?What the--?!?
Draven pounded his fists against the huge metallic hand.
?Blast it! What in blazes do you think you?re doing?!?!?
The machine?s steps were huge and fast, the jarring of the clanking footfalls serving to fuel the plainly irritated fire mage?s temper.
The wraith continued down the hallway a few hundred feet before realizing that it just passed Draven up. Turning and blinking its red eyes confusedly, it sped off back towards the outside, chasing after the escaping group.
----
Virmir turned his attention to the rack of ornate swords hanging on his wall. The silver coated fox had quite a collection. Twelve blades in all, half of them enchanted in some way, all of them ancient, and each tied to the history of Welkin. He reached out to touch the decorative hilts one by one, his other claw stroking the thin fur under his chin. His white tipped tail escaped from under his black robe as he leaned forward, hooking upward and swaying back and forth while he made his decision. He idly wished the Dark Emperor would have given him some details of his mission, so that he would be able to make a more informed choice.
His black claw rested on the tip of the hilt of one of the middle blades. Grabbing the handle, he removed the weapon, the blade humming a high pitched whine as it slit the air. It was the Wind Serpent, his favorite. A long, thin blade, barely three quarters of an inch wide, yet just over five feet in length from end to end with a slight curve. It was longer than he was tall. He brought the blade before him, rotating the razor sharp edge upward as it continued to hum, careful not to dislodge anything from the nearby shelves. As its name implied, it was a wind elemental sword-- the strongest in his collection, with a further enchantment to reduce its handling weight to nearly nil.
Satisfied, he replaced the weapon in its sheath and held the weapon in his left hand, letting the tip touch the floor. Once again he began his perusement, taking a bit longer this time as he studied the remaining swords. Finally, he removed a longsword from the rack-- the Flamberge. This one was wider and more medievalish in design, but less than three feet in blade length, making it less cumbersome. It was much heavier though, which the fox did not like, but its wide spreading fire magic came in handy, even though it wasn?t the strongest.
The silver fox replaced the Flamberge in its sheath, then strapped the weapon to his back so that it was almost horizontal to the floor, the hilt to his left side and within easy reach of his right hand. He did the same with the Wind Serpent, positioning it just above the fire blade. The wind blade was so long that he would have to be careful not to knock things over in passing while indoors, a lesson he learned the hard way when he was younger.
The look of uncertainty in his vulpine visage was gone. It was all business from here on out. With a wave of his claw the oil lamp flickered out, leaving his office in darkness. He turned sideways as he exited to the hallway so that his sword would not catch, before locking the door and striding down the torchlight corridor at a quick pace, his tail swaying behind him.
