Futile adj. 1: serving no useful purpose: completely ineffective, 2: occupied with trifles: frivolous


"Do you remember," Karma began from across the low table. The low rumble of the waterfall simply emphasized the calm rhythm of her voice. "What did you feel, when the Ionian Guard came to your castle?"

Syndra did not usually acquiesce to suggestions worded as demands, but she was in a good mood today. After all, today was her monthly opportunity to dominate the Enlightened One and show her her place.

So she smiled at her opponent, and entertained the girl's transparent attempt to inspire sympathy and regret.

She remembered. The masses of armored bodies on the ion stone embedded platform, dwarfed by her looming castle in the sky. The sight made her laugh; were their mages really so inept that even with their numbers they could not manage to levitate a couple hundred soldiers?

And they thought their trivial powers could overcome hers? Disgraceful.

Syndra remembered struggling to resist the urge to simply crush the ion stones and send them all tumbling to their deaths. But that would not be an impressive enough show for these fools.

So she reached at the air, the magic instantly responding to her call, congealing itself into pulsating spheres. More and more and more she pulled around and above their ridiculous floating contraption. She left a few spaced in between until the last so she could watch the would-be conquers back against each other, panic clear on their faces.

Clenching her hand, Syndra pulled the spheres to a single point in the center of their platform. The magic did not slow for things such as warm bodies and beating hearts between it and its destination.

The rain of blood and gore watered the trees far below,

Syndra smiled. "Exhilaration," she replied.