A/N: And here are the next few entries! Enjoy!
Entry 11:
Author: A Wordsmith
Prompt: A New Perspective
*Congratulations to A Wordsmith for being one of the third place winners!
The guard was a delightful little fool; he tried so hard to differentiate himself from the grey and the grime of the prison block, robes a ruby red, but the stench clung to him. It would forever cling to him. His pearly smugness said that he didn't know that.
Hashimoto Taiki smiled a craggle-toothed smile, grey-streaked beard and dusty white robes curled tight around him. His face hardly inspired fear, he knew, wrinkled and lisping; but the Protector of the Lavender Lady still lurked beneath. A harmless old man for those that didn't know him. An impossible threat for those that did.
"The prison is off limits for all but the Kubo family," the guard said, taut with pride. "Send your appeal to my family head and maybe we can-"
Taiki patted his pockets, listening with one ear. Such was the way of mortals, with their material desires - he found an iron coin, stamped with the brutish jaw of the Lavender Lady on one side and the Tower on the other. Kubo's eyes lit up. Taiki let wraithfire creep over his fingers, tendrils of purple-black like the Tower's miasma enveloping the coin. The air crackled with unearthly flame.
The guard skittered back as he flipped the coin to him, the iron clattering over the stone. With a hiss, the fire dripped into the floor, the money untouched beneath. The guard's eyes gleamed with greed.
A party trick. The fools wouldn't know power if it hit them.
"Perhaps I can make an exception for you, Hashimoto," Kubo said, stooping to pick up the coin. Their old song and dance. The prison was black behind him, midnight deep in its core. He peered into each cell lining the walls.
Ragged criminals, hair wild and eyes sunk into their skulls. Each had a smeared black scar over their cheekbone; as he walked by they huddled against themselves, hands pressed over their faces. "Nightfearers," he tutted, trailing his hand over the bars. Frowned. "You dragonlovers, you cowardly children; come, wait, see the might of your forefathers-"
Taiki stopped in front of a cell with a woman, her clothes freshly dirtied and ribs not yet visible. Her cheeks were unmarred.
"Hello, my lovely, my dear," he crooned, reaching a skeletal hand through the bars. She tried to cower away but Lavender hardly built its cells for comfort, her back already pressed to the stone wall. "Just a touch, is all; prove yourself with just a touch-"
His hand lit up with purple-black. She snapped at him but couldn't make herself bite his glowing finger, age-old instincts staying her teeth. He pressed his nail to her cheekbone.
She hissed, flinching - a stained black burn stayed on her face as he pulled back.
Taiki frowned.
Another failure.
He turned to walk further into the prison but then Kubo was there, robes flared wide. More cells were behind him, the endless spiral of the prison block, presumably full of prisoners for him to poke and prod at, trying to find another suitable subject- but the guard was in the way.
He was in the way.
Taiki had danced his dance with the man for years, gathering proper little bodies to regain his family's honour. An easy, simple dance. Kubo hadn't dared to change the steps before. Wraithfire flickered up the edges of his robes, a deep purple-black. A far-off prisoner moaned at the crackle.
"They…" Kubo visibly gathered himself, jutting his chin out. "You can't take these prisoners, Hashimoto. Their sentences are for less than a year. They still have lives to live."
Taiki smiled his rotten smile and stalked forward; the wraithfire clinging to his robes meant the guard skittered away with his pride in tatters.
Peering into the much nicer cells, all that greeted him were clusters of shivering commoners. Adolescents, a fair handful, but equal with full blooded adults. "Cradlerobbers, graverobbers; only infants still have free lives left." One of the prisoners bared her teeth. "Violet little toddlers, I see; they lived their lives just to end up here."
He paused.
The guard puffed up with all the self righteousness someone out of their depth can muster. "The Kubo clan has morals, Hashimoto, and that's why we support the Nakahara. Your family guarded Lavender for years but your power isn't special anymore. The Nakahara will claim the Lady's favour and you won't be able to lord over the rest of us-"
Taiki pressed against the cell door, skeletal fingers threading through the bars. Those inside scuttled away from him, cowering against the far wall - but they were looking at him. One with rage, another fear, a third acceptance. All different. They already knew who they were, knew how to interact with their surroundings.
"Your family hit their peak twenty years ago and you've done nothing of importance since, nothing to prove yourself. The Nakahara will be the new favoured of Lavender and they will raise the Kubo clan up for our loyalty-"
Ghosts already knew to consume by the time humans found them. Humans already knew to survive by the time ghosts found them. Both would never mix.
