[h3]Vaughtar[/h3]

That mountain! The day being at its peak, but with him not being at the mountain's peak yet, Vaughtar had felt like having to die of a heart attack at any moment. He had taken off his cloak because, despite being in the midst of snow and winter, sweat beads had started forming on his skin. The gargoyle had started to fall back significantly.

Now he felt better again, though still not as good as when it was night. At least it sufficed for the huge creature to grab a snow-shovel with each hand and start cleaning up the floor. Vaughtar tried not to damage the markings by scratching them with his claws or just stepping on them in a grinding way, aside from that however 'carefulness' didn't seem to be a word he understood very well. Large heaps of snow were launched into the air and to the walls of the main room by him as he walked around the alter in growing cicles. With each double throw, his wings were temporarily consuming a lot of space when his upper body moved around. In other words: It was a little windy.

"May I help you ?" he asked towards Zesiro. Hopefully this snow-shovling business would be over soon. He wanted to rest somewhere until it was late evening. And he was worried about his health deteriorating so much during the day, something that had been quite obvious to everyone.