Solo Silence trees and magic

[Icthius Snowsong]

As Icthius sat atop his steed his mind began to wander. He thought about the irony that came with the fact that Icthius knew this land just as well as the horse did, and yet still Icthius remained the master while his horse remained subservient underneath him, constantly obeying the subtle influences of his master. The reason for this of course being that Icthius gives his horse a fair amount of food and water in return for his services. This exists only because the horses goal is to stay alive. Icthius too has a goal, somewhere to be, a destination. He was in search for one thing and one thing only. Silence. A place where he can quietly practice his magic. To find this place he must become the steed to the island and all of its inhabitants, subtly being influenced and dictated where to go, but wherever he goes he can always hear the sounds of the island, the clangs and movements of the golems, the screams and cries of the undead and their slaves.

Off in the distance Icthius noticed a hill, it stood tall and sturdy, and compared to the surrounding hills this one was monolithic. Icthius commanded the horse in the direction of the hill. Again his mind wandered, this monolithic hill, his destination, the embodiment of everything he would like to be one day. Sturdy, powerful, easily supports others, and most importantly bigger than all the others.

When Icthius reached the top of the hill he realized he could see a good amount of the island, so he took a moment to respect his surroundings. He noticed how despite this islands reputation, it really was truly magnificent, then again Icthius was unique in his respect for nature. The red rolling hills, and the distant thatched of green brush all reflected marvelously against the bright beautiful sky. Icthius dismounted and walked to the base of a nearby tree, he set his backpack down and removed only his flint and steel. He grabbed a few branches off the tree and created a tiny fire. The twigs existed for the fire and the fire couldn't exist without the twigs, the way things are supposed to be.

Icthius' eyes changed from a pale grey to a vibrant blue as he took a deep breath, his muscles relaxed, his nerves cooled,and solid res flowed out of his fingertips.

The res danced delicately and incredibly between his fingertips and onto the palm of his hand where he turned it into a ball. He noticed three boulders sitting close to eachother about 100 yards away. He aimed for the smallest boulder in the middle (aim small miss small) he told himself. The solid res exploded into a beautiful ball of fire as it flew towards the rocks, barely missing its target. Immediately after another ball of fire whizzed towards the rocks smacking the one in the middle leaving a scorched mark in the middle of it. Then two more hitting the other boulders. Like lightning the fire bolts drilled against the rocks one after the other until the rocks were scorched black.

He turned around and faced the tree letting liquid res flow thick like a string down his right hand to his knees. He then cocked his hand back behind his shoulder extending the string of res simultaneously changing it from a liquid string of highly concentrated res to a powerful whip of fire. The whip snapped and crackled through the air slicing the tree, then with his left hand sent another ship through the tree descemating the tree leaving it just a scorched stump. Part of the tree fell on the fire Icthius made earlier.

Icthius looked up at the sky letting out copious amounts of gaseous res into the air, Icthius commanded it to erupt into a breathtaking display of fire. He marveled at the distructive capability of the whole thing, how like one big finality could sweep this land covering it in pain and agony, everyone's agony felt the same way across the island due to this one single subtle influence. death destruction pain-

Silence

Interrupted by the whinny of his horse. Icthius hadn't eaten since he left the harbor. He sat down at the base of the tree and took out his lunch for the day. Again his mind began to wander. He thought about how like the hill, his res flows out of him like the tree he's sitting on. And how although the tree has changed, the stump remains rooted in place much like Icthius when he overgives.

Icthius won't need to unpack his tent tonight, it's warm enough on this island at night for him to sleep out in the open.

[Mirage]

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