Kubo trailed off as Taiki pushed off the cell door and strode away, wraithfire crackling at his heels. The prisoners murmured as he left, hunkering down when he passed, cowering beneath the ghostly energy that had eaten away at them with only a touch. They weren't empty. He'd always grabbed prisoners because they wouldn't be missed - but why would he need to take those who wouldn't be missed, unless there were people to remember them? A life they had already lived?
"Where are you going?" Kubo cried, bravado disintegrating in face of Taiki's apathy. The Nakahara family were followers, riding the coattails of the Hashimoto. They had never invented anything of their own.
Taiki paused for a heartbeat. Lavender crooned all around him, the last tendrils of its purple miasma creeping at the corners of his eyes. It approved.
"Younger," he said. "We have to go younger."
Entry 12:
Author: SilverBlader
Prompt: The Leviathan
It had been a battle well fought.
Ash wondered if he'd ever tire of battling champions, if his awe and pulse-pounding exhilaration would twist into Clair's bitterness. He'd fought losing battles against four champions now.
At times Ash felt like his path to surpass Lance and Steven, Cynthia and Wallace, was crystal clear. Other times he felt like a flawed copy, mumbling his way through press conferences and fleeing from fans.
Now, in the wake of his battle with Wallace, Ash had no idea what to think. Oz had performed better than he could have dreamed, but to see Infernus obliterated in mere minutes? That had stung his pride. He thought the Magmortar had ceased being hobbled by type disadvantages long ago. And to think that Wallace hadn't even unleashed his strongest team member against him.
Ash arrived an hour after their battle in the manor library – a grand room, three storey high shelves nestled with books on nautical navigation and marine life, its bay window looking down upon Lilycove. Wallace was looking out at the city as Ash came in, watching the lights come on. Golden electricity and soft candlelight, flickering streetlamps and the steady bonfire of Lilycove's ancient lighthouse. It was one of the best times to be in Lilycove, at lighting-up time on a serene winter evening.
Wallace sipped from a glass of red wine. His eyes were hooded. In the little time Ash had known him, he understood the champion to be one of soaring highs and dark nadirs, a man as mercurial as the seas themselves. The adrenaline in his veins must have ebbed into post-battle melancholy.
"Was the battle to your satisfaction, friend?" Wallace asked softly.
Ash joined him at the window. Miniature barkeepers and waitresses began to hang brightly colored lanterns down below as shadow crowds roved the streets. He studied them, contemplating his next words.
"I would have enjoyed it more if you hadn't held back. I know you rarely use your Wailord, but still … feels like I walked off the battlefield without having really faced you."
Wallace lifted his head to blink at him. "Steven didn't tell you?"
Ash frowned. "Tell me what?"
"My Wailord is, ah…" Wallace cleared his throat. "A special Wailord. I don't use him in battle because it would make me a sorry excuse for a champion. He might be the strongest on my team but…he's been like that since I caught him. I can't rightly take credit for it."
"You're saying he became a champion-class fighter on his own?" Ash's mind whirled. Not just any pokemon knew how to train themselves well enough to fight in the same arena as Princess or Metagross. "Now I really wish I'd had the chance to battle this Wailord of yours."
Wallace shook his head, a half-smile tugging at his lips despite his efforts. "I can introduce you, but I still wouldn't recommend battling him. It tends to be anti-climatic." He laughed, self-conscious. "I don't even remember his full moveset anymore."
Ash grinned. "You know I'm not going to take no for an answer."
Wallace's nervous laughter went up in pitch.
/
Beyond the houses of Lilycove lay fields of hibiscus bushes with crimson blooms, and the glittering expanse of the Arisen Sea, now dotted with those slower, straggling fishing boats that were coming late to the harbor.
"Are you ready, Ash?" Wallace asked.
"Don't we need a proper battlefield?"
Wallace gestured to the sea. "This is a proper battlefield."
Ash gave Wallace an incredulous look. Would it be safe to battle with so many docks and ships around? Wasn't the crowd gathered to watch within the splash zone of Wailord's attacks?
He pushed his concerns aside since Wallace didn't seem to be worried and nodded to Oz, who was standing beside him. She'd been giving Wallace the evil eye all day, still bitter over her defeat by Wallace's Milotic.
What better way to help her blow off some steam?
