a thoughtful web.
Good ideas and conversation. No ads, no tracking.   Login or Take a Tour!
comment by War
War  ·  3449 days ago  ·  link  ·    ·  parent  ·  post: Writing Prompt: Image Prompt

There before him stood the snow white city. Sancré Arma, the last city of mages, was all that stood in the way of utter annihilation. He looked out at the ashen clouds as they rumbled against an invisible barrier. A icy sensation rose from Garth's lower back to the nape of his neck as he stared out at the fiery embers looming behind the mountainside. Mages from across the land had been called in the defense of the realm, but never had Garth seen the Calamity fight with such fury.

Garth shook his head trying to push this darkness from his mind. He hobbled down the path following behind a small group of young mages. He could hear them discussing their road to glory.

"When I arrive in the city I'm going to join the Vanguard. That is sure to be a proper use of my skills," the mage in a half-suit of armor said puffing his chest out. None of these children had seen fear, but fear had set into Garth's very bones. He continued behind the young men and women listening about their tales of adventuring. Garth smiled thinking back to the times he had lived before, and for a moment he found peace in them. It would be a fleeting moment though as the crack of thunder would fill the air. The barrier became visible and with it, its weakness.

A vengeful roar echoed across the cliffsides, and orbs of hellish destruction followed. It was as if the barrier cried out when struck. Garth felt the lump in his throat grow large and his tears well in their ducts. The barrier flashed once before finally deteriorating into oblivion. The young woman in the group ahead of Garth screamed as the attack continued. Garth watch as one of the orbs hurdled towards the group. He released the clasp on his staff and guided the wind beneath his feet. It lifted him high into the air, and place him down before the young mages. His hands moved along the aged wood of his staff as he gently spun it in a circular motion. The words, that had been passed down through the generations, flowed from Garth's mouth in the strictest of patterns. A veil of cobalt appeared, and enveloped them. The flaming sphere clashed with the veiled mages, roaring in anger as it dissipated. Garth slowly brought his staff to a halt. He tore his sight from the mountainside and fixed it on the city. There it laid on the brink of destruction as the death rained down upon it.

His knee's buckled under the weight of his body. This was the final age of men.