12-07-2015, 10:56 PM
Magus spun his scythe, haft dancing along his fingers, sending the huge weapon into a lazy twirl as he approached. The artificial storm had grown fierce, whipping snow up into his face, his blood red cape billowing out behind him. He grimaced as the harsh wind teased at the ragged edges of his wounded eye like a hundred needles gently scraping up and down.
The wizard raised his blade and swept in for the kill, and the Bandit whirled onto her front, ducking the swiping scythe and hurling a hard-packed snowball at Magus. It caught him right in his good eye, effectively blinding him.
The Demon King released a vicious growl as he wildly slashed through the air in front of him, simultaneously wiping the frozen debris from his eye, just in time to see the bright yellow ribbon wrap around his ankles and tug his feet out from beneath him.
He smacked onto the snow and immediately whipped a pair of Gloom bolts at the Bandit, who turned her body sideways and narrowly evaded the crackling magic as it grazed her back and chest before continuing on their destructive journeys.
Wisps of purple lazily swirled along the tundra as the Bandit leapt up through the air, humongous sledge revved up and careening down upon him. Magus evaded the hammer as it shattered the ice next to his head.
As Magus’ Miasma obfuscated the arena, both warriors fell through the frost layer and into the frigid waters below. His scythe fell away, but he was more concerned with the water in his lungs and the overwhelming cold that washed over him.
His one eye darted back and forth in the dim obscurity, desperately hunting out the exit lest he be laid to rest in a watery grave, but he spied the Bandit thrashing about in the water, darting about and unable to see as the thick of the Miasma blotted out the light that might have otherwise poked through the solid shelf that separated air and life from water and death.
Magus watched her struggle for a moment, relishing in the repulsive aura of fear that radiated from her like it did from all people when they realized they were going to die. It was… interesting. For all of her bluster, when put in the glow of Death’s headlights, all of her immortality meant nothing. Just like everyone else, she was suffused with the animalistic fear that everyone felt before they were unmade.
He’d vaporized a man’s wife once. His command of the language wasn’t strong, and the Fiendlord found himself touched by what he had said: accusingly, he shouted that Magus had made his wife ‘one with the air’. The phrase had a kind of beauty to it. So much so that Magus granted the man the same fate as his wife.
The Bandit, on the other hand, would not become one with the air, or even with the water. She was doomed to become a bloated, waterlogged corpse. There would be no beauty in her death, only ugliness, isolation, and fear. He swam toward the hole they had fallen through while the woman continued to thrash aimlessly, having lost her grasp on which way ‘up’ was.
Erupting through the surface of the harrowingly cold water, Magus dragged himself onto the surface, shivering in the awful wind swirling about him. He clenched his chattering teeth and clasped his arms around his knees. He just had to wait for a few minutes. He would be crowned the victor soon, and then only one adversary would be left before he was made champion.
He stood, his soaked and matted hair already beginning to freeze. He began the trek toward one of the small ice cliffs where he could take shelter from the cold, shivering and stumbling on his way there. Redness tinged his ears and face, his lips blued and frost clung to his eyebrows.
Laser fire caused him to whirl around and stagger back, collapsing into the snow even as blast after blast of red energy pulsed up through the ice again and again, before the Bandit smashed upward through the ice, landing on one knee on the right side of the ice, shivering and heaving for breath, her features discolored by the cold even worse than Magus’.
The thick, soupy blackness of Magus’ Miasma continued to permeate the battlefield, slowly sapping at the Bandit’s strength even as the cold did the same. He had to kill her. Now.
The wizard raised his blade and swept in for the kill, and the Bandit whirled onto her front, ducking the swiping scythe and hurling a hard-packed snowball at Magus. It caught him right in his good eye, effectively blinding him.
The Demon King released a vicious growl as he wildly slashed through the air in front of him, simultaneously wiping the frozen debris from his eye, just in time to see the bright yellow ribbon wrap around his ankles and tug his feet out from beneath him.
He smacked onto the snow and immediately whipped a pair of Gloom bolts at the Bandit, who turned her body sideways and narrowly evaded the crackling magic as it grazed her back and chest before continuing on their destructive journeys.
Wisps of purple lazily swirled along the tundra as the Bandit leapt up through the air, humongous sledge revved up and careening down upon him. Magus evaded the hammer as it shattered the ice next to his head.
As Magus’ Miasma obfuscated the arena, both warriors fell through the frost layer and into the frigid waters below. His scythe fell away, but he was more concerned with the water in his lungs and the overwhelming cold that washed over him.
His one eye darted back and forth in the dim obscurity, desperately hunting out the exit lest he be laid to rest in a watery grave, but he spied the Bandit thrashing about in the water, darting about and unable to see as the thick of the Miasma blotted out the light that might have otherwise poked through the solid shelf that separated air and life from water and death.
Magus watched her struggle for a moment, relishing in the repulsive aura of fear that radiated from her like it did from all people when they realized they were going to die. It was… interesting. For all of her bluster, when put in the glow of Death’s headlights, all of her immortality meant nothing. Just like everyone else, she was suffused with the animalistic fear that everyone felt before they were unmade.
He’d vaporized a man’s wife once. His command of the language wasn’t strong, and the Fiendlord found himself touched by what he had said: accusingly, he shouted that Magus had made his wife ‘one with the air’. The phrase had a kind of beauty to it. So much so that Magus granted the man the same fate as his wife.
The Bandit, on the other hand, would not become one with the air, or even with the water. She was doomed to become a bloated, waterlogged corpse. There would be no beauty in her death, only ugliness, isolation, and fear. He swam toward the hole they had fallen through while the woman continued to thrash aimlessly, having lost her grasp on which way ‘up’ was.
Erupting through the surface of the harrowingly cold water, Magus dragged himself onto the surface, shivering in the awful wind swirling about him. He clenched his chattering teeth and clasped his arms around his knees. He just had to wait for a few minutes. He would be crowned the victor soon, and then only one adversary would be left before he was made champion.
He stood, his soaked and matted hair already beginning to freeze. He began the trek toward one of the small ice cliffs where he could take shelter from the cold, shivering and stumbling on his way there. Redness tinged his ears and face, his lips blued and frost clung to his eyebrows.
Laser fire caused him to whirl around and stagger back, collapsing into the snow even as blast after blast of red energy pulsed up through the ice again and again, before the Bandit smashed upward through the ice, landing on one knee on the right side of the ice, shivering and heaving for breath, her features discolored by the cold even worse than Magus’.
The thick, soupy blackness of Magus’ Miasma continued to permeate the battlefield, slowly sapping at the Bandit’s strength even as the cold did the same. He had to kill her. Now.
Quote:750 words on the nose as per wordcounter.net
![[Image: Magus.jpg]](http://rpnexus.com/sig/miscsig/Magus.jpg)