Crashing to the earth they came, emerald warrior clearly the worse for the battle. To the ground, he came to rest at my feet.
But not finished. Ring, his source of power, leapt from finger, scanning the crowd for worthy recipients. Pausing, then flying toward me.
Then past me, to a woman on my left. She seized it and, glowing with power, rose to face the yellow warrior floating above our heads.
I was hurt not to be chosen, but I couldn’t fault the ring it’s choice.
A nigh-infinitely powerful weapon fuelled by willpower? I can’t even quit smoking…
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
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