When writing I find that just following the life of one person is very unsatisfying I cannot release my imagination into my writing to an extent that I find perfect. This will be somewhat different but in the end it takes place in the same imaginary world of mine, and I assure you, in my head there are room for hundreds of those. Maybe I will write something that is not a part of the fantasy genre later on.
“How fares the hunt?” A woman inquired of her officer, “Terrible, this guy is the real deal and so far he’s beaten up two whole claws numbering about three hundred well-trained soldiers, if I may say so milady I think we would be hard pressed if we put our whole army up against him.” She sighed, “We have lost three hundred to a single youth? That shouldn’t be possible, everyone is wearing resistant armor.” The young officer shook his head, “No milady, you misunderstood me, he literally beat them up. And about the armor, it did not prove very effective against his staff, oh no milady it did not.” The woman stared disbelievingly at the officer, “Are you trying to tell me that a single youth “beat up” two of my claws with a stick of wood?” The young officer started studying the tips of his boots very intently “Not exactly a stick milady, it seemed that it was somehow improved, unbreakable if you will, yet it was long, thin and elastic giving each blow a sickening capacity combined with his strength, speed and agility.” She sighed yet again, louder this time The difficulty of our work is proven yet again, will there ever be a stop to this madness ? She thought, “Any weaknesses?”
“None as far as I could tell, for a time they tried to wound him with arrows, but even when they used the resistant ones he evaded them all milady.” Her eyes widened, dodging dozens of resistant arrows loosed as one, what is this lad?
“Call the remaining claws together, I doubt he will be able to defeat a paw singlehandedly.” “Yes milady.” He said and ran off towards the encampment. Sadly, with these people you never know.. At least hes one of those brainless killers, oh holy lord, we might actually have to bring this one with us. Never before had there been one that had not presented a danger to all their lives, so they had simply disposed of them. With rather large losses each time yes but nothing like this, the ones they had encountered before had ignored physical training beyond endurance and strength leaving them almost powerless to resistant armor and weapons. But, there were of course weaknesses to the troops, the unprotected spots of skin was more than enough to allow one of those special humans to destroy them in the blink of an eye, however no matter how special a human being could be they died like the rest when pierced by dozens of arrows.
The wind slowly, almost lazily blew over the tall trees bending the tiniest twigs back and forth. In the grass, in a relatively large circle devoid of trees sat a young man, seemingly meditating, both eyes closed, legs and arms crossed and sitting on a large flat rock. Abruptly his left eyelid flickered “That’s close enough, I don’t want to hurt more of you people. As I said before, I do not understand why you are attacking me at all, I haven’t broken any of the multiple laws in this country, not even the minor ones.” Among the trees, thinking themselves well hidden were 5 claws, numbering over seven hundred well-trained soldiers. Among them was the commander, and beside her one of the few scouts. “Is he really one of them?” She asked the scout, “Oh yes milady, hes one all right one of them damn warlocks!” The commander saw several of her troops flinching at the mention of the word ‘Warlock’ it was supposed to be unspoken, the Warlocks one referred to as those, indicating they were special somehow.
Warlock, the only kind of magician that was outlawed, for one reason only. Their potential, it was vast, way beyond something as minor as a regular sorcerer for one reason, the warlocks were the only type of magicians with the power to change the true nature of things, air to flames, water to sand, iron to water. Yes even if it seemed they were making things out of nothing most of the time (air being the main factor in all changes of course.) But even sorcerers would have been extremely dangerous if they could change the form of things on a large scale, but for them that is impossible, their abilities draw on their physical strength on a very different scale from warlocks. Whereas for a skilled warlock in a good physical condition could produce mountains or towns without overstepping their limit(the latter never having been a success due to the incredible amount of detail needed), a small hill or a couple of houses was pushing the limit for a masterful sorcerer in incredible physical shape.
