"...and as long as my brethren stand, Valdemar will never fall!" concluded
Arkle, a smile of triumph crossing his cherubic face. His cheeks, still
round with baby fat, blushed pink with all the effort of his long speech.
"Surrender evil wizard or pay the price!"
"Oh! I yield brave one!" replied Darkwind theatrically, falling to one knee with exaggerated care. A hand artistically placed over his heart, Darkwind gave the impression of a great tragic hero-- albeit a disheveled, overly dramatic one
Thrown off guard, and more than a little disgruntled, Arkle glared at his father. "Dad!! We're playing final strike! That means you can't surrender and I have to call final strike on you."
Letting out a great sigh, Darkwind lowered his arms to the ground. Then, without warning, he crumpled to the ground, a great heap of hair and clothes.
"Dad? Dad!?" began Arkle, a worried frown making him look surprisingly like his mother. He began to walk toward the fallen figure, when he heard low laughter.
As Arkle watched, eyes wide with anticipation at his father's latest game, Darkwind rose. The laughter turned into a truly evil cackle by time Darkwind fully stood. His previously disheveled robes were now a wrinkled mess, and his hair was tangled beyond redemption. He truthfully looked like a crazed mage. Strange lights sparkled in his eyes, as Darkwind suddenly lunged toward Arkle. "Ha! Ha! You see I've fooled you Herald Arkle! I was only PRETENDING to be surrendering when really...I was transforming myself into the even more powerful evil super-mage! Prepare to face ME!"
Arkle squealed as he dodged his father's extended arms. He could feel a building pressure around him, like the air before lighting. A real spell! He was sure of it! Running behind an over-turned chair, Arkle spun himself around to face his father. Planting his slightly chubby feet wide apart and with his arms raised far above his head, Arkle shouted his last cry of defiance. "I will never surrender to evil! I will call FINAL STRIKE!"
With those dramatic words, bursts of light appeared around the room. Arkle blinked, then stared, forgetting all about Heralds and Mages as spirals and streaks of color filled the air around him.
Minutes later, as the last glowing trails of the light show disappeared; a gentle hand touched his downy brown hair. Arkle turned, his bright blue eyes meeting his mother's grey-blue.
"Sweet, it's time for a bath and bed," she whispered into his ear, as she picked him up in her arms.
"But mom! I'm not tired..." yawned Arkle. "I want to play Herald again."
Elspeth laughed a warm chuckle. "Tomorrow dear heart. Your father has already gone for his bath too, you know. Besides, if you're good tonight and get up extra early tomorrow, you can join me for a ride on Gwena."
Perking up at the offer, Arkle nearly knocked his mother over as he wriggled out of her arms and ran toward the bathing room.
Smiling, Elspeth turned around and began to pick up the pillows strewn around the room's floor.
:. Gwena darling, you will oblige won't you? .:
Sweet scents seemed to surround her as Gwena Sent her consent. :. It'll be more than a pleasure to be a part of yet another Herald's tale. .:
Elspeth could only smile in reply.
"Oh! I yield brave one!" replied Darkwind theatrically, falling to one knee with exaggerated care. A hand artistically placed over his heart, Darkwind gave the impression of a great tragic hero-- albeit a disheveled, overly dramatic one
Thrown off guard, and more than a little disgruntled, Arkle glared at his father. "Dad!! We're playing final strike! That means you can't surrender and I have to call final strike on you."
Letting out a great sigh, Darkwind lowered his arms to the ground. Then, without warning, he crumpled to the ground, a great heap of hair and clothes.
"Dad? Dad!?" began Arkle, a worried frown making him look surprisingly like his mother. He began to walk toward the fallen figure, when he heard low laughter.
As Arkle watched, eyes wide with anticipation at his father's latest game, Darkwind rose. The laughter turned into a truly evil cackle by time Darkwind fully stood. His previously disheveled robes were now a wrinkled mess, and his hair was tangled beyond redemption. He truthfully looked like a crazed mage. Strange lights sparkled in his eyes, as Darkwind suddenly lunged toward Arkle. "Ha! Ha! You see I've fooled you Herald Arkle! I was only PRETENDING to be surrendering when really...I was transforming myself into the even more powerful evil super-mage! Prepare to face ME!"
Arkle squealed as he dodged his father's extended arms. He could feel a building pressure around him, like the air before lighting. A real spell! He was sure of it! Running behind an over-turned chair, Arkle spun himself around to face his father. Planting his slightly chubby feet wide apart and with his arms raised far above his head, Arkle shouted his last cry of defiance. "I will never surrender to evil! I will call FINAL STRIKE!"
With those dramatic words, bursts of light appeared around the room. Arkle blinked, then stared, forgetting all about Heralds and Mages as spirals and streaks of color filled the air around him.
Minutes later, as the last glowing trails of the light show disappeared; a gentle hand touched his downy brown hair. Arkle turned, his bright blue eyes meeting his mother's grey-blue.
"Sweet, it's time for a bath and bed," she whispered into his ear, as she picked him up in her arms.
"But mom! I'm not tired..." yawned Arkle. "I want to play Herald again."
Elspeth laughed a warm chuckle. "Tomorrow dear heart. Your father has already gone for his bath too, you know. Besides, if you're good tonight and get up extra early tomorrow, you can join me for a ride on Gwena."
Perking up at the offer, Arkle nearly knocked his mother over as he wriggled out of her arms and ran toward the bathing room.
Smiling, Elspeth turned around and began to pick up the pillows strewn around the room's floor.
:. Gwena darling, you will oblige won't you? .:
Sweet scents seemed to surround her as Gwena Sent her consent. :. It'll be more than a pleasure to be a part of yet another Herald's tale. .:
Elspeth could only smile in reply.