06-23-2017, 10:18 PM
The droplets sprayed down on him from the uncaring sky. The Sage wondered idly whether Karl Jak had the ability to decide the weather that would grace his event. Would the mad man with a personal universe prefer to drench his combatants while they scrambled about the island, thus adding to the sense of desperation? Or had he simply been forced to deal with the weather that Omni had decided would blow through Karl’s pocket universe this particular weekend. In truth, either option seemed possible.
The Sage’s questioning was brought to a halt as he spotted two familiar figures stalking through the rain from a far distance. Immediately, the Sage dropped to the ground, mud squishing slightly as he began to crawl towards some kind of cover. He had no intent to tangle with that particular pair of primes again if he could help it, though both of them deserved whatever end befell them in this blood game. He watched the two primes marching through the rain soaked fields, The Crash mage seemed to be carrying some sort of strange blade, though its hilt was the most unwieldy design the Sage had yet seen on an implement designed for cutting. How could one even get momentum behind a swing like that?
The Sage waited in the mud and the weeds until he felt confident that the two warrior mages had not seen him he began to crawl towards a patch of underbrush. Reaching the cover, he paused for a moment, scanning the area. There was no sign of them, though the Sage was not convinced that meant they were gone. He couldn’t afford to spend the entire day hiding in the bushes however, and after waiting what probably amounted to another ten minutes, he set off again. He wove between the smoothly shorn trunks, head swiveling to watch for approaching enemies, posture low in an attempt at a subtle gait. He made his way out of the wooden graveyard, and towards the foothills at the base of the island’s mountains.
The Sage’s questioning was brought to a halt as he spotted two familiar figures stalking through the rain from a far distance. Immediately, the Sage dropped to the ground, mud squishing slightly as he began to crawl towards some kind of cover. He had no intent to tangle with that particular pair of primes again if he could help it, though both of them deserved whatever end befell them in this blood game. He watched the two primes marching through the rain soaked fields, The Crash mage seemed to be carrying some sort of strange blade, though its hilt was the most unwieldy design the Sage had yet seen on an implement designed for cutting. How could one even get momentum behind a swing like that?
The Sage waited in the mud and the weeds until he felt confident that the two warrior mages had not seen him he began to crawl towards a patch of underbrush. Reaching the cover, he paused for a moment, scanning the area. There was no sign of them, though the Sage was not convinced that meant they were gone. He couldn’t afford to spend the entire day hiding in the bushes however, and after waiting what probably amounted to another ten minutes, he set off again. He wove between the smoothly shorn trunks, head swiveling to watch for approaching enemies, posture low in an attempt at a subtle gait. He made his way out of the wooden graveyard, and towards the foothills at the base of the island’s mountains.
Quote:EEP! GILIDAN ALERT! Sage Scurries from B12 to E1. No challenges made.
If history is to become legend, it first must be recorded.