06-17-2017, 09:03 PM
Tearen fell back, momentarily overwhelmed by the strength of Gildarts’ assault. The Sage faced down the man a younger him would have idolized. A warrior-mage, master of powers beyond the ken of normal man. A flame of envy took root in the Sage’s soul and he stepped forward, a blaze materializing in one hand. Gildarts gave a brief laugh.
“Another mage? Let’s see your magic then!” The crash wizard challenged, rushing forward. The Sage had expected this, prepared his stance defensively, but even so his opponent’s speed passed straight through his guard. Gildarts accepted a face full of flames, but the Sage was lifted off his feet by Gildarts’ uppercut.
“For you, Friend!” the mage called towards Illidan, before turning his attention back to Tearen. The strength of the man was almost beyond belief, and the airborne Sage idly wondered how his strange healing would handle shattered bones.
He landed harshly, his attempted roll thwarted by the surrounding foliage. The Scourge of Darkshire bore down on him with twin warglaives, screaming with a fell fury as he slashed the Sage’s torso. The Sage backpedaled, deflecting swipes while he cast a brief spell. The purple octahedron appeared in his free hand and he began to tug on Illidan’s weapons, pulling swings wider and creating an opening. With a grunt, he pulled hard on one of the glaives, causing Illidan’s constant barrage to falter. The Sage launched into a counter attack, snapping the dueling cane at joints and nerve clusters, ending the riposte with a sharp blow to the side of the dark elf’s head.The demonhunter growled and pushed the Sage away with his magic, sending him a short distance to slam into a nearby tree.
“You will regret that, Mageling.” Illidan’s tone dripped hoarfrost as demonic power welled up inside of him. The Sage’s attention was drawn away from Dracula’s chosen prime however, as a funnel of energy reached out towards them both. Tearen had capitalized on Gildarts’ tenuous mental state, and the crash mage was still reeling from the ex-enigma’s mental assault. The former God-mind reached out and engulfed them both in his eldritch power, warping space and gravity, robbing them of their reality. The Sage grit his teeth, leaning on his dueling cane to help him withstand the effects. His eyes drifted to his attacker, Tearen's face was unreadable but he could sense the quiet fury behind his mask.
“My apologies, Wover. I know you by reputation alone, and your history is checkered at best. If I am to believe so momentous a claim, I will need to learn the character behind your words. A man’s fighting style says much about his soul.” And yours does not lend me much confidence. He thought, struggling to maintain his mental faculties amidst the warp’s pull. Too much you prey upon an enemy’s weakness. This is not the mark of heroes…
The warp vanished, and the Sage stumbled, recovering his balance. As he straightened, there was a slick, wet sound, and the blade of a halberd sunk into his side. He looked down in shock, inky black blood spilling from the wound. Is this more honorable to you, Turncoat? Tearen’s voice spoke into his head. Somehow, he had closed the intervening distance and was now staring him down with the same unreadable expression. No, the Sage could see vindication in his eyes. Breath eluded the scholar, and for a moment he simply stood there.
Get out of my head, thank you. He thought with emphasis, his own anger starting to well up. The Sage grabbed hold of the polearm's shaft. His dueling cane came across and down, catching Tearen across the face, and following up with a reverse snap towards the outside of his extended arm. Tearen released the halberd, arm swinging inwards to absorb the impact, and dropped back. His polearm moved of its own accord, pushing slightly deeper into the wound before flying back to Tearen’s hand. There was a shout from nearby. Gildarts had been left unchecked for too long, and Tearen turned away as the Sage sank to one knee, hand clutched to his side.
His inky blood was already at work, stitching the wound as best it could, but the Sage was struggling to draw breath. He wasn’t ready for this; despite countless years of training. Would he ever be? Yes. came the voice in his head. At the end, you will. The Sage felt a new power rising as he struggled unsteadily back into a fighting position. I must be ready now! He thought, breath ragged but growing more stable, If I die in this battle, than this entire venture was for naught. The Sage steeled himself, pure white beard lengthening as he drew power from his own lifespan. I will not die here!
“Another mage? Let’s see your magic then!” The crash wizard challenged, rushing forward. The Sage had expected this, prepared his stance defensively, but even so his opponent’s speed passed straight through his guard. Gildarts accepted a face full of flames, but the Sage was lifted off his feet by Gildarts’ uppercut.
“For you, Friend!” the mage called towards Illidan, before turning his attention back to Tearen. The strength of the man was almost beyond belief, and the airborne Sage idly wondered how his strange healing would handle shattered bones.
