Entangle, Entwine. ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rebelhealer
Oct. 19th, 2018 12:54 amliath_anamThedas was proving to be a fascinating place, if completely unsavory towards those of his kind. Cane-like wand in hand, after gently requesting that Silver Lady watch the new home and get the finishing touches up to her tastes, Elias wandered from their new home in hightown towards lowtown, and further into the slums. The outdoors was all well and good, but it was good to also get to know the area even in its more discomfiting lights. In a place where the most bedraggled and desperate clung to what light they could find.
Elias, a being of pure shadow in a way, felt right at home in some bestial corner of his mind. Not that he paid it much of any mind as he took his time looking for an examining the most native flora. The moisture in the air made it perfect for mushrooms and other fungal plants, which he found in fair abundance. He carefully used a white-gloved hand to daintily pluck a few of what he could find, and stored it away in a bag he carried on his arm.
What fae - neighbors - lingered here, were few and far between, some closer to almost demonic in nature, those that fed on the weak. Not that most normal mortals could see them, let alone hear their annoying nattering. Even so, those who could sense him for what he truly was gave him wide berth.
He paid them no real mind. None of it was his business. He was just here to come what he wanted to get and then go.
At least, until he felt a strong grip on his arm. Standing at nearly seven feet, Elias towered over most of them, but perhaps his sense of style (something mostly aligned among the richest of folks) made him stand out as easy prey.
He wasn't really listening to them prattle about how he had come to the wrong place. So, it was really easy for him to simply grab one of the men by the throat and throw him like a ragdoll, his free hand adjusting his grip on his wand.
While he would have liked to announce how he hated pests like them, one of his foes decided to lunge at him with a knife. Sidestepping it as if he saw it coming for miles, he brought his wand up.
"Nettle in the shadows..."
--"A mage?!"
Shadow taking form, spires of thorns and flora spun like a web outward, his wand giving a brilliant glow as his single incantation spurred the growth of, frankly, very lethal weeds. Those who refused to run were assailed by thorns, black as night.
The only expression Elias held was a faint furrow of his brow - mostly from exertion of his own magic without help from a neighbor. Still, it was perhaps a more high-profile attack than he really thought to use. Even so, at least magic wasn't so uncommon as to be quite so fathomless to many.
Elias, a being of pure shadow in a way, felt right at home in some bestial corner of his mind. Not that he paid it much of any mind as he took his time looking for an examining the most native flora. The moisture in the air made it perfect for mushrooms and other fungal plants, which he found in fair abundance. He carefully used a white-gloved hand to daintily pluck a few of what he could find, and stored it away in a bag he carried on his arm.
What fae - neighbors - lingered here, were few and far between, some closer to almost demonic in nature, those that fed on the weak. Not that most normal mortals could see them, let alone hear their annoying nattering. Even so, those who could sense him for what he truly was gave him wide berth.
He paid them no real mind. None of it was his business. He was just here to come what he wanted to get and then go.
At least, until he felt a strong grip on his arm. Standing at nearly seven feet, Elias towered over most of them, but perhaps his sense of style (something mostly aligned among the richest of folks) made him stand out as easy prey.
He wasn't really listening to them prattle about how he had come to the wrong place. So, it was really easy for him to simply grab one of the men by the throat and throw him like a ragdoll, his free hand adjusting his grip on his wand.
While he would have liked to announce how he hated pests like them, one of his foes decided to lunge at him with a knife. Sidestepping it as if he saw it coming for miles, he brought his wand up.
"Nettle in the shadows..."
--"A mage?!"
Shadow taking form, spires of thorns and flora spun like a web outward, his wand giving a brilliant glow as his single incantation spurred the growth of, frankly, very lethal weeds. Those who refused to run were assailed by thorns, black as night.
The only expression Elias held was a faint furrow of his brow - mostly from exertion of his own magic without help from a neighbor. Still, it was perhaps a more high-profile attack than he really thought to use. Even so, at least magic wasn't so uncommon as to be quite so fathomless to many.
