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The Blade of Phoee (Updated 12/08/08)
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<blockquote data-quote="Funeris" data-source="post: 2525837" data-attributes="member: 22792"><p><strong>Chapter 2: Journey into Darkness Continued</strong></p><p></p><p><strong><em>Back to several days ago…</em></strong></p><p></p><p>Trees and brush slid past, becoming a blur of solidarity in a world of constant motion. The faint greens and intense browns of the autumn season were speckled with the first kisses of red and auburn as they joined; and now one, they assaulted the already exhausted senses of one Spinum Machaera. </p><p></p><p>The young mage was hurtling through the forest, leaving the deaths of his family in the past. For a mage, the kid had an exquisite frame of lean muscle built from years of physical training at the hands of his father. That was the only reason he was still running, hours after the executions.</p><p></p><p>A new color, some variation of gray seeped into his peripheral vision. Turning slightly, Spinum focused on the spot of gray. The unwelcome color had vanished, however, replaced instead by a large ash tree.</p><p></p><p>Spinum’s vision swung around to the front. He pulled up short, but not quickly enough and slammed face-first into a dense oak branch. The branch, nearly as thick as Spinum’s torso, slammed ably into the mage’s head. A jarring jolt of hurt ebbed through the mage’s face. His feet, freed from the oppressive control of gravity and mind, shot upward becoming parallel to the forest floor. </p><p></p><p>Time stopped.</p><p></p><p>The young necromancer hung within that moment of inflated time indefinitely, staring at the reddening canopy above and faint sky beyond. He smiled, from delirium or happiness or some combination thereof. </p><p></p><p>With a lurch, Time kicked back in and Gravity tugged on the mage’s body. He was sucked onto the ground. The snapping of branches precluded the earth’s intimate embrace. The pain smacked his smile away into oblivion.</p><p></p><p>A twig snapped near the mage and he tried to focus his eyes, but they blurred with exhaustion. Still, Spinum could make out the color of the movement. A human-shaped blot of gray stood above him, a long and slender staff in its hands.</p><p></p><p>The mage steeled his mind for a slow and painful death. Minutes passed, death never reared its umbral head. Spinum groaned and tried to slide into a sitting position. The gray shape slid closer, hovering just a slight distance from the wizard’s face. A rough, acrid scent assaulted Spinum’s nose.</p><p></p><p>“<em>Dark mages are not abided within the confines of <strong>my</strong> wood.</em>” The staff raised into the air, splitting heaven in twain.</p><p></p><p>“No, wait!” Spinum screamed. The staff plummeted downward, splitting the young wizard’s head in twain. </p><p></p><p>“<em>Necromancers are not abided in my forest,</em>” the voice hissed again. Spinum embraced the dark warmth of unconsciousness.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Funeris, post: 2525837, member: 22792"] [b]Chapter 2: Journey into Darkness Continued[/b] [b][I]Back to several days ago…[/I][/b][I][/I] Trees and brush slid past, becoming a blur of solidarity in a world of constant motion. The faint greens and intense browns of the autumn season were speckled with the first kisses of red and auburn as they joined; and now one, they assaulted the already exhausted senses of one Spinum Machaera. The young mage was hurtling through the forest, leaving the deaths of his family in the past. For a mage, the kid had an exquisite frame of lean muscle built from years of physical training at the hands of his father. That was the only reason he was still running, hours after the executions. A new color, some variation of gray seeped into his peripheral vision. Turning slightly, Spinum focused on the spot of gray. The unwelcome color had vanished, however, replaced instead by a large ash tree. Spinum’s vision swung around to the front. He pulled up short, but not quickly enough and slammed face-first into a dense oak branch. The branch, nearly as thick as Spinum’s torso, slammed ably into the mage’s head. A jarring jolt of hurt ebbed through the mage’s face. His feet, freed from the oppressive control of gravity and mind, shot upward becoming parallel to the forest floor. Time stopped. The young necromancer hung within that moment of inflated time indefinitely, staring at the reddening canopy above and faint sky beyond. He smiled, from delirium or happiness or some combination thereof. With a lurch, Time kicked back in and Gravity tugged on the mage’s body. He was sucked onto the ground. The snapping of branches precluded the earth’s intimate embrace. The pain smacked his smile away into oblivion. A twig snapped near the mage and he tried to focus his eyes, but they blurred with exhaustion. Still, Spinum could make out the color of the movement. A human-shaped blot of gray stood above him, a long and slender staff in its hands. The mage steeled his mind for a slow and painful death. Minutes passed, death never reared its umbral head. Spinum groaned and tried to slide into a sitting position. The gray shape slid closer, hovering just a slight distance from the wizard’s face. A rough, acrid scent assaulted Spinum’s nose. “[I]Dark mages are not abided within the confines of [b]my[/b] wood.[/I]” The staff raised into the air, splitting heaven in twain. “No, wait!” Spinum screamed. The staff plummeted downward, splitting the young wizard’s head in twain. “[I]Necromancers are not abided in my forest,[/I]” the voice hissed again. Spinum embraced the dark warmth of unconsciousness. [/QUOTE]
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