[center][h2]Dave Rogerson[/h2]
[@HereComesTheSnow][/center]

The chagrined look returned.

"That's a can a'worms." The Aussie magus walked out of the kitchen and towards his bed, pulling a pair of old leather-bound journals out of his bag. He rapped a knuckle on the cover of one, looking back towards Archer. "This is what I got. These, and easily a dozen more back home. That I've gotten around to reading. We're supposed to get a Crest passed down, an accumulation of our family's magic. I didn't. Dad didn't, either."

"I can make a bounded field, with a little prep time. Managed some small, small works. I can work my Mystic Code." Dave made a frustrated noise, half under his breath. "I've got the horsepower, I think. Never met another magus to compare. I've got a lot of the theory. But reality, that's a different story. I studied the summoning ritual for hours to get it right."

"I ain't a halfwit, though." The frustration went as quickly as it came, replaced with a certain surety. For all he didn't know about magecraft, he knew a thing or two about strategy. "Me Dad trained dogs. I trained Maxie here with all I know, he's not just here 'cause he'd give a sitter hell. Can't bring much for weapons into this place, but I got a handgun in. I know how to use it, and something bigger if we lay hands on it. Been in the outdoors pretty much my whole life, I know my way around."

"Not much of a magus," He reiterated, shrugging slightly. "But I'm probably the best damn man in this war. And with this many magi running around, maybe I can learn somethin' new."