The Electivire bared her fangs at Wallace. Ignoring the gesture, the champion threw his pokeball.
Wailord emerged with a splash. Dwarfing ocean liners, the barnacle-encrusted levithan blotted out the rising moon. His mere presence churned the sea. Waves frothed, growing with size as they built up momentum and crashed against the shore with a roar.
Everyone foolish enough not to flee was drenched, prompting gasps, shrieks, and yelling from the onlookers. Wailord hummed to the crowd with a deep melodious cry that seemingly pacified them.
Oz, who had defiantly stood her ground against the waves, glared at Wailord beneath drenched fur. Wailord met her scarlet eyes with his own and let out another haunting, yet soothing groan. She stumbled backwards, seemingly flustered by his melodious voice.
Wailord swam closer and gazed at her with soulful eyes. Oz's tense posture melted away and, longingly, she reached out a hand to him. Spellbound by his gaze, she purred with an affection Ash had never heard.
He frowned, perplexed by Oz's lovesick expression only to find himself even more confused by the adoring gaze of the crowd. The crowd fawned over Wailord with oohs and ahhs. Much like Oz, they seemed unable to tear their eyes from the Wailord as if they were under a spell. A man at the head of the crowd offered up a hastily-gathered bouquet of hibiscus flowers to Wailord.
Ash turned his gaze to Wailord in hopes of making sense of it all. His eyes widened as he felt a draw he hadn't experienced since Greenfield or Jirachi.
He couldn't look away. It was like Torrent against Clair's Kingdra. Just what the hell was this power on par with the pull of legends?
It can't be, a cold voice whispered from the back of Ash's mind. The Concept of Seduction made flesh.
Even as Ash broke into a dopey smile, some part of him understood. This Master of Attract, this flirtatious Wailord, could do more than defeat the legends – it could make a harem of them.
Entry 13:
Author: Dark_Warrior
Prompt: The Creature
All of Lance's pokemon attacked at once. Each fired a hyper beam from their mouth that bathed over the Creature in a wave of orange energy.
The Creature banished it with a swirl of his wrist. Each of Lance's pokemon barely seemed affected by the strain they had just put their bodies under, but all the attack had done was show that the Creature was practically invincible.
Those hyper beams would be enough to destroy almost anything – if it could block that, then nothing they could do would affect it.
Lance didn't give up, however. He whistled again, this time at a higher pitch, which caused his monstrously powerful pokemon to snap into action and begin their attack anew.
The ACE trainers did their best to support him, and Lorelei continued to blast the Creature with powerful ice and water-type spells over and over again to little effect.
The Creature stared at the pokemon in disgust, casually sending them hurtling into the ground one by one with a flick of its wrist.
Saph watched in horror as the Creature suddenly hurled Lance's second Dragonite to the ground at crushing force.
The brutality of the act and the worry of what was to come was what bothered him.
Lance was unable to hold onto Dragonite as the Creature assisted gravity's call.
Lance's body went flying into the air, helplessly grasping for something to keep him from splattering against the pavement below.
Saph launched herself through the air as fast as she could. Just a few seconds before his trainer could hit the ground, Saph appeared underneath his trainer and cooed in victory as the Champion was settled onto her,
But that turned into a cry of surprise when one of the tiny, bright blue beams of energy shot out from the Creature's armored hands and slammed into Saph's side, carving a large, neat hole through her long blue body.
The Champion was hard-faced and had returned Saph. There was no noticeable sorrow on his face, but his eyes shined with immeasurable sadness and fear.
He returned his pokemon before trying and began to limp and lead himself away from the Creature.
The Creature suddenly appeared in front of him, its armor menacing and dark in the sunlight.
"The Champion of Indigo," A deep, masculine voice echoed inside Lance's mind. He crushed his hands to his ears in a futile action to stop the horrific pain as the words ripped through his mind and split his brain in two.
"I had not expected the where are my manners? My name is Mewtwo and I don't think the confrontation was not expected for a long time. My partner believed that you and your Elite Four would be a proper test of my skills, Champion. He was right. This battle was amusing. It will be a shame that none of its participants save I shall be alive to remember it and where is the pathetic child Ash ketchum -i think was his dirty name. Where is the boy,I think i saw him faint after seeing me. How pathetic"
Lance was hardly conscious and barely listened to what the Creature said; his mind was somewhere else to a boy, to his favorite student. Only a single thought was roaming in his mind.
