>>
|
de5cb4.jpg
Snow Crumble
de5cb4
> Wings
> Hey! Hey, stop falling.
Martah: (AAAAA, right, yes, wings, right, OK, I can do this.)
> Skelecopter
Martah: (Oh, like with a WAIT THERES NO TIME!)
Martah lets the wind whip off his tabard as he concentrates. Skin stretches between his arms and torso, forming a pair of crude wings. Balancing on the rushing air currents he manages to hold roughly in place.
Looking around, Martah takes stock of the situation. A mile wide portal has dumped the entire camp into the sky, maybe five miles up? The wurm is close behind, about a 100 yards up. Martah's group, as well as the shattered remains of the obelisk, are some hundred yards or so apart from the rest of the camp, directly in the path of the wurm.
> Order the Wurm to slow your descent
Martah: (Right.) He glances up at the immense face. (How are we doing this?)
|