Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-25146201-20140621010528/@comment-11457306-20140629030200

Damia looked up at Rignar, who towered over her. She smiled slightly, grateful for his support. She felt awkward and out of place among these warriors of blade and shield. Instead of a blade strapped to her back, two short staffs hung there in crossed sheathes. They were tipped with skulls and hung about with feathers and beads. She had made and enchanted them herself in the old coven headquarters, as a part of her coming of age ritual, some years after Torene. One was enchanted to throw powerful fireballs, the other lightning. They were the only things she had carried with her out of Fallow Fang when the rebel witches had struck.