Word: Impervious

impervious

[im-pur-vee-uhs] / ɪmˈpɜr vi əs /

adjective

1. not permitting penetration or passage; impenetrable.

   The coat is impervious to rain.

2. incapable of being injured or impaired.

   impervious to wear and tear.

3. incapable of being influenced, persuaded, or affected.

   impervious to reason; impervious to another's suffering.

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                The wall was a towering structure. Thirty feet tall and half as thick, and perfectly solid. No bricks, no mortar. The wall looked like it had been grown out of the ground instead of built. It was thanks to the many earth mages that had been employed in making the stones merge together around the thick metal core. It was also impressively sized in circumference. It had to enclose an area of land five miles across, well beyond what was needed for the town it enclosed. To give the place room to grow into a proper city was the reason given.

                It looked strong enough to last a thousand years, even without Miles doing anything to it. The problem was that the man in charge of the city wanted it to last longer than the sun. Miles was not sure he could do that.

                “Are you really sure you want me to do this? There are lots of better enchanters out there.” He asked.

                “And none of them are here. You are.” The city lord, Leon Hempwood, said. He was a towering man that looked almost as solid as the wall itself. “But even if they were, I would still put my hopes in you, Miles. I’ve seen your work. Your method is unique and has potential beyond anything I’ve ever seen. That’s why I want you to be the one to make this wall last longer than anyone living in its shadow.”

                The young enchanter was not sure if his city lord was serious or not. But he also knew better than to question the words of a man who could probably kill him by breathing too hard. Miles looked at the words he had written on the wall. The outline of his method of enchanting. Literary Enchanter was an odd class, but he thought it was decent.

                “But shouldn’t I have more time to practice? I mean, I’ve only ever done this with paper. I barely even know how to hold the chisel.”

                “You’ve been practicing stone masonry for two months. I’d say your stonework skill is at least Journeyman rank. That’s more than enough. Besides, we’ve set out so many skill boosters, mana recovery arrays and focus enhancers that even an apprentice could do the job as well as a master.” Leon said.

He waved his arm around. Just as he said, the area was littered with magical boosters that would likely give him the skills of a grandmaster Enchanter and Stonemason. If only for a few hours. And that was even before the additional materials that would be used the seal his work permanently.

“But I—“Miles tried to protest.

“No buts.” Leon said. “You can do this. Everyone that worked on this project believes it. Everyone here knows it. Now get up there and show the world what you can do.”

Miles swallowed a lump in his throat. He looked up at the words again.

This wall shall never fall.

No beast or man shall break it.

The stone shall be as a thing alive,

Any breaks that should be caused shall be healed, stronger than before.

Any that should break it should beware,

For the wall shall bring its wrath and vengeance upon those who do.

And then shall it be repaired, stronger than ever before.

Those who guard this wall shall share in its impervious might.

Those who are protected by it shall take comfort in its presence.

For this wall shall never fall.

Was it the best piece of writing out there? No. Absolutely not. Maybe if he was better at his job, Miles would have been able to make it better. Turn it into a real poem, or even a full story. But it was the best he could come up with after weeks of agonizing writing and re-writing. Maybe once he was more experienced, he could come back and make it better. But for now, he just had to do his job.

 He climbed up on the ladder, up to the first letter. Magical lights filled the area, and Miles felt his skills and magical power practically overflow. He knew exactly what to do. How to hold and use his tools to bring out the most in his work. How to fill each letter with his intent and mana to make the words real. He knew what was needed of him.

Miles set chisel to stone and got to work.

 

Word: Trice

trice 

[trahys] / traɪs /

noun

1. a very short time; an instant.

   in a trice.

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                Victor looked on in confusion as his opponent entered the arena. He barely heard the crowd’s reaction, but he knew they were mixed. Several people were excited to see him win. Others wanted his opponent to be victorious. Others had several more colorful calls about the person.

                That was because his opponent today was something that was almost never seen in the arena. A woman. She was quite the beauty, and seemed to have a fine figure, which was what got the men in the crowds so riled up. He heard several people calling for him to remove various articles of clothing from her during the battle. Victor pointedly ignored them. At the very least, her outfit was fully covering and seemed reasonably well suited to the battlefield. Not as good as armor, but better than nothing.

                Although she dressed decently, Victor still felt unsure of himself facing such a person. He was twice her size, wore good armor, and had a sword. She did not even have a weapon. Perhaps a martial artist? But they rarely did well in the arena. Well, he would find out soon.

