Where We Go From Here Part VII

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick...

What else do you do but wait? Strange smooth metal forged into a ball with numbers on it? What could it possibly do? I was certain to find out. Each number that I turned the dial to simply resulted in a ticking sound. What was inside it? How did it make that sound? Magic maybe.

"Sir, that liquid smells flammable." Blast, Emile is right. 

I turn toward my armoured henchman, "Axton?"

Axton looks at Ovrianna, his dour face darkening this 'bright' moment, "Of course," he says flatly,  drawing his sword. His first slash opens up some room beside her.  

As he raises his blade for another swipe a throat clears behind him and a voice dryly rises, "Uhm, uh, perhaps you should wait. Axton! No, look. Behind the vines."

Axton pauses and we all look. Odin's beard! Quartz I think. 

We both mutter, "Thanks Albion."

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