9 Summer 512 Streets. Full of people, none of which mattered to Clyde. He moved along through the city of Ravok, not that long after midday, the sun high in the sky, and him as always busy. Busy busy busy. His staff tapping as he walked, each time it hit the ground of the street. He barely gave a passing glance to anyone, since most were of no importance to him. A bunch of mindless mundane beings, of no consequence, driving on day after day, whiling away their time till death... Not Clyde. He knew the value of his time, and did not waste it...Knew it was of more value than these peoples, who ended a day with little more to show for it, than they started... Not Clyde... He took every day, and did his best to spend it well... Training... Learning... Honing his skills... Becoming an ever more powerful mage, ever stronger, and more valuable. He smiled to himself, taking a moment to glance at one, one of the rabble... In a hurry, like their time mattered or was of value... These things had been ever more present in his mind lately... The fact of his superiority... The fact of their inferiority... These realizations had become ever more obvious... Of course, he knew this was true. He was in fact more valuable than them... Better than them... Not that he would tell them that... He knew enough not to mention it to others... To hide such thoughts to himself... To him it was another sign of his keen intellect, and his might... Surely not that his mind was slowly being changed over the years and time of his magic usage... Surely not that he was learning coping mechanisms to hide his thought process, or his mental changes... No, for that would mean he was deficient, or that the thoughts were not true. Since they were true, it simply meant he was that much more clever... That much more intelligent, and useful, and powerful... Such thoughts as these, and others, mulled through his mind, as he walked along deep in thought, not paying the best attention to were he was going, his staff tapping along with him every few steps... Tap... Tap... Tap... Letting the rabble clear out of his way, not to concerned for any but perhaps the Stryfe or Sun, or such high people, to steer around them. |