The Digger & The Woe

Firstly, Jethro looked up at the remark of a so-called "Herald of Twilight", where he beheld with his mortal and divine eyes simply the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, daresay more beautiful than the Twilight itself: the Goddess, Fayruz. Jethro could not help to have his whiskered jaw give way in awe at her presence, where then as a sudden blaze of power rushed past him and found its way at the Goddess' throat, all aflame with matte gray. This snapped Jethro back to reality, as what this "Lord of Weal and Woe" had done did not sit well with him, not one bit.

Jethro raised his lantern, opening and letting lose a perpetual stream of dusky light about him, scintillating colors of dusk and dawn lit behind clouds of black. He raised his shovel to the sky, giving whisper and praise to a being he had not too recently met, a being he had prayed to for guidance and strength many times in the past. The twilight rose into the air, swirling about the two beings, one bathed in radiance and the other cloaked in grey. The world about the two seemed like the sunset itself, the power of the Twilight washing over as a rift eased into existence.

And then a cry.

A cry of a distant storm, of thunder in the sky.

The world about them shook as this bellow of strength cut through the air, almost as fast as lightning one might say. The great flapping of wings could be heard, but not seen, as the cacophony of its beating pulsed like a living heart.

Jethro smiled an old man's smile, wrinkles and all, as he latched the lantern to his hip. The shadowy light wrapped around him like a cloak once again, as the mask of his purpose with the Twilight formed once more over his face, his shamanistic ancestry coming once more into play. Great tendrils of twilight grew from his back, raising him up into the air. The old shovel, familiar to his hands was now grasped with the strength he had, even if it paled in comparison to the beings about him.

Then a calm, an abrupt halt to the storming sound as a great lull soon created a void within the once filled air. It was merely the inhale of air.

"Thank you for the warning, Mister Woe. Normally I wouldn't make enemies with someone whom I just met. However-"

It was then that the air began to rush once again, the full calamity of the storm coming to a head, as from the twilight came a mighty and terrible bird of feathers crackling with energy, blue eyes ablaze with power. An ebony beak like a fortress with wings now rushing towards the Lord.

"-that is no way to treat a lady."

Jethro's shovel rose and swung into the air, hitting the side of the Lord of Weal and Woe's head for what strength his divine body could muster, which is to say most of it. But this was the Lord of Weal and Woe! Jethro knew he would not be able to hit him, let alone damage him. That is why behind the blow came the terrible strength of the Thunderbird, whose earth-piercing cry gave thunderous strength to the shovel he now wielded. The very beak of the Thunderbird itself surged forward, the giant black mass as well as its cry now both behind the shovel's head. If this blow did not strike him, it would at the very least blow out that pretentious crown.