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As we made our way towards the great city of Woorof, I looked up through the enormous branches and saw the sun descending fast. It appeared that we would be a little late arriving in Woorof. In fact, at our present rate, we might not get there for another day or so. That would be a poor showing indeed. Blast this infernal bog we were forced to progress through. Oh, I suppose we could have taken the southern route, but that would still have added three more days for the journey from Zulon. Three more days that our schedule did not allocate to us. Under normal conditions this bloody bog is travelable in the time frame we had set, but a summer storm had come out of no where and doused the already saturated bog ground, making travel even more hazardous and forcing us to slow to a near crawl. The rain did not bother me too much though, although the huge, shape changing, flying shield above my head caused me no end of worry. I suppose now that you would want to know how the aforementioned shield came to be above my head. I should also like to take this moment to say that this time it was not ALL my brother's fault...just most of it. As I mentioned earlier, rain does not really bother me, it does, however, drive my dear Alexis quite out of her mind. And this is ESPECIALLY true when she is also forced to be rained on while riding a horse as the rain inevitably finds a way to collect between her saddle and her tail-end. This, of course, would make riding a little more than slightly uncomfortable. Naturally enough, when the rain started to fall from the sky, Alexis started complaining. Now my first thought was to tell her that if rain bothered her so incredibly much, why not just use a magic spell to protect you from the rain? This fantastic (in my humble opinion) idea received, as its reward, a glare from my Alexis. No doubt that had we been alone, Alexis would indeed have invoked such a spell, but under her sire's watchful eye she could only mutter, "Magic is not to be used for such frivolous uses," and then continue complaining. After about thirty minutes of that nonsense, my brother had his fill of Alexis' constant griping. El Perro declared that since his magic was of no practical use in more serious matters (owing to its utterly unreliable nature), he would be quite content us use it for frivolous matters. And with that said, El Perro summoned something to shield us from the rain. The next thing we knew there was a giant shield floating over our heads that changed its shape to avoid trees and branches while still managing to float over us. Scottie looked up at in and then calmly asked El Perro if that shield was made of iron. El Perro broke of a passing branch and tapped the underside of the shield with it before responding in the affirmative. Scottie then nodded, still staring at the shield, then he continued his questioning, "Is it not true young apprentice that iron rusts in water?" To this El Perro slowly nodded his head and again replied in the affirmative. Scottie continued, "And what, pray tell, do you intend to do when pieces of the shield rust and fall to the ground, perchance also landing upon us while they do?" My brother was now stumped and looked sheepishly up at the shield before admitting that he did not know. Again Scottie nodded before asking El Perro to figure out the solution to that problem sometime BEFORE pieces started rusting off, which my brother readily agreed to do. That was four days ago, El Perro still has not thought up a suitable solution, and the shield is being to rust very badly. Hence, the shield floating o'er my head bothers me immensely. While I was thinking about the shield and its origins, I thought about the applications of magic. This line of pondering eventually lead me to wondering whether or not the use of a transportation spell would be a worthy use for magic, considering the possible repercussions that could occur because of a late arrival to the Woorof Castle. Scottie, however, seemed to know my thoughts, and when I looked towards him preparation to ask, he shook his head. It looked like I would have to figure out something else then. As my mind drifted off into deeper thoughts I suddenly felt a glancing blow to my right hand. I quickly looked around and saw a quivering arrow lodged in my saddle. As the arrow was not deeply imbedded, I easily removed it and examined it. It appeared to be made from a strong ironwood branch and was tipped with a bronzed triple-barbed point. As such, it was not one of the more commonly used arrow types, which made identification of it easier. It had come from the Eastern sector of Doggainia, and is specifically used by the Griffon Breed. I probably would have continued on this line of thought for quite sometime had not a certain thing crossed over my shoulder. This certain thing, of course, would be identical to that arrow I had been engaged in studying. Being nearly shot twice proved I was lucky. Being shot at three times and not being injured would be pushing that luck. I thus deemed it prudent to rapidly dismount from steed and scurry into the underbrush while shouting to my comrades to follow suit. Once we were all safely hiding in the tall Wolfhound grass, more arrows began raining from above. Judging by how the arrows came flying through the air, I had chosen the correct side of the bog to hide on, as the arrows were coming from the other side of the main path. Unfortunately the shield hovering above our head was giving away our position and the archers were slowly getting our range. I locked eyes with Butch momentarily and my eyes told him all that he needed to know. During the next lull in the arrows, Butch leapt into the air and grabbed the giant shield's handhold and the shield came crashing down from the sky covering us completely. With the exception of a few rust holes, we were completely cut off from the rain of arrows outside. Our arrow-flinging friends quickly realized what had happened and were none to pleased with the rapid turn of events, as was evidence in there cursing at one another. Their voices also confirmed that they wearer indeed Griffon Archers. Luckily for us that they were only Griffons, for although Griffons are trackers of much renowned, they are poor marksmen. The only drawback to their being Griffons was that regardless of where we went next, they would surely track us down before we reached Woorof, and next time, they might succeed in their ambush. As the sound of the Griffons died down, we could only assume that they had once again blended into the forest and awaited our emergence from beneath the shield. I looked to my advisor and friend Scottie. Now that he had some time to collect his thoughts, he was smiling at me in his knowing way as he spoke, "Earlier, it was not the time for magic, as it would have been wasteful. But now we have no alternative for Griffons can track anyone, even through the use of enchantments. Thus, now is the time to arrive in Woorof...by magic." And with a wave of his hand, we were soon standing before the gates to Woorof Castle. Ace Dogg of Doggainia |
