Winter, 14th 500 A.V
The Glannoch
Syna rose yet again, day after day and nothing changed at any point in time through the day for Aerius. Whether day or night, he worked tirelessly because he no longer required rest, and tasks were not very difficult to complete when one has an eternity to complete them. He stood erect in the middle of The Glannoch without a hint of fear in his eyes, and walked among the tall Trees. Aerius visited this area multiple times in the past several decades, and wanted to further understand it. He heard a myriad of sounds from growls to multiple voices in conversation, and watched as the mist danced about his form. Despite the fact that he considered himself a somewhat strong mage he knew that there were always other individuals stronger than him, and better at everything he was capable of.
Gnarled branches, twisted and turned in fashions that anyone who ever saw them would know this was unnatural. “Mother of Petch.” He voiced himself aloud into the mist, and noticed that sound did not have a tendency to travel very far. If someone were to be dragged out and killed this would be the ideal location to do so in. The sound seemed to stop almost as it exited his lips, and with that being said he began to theorize on what it was that almost silenced him. Perhaps it was the mist that seemed to guide his movement forward; toward the heart of the forest. Yet, he was not in a rush to reach the heart and find out what waited there for him.
The Immortal flattened his palms, and pressed them together in a prayer stance with his arms bent inward toward his chest, and his fingertips rested beneath his chin. His lengthy hair began to flutter as he exuded res from his skin, and attempted to experiment with the mist. He began to think that the mist was some form of creature; with the way that it moved alongside him whilst he traveled through it. The res that exited his once living flesh was nearly transparent, but to the naked eye would be clearly visible. The Immortal took a moment to concentrate before he transmuted the res into air, and with a slight delay he began to feel his skin cloaked in wind which seemed to expel the mist around him temporarily.
However, just as swiftly as he managed to move the mist away it returned to him and continued to push him forward regardless of his best effort to resist. The djed no longer surrounded him, and thus he did not bother to cast another spell; perhaps he would use what he'd just done in a far more extreme form shortly. A cloak of wind could be useful in combat especially against a melee user or a projectile user. Although he knew how tough his exterior was; he was not invincible and Reimancy had a habit of being a perfect defensive weapon as well as an offensive weapon.
“Boy... Res comes in three forms. Solid, Liquid and Gas. Much like water”... An ominous voice spoke in the distance, and the voice seemed to echo getting softer with distance.
“You cannot escape the mist, fool..” it spoke again and Aerius grew increasingly suspicious the more that it spoke; he thought that sound did not carry very well through the Forest.
“Who are you, Witch?” Aerius responded to the rather feminine voice that he heard, but could not find the source of. The sound seemed to come from everywhere, and nowhere all simultaneously.
The Glannoch
Syna rose yet again, day after day and nothing changed at any point in time through the day for Aerius. Whether day or night, he worked tirelessly because he no longer required rest, and tasks were not very difficult to complete when one has an eternity to complete them. He stood erect in the middle of The Glannoch without a hint of fear in his eyes, and walked among the tall Trees. Aerius visited this area multiple times in the past several decades, and wanted to further understand it. He heard a myriad of sounds from growls to multiple voices in conversation, and watched as the mist danced about his form. Despite the fact that he considered himself a somewhat strong mage he knew that there were always other individuals stronger than him, and better at everything he was capable of.
Gnarled branches, twisted and turned in fashions that anyone who ever saw them would know this was unnatural. “Mother of Petch.” He voiced himself aloud into the mist, and noticed that sound did not have a tendency to travel very far. If someone were to be dragged out and killed this would be the ideal location to do so in. The sound seemed to stop almost as it exited his lips, and with that being said he began to theorize on what it was that almost silenced him. Perhaps it was the mist that seemed to guide his movement forward; toward the heart of the forest. Yet, he was not in a rush to reach the heart and find out what waited there for him.
The Immortal flattened his palms, and pressed them together in a prayer stance with his arms bent inward toward his chest, and his fingertips rested beneath his chin. His lengthy hair began to flutter as he exuded res from his skin, and attempted to experiment with the mist. He began to think that the mist was some form of creature; with the way that it moved alongside him whilst he traveled through it. The res that exited his once living flesh was nearly transparent, but to the naked eye would be clearly visible. The Immortal took a moment to concentrate before he transmuted the res into air, and with a slight delay he began to feel his skin cloaked in wind which seemed to expel the mist around him temporarily.
However, just as swiftly as he managed to move the mist away it returned to him and continued to push him forward regardless of his best effort to resist. The djed no longer surrounded him, and thus he did not bother to cast another spell; perhaps he would use what he'd just done in a far more extreme form shortly. A cloak of wind could be useful in combat especially against a melee user or a projectile user. Although he knew how tough his exterior was; he was not invincible and Reimancy had a habit of being a perfect defensive weapon as well as an offensive weapon.
“Boy... Res comes in three forms. Solid, Liquid and Gas. Much like water”... An ominous voice spoke in the distance, and the voice seemed to echo getting softer with distance.
“You cannot escape the mist, fool..” it spoke again and Aerius grew increasingly suspicious the more that it spoke; he thought that sound did not carry very well through the Forest.
“Who are you, Witch?” Aerius responded to the rather feminine voice that he heard, but could not find the source of. The sound seemed to come from everywhere, and nowhere all simultaneously.
