Shala Finfright
Gilgamesh
Scarf of Wondrous Wit
The Miquo’te brushed the snow out of his dull blonde hair, and raised his gaze to the sky, where a flock of wyvern were circling. Slipping the map into his clothes, he placed the mask over his face, and removed his warmer, but weaker, gloves. Finally, he unclasped his book, and charged the spells to protect him, and bless his skin with stone-like strength. The Arcanist was ready.

Charging a spell, a circle of magic emerged on the ground, bathing the area in a purple light, and alerting the wyverns. Two dove, and he crouched in the center of the field. Diving to the side, an unaspected spell passed through his fingers from the letters on the page. The first wyvern flinched slightly, but continued its charge.

Avoiding an icy breath from one, he fired another bolt of magic off at the second wyvern as a yellow shape charged for the first one. Diving forward, he began to run around the second wyvern, dodging ice breath and tail swipes with practiced ease. Glancing to his yellow companion, he flipped the page, and fired off a spell toward the first wyvern.

Both wyverns roared, and the Arcanist glanced upward as a larger wyvern, dwarfing the size of the other two, slammed into the ground. Sliding on the snow, he gripped it with frostbitten fingers, and dove out of the way of a new breath; purple and black mist that seeped into the yellow companion’s mouth, poisoning it.

Gritting his teeth, the Arcanist turned the page, and quickly sent a healing spell toward his yellow companion. However, the two baby wyverns attacked, and he got assaulted by twice the amount of ice flame as a result. Chilled to below freezing, the Arcanist began to slow down, and the wyverns began to speed up. The yellow companion suffered immense damage, and vanished. Gritting his teeth, the Arcanist faced the three wyverns.

Rearing up, the three began to charge their breath attacks, and the Arcanist looked to the wings. With death fast approaching, he pulled out a potion, a rare potion of max potency, a gift from his client, and dove at the wyverns. The flame hit him, and he drunk the fluid, feeling it heal his insides seconds after they were burned away.

Diving behind the wyverns, the Arcanist slammed his book upon the ground, calling upon a dome of purple around all three wyverns. All three roared, and turned to face him. Focusing on a target, the Arcanist attacked the weakest wyvern, dodging and weaving through sub-zero ice breaths, and fogs of poison that were beginning to shroud the area.
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“Was it everything you hoped it would be?” Holding out six wyvern wings, the Arcanist watched his client take them, and then pull out one more coin. Giving a bow, the Arcanist took it, listening as, once more, she ordered more wyvern wings.

“You will be most pleased with the result. I guarantee it!”