[Calaethis Dragonsbane]

In the midst of this proverbial(?) nonsensical bickering, the skies overhead underwent a change. As if tired of their wait, and caring not a wit for the woes of mortals below, they turned dark. And green. Lit by lightning, storm clouds gathered from seemingly out of nowhere, blotting out the poor sun and its lovely rays. Would it ever shine again? Possibly. Fire streaked across the sky, eerie blue flaring with the luminous green.

Given that all this was happening, there was little else to imply that anything of earth-shattering importance was going on. The clouds remained, and did not clear, and fire fell from the skies - in the form of meteorites; thousands of them, as if the very heavens wept. Most burnt up in the atmosphere, no larger than pebbles.

Where did they fall? Towards the island, where the capital was situated.


Elsewhere, Isokla was less than amused. That tended to be her usual disposition. Things were not going to plan, and a hostile force was descending upon her new lair. Such seemed to be the way of things. Much to her annoyance, her own plotting seemed to be backfiring. Her men were in too much of a drunken stupor to respond to the threat, and the other witches - these false 'priestesses of the master' were too foolish to do anything other than bicker.
So she made a discrete exit.


“So, uh, what now?” Tod - Dot - asked Asokil.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Asokil shrugged, “I'm open to suggestions.”