Arwin stood on an outcropping of rocks in the center of a churning river. Water crashed against the small shore of his island and sprayed up, peppering against his skin. The roar of the water was loud enough to drown out any other noise that may have been there, but there was no need.
Nothing existed beyond the river. An expanse of black stretched out around him, starting right at the edges of the riverbank. It ran as far as the eye could see. Arwin had no idea where the light illuminating him and the flowing river in its faint golden glow was coming from, but there was no sun to be seen.
As it had been with both the bow and his helm, there were no words or direct requests in the vision. But, unlike the others, the exact desires of the greaves felt muted and distant. There wasn’t direct opposition or acceptance of Arwin’s desires in themselves. It was more like the greaves were trying to resist influence of any sort.
The flowing river intensified, soaking Arwin’s clothes through with water. He squinted and held his hands up to protect his face as waves slammed into his small island. They poured over the rocks, carrying with them a deep chill that sought to penetrate to his core.
He stood firm. There wasn’t any argument to be had with the river. It wasn’t looking to be convinced. Arwin suspected it didn’t have enough awareness to truly want one thing or another – it simply didn’t want to be controlled.
The waves slammed into him and the island with increasing intensity. They grew to rise nearly three feet into the air and drove into him like charging bulls, banishing what few dry spots remained on his clothes.
Arwin staggered from the force of the waves. [Scourge] and [Indomitable Bulwark] did nothing for him within the confines of his own mind, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need magic to stand against a small river.
“You can keep trying, but I’m not going anywhere,” Arwin declared. The river’s response was to crash a wave down straight on top of him, filling his mouth with ice-cold water. He sputtered and let out a curse as it nearly knocked him from his feet.
And still he held firm. Even as the ground grew slick and tenuous beneath his feet, Arwin refused to budge an inch. He held his hands out, water rolling down his fingertips and dripping to the ground beneath him, and beckoned to the darkness. “Come on. Is that all you’ve got? I’m not going anywhere if you use pathetic waves like that.”