12-02-2015, 10:47 PM
His eyes flitted over the frigid wasteland, deliberately ignoring both the cold and his opponent. His lips curled with the slightest hint of dissatisfaction. Again with the demon weapons. Ever branded the villain. It suited him fine; he’d embraced the darker parts of his nature long ago. Whether or not the people of Camelot could come to terms with it was a problem beneath him.
The elegant cape draped upon his bare shoulders did little to protect the rest of his body from the cold and his face stung, reminding him of the blinding pain he’d been subjected to just moments ago, forced to literally fight for his life as his demonic opponent nearly succeeded in literally punching his face off. A moment of fear had gripped him then, and now the howling of the Black Wind seemed… confusing.
Still, this place – manufactured though it may have been – felt like home. True, he’d rarely left the idyllic Kingdom of Zeal for the frigid wasteland of the Earthbound Ones, but he liked the bracing cold. It was refreshing. Invigorating. Maybe part of that was because he didn’t need to endure it every day of his life like the surface-dwelling peasants.
Magus looked up to the sky, admiring the fluffy falling flakes, and raised his arms out at his sides. A hiss of mauve smoke surrounded his hands, and simultaneously coalesced – a sphere of negative energy in his left hand, a massive, sinister scythe in his right. He lowered his arms, allowing his scythe to droop down, holding it horizontally behind him in a lazy grip.
“So,” he tilted his head and regarded his… unfortunate-looking adversary. His expression darkened. He exhaled. “I’ve grown… quite tired of this competition.”
It wasn’t the truth. Not exactly. The man in the red coat, he’d made Magus afraid, if but for a moment, and that, in turn, had made him angry. He’d sworn death for the devil hunter and had failed to deliver.
“I’d made the offer previously, and nobody had taken it. Instead, one of my opponents ended up with a hole through his skull, another without an arm and burned so badly his skin cracked and flaked from his flesh, and the most recent one impaled so many times there’s likely more blood on the floor beneath this arena’s illusions than inside his body.
Because I’m tired, my… grace… has worn thin. You have the next ten seconds to kneel in surrender. Otherwise, I will kill you, and I will make you endure the most exquisite suffering. All Camelot will bear witness to my… exhaustion.”
“That’s it?” came a feminine retort. Well, feminine-ish. “You’re tired, so I’m supposed to give up? Oh my gaaaawwwwwwd, I’m soooo scaaaaarrred! Bitch, I have a fuckin’ skull painted on my face! And what do I care if you kill me? Oh, holy shit, I’ll be… dust. Or whatever. For like three days. Like I’ve never been killed before. Look at me, you dumb fuck.”
Magus was floored. “Y-You’ve died before-?”
His eyes widened. It was true. All of it. That glowing white devil was telling the truth: Magus was immortal.
“Uh, yeah. Lemme guess: you’ve never been sent back to the Fountain, eh?” she hefted her laser rifle. “That’s cool. I can pop your cherry.”
Before Magus could respond, a red spear of laser-fire sizzled through the air beside his head. The woman adjusted her aim and fired again, but Magus leapt to the side and charged at her, hurling his Gloom bolt.
The Bandit ducked underneath the warbling sphere of profane energy, feeling its unwholesome chill on her neck as it sailed overhead. Ignoring the hairs pricking on her neck, she fired again, hitting home and searing the wizard’s shoulder, spinning the Fiendlord and dropping him in the snow.
He rolled to his feet and hurled another bolt of energy as he closed on his opponent. Again, she dodged, and he lunged at her as she evaded, catching her low across the legs with his scythe, upending her and, while she whirled in mid-air, blasted her in the chest with a point-blank burst of black magic, propelling her into the side of an icy hill. Thin cracks spider-webbed from the impact but she caught herself.
“You must be good to have made it this far. But this much has become obvious,” Magus hissed as thick tendrils of black and bluish-purple smoke coalesced all around the two competitors. “I’m better.”
