Post by Talon Windwaltz on Jul 31, 2007 1:41:21 GMT -5
It was early morning, only minutes after dawn had first broken. The sky above was still that soft navy blue color dotted with bits of light fading away into the rising sun. At this time, a figure in purple robes strolled down from the entrance of Firefox to a large flat field where not only scheduled, but also brutal, struggles were held. He had drawn the lines of the field himself following the destruction of the Dueling Hall during the Shadow War, but he had never actually come out for any reason afterwards to see his creation.
As he arrived on the field he looked around at the pale light that barely covered the area. The reason the Wizard had come out this morning was understandable - for all the planning and heroics and reading he'd been doing, it had left him a rusty old wizard at age 20. A cool wind floated through the humid Spanish summer dawn, and Talon let the breeze comb through his blonde hair as he listened to the gentle words it had to tell him. Boreas. The Headmaster whispered back, knowing its name and from whence it came. The wind had once been frozen, and had come from a far away land in the North. It appered to him in his mind as a jolly old Saint Nicholas with gigantic red wings and a powerful demeanor.
Oh how long it had been before he had addressed the winds. Did they even remember him? All this talk of lightning magic, the secondary wheel, the true power of the Elemental Gurus made him forget what was truly at his heart. But still, all his masters would be ashamed of him if he did not harness the gift he was given. However, with the calm morning weather and the lack of any kind of practicing opponent, Talon found his only aid in sitting cross-legged in one box of the Dueling Field.
He pulled his wand from his pocket and began to polish it on the side of his robes, listening to the winds and reviewing lists of spells in his head. I might have to wait here for hours, he thought, until eventually some form of challenger comes out. Oh well, more time to prepare.
As he arrived on the field he looked around at the pale light that barely covered the area. The reason the Wizard had come out this morning was understandable - for all the planning and heroics and reading he'd been doing, it had left him a rusty old wizard at age 20. A cool wind floated through the humid Spanish summer dawn, and Talon let the breeze comb through his blonde hair as he listened to the gentle words it had to tell him. Boreas. The Headmaster whispered back, knowing its name and from whence it came. The wind had once been frozen, and had come from a far away land in the North. It appered to him in his mind as a jolly old Saint Nicholas with gigantic red wings and a powerful demeanor.
Oh how long it had been before he had addressed the winds. Did they even remember him? All this talk of lightning magic, the secondary wheel, the true power of the Elemental Gurus made him forget what was truly at his heart. But still, all his masters would be ashamed of him if he did not harness the gift he was given. However, with the calm morning weather and the lack of any kind of practicing opponent, Talon found his only aid in sitting cross-legged in one box of the Dueling Field.
He pulled his wand from his pocket and began to polish it on the side of his robes, listening to the winds and reviewing lists of spells in his head. I might have to wait here for hours, he thought, until eventually some form of challenger comes out. Oh well, more time to prepare.