Snippet #1920162

As the old man sat down, he had a memory flash.

There was a slight breeze that passed through the battle field. One man stood before 300. Every single one of those 300 men were armed to the teeth, ready to end the life of that one man that stood before there and their prize. Whatever this prize might be, they would take it and nothing would stand in their way...especially one man. They knew this man was a wizard. He stood in his red robe. Over which he wore a black armor, decorated with the crest of the Wizards. He was obviously an elite Wizard....but what could one Wizard do against 300 armed men. The following is what. One of the enemy soldiers took a step forward from the front line. Raising his sword in the air, he gave out a death cry and launched forward, followed by his 299 allies. In their grey armor, they ran down the kill like an army of wolves waiting to gang up on their prey. But their prey was no simple sheep or lamb. They were facing the very essence of magic. The man took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Already his spell had taken effect. The small breeze slowly started blowing harder. A simple spell...that would cause great damage.

Without even moving the winds pushed harder. The dirt and sand they stood on flew forward. Blinded by dirt and sand in their ways, the front rows were forced to stop running, while others tumbled. Greatly slowed down by this simple magic trick, the Magician worked his spell. Bringing both hands back, he took a deep breath and slung his arms forward, letting out his breath at the same time. Fusing his magic with the air around him, the winds blew even harder than before in the direction on their foes. With magic fused with it, the air became razor sharp, cutting through the soldiers as they were butter. To add to this destructive magic, his breath came out in a flame. Once it met with the magic winds, the flames grew into a huge fire storm. A magic fire, which burnt quicker than normal, fused with razor sharp winds...destroyed the 300 men that had once stood before him. As the magician fell to his knees, exhausted, he slowly fell into a deep sleep hoping someone would find him and bring him back to HQ.

"Hello?" A feminine voice called out. Quickly snapping out of his dream, the old magician stood up and looked around. Seeing a girl walk out of the woods, he smiled and walked to meet her. Immediately he could tell this girl was a Dragon Rider. For two reasons: Persundo, she had a type of aura that seemed to link with another creature and Secundo, a giant dragon stood behind her. Standing in front of her, he slowly bowed. “Welcome to my humble home, Dragon Rider. Zaraian D’jorn Voraius at you service”

“What brings you to these parts of the woods?” Rising as he said this, he wondered if this Rider knew who he was. She seemed old enough to be an experience rider. One of her status should know who he was. But alas, he did not care much, as he was more curious to know why she was here.