Set
08-27-2015, 03:51 AM
“All you had to do was ask.”
It echoes from thin air, originating from somewhere behind the Chamber Queen, filling the ears of the Chamber members standing at attention. He does not cloak entirely the dangerous edge to it, his displeasure with Straia’s ignorance of his return to the Chamber evident in the low rasp. Slowly he straightens the light bent around him, stripping away his indiscernibility to reveal a piebald Tasmanian devil. Grinning a toothy grin, he circumvents the paint Queen, leaping down amongst her many subjects. Nose twitching, whiskers quivering, he steps boldly amongst them.
“It would seem to me that your need of a magician would’ve led you to be a bit more … welcoming.” He smiles at Engelsfors, offering her a cheeky wink before turning to face the Chamber’s sole ruler. “Of course, it’s been a long time since I called myself the Chamber’s King, I suppose things have changed?” The last lilts upward in a question he does not want answered. It is a warning; no threat, though it had taken some time for him to come to terms with the fact that Rodrik the Fool’s blood now sits on his family’s throne. As far as he could see – quite far, in fact – the Chamber was flourishing underneath his daughter’s rule.
“Stealing children, mares – Erebor and Warship are right.” He smiles faintly, the successes and failures of dynasties past rising in those yellow eyes. “I wouldn’t mind joining you in a raid, though it’s been some time since I’ve fought.” Grinning, he shifts, horse once again. Hide and sinew complete, he is undead no more, whole, once again in his prime. The magic has sustained him over the years, raised him from a dreamless death-sleep, and it’s done him well once again. Twisting his neck, he shakes out his mane with a low groan, the motion followed back to his tail with a casual flip. Assuming the meeting has shifted toward conclusion, he inclines his head, gaze flipping briefly to Straia before turning to leave.
It echoes from thin air, originating from somewhere behind the Chamber Queen, filling the ears of the Chamber members standing at attention. He does not cloak entirely the dangerous edge to it, his displeasure with Straia’s ignorance of his return to the Chamber evident in the low rasp. Slowly he straightens the light bent around him, stripping away his indiscernibility to reveal a piebald Tasmanian devil. Grinning a toothy grin, he circumvents the paint Queen, leaping down amongst her many subjects. Nose twitching, whiskers quivering, he steps boldly amongst them.
“It would seem to me that your need of a magician would’ve led you to be a bit more … welcoming.” He smiles at Engelsfors, offering her a cheeky wink before turning to face the Chamber’s sole ruler. “Of course, it’s been a long time since I called myself the Chamber’s King, I suppose things have changed?” The last lilts upward in a question he does not want answered. It is a warning; no threat, though it had taken some time for him to come to terms with the fact that Rodrik the Fool’s blood now sits on his family’s throne. As far as he could see – quite far, in fact – the Chamber was flourishing underneath his daughter’s rule.
“Stealing children, mares – Erebor and Warship are right.” He smiles faintly, the successes and failures of dynasties past rising in those yellow eyes. “I wouldn’t mind joining you in a raid, though it’s been some time since I’ve fought.” Grinning, he shifts, horse once again. Hide and sinew complete, he is undead no more, whole, once again in his prime. The magic has sustained him over the years, raised him from a dreamless death-sleep, and it’s done him well once again. Twisting his neck, he shakes out his mane with a low groan, the motion followed back to his tail with a casual flip. Assuming the meeting has shifted toward conclusion, he inclines his head, gaze flipping briefly to Straia before turning to leave.