Slow Burn

[Black Mage]

The Black Mage continued to try rattling the iron bars in front of him to no avail. Backing up for a moment he looked around at what was in his cell, finding nothing he could use as a pick or pry bar. Thief’s dexterous hands would have done him well, but for now he was left only with his might, and magic he couldn’t cast without releasing his mouth. Kicking the bars this time he tried to find a weak point, a bar that clung or clang in a higher pitch than the rest but found none. He feel the ghost of Fighter telling him to put a little more elbow grease into it. With a deep breath the Black Mage backed up and looked at the bars, focusing in front of him. Letting out three short breaths he charged forward learning his shoulder into the bars. A big louder thunk resounded as the shock of the impact recoiled through his bones.

C’mon Black, that was weak! Just start doing push-ups and sit ups and pull ups every day and you can get in prison shape and knock it down next time. We could call you the Black Fighter Mage! Black Mage heard the shadow of Fighter’s memory speak in his ear. Letting out a sigh he laid his head unto the bars. He didn’t have time for that kind of training, and neither did Daenerys.

“It’s no use.” He heard the Lady Stormborn’s voice from the other cell, but it sounded somehow distorted. Curiousity got the better of him and he looked up as the Mother of Dragons slided into the light, revealing a new and corrupted form. Emerald scales covered her forearm and shoulders, moving around her collarbone and into her neck. The most surprising feature was her face, half being covered in the same emerald scales and half maintaining the near-pristine visage he had come to expect from her. Triangular fangs extended from her mouth, hiding a tongue that’s motion could best be described as slithering. In another time the Black Mage’s shock might have been obvious, but now it was less his shock and more his pain. He had allowed this to happen, he should have found a more secure place to bring her. Anywhere but a prison in the middle of the fething desert would have been better for the noble in retrospect.

“Well that’s one way.” The ‘damsel in distress’ proved she was anything but as she melted the bars on her cell, her viridian scales turning a shade of orange as her newfound power prompted their escape. A bar was melted, moved, and the Black Mage was freed from his cell. Though it pained him he put up with her removing his shackles, then removed the bondage restricting his mouth. Finally free and Daenery’s hands turning back to an unnatural emerald the Warrior of Light put his hand over Daenery’s scaled and clawed hand and looked her in the eyes.

“We’ll fix this.” He said, putting up a weak smile before letting her go. Her eyes showed a bit of sorrow after he said it, as the prospect seemed to become more and more real to her. She tried to put up a weak smile but couldn’t seem to push one through. Sensing it was time to go the Black Mage let his hand slip off her scales and began to head towards the door. Stopping before the door he put an ear to it and listened through the iron structure. Silence for a moment, but then he could hear a gentle tap, proceeding in a consistent rhythm.

“Air sharp as any blade.” He whispered as he pulled his right hand up, letting Daenerys see the crackle of lightning that began to dance around it. A glance back showed her emerald talons begin to emit the orange hue he had seen as she melted the bars. Three fingers popped up from his electricity channeling hand, then two, then one, then his left opened the door. Two white-armored knights were on either side, another on the far side having just entered the room from an opposite door. The Black Mage took a step left towards one of the hostiles.

“Bolt.” He said, releasing the current of electricity in a point-blank shot. Chattering could be heard as a slight burning smell came from the stormtrooper, the edges of his skin being charred the spell finished. Pushing his left hand forward he let out another torrent of electricity, amplifying the pain the guard took before he slumped down to the floor, unconscious or worse. Turning to face the white guard who’d just entered he spotted his raised weapon but didn’t have the time to stop or evade the bolt of energy it summoned. Scorching his right shoulder he found the recovering sunburn to be incited to add on additional pain. Rather than try to push through it the Black Mage raised his left hand to try and fire another lightning bolt. His accuracy suffered for using his offhand and the stormtrooper took advantage, sidestepping to the right of the bolt. The Lady Stormborn had already bested her stormtrooper by this time, and had closed the gap to swing a heat-infused claw at the other.

She dispatched him with a fury he hadn’t expected from a noble. Back on his world nobles let their knights or other warriors fight while they sat at home. While he wasn’t sure how many times she’d fought she’d clearly witnessed battle before, and knew what she needed to do to survive. He wondered what brutal world she’d come from, but decided that it didn’t matter. All that mattered for the moment was the brutal world they stood in and how to escape it, or at least this prison.

“Do you remember the way out?” The Black Mage asked as he stretched his right shoulder, letting the pain echo through him and giving him an idea of how strong the strange weapons of the Empire were. Looking around he saw the room was essentially a square box with a door on each wall. The doors each held a sign above them, but Black Mage couldn’t read the language. He was hesitant to simply follow the trail the newer stormtrooper came from as it could simply lead to more combatants, but on the other hand the other doors could just lead to more cells.