Weekly Expressions week #7 ~TJ

Raindrops battered my helmet with a what seemed a thunderous clashing. We had not anticipated such forsaken weather. Perhaps the two thousand souls lying out in the valley of Veraight would still be living if the cold had not overtaken us in the night and shattered our morale.

Warm air crept in as the cold rain fought for it's place in the foul air. Our troops had been well trained, but two thousand against ten thousand, it was a battle we knew we would not survive, and with more and more of us getting ill from the weather, it shattered us... physically and mentally.

It's ironic, the valley of Veraight is rich with the study of Magika and advanced sciences due to the unusual conditions that flourish here. Exotic plants can be grown, chemicals can be tested under harsh conditions, and any adept mage would have more than enough opportunity to multiply his power.

With the kingdoms of Mahngaal and Warwick constantly at war, the valley of Veraight is rather appeasing, for a mage with extensive knowledge of The Arts learned from this place could enhance weapons beyond physical limitation.

This war had lasted three years thus far, and no victories beyond our stalemate to speak of. And with the loss of half of our entire trained force at Veraight, the stalemate might change... for the worse.

Our battle was well planned, well executed, but we couldn't endure the cold of the previous night and fight simultaneously, we knew our enemy had hired master mages of the valley to tamper with the weather to their advantage. We had no such ally...

...except one.

Borromur, an adept mage, accidentally almost killed himself with his own spell. I managed to save him with herbal remedies, and in return he blessed my weapons and skill with all his power, which, wasn't much to him, but it meant everything to me.

As a legionnaire, I was the most trained in ways of war, protection and sabotage than anyone else in the war. I was an archer, a master sharpshooter ephsuz. Borromur had blessed my two-feet short swords with weightlessness, and my bow to respond to my eyes, as it would track whatever I gazed upon. With my training, and blessings, I deemed it selfish of myself to leave these two thousand souls unavenged.

If the enemy lost the services of the mages of Veraight and all their research, perhaps the odds would even out.

I am ready to give my life for that chance. No one else could do better.

But am I enough?


I wandered the valley for four hours before I saw a plant I did not recognize. As a legionnaire, I was trained with the very basics of Magika, but not enough to amount to anything besides a little unhuman speed and faster healing, but I did know my plants. These plants were definitely rich with Magika, which means this is a mage's farm. Mages never farmed in rows or fields, they farmed plants individually where they grow.
Smoke sizzled over the trees of a forest that grew at the foot of a retired volcano. I thought nothing of it; it was a volcano, after all... but the smell of cooking meat followed it. It had to be a campfire, not the sweat of the mountain.
My assumptions proved true. Entire divisions of soldiers had camped in the forest. Most of the men were attending to wounds or repairing armor from their previously won battle. I began to quietly stalk my way around the camp in the forest. I was surprised at the rate I was gaining ground, little did I know that there were patrols all around...
I barely spotted them before they saw me. I ducked under a forage bush and concealed myself. The guards spoke loosely of the mages they had hired. They were planning to assassinate the master wizard and blame it on Mahngaals.
This cannot happen.

I approached the door under the mountain... at least, I think it was the door. It takes only a small spell to cause a door to appear nearly invisible. To my luck, a mage entered the mountain before me, revealing the location of the door.
I continued my trek under the mountain. Surely I was being watched now, one cannot enter the domain of a wizard without his knowledge without a spell. I thought sure I was using enough stealth not to be seen by human eyes, but a pagenn, wizards servant, approached me, "what do you seek, Mahngaal warrior?"
"I wish to seek the council of your master wizard." I lied.
The pagenn laughed, "Nay, for you wish to bestow council, not request. What that may be, I know not. But the wizard shall hear what you have to say. Follow me."
The pagenn led me through some back rooms, I could hear enemy troops talking and laughing in the grand lounges.
"Wait here," the pagenn instructed. I stood at ease in the corner of a small room with very intricate wood working into the walls.
A blue mage appeared in the room. The master wizard wore white, so this blue mage is an assistant wizard. His staff was made of four different woods woven together around a Magika sphere I did not recognize.
"Speak your peace in peace. Leave war to the mountain." He said with a breathless voice.
"I believe the war may enter your holy mountain. I have encountered knowledge of an attempt on your master wizard's life."
"You are diligent in your hearings, soldier of Mahngaal. But do you believe a devious plan such as this would be preformed without the knowledge of the master wizard." His sphere began to glow, "besides, there is no attempt on his life. It was an attempt on yours."
He said no more before he leveled the room with his power.




**author's note: I was ill at the time of this story and could not think clearly at time of composition. My apologies if the story was a little lame lol**