Sweet Cinnamoth
EXP: 37,766, Level: 8
Level completed: 31%,
EXP required for next Level: 6,234
Next time he spoke with the monks, he was going to have to specify “not against John Cromwell, never ever”.
Fenn was somewhat unprepared for the outspread hand that came swinging towards him. Soon as he saw it, he panicked If John got close, that was it -- tiny twig kid was done. The half-formed ice chunk in his palm that might have gone towards a useful trap instead bapped harmlessly off of John’s hand as the tiny Fae fled to the right of the staggering warrior. Fingers about as large as the boy’s wrists brushed against his trailing cloak -- and found a fistful of green fabric. In his head, Fenn was screaming in panic as he was lifted off of his feet. In reality, a pathetic squeaking came from him, which did not seem very dignified when one was also feistily flailing about one’s frail limbs like a tiny madman.
A new chunk of ice was slowly forming in his hand, though not quite fast enough for his liking.
In this moment, he was not grateful for his excellent imagination. Snapping, crushing, stomping -- any number of abrupt endings flashed through his mind.
Last edited by FennWenn; 10-24-2017 at 01:46 PM.
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