Familiar breeds contempt

[Frygyd]

With each defeat the whispers had grown louder, bolder, echoing in her mind with the unforgiving clanging resonance of hammer on anvil. 'Fail' they said victoriously in a multitude of whispers interspersed with maddening cackles and sibilent jeers and 'Fail again' they crowed with glee.  They had much to celebrate this night. Faeriel had led the raiding party into the bowels of Ice Crown Citadel and as always Frya attended with her magicks.  'Ice magicks. Weak magicks' the voices taunted.  Festergut stood implacable as a looming mountain.  The construct had thrown back each of their attempts to lay him low in order to gain access to its master Professor Putricide but the giant had merely laughed off their feeble attempts.  The whispers laughed all the louder and Frya could barely see any longer through the red veil of rage that had been broiling up inside her to blind her keen green gaze.  Hands clenched white knuckled in fury she threw her hands out from her body viciously with each summoned frostbolt as if the physical act itself would empower the cold magicks with the murderous force of the rage thrashing within her.  Alas it did not.  Nor were the frostfire bolts so imbued when they were hurled savagely from the mage with a bitter vehemence.

It took a very long and wearying time for the fight to be won.  Finally Festergut was defeated.

'The hunter did so well ...' began a whisper, 'The rogue was the favorite ...' another discussed with veiled amusement, 'Is the hunter a troll?' queried a tittering whisper, 'I believe that it is.' chided yet another, 'A troll beating an elf ...' bemused one voice, '... is so very delicious ...' continued yet another giggling whisper.

"No." she said though her companions would not have noticed her speaking through gritted teeth as they divied up the spoils of battle.

In the confusion of the fighting the water elemental had strayed far and with its pulsing gait slowly began to return from across the room.  Its comforting gurgling presence could not be heard. 'Pathetic weak thing.' she thought. Or so she would be led to believe.  With an angry wave of her hand and a solid clenching of her dainty fist the water elemental dispersed in a whimpering spray of mist.  What good was it anyway?  She rationalized with barely a thought to her actions. I do not need it.

Raising her staff high above her head Frya called on the arcane magicks, setting her practiced mind with the mystic patterns stamped upon it to hold the raw essence of arcane.  Waiting. The process was second nature much like turning a page and once the forms were set the coursing stream of arcane energy filled her chilled body like a long awaited lover.  Her body arched as it fought to contain the power. It had been weeks but seemed like an eternity. Slowly her teeth unclenched.  A wave of green cracklings swept over her body, blanketing, encompassing.  Fingertips twitching from the after shock of the sensation she gasped before a relieved sigh escaped her trembling lips.  She had forgotten how very good it felt.

Green eyes glittering with the contained magicks she barely discerned whether the thought was her own, 'Let us see what happens now ..."