He landed harshly, his attempted roll thwarted by the surrounding foliage. The Scourge of Darkshire bore down on him with twin warglaives, screaming with a fell fury as he slashed the Sage’s torso. The Sage backpedaled, deflecting swipes while he cast a brief spell. The purple octahedron appeared in his free hand and he began to tug on Illidan’s weapons, pulling swings wider and creating an opening. With a grunt, he pulled hard on one of the glaives, causing Illidan’s constant barrage to falter. The Sage launched into a counter attack, snapping the dueling cane at joints and nerve clusters, ending the riposte with a sharp blow to the side of the dark elf’s head.The demonhunter growled and pushed the Sage away with his magic, sending him a short distance to slam into a nearby tree.
“You will regret that, Mageling.” Illidan’s tone dripped hoarfrost as demonic power welled up inside of him. The Sage’s attention was drawn away from Dracula’s chosen prime however, as a funnel of energy reached out towards them both. Tearen had capitalized on Gildarts’ tenuous mental state, and the crash mage was still reeling from the ex-enigma’s mental assault. The former God-mind reached out and engulfed them both in his eldritch power, warping space and gravity, robbing them of their reality. The Sage grit his teeth, leaning on his dueling cane to help him withstand the effects. His eyes drifted to his attacker, Tearen's face was unreadable but he could sense the quiet fury behind his mask.
“My apologies, Wover. I know you by reputation alone, and your history is checkered at best. If I am to believe so momentous a claim, I will need to learn the character behind your words. A man’s fighting style says much about his soul.” And yours does not lend me much confidence. He thought, struggling to maintain his mental faculties amidst the warp’s pull. Too much you prey upon an enemy’s weakness. This is not the mark of heroes…
The warp vanished, and the Sage stumbled, recovering his balance. As he straightened, there was a slick, wet sound, and the blade of a halberd sunk into his side. He looked down in shock, inky black blood spilling from the wound. Is this more honorable to you, Turncoat? Tearen’s voice spoke into his head. Somehow, he had closed the intervening distance and was now staring him down with the same unreadable expression. No, the Sage could see vindication in his eyes. Breath eluded the scholar, and for a moment he simply stood there.
Get out of my head, thank you. He thought with emphasis, his own anger starting to well up. The Sage grabbed hold of the polearm's shaft. His dueling cane came across and down, catching Tearen across the face, and following up with a reverse snap towards the outside of his extended arm. Tearen released the halberd, arm swinging inwards to absorb the impact, and dropped back. His polearm moved of its own accord, pushing slightly deeper into the wound before flying back to Tearen’s hand. There was a shout from nearby. Gildarts had been left unchecked for too long, and Tearen turned away as the Sage sank to one knee, hand clutched to his side.
His inky blood was already at work, stitching the wound as best it could, but the Sage was struggling to draw breath. He wasn’t ready for this; despite countless years of training. Would he ever be? Yes. came the voice in his head. At the end, you will. The Sage felt a new power rising as he struggled unsteadily back into a fighting position. I must be ready now! He thought, breath ragged but growing more stable, If I die in this battle, than this entire venture was for naught. The Sage steeled himself, pure white beard lengthening as he drew power from his own lifespan. I will not die here!
Quote:799 words according to MS word, editing that down was the worst...
Sage used Failed Magician: Gout of embers
Gildarts used Crushing Punch (because you know, 8 attack isn't enough right?)
Illidan used twin blades of Azzinoth
Sage used Failed Magician: Burdenblade (first the weaker version, then finishing with the stronger)
Sage used Dueling cane & perturbing strike
Illidan got annoyed and used Push
Tearen was a party pooper and used Warp burst on both Sage and Illidan (I stretched the "once per round" clause a bit cause I felt two uses in twelve posts was a tad unfair)
Sage got a tad sanctimonious
Tearen used Spontaneity in patience
Sage used dueling cane (cause why not?)
Tearen recollected his weapon with telekinesis
The Sage burned one SP on Regeneration (either one or two damage, rules are vague for 3 DEF)
Sage Spends another SP to activate T1 Powerup: Borrow the future for the next round
Since I didn't think to announce I was using it earlier, I will lump in my solider pill with this charge up, (like he's overcharging the power, in a way that will probably cut his natural lifespan short by a couple years and {insert other dangerous/self-sacrificing but not immediately bad reasons here}, I just forgot to say I wanted to use it at the fight start -_-)
Sage has used 2 SP this post, 3/5 SP remaining.
On to you Tearen!
If history is to become legend, it first must be recorded.