You have until 12:01 March 10th. Good luck!
Printable View
You have until 12:01 March 10th. Good luck!
A crack of lighting. Thin rivers of light streaked the cloudy sky before being enveloped by the darkness once more. Each crack was followed by a roll of thunder enough to shake the very bowls of hell. The rain; like torrents it fell from the sky. Anything not sheltered would be drenched within a matter of moments. What little light permeated darkness came from a sun nearly hidden somewhere behind dark clouds. The lightning was a temporary reprieve from the twilight like scene. Each flash cut the scenery with photo-like clarity before withdrawing back to the dull hue.
Talen's pale blue eyes watched with a detached interest at the tiny streams that had formed on the battle field in the few seconds since the sky had opened. The scene was quite unique for the youth. A field of sorts, spattered with dirt and tufts of grass. As if planted by god's hand odd flowers rose several metres our of the ground on trunk sized stems. The tops were beautiful, pink and blue petals befitting the finest garden pointed towards the sky. They looked, and acted, like natural umbrellas. Each creating a island of dry ground for three metres or so. Talen stood under one such flower, leaning against the thick stem that he guessed was about four inches thick. The youth had taken off his cloak and shirt in a annoyance as he failed to keep himself dry as he arrived at the fight. He could have summoned up a dry pair, but he doubted that they would remain so for very long. The feeling of wet cloths hugging his skin did not suit his particular battle style.
Wherever it was that the battle occurred Talen noted that he needed to come here again. The monks of the Citadel were notoriously secretive with the location they picked for battles, but Talen was pretty sure that he could find out where. The youth liked the rain, more so than anyone he had met before. It was calming; soothing even. It washed away the dirt and turned filthy streets into fresh ones.
The youth's dragged his thoughts back to the present, clicking one of his clawed fingers against the metal gauntlets that hugged his arms up to the shoulder. The claws was more shiny than normal with the touch of rain. The dark metal a stark contrast to his own pale skin of his bare chest. Somehow it seemed to suit him though, his wet black hair hanging down over his face was nearly identical in colour.