The horrible stories of warlocks like ‘Torei the madman’ who made seas of fire wipe out entire cities at a time, luckily he left a few survivors in one of the cities(the third large one), that sought him out and killed him while he slept, more merciful than he deserved but alas they had no other choice at the time. There was also ‘Koldor the rainman’ who conjured rain of steel bombard anyone that seemed like enemies to him, and in his later years that was anyone. There were of course several other examples to this dreaded list resulting in warlocks being killed or thrown out by parents or friends as soon as signs appeared, only a few of the cases were resolved by death early in life because of the incredibly low amount of parents that would kill their child even if it would grow up to be a warlock. Yet in the 30 years since the outlawing of warlocks took place there had been but a single warlock that had been allowed to live relatively free her entire life, the rest had all earned the death penalty through resistance of the worst kind, namely murder of many of the troops that had come to bring them to the estates. The estates being a few houses very far from towns and cities where they with a few guards could live their lives, the last few weeks one of those houses had been occupied and it now looked like one more might become so too.
“So he’s stubbornly refraining from killing, also it seems like he doesn’t even use any of his acclaimed powers how do you know he is one?” She asked the scout, “Well, he has obviously read the law, stating that it is allowed to be a warlock as long as you don’t affect anyone around yourself with it, it seems he has taken it quite literally because the only thing he does with it is aid his own movements, increasing his speed, sometimes even I barely notice a blur of his staff, also decreasing his energy use. There is also the possibility that he has heard of us and knows that that approach is better than trying to force something through hundreds of soldiers armored in resistant armor. ” Resistant armor was simply armor with a few crystals embedded in the suits of armor, all of them from a mountain believed to be created by a warlock, the crystals had the power to return whatever assailed them to it’s original form making it impossible to attack the warriors with simple attacks like fire. “Well what are we waiting for,” She said after a while, and made a circle in the air with her right hand, signalizing attack. Sounds of hundreds of feet crashing down on grass made the young man rise from his position, “Stupid,” he whispered “you people never learn.”
The man was young, about six and a half feet tall, eyes both blue and green with short black hair. He wore a vest of black leather, on top of a grey linen shirt and grey woolen trousers. In his hands he held a long staff almost 6 feet long. The staff was of a dark, almost black wood and a little thicker than man’s a big toe, it was perfectly round, smooth and frighteningly straight. He had his hands placed a small distance from each other almost at the middle of the staff whirling it threateningly. He was surrounded by hundreds of soldiers, the ones closest to him numbering perhaps sixty wielded bows, arrows notched and aiming for his arms, legs, hands and feet. “Do not move unless your life has no value to you.” One of the soldiers called out to him, “Oh, such arrogance.” He whispered to himself, in the blink of an eye he had closed the sixty feet to the nearest soldiers, as he completed a single full-length swing of his staff a dozen soldiers were lying on the ground clutching various parts of their bodies in intense pain.
The snaps of forty bowstrings announced the coming arrows, and at the same time a western wind stronger than a storm went through the clearing blowing each and every arrow off course, it also caused a few of the soldiers to topple. Meanwhile the young man continued his fighting dance, whirling, jumping, sliding and ducking. Every now and then the impact of his staff would lift someone off their feet and throw them backwards into the soldiers behind creating chaos in the ranks of soldiers. The ones that had previously wielded bows had realized the uselessness of it and joined the mass of soldiers that surrounded the young man, who whirled his staff at appalling speed constantly to keep the surrounding soldiers from coming too close damn, I can’t keep this up forever, at least last time they stubbornly kept to their small groups making it a lot easier for me. How about this? He thought as a strong wind started pushing outwards on all sides from the man, the success was limited as the really strong winds were impossible to create without time. The wounded soldiers kept falling to the ground and the young man kept moving away from them, slowly creating a way through the mass of soldiers only to create new individuals he had to get away from. Abruptly several hands grabbed both his legs and even has he swung down and heard bones break he was pulled to the ground and soldiers ran forth to help in the effort to keep him down. Damn he thought as a huge hand of stone dragged him and a few soldiers a foot of the ground and disappeared allowing him to rise to his feet again with a little help from the air. He started whirling the staff as fast as he could all the time, each impact throwing soldiers back up to ten feet, again he felt hands on his feet pulling but simply aimed his staff downwards, and even though the staff hit the rim of a shield the hands flew sideways dragging his feet with them throwing him head first onto a heavily armored soldier Damn, only a few hundred left. he thought as awareness escaped him.
May the last few days of easter treat you well.
