Regret and a Name

Hopwil stared at the odd man, noting his odd hair style. It looked like some of the elvish warriors from Hopwils home, except that the style was doubled and overlapping. Why would anyone wear such a ridiculous style? It was almost laughable.

 Hopwil forced himself to ignore the details, though. Creating multiple fiends from his immense vaults of shadow magicka, Hopwil continued to stare down the man. For some reason, this strange blue man didn't show a hint of fear. Instead, all Hopwil saw in his black and red eyes was an... eagerness. 

Now if only Hopwil could bring it out.

"Can you use the Shadows power, magic user?" Hopwil asked the man, who never released his gaze from Hopwil. For some reason, despite that fact, Hopwil was nearly positive that this man was aware of the several dozen shadowfiends that crept up behind him. 

Sadly, though, this man simply did not attack. 

After a moment the man spoke. "I have my own magic, priest," he said slowly. Just as the last words flowed from his blue lips, Hopwil saw blades appear on the man's arms. They appeared to be coming from the tattoos he had. Hopwil had never seen such an ability before. It was truly remarkable.

"It seems we are at a stalemate," Hopwil said, releasing his summoned fiends and stepping away from the man. "If you won't attack me, then I am incapable of killing you." The priest licked his lips, then, as images of the possibilities he had envisioned came back. "I will regret not seeing what the entrails of your race look like, but it can not be helped." 

The man let his blades disappear, to Hopwil's regret. He really wanted to fight someone. It had been too long since his last kill. "Come, then," the blue man said then, his voice confident and commanding, no longer holding the edge it had held a moment before. It seemed as though a fight really was out of the question, then. 

"As you wish, magic user," Hopwil replied, allowing himself to follow the man. He usually hated being commanded, but this was a special case. After all, he was curious about the magicka this man possessed. Maybe he could steal it...

They walked toward a flight of stairs, Hopwil in the rear. He made sure to keep his sheilds up, though he doubted anyone would attack him until this man had taken Hopwil where he wanted to. A thought occured to him, then. 

"What is your name, magic user?" Hopwil asked. He always like to know the names of those he could possibly kill. What other reason was there for learning names, anyway?

"Ziyous. What is yours, priest?"


The End

134 comments about this exercise Feed