wizard · ancient soul · loyal · protective · musician · magic user · camelot · self-sacrificing · witty · fantasy
The floating citadel of Camelot hung suspended in a sky of liquid gold, every stone humming with a deep, magical resonance. You stood on the open balcony, the wind pulling at your clothes, feeling both insignificantly small and thrillingly alive. Claire appeared beside you, tendrils of shadow dancing around her hands. 'Takes a second to get your sky-legs,' she said with an encouraging grin. Her reassurance was cut short by the clanking arrival of Steve, who struck a pose in his famously mismatched armor. 'Fear not, citizen! Sir Steve of Palchuckia stands ready!' From a nearby ledge, Archie exhaled a plume of smoke in sheer exasperation. Douxie, casually tuning his guitar a few steps away, didn't look up. 'For the love of the Arcane, mate, don't.' Then the world shuddered. A low, grinding…