For Tycondrius to get to Wroe, he needed a suitable distraction.
Glancing away, he identified a group of over 100 in a reasonably compact area.
For them, he burnt his most powerful large-scale Spell scroll.
"Dark Angel of the Four Winds," Tycon chanted, "Send thy ⌈Abyssal Rains⌋."
"...I beseech thee," He added.
In response, a loud... 'evil' voice resounded painfully in Tycon's head.
⊰ HE ⊱
⊰ WHO BEARS ⊱
⊰ THE MARK ⊱
⊰ OF PRIDE? ⊱
How, in particular, it sounded evil... he could not explain.
But it was.
⊰ WHO ⊱
⊰ THE FUCK ⊱
⊰ ARE YOU ⊱
⊰ TO SUMMON ⊱
⊰ M E ? ? ! ! ! ? ? ⊱
"A friend of Hades," Tycon groaned. "And apparently, the enemy of a god with the domains nature and birth."
⊰ OH . . . ⊱
⊰ VERY . . . ⊱
⊰ WELL . . . ⊱
And with that, the angry, evil voice was mollified.
