Aaralon decided to take his chances and placed his hand on the snow filled globe. At once his vision blurred and was replaced by a snowy landscape as far as his eyes could reach. Sareth haunting voice echoed in his mind, "Interesting choice, boy," before cold wind started to howl through the air. There was truly nothing in this place, and Aaralon started to doubt his choice.
There was no choice but to start moving forward. He had to conjure a miniature fireball for the warmth it gave or risk freezing to death in this sub-zero temperature. Aaralon had to find something that would convince Sareth to allow him back into the college, be it a magical artifact or some way to learn powerful magic spells. By the looks of things, he would sooner die in this place than get anywhere near his goal.
After what seemed like hours in this hell, Aaralon's eyes picked up on a movement in the horizon. Both hopeful and cautious, he approached it. When he realized what he was seeing, he literally laughed out loud in the implausibility of the scenario. There was a group of buxom, fur clad warrior women, exactly like he envisioned before choosing to come here. He decided to approach them.
"Greetings, ladies. I am the mage Aaralon, sent here on a mission," he said loudly, putting together a story in his head. He couldn't well tell them he was banished for calling demons.
"Greetings, mage. You seem ill equipped for this place, would you not like to join us for food and drink at our village?" proposed the nearest woman. Buxom, fur clad, AND welcoming. He could be a prophet with this kind of accuracy with his predictions. |