“Oh yes, I remember you are an ice elemental of sorts. You have far more sentience than those I’m familiar with though.” The Mage referred to the summoning of ice elementals as servants, an ability said to be favoured by the Torm of yore. Summoning in general fell out of fashion almost thirty years ago, but Metz had seen one of the last summoners create something not unlike Daniel once. It was very nearly a living being, made entirely of an element. If Metz had not chosen to take the path he had in regards to his pillars he might very well have gone down that route instead. Still, he was getting off track. 

“Still, we’re not here to chat about magic are we?” Metz’ grin was feral. “We’re here to [i]use it![/i]” 

Metz strafed left away from the fountain to give himself more space, his left hand held low while his right was held palm out before him as a ward. He obviously favoured a different style to Daniel, keeping his right side forward and his left hand out of reach and partially out of sight must have been a by-product of Mage combat. Most Torm spell casters used their offhand to weave the patterns of magic, it was usually a bad idea to give your enemy too good a look at that process.

After clearing about five feet from the fountain he started to move forward. They were about twenty feet apart when he started to approach, it would only take him a couple seconds to walk within six feet, just enough time to begin weaving a spell Daniel had not yet seen. A spell named Spellbreaker, as it happened.