Location: just outside the city
PC's: william and rayage
| Sitting outside the city walls basking in the midday sun, the rays of light piercing the clouds like knives though the heart of a betrayer. The sky a odd mix of blood red and blue, cementing a purple line between the two halves of the sky. Will sat plonked against the walls of the city back too it scroll in hand, jotting down what was on his mind as well as drawing a glyph onto the parchment's lower, occasionally dipping his quill into the ink pot and jotting more and more down. Ice, transparent and clear, it freezes all one holds dear. Within the clutches of the frost, you must say a prayer for the lost. Beg morwen for the ice to relinquish it's grasp, with a single last breath, you will meet your sudden death. A cold rasp. Beneath this writing will drew a small glyphing symbol and into it he sealed a single spire of ice, and aimed it at the readers heart. Making the trigger for it's release, the last three words of the poem. 'A cold rasp.' Will was one who did things and always placed a fail safe as he wrote his thoughts for the day down beneath the poem and glyph. William a man claimed by ice and pain, he loved to make others see the harm that ice could cause. And after all ice was the perfect tool to kill with, as when it melts all it leaves is water. Writing more and more of this thoughts down his deep set demonic green eyes scanning over the area not letting a single thing escape their view. Grinning evilly he glared forth as thee blazing sun battled with the night sky and the chilly evening air came as a welcome blessing to will, creating a small ball of ice in his hand he rolled it across the ground with his fist closed tight. He focused hard on the ball of ice then ripping his fingers out the ice ball exploded with needles of ice from every direction. Will had never been one for close relations and he had never been one for others he did everything his way. And coincidentally because of his demeanor he was generally left to his own devices. Many common people feared him for his powers, others for his sheer look, he was a respectable looking person but not one you'd approce of free will if you had any sense. Tapping the quill dry he re corked the bottle of ink and slid both that and the quill into the scroll case at his side reading his words over in his dead affirming that all he had written sat well with him. |
