Good afternoon, Merlin Prower here. Well, I really don't have much to say, but I hope you like this story, I think it has a lot of potential. If you take the time to read it, reviewing it would be immensely helpful.
-MP
PROLOGUE
The morning dew glistened off countless blades of grass, reflecting the light of the endlessly burning Mobian sun. The wind whistled through the aching branches of the centuries-old trees, wafting small particles of dust and pollen into the pleasantly warm spring air. All around, there was an aura of serenity and calm, free of distraction and interruption. A creature below silently padded its paws on the carpet of moss growing on the ground, observing the blossoming bulbs and the singing robins. The creature sat down on the forest floor, and crossed its legs, slowly taking in the immense beauty of its surroundings.
The creature closed its eyes, sighed, and fumbled nonchalantly through the pack it was carrying on his back, pulling out a small leather pouch that was eloquently tied off at one end with a piece of orange string. It pulled out a water canister and a small stone cup, which it then filled, and then undid the pouch, pouring its powdery contents into the cup. It fizzed. The creature shook the pouch out carefully into the water and took a deep, forlorn breath; it was now empty. Sighing once again, the creature put the cup to its lips.
The cup immediately exploded in a flurry of rock dust, its contents spilling to the moss covered ground, causing patches of fauna to grow and revitalize at an amazing rate. A fine-pointed steel arrow lay quivering in a nearby tree, its audible twang echoing throughout the forest. A rustling in a nearby bush alerted the creature to the presence of someone near, and the creature slowly stood, brushing the dust off of its blue cape. Narrowing its eyes, the creature folded its arms in disgust, staring intently at the slightly swaying bush. A small click resounded in the ensuing silence, the click of a weapon being reloaded.
Suddenly, a slender object shot out of the bush, heading toward the creature, who had the air of being unimpressed. In the split-second that followed, the creature put up its hand, palm outwards, and time stopped. Or rather slowed to an unbelievably minimal rate. Time can't be stopped, just delayed. The breeze became undetectable, the leaves barely rustling, and the sound of the creature's footsteps as it slightly stepped back took what seemed like ages to reach its ears.
The creature stared at the object, an arrow identical to the one that was embedded in the tree behind it. It plucked it right out of the air, and suddenly time resumed its original pace, with only a slight whoosh of air where the arrow had been. All rustling in the bush stopped. The creature put up his other hand, and pulled it back slightly, and the bushes parted, groaning and cracking as an unseen force compelled them to uproot themselves.
A cowering weasel sat in a fetal position, peeking out from behind the hands that were covering his eyes. He was trembling and his knuckles were chattering, the crossbow having dropped from his cold fingers the instant his point blank targeting had failed to assassinate the caped figure before him.
"How…how are you so fast, you old magician? How?" The weasel asked, still cowering.
"Just born that way I guess," The creature said, tossing the arrow to the ground in front of the weasel, "Now get out of here, Nack, before I take you to Knothole."
This time the weasel, whose name was in fact Nack, shivered so hard he nearly fell apart, and grabbed his arrow and fled, not bothering to pry the other one from the tree. The caped creature sat down once again on the ground, and fell onto its back. Stopping time had taken a lot out of it.
After all, there's only so much old Merlin Prower can take.
-MP
PROLOGUE
The morning dew glistened off countless blades of grass, reflecting the light of the endlessly burning Mobian sun. The wind whistled through the aching branches of the centuries-old trees, wafting small particles of dust and pollen into the pleasantly warm spring air. All around, there was an aura of serenity and calm, free of distraction and interruption. A creature below silently padded its paws on the carpet of moss growing on the ground, observing the blossoming bulbs and the singing robins. The creature sat down on the forest floor, and crossed its legs, slowly taking in the immense beauty of its surroundings.
The creature closed its eyes, sighed, and fumbled nonchalantly through the pack it was carrying on his back, pulling out a small leather pouch that was eloquently tied off at one end with a piece of orange string. It pulled out a water canister and a small stone cup, which it then filled, and then undid the pouch, pouring its powdery contents into the cup. It fizzed. The creature shook the pouch out carefully into the water and took a deep, forlorn breath; it was now empty. Sighing once again, the creature put the cup to its lips.
The cup immediately exploded in a flurry of rock dust, its contents spilling to the moss covered ground, causing patches of fauna to grow and revitalize at an amazing rate. A fine-pointed steel arrow lay quivering in a nearby tree, its audible twang echoing throughout the forest. A rustling in a nearby bush alerted the creature to the presence of someone near, and the creature slowly stood, brushing the dust off of its blue cape. Narrowing its eyes, the creature folded its arms in disgust, staring intently at the slightly swaying bush. A small click resounded in the ensuing silence, the click of a weapon being reloaded.
Suddenly, a slender object shot out of the bush, heading toward the creature, who had the air of being unimpressed. In the split-second that followed, the creature put up its hand, palm outwards, and time stopped. Or rather slowed to an unbelievably minimal rate. Time can't be stopped, just delayed. The breeze became undetectable, the leaves barely rustling, and the sound of the creature's footsteps as it slightly stepped back took what seemed like ages to reach its ears.
The creature stared at the object, an arrow identical to the one that was embedded in the tree behind it. It plucked it right out of the air, and suddenly time resumed its original pace, with only a slight whoosh of air where the arrow had been. All rustling in the bush stopped. The creature put up his other hand, and pulled it back slightly, and the bushes parted, groaning and cracking as an unseen force compelled them to uproot themselves.
A cowering weasel sat in a fetal position, peeking out from behind the hands that were covering his eyes. He was trembling and his knuckles were chattering, the crossbow having dropped from his cold fingers the instant his point blank targeting had failed to assassinate the caped figure before him.
"How…how are you so fast, you old magician? How?" The weasel asked, still cowering.
"Just born that way I guess," The creature said, tossing the arrow to the ground in front of the weasel, "Now get out of here, Nack, before I take you to Knothole."
This time the weasel, whose name was in fact Nack, shivered so hard he nearly fell apart, and grabbed his arrow and fled, not bothering to pry the other one from the tree. The caped creature sat down once again on the ground, and fell onto its back. Stopping time had taken a lot out of it.
After all, there's only so much old Merlin Prower can take.