Post by Altan Kazimir on Mar 20, 2006 16:50:06 GMT -5
As the final rays of sunlight were cut off by the distant hills, and all slipped into darkness, Altan slipped from his tent, and headed for the campfire where the other battle wizards awaited him. He offered neither words nor smiles to those who greeted him amiably in hopes of thawing the icy tension that arose whenever he made an appearance. No, instead he merely took the lasst open sopt amongst them, completing the circle in full.
It was time to reweave the spells that held there camp together and kept it safe from the various human attacks. Or perhaps protected was quite the right word, for, while it was protection spell to a degree, its primary purpose was to shield the small camp from the view of all those who were not wizard born, to keep the current camping place of some of the most powerful wixzards of Daith from being compromised until it was time for them to change location yet again, or until they were forced to return to the fortress, if one could call it that, where their leader lay in wait for their reports.
And so it was that all of those present raised their arms up into the air, facing their palms upward toward the sky as, in unison, they began chanting in the old tongue, the strange rolling cadences and the raw power in those words, making the air around them crackle, and the earth begin to tremble beneath them.
The fire flickered bright, roared, and serged as though it might leap free before it blazed up, encompassing a good twenty feet upward, visible to them, and yet unable to be seen as the becon that it might otherwise have been for the other races.
Then, just as suddenly, it died down, the flow of words that passed from their lips ceased, and they finally let their hands drop back down to their sides. They were exhausted, but it had been done, and now they were free to do as they pleased for the remained of the day, or ta least to do what they wished so long as it did not confflict with the otther duties put upon them due to the pressing war in which they were currently embroiled.
Altan watched as the other wizards dispersed, noticing that not many were as willing to linger as they might normally have been, and all because he was in attendance. He smirked slightly at the thought. 'Yes fear me, for all the good it will do you. Fear your own, become paranoid, turn brother against brother because of this fear...and if, in the end, it is to lead to this...why try at all?' he thought. Yes, he sneered at the cowardice of those who scuttled off, and at those who stayed but refused to meet his eyes or do even so much as glance in his direction, save to gesture subtly and then whisper words that he didn't have to hear to know of what they spoke.
Perhaps it was this sense of hopelessness that fueled the cold rage that welled up within him from being around them, or perhaps it was the sense of something missing when the others went off together and left him alone, or mayhaps it was a well-blended combination of both.
Letting out an aggrivated sigh, Altan let himself drop down onto one of the large sitting stones that had been placed around the campfire, and let his thoughts take control of his mind, let himself dritf into and through them......It wasn't like there was much better to do until the battle started anyway. And that, was the sad, and slightly bitter, truth of the matter.....That truth being that no matter what happened, what he helped with, how much of his power was used to help them in their cause, or how much blood was shed for them, they always deserted him in the end, leaving him with only his dark thoughts for company.
It was time to reweave the spells that held there camp together and kept it safe from the various human attacks. Or perhaps protected was quite the right word, for, while it was protection spell to a degree, its primary purpose was to shield the small camp from the view of all those who were not wizard born, to keep the current camping place of some of the most powerful wixzards of Daith from being compromised until it was time for them to change location yet again, or until they were forced to return to the fortress, if one could call it that, where their leader lay in wait for their reports.
And so it was that all of those present raised their arms up into the air, facing their palms upward toward the sky as, in unison, they began chanting in the old tongue, the strange rolling cadences and the raw power in those words, making the air around them crackle, and the earth begin to tremble beneath them.
The fire flickered bright, roared, and serged as though it might leap free before it blazed up, encompassing a good twenty feet upward, visible to them, and yet unable to be seen as the becon that it might otherwise have been for the other races.
Then, just as suddenly, it died down, the flow of words that passed from their lips ceased, and they finally let their hands drop back down to their sides. They were exhausted, but it had been done, and now they were free to do as they pleased for the remained of the day, or ta least to do what they wished so long as it did not confflict with the otther duties put upon them due to the pressing war in which they were currently embroiled.
Altan watched as the other wizards dispersed, noticing that not many were as willing to linger as they might normally have been, and all because he was in attendance. He smirked slightly at the thought. 'Yes fear me, for all the good it will do you. Fear your own, become paranoid, turn brother against brother because of this fear...and if, in the end, it is to lead to this...why try at all?' he thought. Yes, he sneered at the cowardice of those who scuttled off, and at those who stayed but refused to meet his eyes or do even so much as glance in his direction, save to gesture subtly and then whisper words that he didn't have to hear to know of what they spoke.
Perhaps it was this sense of hopelessness that fueled the cold rage that welled up within him from being around them, or perhaps it was the sense of something missing when the others went off together and left him alone, or mayhaps it was a well-blended combination of both.
Letting out an aggrivated sigh, Altan let himself drop down onto one of the large sitting stones that had been placed around the campfire, and let his thoughts take control of his mind, let himself dritf into and through them......It wasn't like there was much better to do until the battle started anyway. And that, was the sad, and slightly bitter, truth of the matter.....That truth being that no matter what happened, what he helped with, how much of his power was used to help them in their cause, or how much blood was shed for them, they always deserted him in the end, leaving him with only his dark thoughts for company.
