O c h r e
• Tʜᴇ Dᴜɴɢᴇᴏɴ •
As the ogre tooth dropped into the azure of liquid mass, Ochre kept his eyes on the fluid itself rather than the mid-fall object inbound towards it. His attentiveness was probably what allowed him to notice the coolness of the air, solidifying his every breath while the liquid churred beneath his gaze, and enabled him to begin connecting the dots. What substance could possibly be cold enough to turn air into visible mist, while paradoxically sustaining a liquid state? The epiphany occurred merely moments after the tooth impacted with the mass, the enamel-based object quickly frosted over by the frigid nature of the fluid mass, the frost creeping towards his fingers at a speed he couldn't have possibly accounted for.
Thankfully, that was what party members were for, as a voice quickly shouted out towards him while he was still stunned with shock.
"Watch those fingers, Ochre!" the voice called out, before a small, alarmingly fast object smashed through the climbing frost before it could reach his digits. The shatter of ice snapped him out of his daze, and the armorsmith backpedaled at a rate faster than most would have seen out of him in their entire lives until he was a good twenty feet away from the azure channel. A small glance let Ochre recognize the visage of his savior, the musician Tiferet, and he sent her a small nod of thanks, a hint of relief within his gaze. He didn't have much time to thank her further, however, as the mass of flowing liquid began to rise from its containment. Slamming itself onto the stone with a loud thud, Ochre's misgivings were realized as it divided itself into multiple entities.
Frost Slimes. Elemental brethren of the common slime that have gained the ability to generate ice, as seen by the creeping rime that spread itself away from the frozen entities and towards Ochre and the rest of the party. The young man took merely a few moments to take all of this in, breathing deep to calm himself from the previous shock that had overridden his usual demeanor. It wouldn't be very efficient to panic, after all. His future self would only chew himself out for how much energy he had spent on an outburst that could have been conserved for other things. Like the trek towards the comfiest bed possible after this all was over.
At some point, he couldn't tell when, himself, Ochre had closed his eyes, only to reopen them as he moved into action. Resuming his earlier movement of backpedalling, the armorsmith moved to regroup with his companions as slowly as he dared, the latent magic within his form brought to life by his will as it swirled into being. Upon his open palms, a circular insignia formed itself from his magic alone, tiny intricate symbols of an unknown language etching themselves within its boundaries while the armorsmith concentrated on their creation. A mental "ting" echoed within his mind as the magic circles completed themselves, and the young man crouched down momentarily to press them into the flooring at different periods of his retreat, their forms expanding greatly beyond their previous size as they contacted with the stone, only to fade as if they had never existed in the first place. His actions seemed useless, until a pair of the larger frost slimes pulled themselves onto the general location where one of the circles had been placed. Instantly, the insignia flared to life once more around the two entities, glowing with a yellow light before both of the slimes were electrocuted by the magic compressed within it, the glow fading as the two figures lost their form and promptly disseminated across the stone floor.
It was only a paralytic spell trap, not exactly powerful when it comes to dealing damage, but they should at least slow the opposition down while the party thought up a strategy to efficiently defeat their foes. By the time he had reached the rest of the group, he had set about a half-dozen of his traps along the way, aside from the first two that had already been tripped. As he reached the forming circle of wayfarers, a new duo of spell traps were already forming in his hands, their creation speed boosted by the song of <Kronos> Tiferet had buffed the party with. While he did not say much in the case of his small blunder, his grunt of subdued irritation vocalized his annoyance with the situation at hand. Setting his traps just before he slotted himself into the forming circle of party members, his dominant hand unsheathed the Griffzungenschwert he kept at his side, and held it at the ready in the face of the threat surrounding them. It wouldn't do much, really, as slimes were relatively immune to physical damage, but being able to smash the creeping ice before it could affect any of the party is better than doing nothing.
Lemons
vietmyke
Danyel
Asura
Izurich
Expllo
Th3King0fChaos
Enzayne
Cu Chulainn
OwO
