Warhammer Fantasy Winds Of Magic Novels & Stories

I only really know what’s happened when I see one of the Ravagers collapse to the ground, his head partially caved in and covered with blood. I look over at Milo. He’s searching the ground for more stones. Stones—projectiles—are Milo’s strength when it comes to combat magic. But I’ve got different strengths. I draw a breath, close my eyes, and call on the air around me, whipping it into a fierce wind. I force it out away from me, away from Wilder and Milo, toward the pile of Ravagers. I squint my eyes open. They’re skidding back slightly, their grip on Cassian loosening, but it isn’t enough.

The wind was howling, and the sparkler in her hand lit up her gentle profile. In the background, Archie's voice carried a playful tone. "Sienna, make a wish." Sienna smiled as she blew out the sparks. Her gaze almost melted the camera as she said, "My wish is for every year to be like today, with Archie by my side." A cold chill ran through me. With Archie by her side? What about me? Was I just a joke to her? My gaze drifted, stiff and robotic, back to the photo of the hands clasped inside the car.

I find out that the wind magicians’ names are Elroy, Ami, and Nadif. They all came from Owusu and are trained in combat. However, it’s wind magic that they came to love due to its convenience for navigation. They are all fun-loving people. In fact, once the sun sets, they request me to return to my room, because they want to relax by drinking with Klevon. So, sweaty and tired, I ask a passing maid for a bath inside the room I share with Theo, but she says that it's already done and waiting for me. And that doesn’t bode well for me.

He turned to the others and shouted as loud as he could, "everybody, hold on to something!" he stomped the ceramic tiling and tightened the tendons in his arms, screaming at the top of his lungs he had no intentions of masking his effort. It took a moment before the floor begun overturning, lifting the floor of the building up and tilting the room towards the doors. He had a form of Earth magic where he could manipulate the physical structure of something without breaking its integrity. The humongous table begun sliding towards the doors, smashing through whatever was on its way, the undead knights were still at the entrance so they had nowhere to hide. The heavy steel banquet table rammed i

Within seconds, it started storming in a ball of energy right above my open palm. The oohs and aahs from behind the table picked up just as the wind had when I’d created the storm. A few of the council members were whispering to one another, but I couldn’t hear what they were saying. Not only was it loud because of my storm, they had their hands up and might’ve been speaking another language, French or something I didn’t understand. “You may extinguish the storm, Miss Nightingale,” Mage Jaye said. I did as she asked. “Interesting.”

Judging by the aura he sensed, it is Ezekeil fighting the other enemy. "Sacred art wind magic; zypherious wings of dragon" he heard Ezekeil chants his magic. By saying so, a silvery hue light that formed like a dragon wings appeared on the atmosphere in a range of six feet. The dragon wings flapped vigorously as its let out a very powerful thrust of sharpest wind. Those wind struck Ezekeil enemy as his enemy's flesh pulverizes to dust. Because of this, it couldn't regenerate back. Ezekeil defeated his opponent.

I draw fiery fumes into my chest; nothing can keep me from destroying Absalon. The sky darkens as my rage turns feral. My pulse screams in my ears as I harness my strength into dangerous magic. The wind whirls at my command, kicking up a tornado of sand and stones. I curl my fingers, and shards of tree barks come flying. I make a weapon of everything in my way, and with my dominant hand outstretched, I send them hurling at Absalon. They all obey, and I watch shock cross the sorcerer's face as the stormy gale rushes for him.

Maybe the number of the dragon that could fly was surprisingly lower than what they expected because they could only see not more than nine flying up to meet the leader of the sky. Hashim and the magicians used the sound of the wind magic to ascend to the sky with their own fashion of wand in their hands. “Hashim, the tower master. The once arrogant magician.” “That’s what I used to be.” Hashim marched forward with one hand at his back while the other hand gripped the massive cane which was also his own version of the wand. The wind gripped his body and brought him to where he wanted to. “I was young, none the wiser. We can agree that the young are often making the wrong decision. Again and

I explained, my gaze sweeping over their eager faces, "is the bedrock of all magic. It's the foundation upon which every spell is built. By modifying it and adding your unique touch, you can shape it to cast any magic you desire. That is the true essence of magic." The air crackled with anticipation, a palpable tension that hung heavy as the monsters surged forward. Their leader, a hulking monstrosity with eyes burning like molten gold, roared a challenge and charged, a tide of claws and fangs engulfing our small group in an instant. "God of Wind," I intoned, my voice a steady beacon amidst the chaos, "grant upon me the might of the impervious winds."