Monday, February 8, 2021

From the Internal Narrative of Callidus Igni

They went down in a flail of limbs.

I glanced backwards and found the skirmish had grown cold. The dryads were on the ground before the satyrs, who were trying not to look too pleased by the view. Umbo knelt in front of his target, felled by his weakness for his sister, who lay fallen at the hands of hers.

But I had the caster and the pinnacle, and the circle was broken.

Unfortunately, the other four points didn't disengage immediately, and the resulting power coursed through the missing anchor and whomever was standing there. Or lying fallen.

Their storyteller called out the hit. The caster and the pinnacle stopped writhing and lay still. I dropped to my knees, out but not down. The whiplash burned out my well and my access to it, only luck let me keep my vision.

It was up to the satyrs.

Laetatio pulled his skin from his belt. "I'm empty."

Libita hefted his. "One dose left. Do you want it?"

"Speed or Strength?"

They glanced around the circle, at each other, and Libita answered with an underhanded toss. "Speed."

Laetatio took the last swig and darted forwards.


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