                The two fighters got to their starting spots, around twenty strides away. Close enough to easily close, while being far enough that ranged fighters had a chance. Victor held his sword at the ready. The woman stood relaxed and without any hint of a fighting stance. Was she throwing the match? Maybe hoping to use her looks to sway him into giving up?

                The fight began at the signal from the noble’s box. Victor blinked. When he opened his eyes, she was there. Right in front of him. How had she closed the distance so quickly? He barely had the time to form the thought when her arm blurred. In an instant, he felt dozens of impacts striking his chest all at once. And these were not light jabs. Each one felt like the blow of a war hammer.

                 His armor was practically caved in as his body was launched back from the force of her attacks. Before he even hit the ground, she vanished and reappeared behind him. He had no way of defending from the onslaught that struck him. The attacks came all in a single instant and struck harder than they had any right to. His body buckled and changed direction from the power of her attacks.

                He could practically feel his bones bending in ways they should not at the heavy blows and sudden change. He had no idea what was happening to his organs, but whatever it was could not be good. And that was on top of his badly damaged armor pressing painfully into his chest, right on top of where she had hit him.

                This time the woman let him hit the ground, knocking out what little air was left in his lungs. He lay there, groaning in pain. Then he felt her hand close against his ankle. Her grip was tighter than a vice, and he felt the small bones start to bend under the force of her grip. Then she threw him.

                Victor may as well have been hollow. He tumbled and flipped through the air. A small part of him wondered if he was going to hit the far wall of the arena. That part was silenced when she appeared in front of him. This time, she delivered only a single punch. A punch that might as well have come from a giant.

                This time he did slam into the wall of the arena. A wall that would have taken even a fast runner a full minute to reach, he did in an instant. And he was buried in the hard stone, unable to move. And that was even had his body been able to do anything other than feel pain.

                His vision started to go dark. The last thing he saw was the woman waving to the crowd as she celebrated a victory that took less than ten seconds. His mind could only wonder how she had done it as his consciousness finally left him.  

Word: Loll

loll

American  

[lol] / lɒl /

verb (used without object)

1. to recline or lean in a relaxed, lazy, or indolent manner; lounge.

   to loll on a sofa.

2. to hang loosely; droop; dangle.

   The dog stood in the heat with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

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                Sally was cursed. Trapped in the form of an animal with her human mind intact. The old woman, who was apparently a genuine witch, had told her it was to teach her a lesson in diligence or something. Sally really did not care about that. The witch had, after all, made one very critical error.

                She made Sally’s animal “prison” a house cat.

                A lovely calico, to be exact. Sally had started her feline life on the street, but it had taken her all of a day to find a human family willing to care for her. Which meant Sally was now living her dream life. No responsibilities. No worrying about her next meal. Warm, comfy places to sleep. All she had to do was loll around and be cute, and everything was provided. Sally had been good at being cute as a human. Now that she was a cat? She was damn near irresistible.

                She had all the advantages of being a cat, with the understanding of a human. Case in point, when she scratched, she knew to avoid the furniture. Her humans loved that. It led to all kinds of praise and adoration. All from simply using a scratching post instead of the couch. It was perfect.

                And then there was the little girl. That kid was adorable. And so creative when it came to the world of fashion. Sally had been something on an amateur fashionista as a human. The kid loved to make little cat outfits for her. Sally was all too eager to indulge the girl’s creativity in that regard. After all, with a bit of encouragement, she could become a top-quality fashion designer one day. Today was adorable pet clothes made out of whatever she could find. Tomorrow could be the big runways.  

                And all Sally had to do was be there. Just lay around and purr when getting her chin rubbed. Which, by the way, felt absolutely divine. She did have to occasionally pretend to be dumber than she was, which was a pain. After all, if the humans thought she might be more than a mere cat, they might try and find out what was really going on. And if they somehow figured that out—as unlikely as it was—they might try and change her back. And Sally was enjoying her new life way too much to let that happen.

                The only bad part was the somewhat embarrassing name they gave her. Sally knew she wasn’t going to get her human name, but did they really have to call her Clawdia? She hated that name even when it was spelled in the normal, human way. She had nearly cringed when she saw how they spelled it. And once she saw it, she could not unsee it. At least being a cat gave her an excuse to not respond to the unfortunate moniker.

                Other than that, life as a cat was looking pretty good. Sure she was supposed to be learning some kind of lesson about some virtue or something, but why do that when there was a perfectly good sunbeam to lay in?