â€œYeah, it protects me from all magical attacks.â€ Malcolm said proudly, fiddling with the pendant hanging from his neck. He was one of the only other wizards in the school. A summoner, meaning he couldn't see the threads of magic, but had been trained to manipulate them, nonetheless. He was learning fast, too. For some reason, that made Mordoe proud. That made<span style="font-style: italic">some</span>sense, after all, they were friends, but the school was also rather competitive.<br/><br/>â€œAll magic attacks?â€ Mordoe asked, curiously.<br/><br/>â€œYeah, I tested it out with my bro, when I got it. It blocked the Incaree Firespell no problem.â€ He seemed really excited.<br/><br/>â€œAnd it's always active when you're wearing it?â€<br/><br/>â€œYeah, whene--â€ Malcolm stopped short as a small fireball slammed into his chest, leaving a small puff of smoke where it had hit, but no other sign of the attack.<br/><br/>â€œYou're right!â€ Mordoe said cheerfully. He was getting really quick weaving small Firespells. Malcolm hadn't even caught him doing it. â€œIt stopped it dead, no problem.â€<br/><br/>Malcolm just glared at him for a few moments before rolling his eyes and saying, â€œNot quite. It ricocheted and killed the cleaning gnome.â€ They both turned their head at once to look at the gnome laying in the doorway with a small, smoldering hole in its chest. Then burst out laughing together. They both loved that sort of over-dramatic clichÃ© far too much and would often go far out of their way to set them up. Anyways, this wasn't the first time a cleaning gnome had died in the House of Darkness. Nobody ever talked to them, so they weren't missed. That, and they were conveniently fireplace-sized. That helped too.<br/><br/>Once all the merriment died down, Mordoe walked over to the gnome and rubbed the fingertips of one hand down its body. Malcolm couldn't see what this did, but he knew what Mordoe was doing. When something died, it's Life threads floated to the surface. Left alone, they would soon float away, back into the environment. Mordoe wasn't about to let such a valuable resource get away that easy. He collected all the strands and wove them into his bracelet. The bracelet, to the untrained eye, looked like any normal braided leather band, but a Weaver would see it immediately as a Trap bristling with all the Life threads Mordoe had gathered.<br/><br/>â€œThat was only a Incaroe Firespell.â€ He said, standing up.<br/><br/>â€œI know what an Incaroe looks like, Mordoe. Even if you don't have to say the spell to cast it.â€ the young summoner fired back at him in a bothered tone.<br/><br/>â€œWell then, what about the First Inglip Firespell?â€ Mordoe grinned at him. Malcolm only sputtered in return. He was a smart kid, which was why Mordoe liked him, and he knew what was coming. Sadly, he could do nothing about it. Mordoe was already halfway through the weave. As he tied a knot of Fire and Air his fingertips began to glow and small flames flickered in the air around his hands.<br/><br/>â€œW-wait a second now, Mordoe.â€ Malcolm stuttered, backing away. â€œIs it really a smart idea to be doing that indoors?â€<br/><br/>Mordoe ignored the protest; he just finished the weave and said, â€œIf I knock you down...â€ he paused, â€œ...and you can get back up. You have to deal with the body.â€