Ash Please be OK
"Enough of the chit-chat I expected better from you, Champion of Indigo, but you are as pathetic as everyone the next Champion will give me a challenge," it said darkly before his eyes suddenly glowed light blue.
Before the Creature crushed the Champion to the death, very big orange energy smashed into Mewtwo's back, sending him back a little.
Mewtwo's eyes pulsed in annoyance before he turned around and saw something which made both Mewtwo and Lance froze.
There was a beast pokemon at the height of a minimum of 40 feet, two wings on either end.
Is that a...Dragonite?
The mythical behemoth Pokemon let out an angry and almighty roar
Mewtwo looked at it squinty before suddenly spotting a small bird not so far from the Dragonite sitting was a very familiar boy
Did you summon the mighty and ferocious Creature to battle me Ash Ketchup?
With another growl, the behemoth hurled a burst of blue flamethrower that was yards wide, towards Mewtwo who had to hold his hands forward to stop the powerful attack from reaching towards him, as he began to use his power.
He quickly produced a big shadow ball and launched it to Dragonite, who just punched it, destroying it instantly making the whole ground shake.
Dragonite, unaffected by the situation, let out a roar before his tail glowed white and smashed into Mewtwo, sending it crawling into the ground.
However, Dragonite was far from done. He released a quick dragon pulse knocking Mewtwo a little back before snarling, generating an enormous thunder punch at incredible speed.
Mewtwo watched in horror as a thunder punch hit him, destroying his armor. Mewtwo tried to use his most potent Psychic on Dragonite, which was quickly shattered just by the roar of the behemoth.
At that point, Mewtwo knows that he cannot win before cursing
Damn you, Ash Ketchup
The physics seems to be the last straw for Dragonite as he launched the most significant Hyper Beam anyone has seen, knocking out Mewtwo and compelling him to teleport from this place.
Like everyone present there, Lance watched in awe as Dragonite gave an almighty roar before flapping his wings at unbelievable speed before flying into the air and disappearing into the sky within a few seconds.
Before Lance could comment, he fell due to exhaustion, and Ash, who suddenly appeared from behind him, held him and gave him support.
Ash watched with a smile as Lance sputtered a few seconds before asking a single question.
"Did you summon that dragonite?!"
"I have no idea what you are talking about" said Ash innocently before winking giving away the truth.
Entry 14:
Author: Ivanhoosier
Prompt: The Revenants
*Ivanhoe's entry earned second place in the competition!
Lavender was a rotting corpse, and the flowers it was named after could only mask the decrepit smell. Its old bones were weary and curse-ridden, even before the first settlers came from across Cerulean. Their ships and their mounts carried a dream as they sailed over, and came to an eternal rest, buried under the shadow of the Yuurei Cliffs, where the very land fed on their corpses and on their hopes and their dreams.
And thus Lavender consumed… and thus Lavender grew.
It was an ill-fated land, its tapestry writ rich with bitter hate and blood. So it was with no little joy that Junko Hashimoto turned her back on her ancestral estate and slipped away in the dead of the night.
Twenty years had passed since then. Twenty long years in which she had left her horrors behind as far as she could, going from settlement to settlement, never lingering long. Such a journey, unescorted by either a guard or a bonded beast, would have been exceedingly dangerous and ill-advised for anyone. But she was a Hashimoto in the end, and she commanded energies both within and without and felt no fear.
The Wandering Witch, they called her, but looked for her coming with joy, for she brought them peace and comfort. She could heal the injuries of Miltanks and other such benign beasts, and she knew the shedding spots of Lairons and Skarmorys even better than trained hunters. In times of drought, she could dowse where the creatures of water nested, so the villagers could build a well, and in times of death… she could hold seances to bring comfort to the living and the dead alike. She eventually amassed enough goodwill and good fortune that she eventually found a ship to bear her across the sea, to the distant Kyushu, where she began her wanderings again.
It was not a very glamorous existence, but she was content in her anonymity. The peace she brought others helped her sleep. Helped her clench her eyes tightly closed and await the dawn, whenever her dreams led her back to old Lavender.
She would be back in those dreary stone paved streets where each corner loomed threateningly, and all she could do was hold on tightly to who she was now. Remembering the smiles of the children as she taught them songs… or the gratitude of new mothers when she helped keep the newly-births safe… or even the simple joy of the farmers in having enough grain to fill their bellies… it helped keep the gnawing, yawning terror at bay.
