Chaos unfolded, what a joy! Vesemir had been in many expeditions, and sure as hell this kind of occasion was almost a staple. But he thrived in chaos, or to be exact, in its aftermath, or when somebody else were busy with it.
So, taking advantage of the Golem's attention that was not fixed on him, the renowned archeologist gripped the mysterious card again. He had taken a scenic route through the left bookcase alleyways, safe from the ongoing fight, and allowed his eyes to feast on Theriadore's ancient collection before heading toward the door, which bluntly rejected his attempt to enter by sanding out a bored announcement:
🇦🇨🇨🇪🇸🇸 🇩🇪🇳🇮🇪🇩, 🇹🇭🇪 🇫🇦🇨🇮🇱🇮🇹🇾 🇮🇸 🇮🇳 🇱🇴🇨🇰🇩🇴🇼🇳
Frowning after sending off a cursory glance at the ongoing battle, the monocled elf deducted that one, his card is still a valid key, and two, defeating the golem would unlock the door.
It was such a shame that they couldn't just deactivate it. He raised his hand and witnessed how the people he hired exchanged blows with the stony guardian. Arrows were fired, spears thrown and swords swung, often in an exaggerated fashion, and that eastern vagabond seemed to be the most guilty of it. Who even swings a sword by jumping overhead?
Vesemir had already lost interest in that golem, and his awe had turned into concern when the party piled blow after blow toward the now half-frozen guardian. Ironically, Whatever blood that spilled from the subsequent attack started to ignite the precious millennia-old bookcase.
"What a shoddy job! those books are as precious as one of your limbs! Could you please put that fire off?" Though his words were only that of an entreaty, it was clearly filled with utter perplexion. "Or at least be more cautious!"
It actually wasn't such a surprise that they paid him no head. Except for Gray Flame, who shouted, clearly not to entertain his wish of how this particular fight should be executed, but rather, for a more pressing matter.
"Hey, get out of the Killzone!"
And look at that arrow! Battling his bookworm enthusiasm, Vesemir immediately knew he wouldn't want to be anywhere on the arrow's path. The monocled elf retreated to the left side of the hall, but not before taking a good look at how the fight fared so far. Those mana lines, broken crystal, and the weaponized concrete that was not quite dead yet. A spherical dome was erected around the elven healer, who conveniently, or not so conveniently, stood right in the middle of the hall, and that was a cue that told: everyone in this room knows exactly what was going to happen.
The archeologist, for the first time after long decades, reconsidered his destination and rushed for his life toward the only source of reliable protection available.
So, taking advantage of the Golem's attention that was not fixed on him, the renowned archeologist gripped the mysterious card again. He had taken a scenic route through the left bookcase alleyways, safe from the ongoing fight, and allowed his eyes to feast on Theriadore's ancient collection before heading toward the door, which bluntly rejected his attempt to enter by sanding out a bored announcement:
🇦🇨🇨🇪🇸🇸 🇩🇪🇳🇮🇪🇩, 🇹🇭🇪 🇫🇦🇨🇮🇱🇮🇹🇾 🇮🇸 🇮🇳 🇱🇴🇨🇰🇩🇴🇼🇳
Frowning after sending off a cursory glance at the ongoing battle, the monocled elf deducted that one, his card is still a valid key, and two, defeating the golem would unlock the door.
It was such a shame that they couldn't just deactivate it. He raised his hand and witnessed how the people he hired exchanged blows with the stony guardian. Arrows were fired, spears thrown and swords swung, often in an exaggerated fashion, and that eastern vagabond seemed to be the most guilty of it. Who even swings a sword by jumping overhead?
Vesemir had already lost interest in that golem, and his awe had turned into concern when the party piled blow after blow toward the now half-frozen guardian. Ironically, Whatever blood that spilled from the subsequent attack started to ignite the precious millennia-old bookcase.
"What a shoddy job! those books are as precious as one of your limbs! Could you please put that fire off?" Though his words were only that of an entreaty, it was clearly filled with utter perplexion. "Or at least be more cautious!"
It actually wasn't such a surprise that they paid him no head. Except for Gray Flame, who shouted, clearly not to entertain his wish of how this particular fight should be executed, but rather, for a more pressing matter.
"Hey, get out of the Killzone!"
And look at that arrow! Battling his bookworm enthusiasm, Vesemir immediately knew he wouldn't want to be anywhere on the arrow's path. The monocled elf retreated to the left side of the hall, but not before taking a good look at how the fight fared so far. Those mana lines, broken crystal, and the weaponized concrete that was not quite dead yet. A spherical dome was erected around the elven healer, who conveniently, or not so conveniently, stood right in the middle of the hall, and that was a cue that told: everyone in this room knows exactly what was going to happen.
The archeologist, for the first time after long decades, reconsidered his destination and rushed for his life toward the only source of reliable protection available.