"This Vortigern..." Zaofan paused, looking to the mural for a moment as if his words would've done something as well, before continuing, "sounds like he was quite a pestilence on the land. It's fortunate that the Queen happened to discover the tenants of Magic."
The carved shapes, a mural of violence rent from tooth and claw, arms and armour, seemed uncannily lifelike - especially keen for an aesthetic hundreds of thousands of years old.
"Yours is not the only world to contend with the threat of a Saurian menace." Ochazuke had hardly uttered a word since he'd torn Morgan's hamlet asunder. Even now, his objective remained on the looming peak that gradually came nearer. His eyes narrowed at the sight of that Elder Dragon King standing astride the cold, stony field of scaled figures rendered in permanent frost.
Ochazuke rest his right hand on the monument, and aided by
Arthur's Ring began to survey the deeper matter within the rock, pressing his sensory field into the very environs that bore the inscriptions.
The language of magic is more than sigils and brands, its syntax speaks a language meant to wake something within this world. From Etrina's spellcraft, to the metalwork of the First Race welded with Marduk's, and indeed the Guardians' own signature, while the exact methods eluded him, by now his extensive examinations had allowed him to understand its logic.
After a lengthy examination, he suddenly drew his left hand up. The others might have thought it some indication that he'd found something poignant as he stretched out a thumb.
Till the burning red of a Dodonpa struck out behind him, intent on lethally taking their party's stalker.