Thread:Crowsoul50/@comment-33229352-20191228054644

You'd think at this point mortals would start investing in more structurally sound buildings since deities and other creatures are running amok, but until that day, a village on the outskirts of Anatina, the realm of King Felix, was burning. It had been for days, and despite best efforts from its citizens, the majority of the buildings were damaged beyond repair, including the silo where their spare food was housed.

You could see a large group of mortals still working to put out the multiple fires that were still raging all over the village. They were armed with buckets of water, but it looked like the fires destroyed faster than they could douse it. The drum of hoofbeats pounded on the streets and a stallion thundered onto the scene. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't just a horse.

He looked like a Belgian draft horse, but he was made entirely of water. Instead of longer hair, the water gathered into puddles at his hooves, but when he lifted them, there was no wet spot on the ground. He had a band of different-colored water across his snout, right where a bridle would be. The villagers cheered when they caught sight of him, and a chant of "Figura, Figura Figura!" rose up from their ranks.

The stallion approached the fire fearlessly, the proximity causing steam to roll off of his flanks. With a flick of his large head, the water in the buckets the mortals had been carrying and in the well from which they had been drawing from gathered around the horse in a great ring. This collected water suddenly raced from building to building, hitting each blaze at its heart in a shower of sparks, steam, and smoke. Any water that was lost in the form of steam was reabsorbed as the water travelled around the burning buildings as if it had a mind of its own. Soon, all that was left was the charred buildings, bone dry even though they had just been doused.

The water collected around the draft horse again before it vaporized and formed a small cloud over its head. Small by cloud standards, at least-- it spanned ten feet in every direction from the stallion. Without so much as a whinny, it turned and began to trot in the direction of the village's farming fields. The cloud followed.

King Felix jogged down the street from whence the stallion had first come from. The villagers began to murmur and bow, but with some spluttered words and a frenetic wave of the monarch's hand, they stopped. He began to wade through the group, checking them over for burns and other injuries.  