| Xandax fell down still grasping the hilt of the sword. He had forgotten this particular … creature had powerful psionic abilities. Xandax shook the effect, and cleared his mind, emptied it for all that could be used against him, as he had learned from his mother.
The sword glowed more and more faint as the creatures misty body wrapped it self around the blade. The letters Ferox were still vaguely visible, burning. Xandax let go of the hilt and stood up, reached down to his boots and pulled out a dagger. Even he did not understand Ferox’ powers, and he had wielded it for the better part of ten years. Xanadx remembered some of his battles from his earlier days; these types of monsters could be slain using enchanted weapons but not by magic itself. Xandax was ready to trust with the dagger, the creature were vulnerable now its attention were drawn elsewhere.
Then he remembered some of his last … communication …. with the creature, and he remembered its … well, it was almost vanity.
“So you crawl around as a beast, driven by your instincts, you are nothing more then a pet are you.”
Xandax spoke out loud, eventhough he was sure the creature would hear him if he thought it.
“Just the pet of that mage….”
Xandax said and thought to himself for a moment
“… Magus, right?” |