A roar breaks out in the quiet afternoon in the ever pitch lands of darkness. Descending from the sunless skies, three gargoyles hurtled toward Amesjay, their claws poised to rend flesh from skin. Though they were far off, their extreme wait brought them down faster, the magic that kept them aloft slacking to allow for a greater descending speed. It would take a perfectly aimed shot to hit one at this speed, and they were only seconds away from colliding with him.