The clouds overshadowing the plain dulled the afternoon sun. Daelric stood in the middle of the practice field, bokken in hand, as three of his brethren circled around him. They moved with a practiced precision and studied Daelric intently as they waited for him to make the first move. Daelric focused in on his surroundings, attuning himself to the aura of the men preparing to attack him. He smiled, realizing that they were soon going to be on the floor.
With a sudden lunge, he darted at the first foe, wooden sword coming up in the fluid movement of his first strike. The bokken traveled downward in a slight arch, the movement of his hand snapping the weapon into a vicious strike. His opponent moved his own bokken quickly to intercept the attack, but his second hand could not extend fully to support the tip of his own bokken, so the strike drove his blade down to hit his head. The force of the blow knocked him to the ground, and Daelric moved in for a finishing strike. His weapon came down, hard, on his fallen opponent's midsection, blasting the air from his lungs and incapacitating him.
Daelric turned to face the remaining two whose faces contorted in disgust at the excessive force that he had just displayed. The two had been training partners for a great while at this point, so they knew how to work together to bring down a more skilled foe. They moved in opposite directions, circling Daelric and forcing him to focus on one at a time. He lowered one hand from the hilt of his blade and held his bokken firmly in only one hand. He waited until the two had reached the farthest point apart, then attacked.
His blade flashed across in a horizontal slash, causing the first man to drop back to his heels. A quick sidestep by Daelric avoided the charge of the second opponent, and brought his weapon in a diagonal arch towards the charging man's leg. His blade struck the man in the back of his thigh, a movement that would have hamstrung him had it been a real sword. As it was, it dropped him to one knee, exposing him to another attack. Wasting no time, Daelric used his free hand to launch a blow to the man's back, but the man had already rolled to the side. The missed attack threw Daelric off balance, and the second man attacked with a downward swing of his own.
Daelric's own sword came up, barely, to redirect the blade, and Daelric moved to the side slightly. Now, he faced both men, once more in front of him. He lunged before they could move again, and he swung wildly from side to side, the ferocity of his movement moving both men back. They came back with attacks of their own, their blades finding the openings in Daelric's poor defense. Two blows to his side forced him to his knees, the only thing holding him up the point of his sword ground into the dirt.
"Stop!" shouted a man from off to the side of the practice field. "Daelric has taken enough of a beating today. " Nicely done, return to the village, I need to talk to Daelric." The man motioned the two standing to take up their fallen comrade as well, and they walked off supporting the still unconscious man between them. He walked over to Daelric, who was coughing up a small amount of blood. He spat into the floor, and then dropped to his haunches.
"You knew you couldn't take on Erk and Samson together, why did you call them out?" asked the man. He looked over to the receding figures and then gave a hearty laugh. "They hate you, they might have killed you if I hadn't stopped them."
"You needn't have come here, Josimov, I was about to get up and show them a how to fight," Daelric replied, rising. He looked away from Josimov and began to move off, swinging his bokken in a general manner. "You can go back to your people, I am going back home."
"Home is over here!" Josimov shouted, "Your mother has been worried since you left, and now you show up just to fight those two? I don't understand why you left, and if it were up to me, I would let you leave. But it isn't, your mother, the Mayor, has requested that I bring you back, and if you won't come willingly, I will forcibly take you back."
Daelric stopped and turned back to face Josimov, "I left for my own reasons, and my mother has no say where I go, not anymore. As for Erk and Samson, I told you, I was about to defeat them, only a moment longer, and they would have been done."
"Really? Didn't look that way to me. Look, you have only one more month of training, and then you get your Sword, don't you want that. I remember teaching you how to swing your first bokken, and since that day, all you ever wanted was a real Sword. Now is your chance, and you just want to walk away?"
"My path lies another way, you should know about that, outsider. I don't even see why they accepted you into the Village, but you have done nothing but corrupt the purity of our bloodline," Daelric said while moving closer to Josimov. "I don't see why my mother brought you into the family, either. I have lost my taste for the sword, it is a transient thing, the path to true power lies another way."
"How dare you! You don't know anything of your mother's decisions, and I have done nothing but raise you as my own. If you can't see the sacrifice I have made to accommodate you, then you have no place in my family."
"Your family! Too long have I suffered your barbarism, Josimov, it is time that I show you what true power is," Daelric said as he dropped his bokken to the floor. He raised one hand and pointed it at Josimov. "Any last words?"
"What are you doing? Stop this nonsense," Josimov said, unsure what to make of Daelric's actions. He didn't know whether to be scared at the apparent threat or amused at is antics. "You have never been Weaver, why would you suddenly have powers now."
"Weaver?" Daelric responded, a slight chuckle coming from his lips. "If you think that's what I can do, you are sadly mistaken. No, I now have powers far beyond what the Village Weavers can do. Allumbra alumn nathos!" Daelric shouted, beginning a fiery incantation. The air around Josimov grew thick as Daelric drew on his surroundings to give him power. A red luminescence issued forth from the ground, creating a light circle around Josimov.
Frightened, Josimov's hand moved instinctively to his Sword, but he found that he could not draw it. He looked back to Daelric in horror as the circle closed in on him. The red power started at his feet then slowly traveled up the entire length of his body.
"I now see, more clearly than anyone in this pathetic village, what true power is," Daelric said, his voice deep and angry. "You will all fall before me and worship, lest I draw you into my heart and cast you out." Josimov opened his mouth to shout out for help, but as he did so, a force of air entered his mouth, gagging him and snapping his head backward. He felt himself growing weak as Daelric drew power from him, and as he grew weaker, the power pulsating around him grew stronger. The brightness intensified, blinding him, and as it did so, his flesh began to peel back in thin ribbons.
Daelric continued his incantation, each word of power drawing more power from Josimov. As he reached the apex of his spell, the tone of his voice shifted, leaving Josimov on the brink of death's door as Daelric stopped drawing upon his life force and began using the environment around him. The grass underfoot began to turn a sickly yellow as it died; the circle of death expanded quickly from the point Daelric stood at. Finally, having drawn enough power to complete his spell, Daelric stopped, then lifted his second hand.
"Now is the time for you to die, Josimov," Daelric said, a frantic ecstasy entering his voice. "Illos, talambra nab kin!" Daelric shouted, opening a gate into hell behind Josimov. Slowly, he spun Josimov around, causing him to face the sight of his impending doom. "Do you see it, I have brought you close to death," Daelric said, his voice eerily calm, "can you see now? I am going to send you to hell; I'm going to put you through what I had to go through. You will be as weak as I was against your tyranny." Daelric smiled, a mischievous grin coloring the crazed look in his eyes. "You won't be needing your sword, either. There will never be a release for you, you will live forever more in agony! Goodbye, father."
With that, Josimov fell into the fires, the hands of flame reaching up to grab him. His Sword and scabbard floated easily in the air, and then glided over to Daelric. He pulled it down and grinned. He strapped it to his own belt, adjusted it, and walked of towards his former home, raw power still coursing through his veins. He was going home, his final visit was at hand…