Perhaps the nameless fear gorged itself on these pleasant morsels, and left her soul for another day. Hundreds of miles and a vast sea lay between her and that old wreck of land, and yet in her heart of hearts, she knew that she belonged there and would return there one day. That Lavender was content to wait till such a day came.
She would awake with a death's rattle, her clothes soaked in her sweat… and the dawn's soothing light would wash away that trepidation. As the sun rose, she would once again be Junko, the Wandering Witch. But inexorably, night would come, and she would be a Hashimoto again.
So great was the fear that laid siege to her soul, that she didn't realize the siege upon her little town below until the smoke of the fires reached her hut, high in the mountain.
Anger seethed in her breast as she walked amidst the desolation, kneeling to whisper names that the corpses had forgotten, and bid them to rise again. At her beseeching spell, their keening spirits wailed and returned, or perhaps it was mere echoes of their dying pain that answered Junko's command… but they knew her. They knew her in death as they had never known in life.
There was power in pain and there was power in blood. Lavender had taught her that. Amidst the smoldering ruins that was her peace, there was plenty of both to be found.
So she took it. The dying scream of Masuda as the Rapidash Rider cut him down. The hapless groan of despair of old Nuibaba, as the great beasts tore through her and her hut alike. The rage, the grief, the horror and the despair… so familiar to her, she took them all and gave them shape and form. To avenge Pyre, she birthed a new horror.
The sorcery came as second nature to her, and it was with frightening ease that she prepared herself for the Kuchiyose ritual. Her rage, her pain, her tears and her sorrow...she let it meld and become one with the other lingering echoes, and as she plunged the blade in her flesh, as one their voices chorused across the Underworld.
She knew the dangers of birth and rebirth. She knew this feast of aura would lure the true Ghosts. And she was determined to bind one to her. Her child of vengeance.
Distortion bled, and it was like a gash rent on the very world, as red as the one on her body. Even as her breath came in ragged gasps, she bared her bloody teeth in triumph and continued to weave the spell. Her wounds wept crimson and she bled grief, and she used them both aplenty.
Her sorrow hung thick on the morning gloom of the mountain, and in its twisting inky shadows, was a Smile.
Then it fell upon her, and after a moment's struggle, she ceased to be. The shell of her flesh was naught but a marionette for the being she had torn from the depths of Avīci. Junkohime was no more.
It wasn't until solemn priests from Lavender found this wound in the world, and chained away the accursed hate it spewed, that it was given a name. In a cruel mockery of its progenitor, they named it Ju-Petto. A Cursed Puppet. The first of many.
And so Lavender consumed...and so Lavender grew.
Note: Ivan submitted a few notes for his story. The judges and I assessed the entry purely on the entry's own merit, but I do think that the detail and care shown in the notes only deepen the appreciation for this entry.
I was getting sleepy, so forgot to drop in the extra notes. Junko was working as an Ogami after she left behind Lavender, and used her clan's gifts to better communicate with pokemon, commune with lingering echoes of aura in a seance, and used her knowledge of body...human and pokemon alike, to treat common injuries and act as a midwife.
Kyushu of course is Hoenn, and she finally settled in the foothills of Mt Pyre, her own cottage away from town, so she could come and go as she pleased.
Her name is bit of a double edged thing. Junko means "Pure" , but "Ju" itself can be read as Curse. So at the end of the story, Ju-nko becomes Ju-petto.
The lingering echoes of grief and sorrow and rage are the Shuppets, that she coalesced into a tool for her revenge. Mt Pyre is where you encounter shuppets in-game, so left that as an easter egg of sorts.
The end ofc is that the Hashimotos followed the scars and "brands" that Primeval Banette left on the world, and subdued the creature.
But instead of erasing this evil, they ...zipped...it up, chained away its cursed energies and malevolent power...and then learned how to create such beasts in a more controlled fashion.
And that's how Banettes came to be.
Entry 15:
Author: Farteous
Prompt: Bruiser Learns to Juggle
Today's arena was a deep, rocky valley, barely more than a ravine, really, largely protected from the winds and snow squalls plaguing Mt Silver lately. Will picked his way through the rubble towards the exhausted combatants, recalling Bronzong as he drew near. His opponent, perhaps the largest Machoke he'd ever seen, relaxed from his combat stance and visibly calmed himself. A momentary blink, a deep breath-perhaps a meditation exercise from Bruno?