The elegant cape draped upon his bare shoulders did little to protect the rest of his body from the cold and his face stung, reminding him of the blinding pain he’d been subjected to just moments ago, forced to literally fight for his life as his demonic opponent nearly succeeded in literally punching his face off. A moment of fear had gripped him then, and now the howling of the Black Wind seemed… confusing.
Still, this place – manufactured though it may have been – felt like home. True, he’d rarely left the idyllic Kingdom of Zeal for the frigid wasteland of the Earthbound Ones, but he liked the bracing cold. It was refreshing. Invigorating. Maybe part of that was because he didn’t need to endure it every day of his life like the surface-dwelling peasants.
Magus looked up to the sky, admiring the fluffy falling flakes, and raised his arms out at his sides. A hiss of mauve smoke surrounded his hands, and simultaneously coalesced – a sphere of negative energy in his left hand, a massive, sinister scythe in his right. He lowered his arms, allowing his scythe to droop down, holding it horizontally behind him in a lazy grip.
“So,” he tilted his head and regarded his… unfortunate-looking adversary. His expression darkened. He exhaled. “I’ve grown… quite tired of this competition.”
It wasn’t the truth. Not exactly. The man in the red coat, he’d made Magus afraid, if but for a moment, and that, in turn, had made him angry. He’d sworn death for the devil hunter and had failed to deliver.
“I’d made the offer previously, and nobody had taken it. Instead, one of my opponents ended up with a hole through his skull, another without an arm and burned so badly his skin cracked and flaked from his flesh, and the most recent one impaled so many times there’s likely more blood on the floor beneath this arena’s illusions than inside his body.
Because I’m tired, my… grace… has worn thin. You have the next ten seconds to kneel in surrender. Otherwise, I will kill you, and I will make you endure the most exquisite suffering. All Camelot will bear witness to my… exhaustion.”
“That’s it?” came a feminine retort. Well, feminine-ish. “You’re tired, so I’m supposed to give up? Oh my gaaaawwwwwwd, I’m soooo scaaaaarrred! Bitch, I have a fuckin’ skull painted on my face! And what do I care if you kill me? Oh, holy shit, I’ll be… dust. Or whatever. For like three days. Like I’ve never been killed before. Look at me, you dumb fuck.”
Magus was floored. “Y-You’ve died before-?”
His eyes widened. It was true. All of it. That glowing white devil was telling the truth: Magus was immortal.
“Uh, yeah. Lemme guess: you’ve never been sent back to the Fountain, eh?” she hefted her laser rifle. “That’s cool. I can pop your cherry.”
Before Magus could respond, a red spear of laser-fire sizzled through the air beside his head. The woman adjusted her aim and fired again, but Magus leapt to the side and charged at her, hurling his Gloom bolt.
The Bandit ducked underneath the warbling sphere of profane energy, feeling its unwholesome chill on her neck as it sailed overhead. Ignoring the hairs pricking on her neck, she fired again, hitting home and searing the wizard’s shoulder, spinning the Fiendlord and dropping him in the snow.
He rolled to his feet and hurled another bolt of energy as he closed on his opponent. Again, she dodged, and he lunged at her as she evaded, catching her low across the legs with his scythe, upending her and, while she whirled in mid-air, blasted her in the chest with a point-blank burst of black magic, propelling her into the side of an icy hill. Thin cracks spider-webbed from the impact but she caught herself.
“You must be good to have made it this far. But this much has become obvious,” Magus hissed as thick tendrils of black and bluish-purple smoke coalesced all around the two competitors. “I’m better.”
Quote:748 words as per wordcounter.net
Bandit: Magus is somewhat reticent to use his Shadow Step. He'll still do it if he's pushed, but those weird shadow people are sketchin him out something fierce. Hope I did your character justice!
![[Image: Magus.jpg]](http://rpnexus.com/sig/miscsig/Magus.jpg)