An Arrival [Open]
Who: Iramaat, anyone who runs into her.
What: Iramaat arrives and she isn't pleased.
When: The morning of November 6th.
Where: The Green
When she awoke, Iramaat was not where she was supposed to be. Instead of the familiar sight open sky, there was a roof. Instead of the trees and wild growth of her home, there were walls of stone and wood. Something was wrong; she felt off, as if something had been taken from her or as if something had changed (which it had). She ignored the book on the nightstand, pausing only to snatch up the key and burst through the door into the hallway, spear clutched in one hand. Whomever had brought her here was going to pay when she found them. One does not trifle with a goddess.
Iramaat turned a corner and found herself stepping into sunlight - or at least it looked and felt like sunlight. She glanced up, saw the walls and buildings and her lips curled in distaste. Someone was mocking her. She passed through a dusty, dry open space and finally caught sight of a glimpse of green through an arched hallway. She turned and after a few moments found herself standing in the middle of a far too manicured and tamed lawn of grass, staring at the fortress around her.
She reached up and brushed a hand over her horns, just to reassure herself that those were still there. That's when she noticed the writing on her wrist and she peered at intently for it. Some sort of enchantment? A binding spell, perhaps? But it didn't feel like magic. Or at least how magic ought to.
Strange. She let her spear-point dangle; there was no threat (yet) and for a moment the sunlight soaking into her skin was a pleasant reminder of home.
That was when she noticed the distinct lack of a sun in the sky.
What: Iramaat arrives and she isn't pleased.
When: The morning of November 6th.
Where: The Green
When she awoke, Iramaat was not where she was supposed to be. Instead of the familiar sight open sky, there was a roof. Instead of the trees and wild growth of her home, there were walls of stone and wood. Something was wrong; she felt off, as if something had been taken from her or as if something had changed (which it had). She ignored the book on the nightstand, pausing only to snatch up the key and burst through the door into the hallway, spear clutched in one hand. Whomever had brought her here was going to pay when she found them. One does not trifle with a goddess.
Iramaat turned a corner and found herself stepping into sunlight - or at least it looked and felt like sunlight. She glanced up, saw the walls and buildings and her lips curled in distaste. Someone was mocking her. She passed through a dusty, dry open space and finally caught sight of a glimpse of green through an arched hallway. She turned and after a few moments found herself standing in the middle of a far too manicured and tamed lawn of grass, staring at the fortress around her.
She reached up and brushed a hand over her horns, just to reassure herself that those were still there. That's when she noticed the writing on her wrist and she peered at intently for it. Some sort of enchantment? A binding spell, perhaps? But it didn't feel like magic. Or at least how magic ought to.
Strange. She let her spear-point dangle; there was no threat (yet) and for a moment the sunlight soaking into her skin was a pleasant reminder of home.
That was when she noticed the distinct lack of a sun in the sky.