Cyre Red (IC)

[RandomWombat]

Aanash Tiefling Barbarian/Wizard/Warlock AC: 19 HP: 57/57 PP: 12 PIv: 11 PIs: 12 Conditions: Arcane Ward (5/5), Temp HP (6) The Lightning Rail The doldrums of travel is always the worst part. When he catches sight of the great wall of faces from the window of the lightning rail, however, Aanash lights up with excitement and presses against the glass. He'd never seen something of such magnitude before he came here. It still holds him in awe, despite all of its ominous gravitas. The despair and loss it represents is lost on him. The Wall When the time comes to cross, he steps in confidently, feeling the crackling sensation of the energy in him reacting to the energy in there. It makes his heart beat a little faster, the wardrums of Shavarath pounding in his ears. Aanash wants too much to close his eyes and let it take him, to see what glorious wonders it leads him to. But the most beautiful things can hold deadly poison. Taking shallow breaths and trying not to hyperventilate in giddy excitement, he chews the wood chips he gratefully accepted from the Witchling during their travels, distracting his fidgeting body so that he can stay on task and follow Surge. Present "Ooh, monodrones. Who wants to go mess with them?" Aanash asks his companions with a wide grin. He has nothing against them, of course. It's just fun to topple their little projects and watch them sputter and flail about like angry bees. The others aren't so keen on bullying the mods, so he blows a breath out of his nose and shrugs. "Alright. I will keep it on my pants." He pats the warhammer hanging from a loop on his belt. His hand remains near in case of danger, but he doesn't aggress the monodrones.