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[He has had to shift his usual schedule and means after his brother did see fit to move all the books from the Library to the school- taking up a post in the courtyard just out front to ensure that no Owl nor fox nor creature of magic saw fit to attempt to return those books to the Library. Tis a strange post to take, a strange stance in and of itself but this is something his brother chose to believe in. Something he chose to do that resulted in no bloodshed and it would be remiss of him not to support that in some way.
Besides. He had not cared much to find foxes in his home attempting to retrieve the texts on astrophysics any more than anyone else that suffered their attentions.
In stead of his usual walk around the village he kept his vigil in front, smiling kindly to those that would pass for education or to make use of the relocated library. As is his custom he lifts his hand to the air at least once in the morning and once in the afternoon, willing his hammer to him.
As of yet, there has been no effect.
He has become so accustomed to not feeling the resonance that answers his call that when he chooses to reach for it this morn, he is in the midst of speaking to the network.]
Good Morrow, citizens of Luceti!
I know well that all are aware of the current conflict regarding the contents of the Library. I would ask for those who would aid me in my vigil to stand with me. To aid me in guarding against those that would hoard books and prevent their free and fair distribution and enjoyment.
[There's...something in the air that he feels. Familiar but distant. For a moment he frowns, eyes going to the middle distance, hand yet outstretched. He blinks, the sensation passes, and he continues.]
As I am limited in where I might wander I have taken to reviewing basic techniques taught to me by the Einharjar and would be more than pleased to-
[That familiar sensation is back- and stronger than before. There's a rush of wind, a crack of thunder in an otherwise cloudless sky- and Mjolnir whistles through the air to land in Thor's waiting palm. So great the force of it's return and so ill prepared is he that though he does grasp the familiar grip of his hammer readily the momentum forces his hand, striking himself a glancing blow across the temple ere he slows the force. Tis but a bruise.
He is, for a moment, stunned.
Then he beams brightly into the journals.]
Mjolnir has returned to me! I require mead to celebrate!
[With that he sets the journal aside, closing it. And very, very carefully finding somewhere to sit and massage the bruise to his skull the impact caused.]
Besides. He had not cared much to find foxes in his home attempting to retrieve the texts on astrophysics any more than anyone else that suffered their attentions.
In stead of his usual walk around the village he kept his vigil in front, smiling kindly to those that would pass for education or to make use of the relocated library. As is his custom he lifts his hand to the air at least once in the morning and once in the afternoon, willing his hammer to him.
As of yet, there has been no effect.
He has become so accustomed to not feeling the resonance that answers his call that when he chooses to reach for it this morn, he is in the midst of speaking to the network.]
Good Morrow, citizens of Luceti!
I know well that all are aware of the current conflict regarding the contents of the Library. I would ask for those who would aid me in my vigil to stand with me. To aid me in guarding against those that would hoard books and prevent their free and fair distribution and enjoyment.
[There's...something in the air that he feels. Familiar but distant. For a moment he frowns, eyes going to the middle distance, hand yet outstretched. He blinks, the sensation passes, and he continues.]
As I am limited in where I might wander I have taken to reviewing basic techniques taught to me by the Einharjar and would be more than pleased to-
[That familiar sensation is back- and stronger than before. There's a rush of wind, a crack of thunder in an otherwise cloudless sky- and Mjolnir whistles through the air to land in Thor's waiting palm. So great the force of it's return and so ill prepared is he that though he does grasp the familiar grip of his hammer readily the momentum forces his hand, striking himself a glancing blow across the temple ere he slows the force. Tis but a bruise.
He is, for a moment, stunned.
Then he beams brightly into the journals.]
Mjolnir has returned to me! I require mead to celebrate!
[With that he sets the journal aside, closing it. And very, very carefully finding somewhere to sit and massage the bruise to his skull the impact caused.]
