, then forward, its fatal arc descending to end her life. Gyrfalcon slid desperately, his momentum too great to allow a perfect block. He settled for deflection, Gaspoliner scraping down the edge of his keen katana even as he slammed against the seraphim's armored bulk, nearly losing his footing from the impact. The seraphim's sword whistled by Kaleyra, narrowly missing her wing as she flinched back. Startled, Jagon danced backwards, his flaring wings forcing Myth away as she tried to dart in to stab him. She struck anyway, but the seraphim's feathers turned the blow, leaving only a single incandescently white feather floating down to mark her attempt. Kaleyra quickly stepped away from the fighters as Jagon and Gyrfalcon squared off, their eyes narrowed. Jagon beat his wings slowly, forcing Myth to back off from her attempts to plant her dagger somewhere painful, and the balance hovered on a single point, suspended between the two sides. "So you would all pit your might against mine?" Jagon asked, a cold sneer on his face. "Then you shall all die. Make your peace, and prepare to face my Lord in judgment!" Blade met with blade as the two fighters attacked, but their divine enemy quickly gained the upper hand, forcing Gyrfalcon back with heavy blows, Jagon's wings keeping Myth at bay, especially after one sweep sent her sliding halfway across the room. Gyrfalcon growled and counter attacked, and the two spun circles as their blades clashed together again and again, Gyrfalcon managing to slip through an ineffectual blow or two that harmlessly slid off of Jagon's breastplate. Their circles ended with Gyrfalcon being backed towards the Pool of Eternal Reflection, Myth once again slipping around behind Jagon. Kaleyra wrung her hands helplessly, wishing she could do something, anything to help her friends. Then Gyrfalcon's foot came down on a thighbone from an unfortunate victim of the Pool, and he fell. Myth cursed and Kaleyra cried out as Jagon reversed his grip on Gaspoliner and raised the sword up. "And now you die!" Jagon cried, beginning the thrust straight at Gyrfalcon's unprotected heart. Kaleyra made a snap decision, not bothering to think of consequences or what was best, not caring if what she did harmed her target. She focused her mind and will on Jagon. And then she unleashed the full force of her will, the will that she had so carefully concealed from her companions. Jagon staggered as the massive psychic blow smashed his thoughts apart. His thrust wavered and stalled, and Gyrfalcon rolled to his feet, his katana coming across in a cross slash that razed a line of blood across Jagon's forearm. The seraphim blocked the following slash and backed up, shaking his head to no avail as Kaleyra clamped her lips tight and focused her will, hammering against Jagon's mind again and again. "You... you dare..." the seraphim gasped, a wing batting Myth away from him, but not before she slashed the back of his thigh, leaving only a shallow cut but a cut none the less. "We dare." Gyrfalcon said grimly. "This is our world, not yours. You shall not destroy it."

That's always helpful. May your muse always burn brightly, lighting the way to creativity.

*Gyrfalcon chuckles* Ah, always worth checking in for a good laugh.

A very descriptive scene, Lady Celes. Congratulations on recapturing your muse. Now remember, you bar both the door AND windows of your mind to prevent her from escaping. Now for my attempt: The man steps out his front door, breathing deeply of the cool, crisp air. The coolness of the morning was a blessing after the scorching heat of the summer. He sighs, and wispy tendrils of mist float away, only to disappear in a passing breeze. Pulling his light windbreaker tighter around himself, the man wishes for a passing instant that he had thought to don a larger coat, but as he walks towards his car, gleaming with muted hilights in the faint difuse light of the overcast morning, he decides that he'd rather enjoy the slight chill and savor the morning's cool.