Immortal (PvP)

[Magus]

Shades of orange and yellow danced cruelly before the cowering blues and greys. Hidden in the dramatic shadows in the alley, Magus watched the fire that cast them. It raged wildly now, licking out of the windows and open door of the place.

The ensuing panic had attracted neighbors to gather around the flaming building, while the other tenants of the apartment fled for rational fear of the flames spreading to the other suites. The mad obsession this Heironymous Lex had; his intensely document notes and details; he must have collected data on every facet of the operations of the People’s Army. Those myriad notes now fed the hungry flames.

Sure enough, the fire began to spread, even as guards and other officials began to appear, each rushing two huge buckets of water toward the flaming building. Soon, they were coming from all over the district, even as the growing crowd gathered to watch. Some cheered the firefighting efforts on, but Magus knew most had come, driven by mankind’s morbid obsession with observing disaster.

It was perfect; news would spread and soon the authorities would appear. No doubt Lex, as a captain, would hear about his home catching fire. Magus knew the man wouldn’t be able to stay away. His sheer level of obsession with the People’s Army, however, put Magus on edge. There was a strong chance the good captain might expect to be walking into an ambush.

The Fiendlord watched from the alley, regularly analyzing his surroundings. A half dozen armed guards showed up, not counting the various authorities who were assisting in actually battling the blaze. These guards seemed to be investigating the possibility of a crime. They spread out, all pausing frequently to talk with members in the crowd.

Magus checked each of the investigators’ faces against the drawing he’d been provided; none of them fit the man he was looking for. Bad luck. If things got any tighter, he would have to abandon his ambush and retreat back to the poor district, where authorities would be less inclined to hunt for him.

He glanced down at his clothes for a moment, and bit his lip. That wouldn’t do at all. He closed his fists and focused on manipulating a small amount of Omnilium. The cape and pseudo-combat gear might tip an overly-nosey investigator off about him.

In an effort to avoid that ultimately unhelpful outcome, Magus created a disguise of ill-fitting, miserable-looking robes and hood that covered him up and made him look positively destitute. The robes appeared to be covered in filth and haphazardly stitched together with fabrics of various colors and types, mostly brown.

The fire was beginning to die down now, and had only slightly damaged the neighboring suites thanks to the firefighting efforts of the civil servants of Minas Tirith. Still, no Lex. The crowd was thinning out, now that the danger had passed. Once a tragedy begins losing momentum, people quickly lose interest. Magus often wondered at that – the string of tragedies that had befallen him, and those he meted out – they never seemed to lose their sting.

“What?” he’d actually said it aloud. It was with a great deal of surprise that he heard the Black Wind; usually he could feel it come on before the howling started. This was sudden. Ominous. The wind was shriller, more violent, than usual. Something bad – or strange – was about to happen.

Magus decided to shuffle off somewhere quieter, but with a decent vantage of the now-smouldering building. At least then he could keep a lookout for Heironymous without leaving himself exposed like this. He hobbled as someone who was ill and desperate might, and took a route that he was sure would keep him out of trouble. At least, from the guards.