The Warden and The Lord

A spark! A whisper,
In the Pig of Old Town,
It rises, a chanting,
Through streets up and down!
Spreading like wildfire,
What excitement it fuelled!
Mage Fight! Mage Fight!
A Grand Wizard’s duel!
In the Valley of Heroes,
The crowd came to spy,
These wizened Archmages,
Quite alike to the eye,
Both human, long bearded ,
With their scores to settle,
This night these arcanists
Would soon test their mettle,


With claws a-bristling,
With magic and more,
A lord oh so proud,
Of his Keep Acrenor.
Beneath a dark hood
With a glare filled with frost.
A sinister minister,
Archmage Almadros!
Facing him stood,
A rival of old,
Whose powers once warded,
The great Violet Hold.
For one hundred and ninety,
He looked rather fine,
Yet fiercely defiant,
This Archmage Serentyne...

The Terms were laid bare,
The prize it was named,
The blade Manarend,
Enchanted and famed,
Entrusted to one this
Tale-teller knows not
(T’was no business of his,
What gave you that thought?)
Thus Warden and Lord
Exchanged quips and rules,
Prepared to exhibit
Their mast’ry of schools,
As fingers were flexed,
All attention grew,
A hush fell around as
Spectators withdrew,

A shine! A gleam!
The air was aflame,
With spine-tingling static,
Of crackling arcane!
The stony faced Lord,
Conjured first – en garde!
To bombard his foe,
With his shimmering shards,
Behind wat’ry shield,
That was held up one-handed,
‘Gainst volley through volley,
The Warden still standed,
With a sneer and a thrust,
Arced one deadly bolt,
Through fluid it flowed,
And struck with a jolt!

Searing his cheek,
The Warden recoiled,
To reveal hidden charms,
With free hand unspoiled!
Three airborne inscriptions
Flickered behind back,
The first had impeded
The Lord in his tracks!
The second it quickened
The Warden’s own pace,
He flew at the Lord
In a whirlwind of grace!
With the third he was armed,
With icicle pole arm
Yet with a blink and flash,
The Lord was safe from harm!


With a step and a twirl
The Warden did dance,
He turned to the Lord
And flung forth his lance!
Yet the readied Evoker
With missiles to fly
Slung salvos of magic
To halt cold yari!
Like fireworks between,
Both forces collided,
So evenly matched
These powers subsided,
The Warden leapt forth,
Hov’ring blades by his side
With a flick of a finger,
A blast swept them aside!

Eyes fiercely ablaze,
The Lord made a clenched fist,
Oh constricting constructions,
A cage did exist!
Though with smiles and a wink,
The ensnared Abjurer
Burst bubble with bubble
And befuddled the viewer.
But the Lord was unfinished,
And would not be denied,
And with sly illusions,
he soon multiplied!
With a banishing wind,
The real Lord he would find
The crowd screamed out –
He was right behind!


With no time to turn,
He made one more shield
That nullified casting?
An anti-magic field!
But in the case of old men,
When their magic fails
The one with the weapon, with
Brute force will prevail
Wand dropped for a sword,
And the other with stave
The Lord struck foe with latter,
While blade both did crave
As one can imagine,
A slap-fight ‘tween men frail,
Is not really much
Of a “magical” tale,



(While quite entertaining and
Amusing it’s true
I hope you’ll forgive me if
I skip along through...)

And so at the end
Of this pathetic brawl
With closed fist and a smite,
The Lord was made to crawl!
His shroud flew askew,
Exposing  a grey mane
He snarled like a lion,
Grimacing in pain
A hand clutched his robes,
Drew a glint! Then a flash!
Alike to his glare these
Knives flew up to slash!
Though merely a diversion,
To make the field unfold,
He clutched at thin air,
At foe in stranglehold!


The Warden seemed helpless,
Silenced to a gasp.
As the Lord commanded
With crippling grasp,
“Yield you old fool!
Are you not so wise?
I can be gracious,
and postpone your demise!”
Defiant with last breath,
The Warden incanted
A single small bolt towards
The wand unwanted.
The Lord with a cry,
Hastily evaded,
The resultant explosion,
And blaze that cascaded!

His shackles undone,
The Warden drew his wand
With one tidal wave an
Elemental spawned!
To engage with this spirit,
A second appeared,
One of pure arcane,
One that he also steered.
With violent charge,
These new titans clashed
Roaring and screeching
Their forms wildly thrashed!
Meanwhile their masters
Continued to pour,
With rain upon rain,
They cast-all-the-more!

Determined to end this
And with robes a pyre,
The Warden he stormed
Through arcane hellfire!
With his final strength,
And with powerful spike
He laid the Lord low
With a ward-shattering strike!
“Enough is enough!
Surely you can see?
Do you submit?”
His one final plea.
Yet the reply it would seem,
All options to sever,
“By my family name,
I answer thee – Never!”

The wizard still standing,
Hung his head with a sigh,
‘Fore raising his voice,
With one last wearied cry;
“I would rather surrender
To thee on this field,”
Then submit to my anger.
And so, I will yield.”
At this declaration,
The mob was struck silent,
Then a thunderous roar,
A clamour so strident!
The healers came running,
Over cheers from the stands,
While others hung cursing,
As gold exchanged hands,

Burning and aching,
Bloodied and staggered,
Both Archmages were aided,
Strength waning and haggard,
They parted both ways,
The Lord to his tower
And other to town,
Where both would recover.
Some say they fought to
Take rival’s domain,
To defend a friend’s honour,
Or for innocents slain,
Regardless of reason,
And whatever dispute
There’s one simple fact,
One cannot refute;


For us mundane  folk
It’s a special occasion
As a Wizard’s Duel is sure
To cause a sensation.
So should you be lucky,
To spot them in the fray
Let everyone know,
And see the display!
Was that all? But what then?
Yes I hear you my friend,
Although this is far from
This chronicle‘s end.
Both Archmages still live, yet
To meet some accord,
But for now, ends the tale,

Of The Warden and Lord.