Oh! Tell people all about his favourite creation? Twist his arm. Ow.
Azwel shrugs off the extra packs he'd been wearing and steps into a clearer space. "Besides a lot of travel on foot through mountains, you mean? Well, I did leave it implied that I would give a more thorough demonstration, didn't I?" He holds up his arms so that they can clearly see the back of each gauntlet. "These hold shards of the Spirit Sword and the Cursed Sword, which carry memories of every form each weapon has taken. It's simply a matter of accessing that form and using it, thus."
He makes a series of gestures and, with oddly musical sounds, swords and greataxes of red and blue hard light whirl through the air, slicing through snow banks and an unfortunate tree. Well, he didn't really mean to cut down the tree but, since it's falling, he sends several more blades, as well as spears, toward it, which bounce and twirl it in the air, slicing it into smaller pieces while he gestures and occasionally shifts his feet in one direction or another, almost like a dance. More than simply the visual, however, it'll ping to anyone or anything sensitive to that sort of thing that he is literally grabbing physics by the numbers to manifest that hard light. The gauntlets radiate the essences of Order and Chaos, forced into a balance by being filtered through Azwel, himself.
The tree is now sliced neatly into firewood. Well, then. Azwel grins.
no subject
Azwel shrugs off the extra packs he'd been wearing and steps into a clearer space. "Besides a lot of travel on foot through mountains, you mean? Well, I did leave it implied that I would give a more thorough demonstration, didn't I?" He holds up his arms so that they can clearly see the back of each gauntlet. "These hold shards of the Spirit Sword and the Cursed Sword, which carry memories of every form each weapon has taken. It's simply a matter of accessing that form and using it, thus."
He makes a series of gestures and, with oddly musical sounds, swords and greataxes of red and blue hard light whirl through the air, slicing through snow banks and an unfortunate tree. Well, he didn't really mean to cut down the tree but, since it's falling, he sends several more blades, as well as spears, toward it, which bounce and twirl it in the air, slicing it into smaller pieces while he gestures and occasionally shifts his feet in one direction or another, almost like a dance. More than simply the visual, however, it'll ping to anyone or anything sensitive to that sort of thing that he is literally grabbing physics by the numbers to manifest that hard light. The gauntlets radiate the essences of Order and Chaos, forced into a balance by being filtered through Azwel, himself.
The tree is now sliced neatly into firewood. Well, then. Azwel grins.