Board Thread:Roleplay/@comment-26288702-20161008211047/@comment-28358106-20161017224039

I gasp. In an instant, ten thousand lives are lost, souls given unto folly, or at the very least, poor leadership. I know Wulf is here, but I don't know where. Jorge has the vampire's attention, at least for now. The Golems at least are not true Golems; I wouldn't expect the Order to use sentient automata, but it still ruins almost every plan I can think of. All but one.

"Hound, try and buy me some time if you can..."

I leap off of Aires and onto the ground. I pull out the potion Hound gave me, and, making a face, drink it all...but a drop or two. Using telekinesis, I levitate the bottle, and the tiny bead of potion pops out of the top, floating in the air.

I raise my hand into the air. A pulsing can be heard, and a mark appears in the air---one that I rarely use. A chronomark. It floats in the air as the drop begins to grow, multiplying into a revolving, dark blob of liquid.

The mark pulsates. Every time it does, the liquid grows, doubling in size as the arcane singularity point I've created takes the potion and doubles its size. Soon, it becomes a column, then a pillar. Within a minue...one long, desperate minute...it is at last as tall as a tree. At least, tall enough.

I spread my arms, and bring my hands together, my fingers clawlike.

There is a roar. A blast of wind hits us all as my coat writhes with the maelsteom. The column of liquid spirals into an enormous cyclone of black cloud---a cyclone of potion. I extend my hand, and the cyclone tears across the landscape, following my will as I direct it towards Armata, hoping the poisonous mist might have an effect.

It probably won't work, but it might buy us some time.