In the the middle of a clearing in the woods, a man slept. The morning sun shone through the canopy and illuminated his sharp features. He appeared young-perhaps his late 20’s- and his distinctive fiery red hair glowed underneath the light.
“..nnn..” He grunted in his sleep and rolled over on his side, his face scrunched up in anguish. Briant stop! You don’t know what your doing! Voices echoed in his head. He dreamt of the past, voices he could not forget no matter how much time passed, screamed at him and disturbed his slumber. That’s Sarah! What are you doing?! Wait, NO-
“Arhhg!!!” He leapt from the ground and a silver sword flashed out of thin air, dispersing the air in front of him and cleaving through several nearby trees. “Hahh, hahh…” He panted and looked around, relieved to find himself safe in the forest. He smiled bitterly. “...dammit, Diana would laugh at me if she saw me like this…” He remembered that time, the time he lost everything. When all was lost, and he thought himself dead, he activated his unique magic to the fullest in a last ditch effort to escape, and ended up in a far off land he had thought to be destroyed...
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He silently cursed his weakness as he held up his hand to examine the blade he held. It was a slim short sword with a slight curve and intricate decoration. It’s shiny surface lightly glowed blue and was unmarred by scratches or chips despite the force it just exerted. The hand guard which extended only on the side of his fingers was engraved with a symbol of a Griffon.
“...What a blunder, what did those trees ever do to me?” He gave a light laugh in order to shake off the heavy thoughts that pervaded him in his sleep. “Tuaris” he chanted, and the world was altered to his will. The water in the air instantly condensed and freezed into a circular sheet of ice. He quickly checked his appearance in the mirror of ice and wiped off the sweat he had shed during his dream before dispersed it into the air once more with a wave of his hand.
“The Rozen, martial tournament should be starting this afternoon, better be on my way” he mused to himself with a grin as he started for the sword he had left on the ground. The instant he touched it, it vanished into thin air.
“Alright!” He fired himself up and charged through the trees. This was a second chance, a miraculous reprieve he couldn't produce twice, a chance to make things right. He, James Everand, set out on his mission once more.