ORIGIN

Wings formed purely of light could only last for so long, especially when conjured out of desperate need rather than for a more deliberate purpose. As swift as the spike of magic which had crafted them, the glowing feathers comprising these ethereal appendages flickered, the energy to power them already depleted, and they dissolved into wisping trails of stardust. Though it'd performed admirably in preventing his being impaled, nothing could save him now from the second source of doom approaching him as a rippling wave of force.

At least that'd been his resigned belief, staring out at the incoming danger, until a gentle pressure clamped around his body. Preemptively tensed against the powerful blow he'd expected to hit, this sudden sensation didn't relax his muscles an iota. However, the lack of crunching bones provided a small measure of assurance, even as Relic's fleeing whipped up a breeze that smacked against his face.

That tiniest hint of relief evaporated upon being tossed into a somersault. His limp position, hefted by the torso, worsened. His perspective spun during the flip while dangling limbs and head shook about. Then came the impact against the ground, a massive jolt to the system. Rattled as he was, Fahl couldn't tell apart the immense clattering surrounding him from that of his teeth when his jaws collided. Alive and released, but potentially concussed, he heaved himself, stumbling, to his feet.

"I—" He hesitated and swallowed. "I think—I'm fine. Thank you."

He had to be, even if his legs threatened to slip out beneath him while he spoke. An unconscious body on the battlefield would be useless at best and trampled at worst.

Speaking of which, the series of close calls made it clear to him: an extra layer of protection wouldn't be amiss to employ. Although a blade would likely still cleave through magic-grown armor, at least it might cushion him from another less than ideal landing. And if their opponent was just as capable of torching him as he had done, perhaps the flammability of bark could be manipulated to his advantage by returning the favor with flaming whips.

The pressure taken off of him for a moment, maximum effort could be invested into distributing magic along his back, underbelly, and the top of his head. At each point he concentrated this power, pale bark crept out from scales, merging into rough plates, unbroken except where the thorns adorning his hide poked through. Fahl exhaled once he felt the spell fully take root and observed the fight, tail lashing over the arena floor. Though he desired to stand on the tips of his claws, ready to spring into evasive action should another hazard be flung his way, nausea kept his feet planted on the ground. So recently battered, preparing to launch into a run threatened to topple the iguana into a pathetic sprawl.