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<span class="mu-i">13th Blue Rats bannerleader, taking the chance to sip from his canteen. Packed extra, on command orders, and haven't that just been a good thing today? It's unusually hot. Well, best be rid of the weight, and up ahead is allies, so maybe now is a good time to empty this one and be prepared to move fast. He unscrews the lid and moves. As he navigates the remains of the barricade, rounds a corner into a crime in the doing.
The sun above stares down, hot and piercing.
It is a point of theological debate if Icons have a sense of humour. Traditionalists would claim not, that such things are beyond them. What use does the Empyreal itself have for laughter?
Another viewpoint is that a sense of humour is all the Icons really have.
The bannerleader glances down at the canteen in his hand. He looks up at the sparkspeaker two arms-lengths away, shimmering in heat, the Ferrata Legio desperately trying to *move him* as his own gauntlets melt, Regulus beginning to turn with the sudden whaft of heat at his back.
He looks down
oh
type seven alchemical accelerant
spilled all over the floor by the sudden crush of fighting
The bannerleader does the only thing he really can do in this circumstance</span>
