Fear Sharper than Steel
First Day of the First Month 293 AC
From your left a pale shard of bone gleaming with baleful light flies seeking to sap the tortured will from both roiling masses of flesh while with your right you draw on threads of unseen power to call forth for a fleeting instant the majesty of elder Wyrms. The bone lodges in the nearer creature, harming it less than you might have hoped, and at first it seems as if the horror of their wretched existence wards the monsters against dragonkind.
Then even as you come unstuck in time, a brilliant azure light fills the darkness, a seal of the order of the world hangs suspended in the air were Dany had willed it by word and gesture, by dream spun power. Before it the things recoil in horror from the mark of everything they once were, a sea of flesh drawing back from the shore. So it is that with a smile upon your lips you draw again on the shadow of ancient dread... and this time even through the veil of anguish the horrors know
fear.
Even as time claims its inevitable toll you smile watching on. You see Malarys calls out a
chant of war and ruin that echoes into
twined destruction while Ser Richard flings himself into the fight, Oathkeeper a brand of blood-red flame in his hand as he hews at unclean flesh as a woodsman might hew a great tree.
Looking beyond the smaller monster, you see the stone beneath the larger one begin to crack and and give way... and at first you think it some power of the foul thing itself until you glimpse the stone-like teeth of the Xorn Far Delver. He is cutting, trapping the thing in place as folds of flesh fall into deep crevices, you realize. Likely unnecessary, but a clever tactic just the same.
"Do you need these things alive?" Malarys shouts, hand still clutching the gilded talisman which serves as a focus for his magic.
It is perhaps fortunate that Ser Richard is too busy carving the monsters apart to answer, and Dany does so instead. "Yes, they might as well serve some purpose."
As soon as you regain the use of yourself, you call out a spell to lock the things into a harmless form. Under the fading azure light and the enduring power of your presence, the creatures cannot resist the pull of your magic.
Ser Richard looks down at what had a moment before been a living wall of flesh and horror and was now merely a turtle, though horribly, still with too many mouths and eyes. "Shit, that's ugly."
The words, uttered with only a tinge of disgust, the kind one might use upon having stepped in something mildly unpleasant, cause all of you to burst into relived laughter.
"You have a true gift for understatement, Ser Knight," Malarys jests, having cast a spell to make himself understood with neither word nor gesture.
"What are you going to do with those things, if not kill them?" Echo Caller asks, bemused, though you suspect it might become suspicion rather swiftly if he does not like your answer.
What do you answer?
[] Present the notion of growing a weirwood tree for the Xorn
-[] Write in arguments
[] Explain that you have a safe way to dispose of such monster at home
[] Write in
OOC: Remember most people do not collect polymorphed aberrations.