11-01-2015, 06:35 PM
The futuristic fighter shrilly shrieked under Magus’ direction; strafing the Scarecrow back and forth and cascading waves of deadly energy upon him. So effective was the vessel that the time traveller had thought the battle won when a burst of mage flame crashed into the side of the elaborate flying machine. Lights flashed and klaxons blared, and all manner of displays warned that the ship was out of control.
The TIE fighter spun toward one of the metal platforms and utterly disobeyed any of Magus’ attempts to right it. Just before impact, he stepped into the plane immaterial and leapt through the back of the fighter, into the very same crater the Black Mage had taken shelter in. He stepped back into reality just as a thunderous explosion rattled the platform.
His opponent had not fared as well as he had, he observed as he rose from the knee he’d taken in the fall. Burns scorched his torso where his left arm should have been and extended down near to his hip, blackened and charred. The vision was utterly grotesque and Magus found himself someone impressed at the resolve someone such as he must have had to persevere in the face of such colossal suffering.
He withdrew the karambit that Lud had given him. The one he would need to return to him. By plunging it into his neck.
“You’ll have to do better than that, Scarecrow,” Magus breathed.
He’d expected the charred wizard to freeze in fear. He’d expected to use that moment to reach over his shoulder and to slash his throat.
What he was not expecting was to take a ball of fire to the eyes. Dropping his blade and clutching his face, Magus doubled over and shouted a couple of choice epithets at the Black Mage. He hadn’t yet recovered when a withering surge of misery washed over him as though every one of his nerves decided to transmit signals of pain all at the same time.
It wasn’t until after that he heard the distinct and tremendous clap of thunder, barely audible above the ringing in his ears. It didn’t take genius to figure what had happened. His foe was probably literally dying but it hadn’t stopped him from electrocuting the goddamn hell out of him and blasting him into a wall.
The lightning that the Scarecrow commanded was powerful stuff, indeed. His leather chest plate had melted and fused to his flesh where the arcane energy had struck him, and his limbs twitched and spasmed uncontrollably.
Slumped against the wall of the crater the two found themselves in, Magus opened one eye, the other too badly burned and swollen to do the same. “Much better…” he paused. The ringing had stopped, but the howling of the Black Wind had grown so much louder now. Something terrible was soon to happen to one of them, and Magus didn’t care to find out which one while lying defenseless in a smoldering hole.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, everything was monochrome and frozen and… wrong.
Gritting his teeth, the injured shadow wizard pushed against the wall and slid up its rough surface into a somewhat upright position. The lip of the crater loomed at him from high above; what enormous deadly force the ship had projected to scour such a huge amount of metal.
This part was going to hurt like hell, and he was going to hold the Scarecrow accountable for all of it. Just as soon as it stopped feeling as though his heart was going to burst out of his chest.
Magus charged at the wall, kicking up against it once, then twice, and leaping up as high as he could, outstretched arms above him slapping down on the edge of the crater. The Fiendlord’s body slapped against the wall. It forced from his lips a terrible yowl and the white-hot resurgence of agony threatened his grip, but he held fast and scrabbled up onto the thick, metal platform.
One hand covering his chest, he limped toward a shack on a nearby platform. The twisted, burning wreck of his starship spat sparks and sizzled near the shack that Magus leapt for.
His knees buckled when he landed and he rolled forward, slipping out of his Shadow Step and crashing into the shack, weakly dragging himself behind cover. He would catch his breath, and then the Scarecrow would catch the most vicious and brutal suffering he had ever felt.
The TIE fighter spun toward one of the metal platforms and utterly disobeyed any of Magus’ attempts to right it. Just before impact, he stepped into the plane immaterial and leapt through the back of the fighter, into the very same crater the Black Mage had taken shelter in. He stepped back into reality just as a thunderous explosion rattled the platform.
His opponent had not fared as well as he had, he observed as he rose from the knee he’d taken in the fall. Burns scorched his torso where his left arm should have been and extended down near to his hip, blackened and charred. The vision was utterly grotesque and Magus found himself someone impressed at the resolve someone such as he must have had to persevere in the face of such colossal suffering.
He withdrew the karambit that Lud had given him. The one he would need to return to him. By plunging it into his neck.
“You’ll have to do better than that, Scarecrow,” Magus breathed.
He’d expected the charred wizard to freeze in fear. He’d expected to use that moment to reach over his shoulder and to slash his throat.
What he was not expecting was to take a ball of fire to the eyes. Dropping his blade and clutching his face, Magus doubled over and shouted a couple of choice epithets at the Black Mage. He hadn’t yet recovered when a withering surge of misery washed over him as though every one of his nerves decided to transmit signals of pain all at the same time.
It wasn’t until after that he heard the distinct and tremendous clap of thunder, barely audible above the ringing in his ears. It didn’t take genius to figure what had happened. His foe was probably literally dying but it hadn’t stopped him from electrocuting the goddamn hell out of him and blasting him into a wall.
The lightning that the Scarecrow commanded was powerful stuff, indeed. His leather chest plate had melted and fused to his flesh where the arcane energy had struck him, and his limbs twitched and spasmed uncontrollably.
Slumped against the wall of the crater the two found themselves in, Magus opened one eye, the other too badly burned and swollen to do the same. “Much better…” he paused. The ringing had stopped, but the howling of the Black Wind had grown so much louder now. Something terrible was soon to happen to one of them, and Magus didn’t care to find out which one while lying defenseless in a smoldering hole.
He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, everything was monochrome and frozen and… wrong.
Gritting his teeth, the injured shadow wizard pushed against the wall and slid up its rough surface into a somewhat upright position. The lip of the crater loomed at him from high above; what enormous deadly force the ship had projected to scour such a huge amount of metal.
This part was going to hurt like hell, and he was going to hold the Scarecrow accountable for all of it. Just as soon as it stopped feeling as though his heart was going to burst out of his chest.
Magus charged at the wall, kicking up against it once, then twice, and leaping up as high as he could, outstretched arms above him slapping down on the edge of the crater. The Fiendlord’s body slapped against the wall. It forced from his lips a terrible yowl and the white-hot resurgence of agony threatened his grip, but he held fast and scrabbled up onto the thick, metal platform.
One hand covering his chest, he limped toward a shack on a nearby platform. The twisted, burning wreck of his starship spat sparks and sizzled near the shack that Magus leapt for.
His knees buckled when he landed and he rolled forward, slipping out of his Shadow Step and crashing into the shack, weakly dragging himself behind cover. He would catch his breath, and then the Scarecrow would catch the most vicious and brutal suffering he had ever felt.
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![[Image: Magus.jpg]](http://rpnexus.com/sig/miscsig/Magus.jpg)