"A fine display! I'd expected Gravity to catch you off guard, but I suppose Steven and Metagross have already introduced you to the technique."
Bruiser simply grunted, staring at the devastation left by just a few stray Focus Blasts.
A small rock, lightly tossed, brought his attention back to Will.
"Ah, see, one doesn't need psychic powers to be aware of their surroundings. But I see you're hardly interested in simple tricks just now. In fact, you bring us to the very topic I'd like us to work on today. Here, you'll need these as well!"
Two more fist-sized rocks landed at Bruiser's feet.
"Now as I said, no simple tricks, but I think you'll find juggling is anything but simple. In fact, mastery is the study of a lifetime, just as in all other pursuits. Today, we begin with the basics, and a lesson that will serve you long and well."
Taking a stone of his own, Will began tossing it a short way straight up, and catching it with the other hand, starting a slow rhythm.
"Juggling is all about finesse: each item you toss must have intent behind it, to land in your waiting hand, in the proper time, ready to continue the pattern. Without that control, the performer wastes their focus correcting their mistakes, when they should instead be watching the audience."
At the final word, Will redirected his throw towards Bruiser again, breaking the thoughtful expression that had been developing there.
"Enough theory: Begin!"
The first stone traced a perfect arc, but was crushed to gravel on landing by a small twitch of Bruiser's fingers.
The second, gripped too gently, was fumbled to the ground.
Another attempt started well, but quickly that stone is lost too. Propelled with a little too much force, it land a pace away.
Bruiser closed his eyes a moment, gathered his focus, and-
"Hold!"
Bruiser started at the outburst, the first raised word of the afternoon.
"Bruno has much to teach all of us, particularly those who share his strengths. However, I'll not have you drifting off into a meditation exercise between throws! You must master yourself in the moment!"
Will took a deep breath, and a short step back, as Bruiser bent to pick up another stone.
"Surely you're aware of the pattern, when you battle an equal. As the fight progresses, you slip deeper and deeper into your Rampage, trading iron control for the strength to overcome your opponents. Our spars highlight certain improvements you've achieved, in reducing your need to Rampage, but when pressed, you rarely choose anything but that desperate, heedless strength. That being so, you must learn to act with precision, to strike only as you intend when your full strength has been unleashed."
An hour later, surrounded by dozens of crushed pebbles, Bruiser had mastered a gentler touch, and could keep two stones in going, but every attempt to add a third ended in disappointment. Will, effortlessly juggling two rocks and his cane, allowed the rocks to clatter to the ground and began gesturing with his cane.
"The pattern will come to you with practice; the arc is different, depending on which hand is next to throw, I find that as a ball falls to about this height you must throw the next. Frankly, I had had more experience of Machamp than Machoke, I had expected you to have an easier time moving your hands independently. Perhaps it is a knack which comes with evolution? Unfortunately, time is short, and before we return to the Plateau there I have one more twist to add. Rampage."
With that challenge, the cane tapped Bruiser's chest. His face, however, showed a measure of confusion. Will chuckled.
"Yes, I have been somewhat critical of the technique, but it is the direction you and Ash have chosen. But… the way you look at the aftermath of a battle? I know it. I've worn that look a few times myself, since Greenfield. So my challenge to you is thus: Can you keep the skill you've won this afternoon as you give in to the rage of battle? Can you enter that state with the stones in the air, in motion, without allowing them to fall? Show me that you can master yourself, that you will not be betrayed by your own strength! Show yourself the same."
With a determined glint in his eyes, Bruiser scooped up another pair of stones. The first toss went...somewhat higher than previous attempts, and as it landed, the veins of his arms began to stand out. The second stone launched in turn, going higher still, but arced perfectly towards the waiting hand where-
crack!
It split down the middle. Without hesitation, Bruiser flicked one half back into the air. Then, as his muscles bulged with the growing rampage, he changed threw the second and the third stones, finally getting the timing right. With a growing grin, he held the pattern for a dozen heartbeats, before allowing the stones to come to rest.
With a radiant smile, Will clapped him on the shoulder and whisked them both away.
Some days later, Will stands in another valley, wider, with a small stream. Before him, Torrent rips walls of water from the narrow channel, before allowing them to fall back into the flow.
"Ah, excellent, I'd hoped to find you alone! I have come up with certain simple exercises which might benefit you in the refinement of your latest techniques. In particular, I offer a study in finesse. Begin, please, by forming three small orbs of water...
