Jaime doesn't imagine himself particularly smart. Not really. Having just gotten here a few days prior with this bizarre jewel (that is, indeed, burning a hole in his pocket-- he doesn't know what else to do with it yet), the only reason he checks the warehouse out is because going too long with nothing to do will drive him mad.

He stands on the clean space on the floor where the door's upset the powder. He stares at the one area in the middle where the boxes had been. There are no footprints, no drag marks, nothing of the sort that suggests physical use... and then he remembers, his left hand going into his pocket to brush over the green jewel there, that there is magic in this gods forsaken land.

But how could the magic have been used? Jaime doesn't know how to use his own, so he can't really imagine anything. (And it's starting to show, in that he feels hungry and tired all the time, but so far he's doing well enough to pretend none of that is happening.)

He steps onto the powder, caring little for upsetting it as he makes his way to the blank space. Jaime crouches in front of it, frowning. Touching the clean space gleans nothing, so maybe...

The sound of footsteps has his head whirling around, and immediately he gets to his feet with his left hand tugging his sword out of its sheathe. He points it in the direction of the door.

Tone loud and commanding, he calls, "Who goes there?"

It's bewildering how much these "wild men" remind him of the Dothraki army. Though Jaime reels back in surprise when they appear (he's not used to the concept of magic, still), his expression hardens like a warrior's and he draws his sword, uncertain whether he's being brave or being foolish.

"Stay here!" he says to the person at his side, running in to charge, and-- made even more obvious by the darkness around them-- Jaime's sword shines the slightest bit, even without the moonlight filtering down on top of it.

The real shock is when he slashes at the first man (clumsily, of course) and the slash seems to create some green crescent in its wake: thin, yes, and not able to reach very far, but it cuts through three other men before it disappears into the air. Jaime starts, stunned for all of a moment, but another man swings at him and he lifts his right arm and hears the dull thud of metal against metal--

Gods, where in seven hells did that green shield come from!?

While some men go to attack him, however, the others run towards the person he left behind. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to split up.

Jaime is terrible at this. Absolutely terrible. He focuses, and his jewel continues to be weighty and annoying in his pocket, and no matter what he does he's incapable of making a web that lasts. This feels like his millionth attempt, and as he looks to his side where other Strangers seem to be making the webs with no issue, irritation and shame burn hot like twin swords stabbed into his belly.

"Blast," he mutters, lifting his arms to try again. Focus. He has to focus. He makes the first spiral, a big and clumsy curve, and then another, and another...

And then, unbidden, a brief thought of worry flits in his mind, and the forming spiral fades away with it.

"Fuck!"

[ Like it says! HMU with a different starter or PM me if you want to figure something out. I'm open! ]