smartass_captain

From:

It never fails to catch Jim's breath to see the battlemages in the midst of their craft. Difficult not to feel a bit more confident to watch Stratos and then his husband warp reality to their own wills with such practiced ease. Felix's casting here on Nirn is quicker and even less strained now after so much time spent in the relatively magic-scarce plane of Jim's own world.

The spectral wolf shakes out its translucent coat but keeps quiet on its master's order. No howling, no happy trotting. It's hunching lower to the ground and stealing forward all too soon as it hones in on the scent of the dremora they're hunting. Acknowledging and reassuring Felix that his brother passed through here with the faintest traces of Stratos' scent picked up.

Jim watches them press on while he readies his phaser. Then it's his turn to creep forward even slower while he sweeps the area for any signs of movement. No telling where Stratos has ended up by now, no sign of a fight having broken out yet.

In fact, the dremora spends much of its time circling the circumference of Stratos' wards probing for any sign of weakness it could exploit. Having won this bit of rubble from the wretched mortal who dared call for power beyond his scrabbling filthy hands might be a victory were it not for the boundaries that keep it from expanding its territory. What good is this wretched place if there is nothing against which it can test its mettle? Even the animals fear coming near and the creatures below are utterly mindless. No point at all when they don't even bleed.