"Poor effort, try again." for the bossy muse meme!
“Poor effort, try again.”
Vyendemar regarded Nemaen with steely eyes, “Like I am inclined to impress the likes of you. And if you sincerely believe I put an ounce of effort into mastering your simplistic form of magic, you would be gravely mistaken.”
Nemaen arched an eyebrow and folded her arms, a slight smile tugged at her lips as she regarded Vyendemar’s attempt at casting a rock armour upon himself. Instead of creating what should have been a tough and powerful protective layer, he had covered his left arm in a casing of elegantly sculpted golden armour.
“Mistaken? You’re the one that’s been pestering me to teach you. So if I’m gonna waste my time coddling you and your frustrations you’re at least gonna learn to do it right!” Nemaen grabbed his wrist and waved his hand in his face, “How are you supposed to protect yourself from anything with gold? Do you understand how weak gold is as protective layer?”
“Unhand me!” Vyendemar scowled and wrenched his arm free, “I know perfectly well about the inadequacies of gold against material weaponry! Which is why this is constructed from gilded steel,” he regarded her smugly, “something you would have known if you had dared to analyze the composition.”
Nemaen glared up at the smug noble, “It’s called rock armour not I’m-a-fancy-ass-who-can’t-follow-instructions armour!”
Vyendemar lifted his chin and looked down at the tiny elf, “Well excuse me for improving your rudimentary design,” he shrugged his shoulders and held his palms up, ‘Perhaps I should be the one teaching you.”
Vyendemar’s smile wavered as Nemaen’s shoulders drooped. His heart raced, I have gone too far. He was not sure why, but for some reason her feelings mattered to him and he had not intended to hurt her with his teasing. He twisted the ruby signet ring on his left hand idly and swallowed uneasily.
He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a large crack of rock-splitting echoed through the chamber. Before he could react, the world went black as his head was encased in stone ripped from the castle wall. Darkness enveloped him and his breathing increased. He reached within himself and grasped for magic. Reaching into the immaterial stream of power, he let the magic flow into his body. Acting purely on instinct, he ignited the air around his hands with flames and lashed out into the space around him.
“By the gods,” a muffled voice shouted and the stone crumbled around him. He blinked in the sudden harsh sunlight that filtered through the large windows. Nemaen was standing a couple feet away, just outside the circular ring of soot that surrounded him.
“Remind me not to joke with you,” Nemaen laughed.
Vyendemar flushed and looked down at his feet. Growing-up with the constant threat of assassination as heir to the mighty Sol’ari Empire had not contributed much to his sense of humour, especially humour that involved scaring the hell out of others.
Scattered about his feet were the remnants of the stone trap, using the magic coursing through him he lifted the scraps and with a flick of his fingers he fused them around his right arm to create a stone casing. It was much cruder than the one he had fashioned from the steel lances that had hung on the wall. He sighed presenting the work to Nemean for her inspection.
“I guess I am going to require more of your teaching,” he said.
She regarded his pale face and wide eyes, the violent outburst was uncharacteristic for the composed elf and she wondered if she had taken her teasing too far. She had expected him to detect her manipulating the earth around them and she had even taken twice as long to perform the spell. She inspected the shoddy craftsmanship of the rock armour he held towards her. Perhaps it’s because he is rubbish at manipulating earth energies. She smiled and slapped his rock arm.
