gale/cressida/open??
Gale was not asleep yet. She was, as she was, usually, still cooped up in the library, though her head knocking against her shoulder. Sleep was such a seductive mistress, and Gale's ability to resist her was waning as the night hours ticked on and on. And to be quite honest, the material she was currently perusing was hardly worth keeping her eyes open -- some antiquated theory about time magic that she could refute in her sleep (or so she liked to think). So when that voice lifted up from the streets, carrying up to the study, it was Gale's face that peeked out of the window to see the gathering teams of combatants ready to defend Emillion; cries of "to the docks!" surged upwards and pinioned her ears. There was a stirring in Gale's chest -- duty, or something, or proving her own selfish worth, more likely -- and it took her little time to grab her cloak, her staff, and begin her descent down the winding staircase so that she could get to the docks.
What greeted her was chaos. Man and woman were fighting against groups of monsters that Gale had not seen within Emillion since -- well, ever, not in her lifetime, at the very least. She clutched her staff close to her and lifted two fingers on the other hand, her mouth murmuring a familiar and easy spell. In barely a second, a flame erupted from the tip of her staff and jetted out forward -- nothing more than a Fire spell, a basic black magic spell any decent mage knew -- but her hunch had been right; the unwary Mindflayer winced and screamed as it caught fire, whirling around to face the lone time mage who had picked a fight.
Perhaps she should have thought that out: with the Mindflayer came its attendants, two Iguions which lumbered their massive bodies over and croaked through the deafening clatter of shouts, swords, shields, and bursting magic. Gale readied her next spell, casting haste on herself. She felt the familiar surge of adrenaline quicken in her blood, the world slowing down as she sped up, her hyperactivity her strength. She couldn't fight them alone, she knew, but surely someone would assist her, wouldn't they? They would have to do -- it was clear that not one warrior was battling alone, and that was indicative to do so would be a deadly mistake indeed.
One she had to make, of course, she thought through grit teeth -- would she rather be sleeping now? Oh, most certainly>