Shielding. Whoever thought up the magic of shielding was even more brilliant than Dextren was. Shielding, it offered so many uses, practical and not, that it just made Dextren a little happy in the under-regions. Alright, perhaps he didn't get sexually aroused by Shielding, but the thought of shielding anything, everything, made him want to just do it! And hell, why shouldn't he? What risk was there besides Overgiving and possible death if he took overgiving too far? Big deal. Dextren peeled off his backpack and set the large bag down on the ground in front of him, then promptly squatted next to it and placed both his palms against its leathery skin. His sudden infatuation with Shielding could no be ignored. When you had this kind of desire to cover everything you touched with a layer of shimmering barrier, you just couldn't resist. Dextren rolled up his sleeves so that he could see the tattoos that littered his arms like hundreds of tiny paths through a city. When examined by someone who wasn't very familiar with the generation and manipulation of Djed, the tattoos would seem like a simple randomly drawn chaos, but to a master of djed, or in Dextren's case, someone who needed that visual trail to follow when he felt the strange mystical substance through his arms, it was a map. And right now, he was watching it, very closely, that map of ink. He watched the tattoos because he felt the djed under the skin, running like dozens of tiny streams of water flowing into one large river, which poured from his hands and ran slowly across that backpack of his. Djed, the building block of life for all magical practices, and here he was smearing it across his backpack. "Task, seal. Resist force." There was a sudden shimmer of silver light, as if for a split moment Leth himself radiated off that bag like a mirror, then it was gone, all but a very faint shimmer, waves of silver. It was practically invisible, but Dextren knew it was there, he could see it just because of that.
Dextren of course had to test this out though. He grabbed the leather belt-like strap that held the bag close, yet when he tried to loosen it, the force was weak, and the strap remained unmoved, yet each tug created a vivid silvery glow, a reminder and telltale sign for everyone that this bag was, in fact, shielded from motion. How exciting! Too bad he has all his things in there. Oh well, it would dissipate in a day or so. If not, he could always leech the life straight out of the shield to kill it. One way or another, he could unlock this shield.
Satisfied with his use of Shielding, Dextren lifted his backpack and slung it across his back once more and continued his journey. If he didn't pick up the pace, he would be forty before he ever saw Avanthal! That wasn't a happy though. He only left syliras the previous day, but he was slow, on foot, and stopped to do little tricks with magic to keep himself strong, and more importantly, entertained.
By the time he reached Sunset falls, evening was already strong, yet the falls, those pillars of water that came crashing down into the earth below, were a strong yellowish golden color. Dextren stared at this for several minutes as he approached it, no longer aware if he was still on trail or not, he wanted to get closer, to see these golden waters at the fell from the skies. Syna's tears maybe? More like the waters from Syna's leeking cunt. Dextren chuckled at himself as he continued to move in his trance-like state towards the waters, that is until he was ambushed! Whatever it was, it had no problem at all taking Dextren down to the ground and pinning him to the dirt. Dextren was about to shout in surprise, spray the air with saliva and profanity, and scream bloody-murder at whoever the psycho was that thought he had any right to assault him, but his mouth swiftly shut down any sound, and by the gods it was filthy. That hand tasted like shit and dirt with dead cat carcass thrown in the mix. Dextren only quit his attempts at making as much noise as possible because to part his lips was to invite that filth through them. Not going to happen.
Dextren's eyes were a solid forest-like green moments before he had been wrestled to the ground and mounted by the half-Myrian wildman, yet those same eyes wasted no time in shifting to a burning red. He wasn't afraid, but rather, he was furious! His jaw moved slowly left to right as his teeth were clenched and started grinding together, but he managed to force a small nod. If anything, he would play this insane man'd game long enough to get the upper hand, then he would fuck him. Not literally of course, but he had ways. Leeching, he could suck the lifeforce straight out of his body. Perhaps another shield? He could cover the man's face with the task of resisting air flow. Asphyxiation would look nice on that man's eyes as it quivering in pain from a slow loss of consciousness. Oh, the thoughts, he loved these ideas he was having. He would Punish Mok. If he was good enough, he could just shield his nether-regions so that urination was impossible. The incessant burning for a lifetime until it ruptured, that was harsh, but he should have known better than to attack a God in the making.
Then Mok released him without doing an ounce of harm to Dextren, or even attempting to for that matter. That was a surprise, so much that he didn't even spew verbal anger like a raging hormonal child. His eyes shifted down a notch, raging red to an angry intense orange, but that was still an improvement over wanting to tear out this man's intestines and feed them to birds. He, again to his surprise, actually followed the man's lead, though it wasn't because he believed him, but because he wanted to know what all this madness was all about, and as soon as he found out, he may or may not decide to punish Mok.
It was clear he didn't believe he was in trouble, because he spoke not in whispers, but a normal casual voice. "Allies? Hardly, I still don't know if I trust you as far as I can spit." At least Dextren was honest. His trust was difficult to earn, more so when you practically molested him in the wilds without so much as a simple 'hello'. Or that's how he saw it at least.
