Post by Sylas Sage on Sept 30, 2014 19:23:30 GMT -6
Onyx eyes looked over the choppy waters of the vast ocean stretching away from the cliff top the swordsman stood on. In the distance nature seemed unsettled, as a wall of clouds darkened the sky. Flashes of light could be seen in the mass of clouds appearing at irregular intervals. A storm was imminent. The young man closed his eyes and felt the warm breeze, the calm before the storm. Behind him he could hear the wind rustle the tall grass of the meadow. He was at peace here.
He needed to be at peace for what he was going to try to do. Sylas looked down the stretch of the meadow and around him in all directions, making sure no one was around. He took a deep breath. “Here we go.” He sighed to himself uneasily. An arm came over to unstrap his blade and toss it to the side. The swordsman looked off into the distance at the storm growing ever closer and extended his arm to it. He exhaled sharply. Already he feared what could happen. But there was no space for that. Slowly he shut his eyes and relaxed every muscle in his body.
A subtle rumbling rode on the wind. The storm warned the lands of its inevitable strike. Now was the ideal moment. Sylas focused energy to his arm. He could feel it traveling through his muscles, stiffening the arm that stood outstretched. A surge was heard and in seconds it was a crackling that filled the air. Thin strands of electricity arced between his fingertips. A tranquil voltage came to life. The swordsman eased his eyes open and stared at it. Was he really doing it? Was he controlling it? He smiled widely. No rage, no emotions, yet here the energy was. “Okay, little more…” He forced more energy into his arm and the strands of lightning became fierce and whipped up his hand to his shoulder as quickly as lightning cracks the sky, and it only got stronger and stronger...something was wrong. His other arm whipped up its own current which now spiraled up to the shoulder. The young man tried everything from shaking his arms to vocally commanding it stop but the voltage only grew stronger and more violent. A feeling of rage erupted into his heart with no trigger at all. It was as if every feeling he fought to keep down was demanding to be felt. He remembered all the things he fought to forget. The girl he died saving, the gruesome battle at the arena…
And among those tragedies flashing in his memories was the worst of the worst. A young man standing in a line of soldiers, tears in his sorrowful onyx eyes that tried to focus on anything else but the Hryst city guard carrying the coffin of a man lost to battle. A final military salute from the young man, barely keeping himself together, before the rifles fired into the sky.
The lightning burst into an aura that spiraled all over Sylas’ form. The area in which the swordsman stood was now bathed in rich sapphire light. It cracked the ground and raised dirt and rocks, ripping out the grass in its wake. Violent sounds of surging electricity occupied the air as lightning arced to the ground around him in all directions. Sylas shouted out, half pain and half sorrow. The energy felt as if it was tearing at his muscles, stretching his limits and pushing his body into profound fatigue, but it would not stop. It would kill him if it did not stop.
He needed to be at peace for what he was going to try to do. Sylas looked down the stretch of the meadow and around him in all directions, making sure no one was around. He took a deep breath. “Here we go.” He sighed to himself uneasily. An arm came over to unstrap his blade and toss it to the side. The swordsman looked off into the distance at the storm growing ever closer and extended his arm to it. He exhaled sharply. Already he feared what could happen. But there was no space for that. Slowly he shut his eyes and relaxed every muscle in his body.
A subtle rumbling rode on the wind. The storm warned the lands of its inevitable strike. Now was the ideal moment. Sylas focused energy to his arm. He could feel it traveling through his muscles, stiffening the arm that stood outstretched. A surge was heard and in seconds it was a crackling that filled the air. Thin strands of electricity arced between his fingertips. A tranquil voltage came to life. The swordsman eased his eyes open and stared at it. Was he really doing it? Was he controlling it? He smiled widely. No rage, no emotions, yet here the energy was. “Okay, little more…” He forced more energy into his arm and the strands of lightning became fierce and whipped up his hand to his shoulder as quickly as lightning cracks the sky, and it only got stronger and stronger...something was wrong. His other arm whipped up its own current which now spiraled up to the shoulder. The young man tried everything from shaking his arms to vocally commanding it stop but the voltage only grew stronger and more violent. A feeling of rage erupted into his heart with no trigger at all. It was as if every feeling he fought to keep down was demanding to be felt. He remembered all the things he fought to forget. The girl he died saving, the gruesome battle at the arena…
And among those tragedies flashing in his memories was the worst of the worst. A young man standing in a line of soldiers, tears in his sorrowful onyx eyes that tried to focus on anything else but the Hryst city guard carrying the coffin of a man lost to battle. A final military salute from the young man, barely keeping himself together, before the rifles fired into the sky.
The lightning burst into an aura that spiraled all over Sylas’ form. The area in which the swordsman stood was now bathed in rich sapphire light. It cracked the ground and raised dirt and rocks, ripping out the grass in its wake. Violent sounds of surging electricity occupied the air as lightning arced to the ground around him in all directions. Sylas shouted out, half pain and half sorrow. The energy felt as if it was tearing at his muscles, stretching his limits and pushing his body into profound fatigue, but it would not stop. It would kill him if it did not stop.