[ The thousands of obsidian feathers covering Howl's body shimmer briefly as he tilts into a turn, catching the hot sunlight burning above. He spies the machinations of her hands, and although they do not match any spell he's familiar with, he's learned that he is unlikely to recognize such things in Horos. There is magic in this world, but it's not his magic — the fraction of power that he still has cannot even be called his power, he suspects, but the power of an Aion.
With that in mind, Howl is relatively prepared for the chain of fire. He deftly swerves out of the way of the first volley, his wings tilting his body almost vertical as he maneuvers. The second comes quick; he feels its intense heat blow past his tail feathers in a near-miss. More fire is coming. Surely, she's either preparing another shield for when he strikes again, or has something entirely different up her sleeve. If only he had some idea of what she could do, he could try to formulate some sort of plan — if he can't take her out fast, this will be nothing but a waste of time, and he needs to get back —
A link in the chain of fire crashes into the underside of his right wing. It sets his feathers alight and singes the contorted, hastily conjured flesh underneath, sending a scorching burn straight to his mind. An animalistic, guttural wail escapes from Howl, from somewhere underneath the veil of black covering his face in the force of the air rushing past him.
In that instant, the strategic choice seems to be made for him: screw strategy and just fight. Go straight for the throat. He'd tried this exact same thing with Estinien and it had failed, but Howl is no tactician. Even in his efforts to stop the war in Ingary, he'd barreled straight ahead, tearing opposing wizards to shreds and crashing their warships without much care for whether he'd make it home uninjured, if at all. And it's all he can think to do as he channels more magic to his wing to regrow the lost lining plumage.
Opening his talons wide, he chooses an angle that would twirl past the additional fire already heading towards him and dives. He's aiming for her torso: primary talons into her chest and shoulders, hallux into her gut. ]
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With that in mind, Howl is relatively prepared for the chain of fire. He deftly swerves out of the way of the first volley, his wings tilting his body almost vertical as he maneuvers. The second comes quick; he feels its intense heat blow past his tail feathers in a near-miss. More fire is coming. Surely, she's either preparing another shield for when he strikes again, or has something entirely different up her sleeve. If only he had some idea of what she could do, he could try to formulate some sort of plan — if he can't take her out fast, this will be nothing but a waste of time, and he needs to get back —
A link in the chain of fire crashes into the underside of his right wing. It sets his feathers alight and singes the contorted, hastily conjured flesh underneath, sending a scorching burn straight to his mind. An animalistic, guttural wail escapes from Howl, from somewhere underneath the veil of black covering his face in the force of the air rushing past him.
In that instant, the strategic choice seems to be made for him: screw strategy and just fight. Go straight for the throat. He'd tried this exact same thing with Estinien and it had failed, but Howl is no tactician. Even in his efforts to stop the war in Ingary, he'd barreled straight ahead, tearing opposing wizards to shreds and crashing their warships without much care for whether he'd make it home uninjured, if at all. And it's all he can think to do as he channels more magic to his wing to regrow the lost lining plumage.
Opening his talons wide, he chooses an angle that would twirl past the additional fire already heading towards him and dives. He's aiming for her torso: primary talons into her chest and shoulders, hallux into her gut. ]