02-27-2016, 05:16 PM
“Thank you, Crowley,” he said, looking up at the demon-creature who had helped him tend to his wounds. Together, they’d made the token gesture of bandaging the grievous injuries, even though they both knew it would do little more than make him a little more presentable. “Would you help me up, please?”
The wizard raised a bloodied hand, which Crowley grasped and, in spite of the fierce paroxysm of pain that burned through him as a result, Crowley hoisted the broken magister to his feet. Magus steadied himself for a moment, his hands on Crowley’s shoulders, before stepping back.
“Crowley, in the event that the differences between Teucer’s realm and the Omniverse are greater than we think, and that death isn’t impermanent here as it is there, I feel as I should be honest with you before I am faced with my own inevitability.”
“Oh, come on. Just walk it off. It’s only a flesh wound. Insert additional meaningless platitudes for only one dollar each.”
“I… expect you to be guarded with this information, especially if I happen to resurrect after my passing, but my name isn’t ‘Magus’.”
“No shit. Well, if we’re being honest with each other, you should know that I’m not actually the Chief Balcony Inspector for the Pope.”
Magus stifled a sigh. Partly because he figured it’d hurt. “My name is Janus Zeal. In actual fact, that name likely doesn’t mean anything here, but I have had to spend a lifetime hiding my identity from allies and enemies alike. Maybe it won’t matter anymore.”
The bloody wizard shambled, chainsaw still in hand, blade dragging along the ground, over to the mouth of the cave where the group that was responsible for Kopaka’s death had gathered. Immediately, the armored one and the turncoat each adopted aggressive postures, but Magus didn’t relent until he was hardly inches from the girl who had provided him with the makeshift bandages he now wore.
“I’d like to think we’re done killing each other,” Magus began. He hefted the chainsaw before dropping it at Belle’s feet. “Either way, I won’t be needing my weapon anymore. And yours is garbage.”
“Well, it’s gotten me this far-”
“Do what you will,” the Fiendlord interrupted, and then motioned to Crowley, who’d hung back in the cave. “He’s strong. And he made no deals with Kopaka. You can trust him-”
“Rich, coming from someone who’s been hunting me since the beginning,” the Mouse retorted.
“And I’m not done hunting you, either,” came Magus’ reply, causing the anthropomorphic creature’s brow to furrow deeply. “Kopaka died trying to hold up his end of our bargain; I am honor-bound to uphold mine. If I come back from the grave, I’ll see you again soon, Mouse.”
Magus stepped past them, having neither the energy nor the inclination to keep talking. He didn’t take the path that the others would. Instead, he struck his own path into the thick of the jungle, and didn’t stop walking until his legs gave out beneath him and he fell to his knees.
He felt regret.
A sudden pang of remorse ruined the morose beauty that had enveloped him. He crinkled his nose in disgust.
“I’ve not given up, Schala. I’ll come back. I’ll keep looking,” he said, though the ice in his veins betrayed his certainty. He wouldn’t stop. Damn these cretins. Their interference might have gone a long way to prolonging her suffering.
He was far from the others now, and this was good. He’d hoped to die in battle, but dying here, on his own terms, surrounded by the beauty of the jungle, that would suffice. He took in his surroundings as much as he could.
Birds huddled together in the trees above, sheltered from the storm. Leaves swayed and shivered. Insects scurried between puddles and drops of rain. The Magus took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on the warbles of birds and constant pattering of rain over the deep basso rumbles of distant thunder, punctuated with harsh bangs of elemental anger.
The lilting soundtrack blotted out all his thoughts and fears, and his chin sank to his chest. He felt the rain wash over him, running down his neck and shoulders, dripping from his hair, scouring away the dirt and gore of the arduous days they had spent on the island.
He took another breath, and the world fell away.
The wizard raised a bloodied hand, which Crowley grasped and, in spite of the fierce paroxysm of pain that burned through him as a result, Crowley hoisted the broken magister to his feet. Magus steadied himself for a moment, his hands on Crowley’s shoulders, before stepping back.
“Crowley, in the event that the differences between Teucer’s realm and the Omniverse are greater than we think, and that death isn’t impermanent here as it is there, I feel as I should be honest with you before I am faced with my own inevitability.”
“Oh, come on. Just walk it off. It’s only a flesh wound. Insert additional meaningless platitudes for only one dollar each.”
“I… expect you to be guarded with this information, especially if I happen to resurrect after my passing, but my name isn’t ‘Magus’.”
“No shit. Well, if we’re being honest with each other, you should know that I’m not actually the Chief Balcony Inspector for the Pope.”
Magus stifled a sigh. Partly because he figured it’d hurt. “My name is Janus Zeal. In actual fact, that name likely doesn’t mean anything here, but I have had to spend a lifetime hiding my identity from allies and enemies alike. Maybe it won’t matter anymore.”
The bloody wizard shambled, chainsaw still in hand, blade dragging along the ground, over to the mouth of the cave where the group that was responsible for Kopaka’s death had gathered. Immediately, the armored one and the turncoat each adopted aggressive postures, but Magus didn’t relent until he was hardly inches from the girl who had provided him with the makeshift bandages he now wore.
“I’d like to think we’re done killing each other,” Magus began. He hefted the chainsaw before dropping it at Belle’s feet. “Either way, I won’t be needing my weapon anymore. And yours is garbage.”
“Well, it’s gotten me this far-”
“Do what you will,” the Fiendlord interrupted, and then motioned to Crowley, who’d hung back in the cave. “He’s strong. And he made no deals with Kopaka. You can trust him-”
“Rich, coming from someone who’s been hunting me since the beginning,” the Mouse retorted.
“And I’m not done hunting you, either,” came Magus’ reply, causing the anthropomorphic creature’s brow to furrow deeply. “Kopaka died trying to hold up his end of our bargain; I am honor-bound to uphold mine. If I come back from the grave, I’ll see you again soon, Mouse.”
Magus stepped past them, having neither the energy nor the inclination to keep talking. He didn’t take the path that the others would. Instead, he struck his own path into the thick of the jungle, and didn’t stop walking until his legs gave out beneath him and he fell to his knees.
He felt regret.
A sudden pang of remorse ruined the morose beauty that had enveloped him. He crinkled his nose in disgust.
“I’ve not given up, Schala. I’ll come back. I’ll keep looking,” he said, though the ice in his veins betrayed his certainty. He wouldn’t stop. Damn these cretins. Their interference might have gone a long way to prolonging her suffering.
He was far from the others now, and this was good. He’d hoped to die in battle, but dying here, on his own terms, surrounded by the beauty of the jungle, that would suffice. He took in his surroundings as much as he could.
Birds huddled together in the trees above, sheltered from the storm. Leaves swayed and shivered. Insects scurried between puddles and drops of rain. The Magus took a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on the warbles of birds and constant pattering of rain over the deep basso rumbles of distant thunder, punctuated with harsh bangs of elemental anger.
The lilting soundtrack blotted out all his thoughts and fears, and his chin sank to his chest. He felt the rain wash over him, running down his neck and shoulders, dripping from his hair, scouring away the dirt and gore of the arduous days they had spent on the island.
He took another breath, and the world fell away.
![[Image: Magus.jpg]](http://rpnexus.com/sig/miscsig/Magus.jpg)