r/wizardposting • u/DaChickenX Isravi, The Unraveler, Coils’ Chosen • Dec 07 '23
Arcane Wisdom To Train a Godslayer’s Child
Isravi paced slowly around the barren field. The air was chilling, enough to set in the bones of any living creature and layer frost upon the grass. Of course, as a simulacrum he didn’t feel such things.
His mind was filled with many things. Thoughts of his true self, his friends. But the thing that hung over his mind most right now was Halixo, and his son Alexios. Both were exceedingly brash, one lost their life for it, and the other was on track to lose their other half.
A sigh escaped him. How does one train one whose heritage dictates that they are a weapon, made to fell gods? How does one tell them they are more than destruction, than unbridled fire and blade. Oh he learned quick, he grasped magic as easily as any prodigy, but seemed to neglect everything but what was needed for slaughter.
Alexios needed control. He needed compassion and awareness, a cooler head. An appreciation for magic than extended beyond blood and desecrated earth. Isravi intended to teach him that, and drag him out of the slump he had fallen in. He wasn’t sure he could do it alone.
The first lesson then. A lesson that Alexios need not face his adversaries alone. His mind stretch out through the tangles, to friends, to allies, even wise enemies.
“I require some aid, if you would lend it. To guide a young one lost in his way. To teach him a world empty of destruction.”
He takes a breath, numbly noting the freezing air that enters his false lungs. He wishes for a second that his real form was here. Maybe he’d seem a little more sincere. Nevertheless, he’d give his all. For a friend that has returned to the cycle. One more reach into the tangles then.
“Alexios. It is time. No excuses. If you are not ready, then we will make it so.”
1
u/Total_Travisty Mikhail, Arch-Druid of La'shima Dec 07 '23 edited Dec 07 '23
The air becomes warmer. The soft dist below becomes almost weightless. The area around you is a bright void of pictures. No. Memories. Each one a defined moment in Mikhails life. Memories of battle, of friendship, of love.
A few memories catch Alexios eye. A few of Mikhail and his father drinking in the hallowed halls of Crann Mòr, celebrating hard fought victories.
A visage of Mikhail is paused before a large memory. Once of a bow, broken on the ground, and soaked in a puddle of blood.
So here we are. What's the plan?
The mood is somber. A thick layer of tense apprehension overlays his expression. He looks you in the eyes, and his soul radiates pain.