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His burned fingers are beginning to recover something of their normal range of movement and he steps from the cleft in the stones onto a ledge where he might feel once more the wind and rain of the storm. In spite of the dangers which lie ahead of him, he allows himself a smile as he breathes deeply and fills his lungs with the gusting air. Looking in the direction of the tower and the battles now taking place within it his eyes narrow and his smile is replaced by a grim hardening of his features. The matter will be decided inside that mighty and oppressive enclosure, of this he is certain. A pang of fear shoots through him as he considers the likelihood of his own death in such a contest, a battle fought between confining walls and far from the free and living air. He makes no effort to avoid or resist the fear, but simply feels it and claims it as his own - he will waste no strength in foolish attempts to deny the truth of his fear knowing that an illusory courage is as deadly an enemy as Modding Mage himself. No, he will enter that tower as one afraid and his willingness to face such fear will be his strength. ~ Soon ~ he thinks, ~ soon it will be time to discover the manner of being he is, this Modding Mage, this one called Larry. It is good that we will meet once more within that place where his might is greatest and I am weakest. ~ He smiles once more, the grim and peaceful smile of one who will do nothing other than walk the way that lies before him. ~ Yes, soon, my mighty friend, I shall stand before your power for a third and final time. ~ But preparations for this meeting remain to made and he steps once more into the cleft to ready himself.
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