Theolonious Montbank
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- 69
- Character Biography
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“Am I to be reduced by such unfruitful labours?”
Feathers ruffled, slow blinks that sealed avian eyes, a tapping of taloned foot as Montbank considered the components. The aromas produced by the various mortar and pestles made the eyes water when too closely examined, let alone the acrid fumes resulting from their combination. Of which there had been many. The tables on which they sat was outside for safety reasons, protected by tarp to prevent the wind from carrying the experiments into the air.
“Eel head was simple enough matter. But this? Mayhap beyond me.”
An ivy green book was picked up and flipped between sections with careful claw, an alchemical tome to which Montbank had been studious enough to examine yet still sought to glean the meaning. Most of it was of little import to his pursuits. Yet, there was some promise lurking in the footnotes of all things.
Montbank repeated the oft scanned words, as if trying to fathom further meaning by recitation.
“When ground and powdered, chalk can stabilise the surge from other components, but if too much used will smother the flame conjuration.”
Montbank gave further thought. Peered at the mortars and pestles which within lurked much potential. The slivers of fire drake scale. The ground up burning nettle. The ichor of flame toad. Shell of lava beetle. The spores of incendiary fungi. The stabilising chalk.
“One thing is certain...I simply refuse to eat any of this,” Montbank declared, placing hands upon hips and involuntarily preening himself for a moment, as if maintaining his pride and appearance at the same time.
“Perhaps a blend, crushed in vial? Or orb? With activating gesture, or word? Is it so much to ask that an incendiary drop be easily attained?”
He gave thought.
“Most likely best it not be easy. But there must be a way to activate it in high winds and direct it so it doesn't just set me aflame.”
He stretched his wings. Looked at the components.
“I'm not eating this,” he repeated as his stomach growled in agreeance and in hunger.
Feathers ruffled, slow blinks that sealed avian eyes, a tapping of taloned foot as Montbank considered the components. The aromas produced by the various mortar and pestles made the eyes water when too closely examined, let alone the acrid fumes resulting from their combination. Of which there had been many. The tables on which they sat was outside for safety reasons, protected by tarp to prevent the wind from carrying the experiments into the air.
“Eel head was simple enough matter. But this? Mayhap beyond me.”
An ivy green book was picked up and flipped between sections with careful claw, an alchemical tome to which Montbank had been studious enough to examine yet still sought to glean the meaning. Most of it was of little import to his pursuits. Yet, there was some promise lurking in the footnotes of all things.
Montbank repeated the oft scanned words, as if trying to fathom further meaning by recitation.
“When ground and powdered, chalk can stabilise the surge from other components, but if too much used will smother the flame conjuration.”
Montbank gave further thought. Peered at the mortars and pestles which within lurked much potential. The slivers of fire drake scale. The ground up burning nettle. The ichor of flame toad. Shell of lava beetle. The spores of incendiary fungi. The stabilising chalk.
“One thing is certain...I simply refuse to eat any of this,” Montbank declared, placing hands upon hips and involuntarily preening himself for a moment, as if maintaining his pride and appearance at the same time.
“Perhaps a blend, crushed in vial? Or orb? With activating gesture, or word? Is it so much to ask that an incendiary drop be easily attained?”
He gave thought.
“Most likely best it not be easy. But there must be a way to activate it in high winds and direct it so it doesn't just set me aflame.”
He stretched his wings. Looked at the components.
“I'm not eating this,” he repeated as his stomach growled in agreeance and in hunger.
