by A Uscila
Such and similar displays appeared often, following Wail’s advance towards the very edge of his domain. His scrawny figure getting closer and closer to a bright light that blazed with varying magnitude. Fractions of it splitting off and traveling beyond the castle-town - only to slam into the ranks of advancing soldiers beyond and within the surrounding fortifications. Connecting and exploding in fiery fury to minimal effect, as not much actually connected with any intended targets. Yet each and every followed with a cackling laughter and a little dance - all performed by a fiery creature that moved about within the very center of the said blazing light.
Sorro. The demon’s thick mane of hair jumping about like an unsettled sea with each sudden movement. Sparks - ready to ignite anything they touch jumping off from the ends of the plentiful hair. With eyes of bright swirling fury, the little creature cackled with fiendish joy as it hauled one fireball after the other at the forces beyond. Taking clearly visible pleasure in every successful infliction of misery on those deemed as enemies. While displaying quite the magnificent proficiency in long-range attacks. At this point – the demon might as well serve as a catapult, seeing as the distance the balls of fire traveled weren’t that far off from the capabilities of the mentioned contraption.
Wail was amazed. It was hard to see through that deep frown he displayed though - as he sped up his pace even more. To an extent that the previous display of tedious ritual performing was all but forgotten.
“You freakin’ idiot!” - Wail finally took his first step on the roof of the building Sorro was situated on. After taking one final impatient leap towards the longed for destination. Closer to the creature wielding furious fire with bare hands. A creature that Wail just called an idiot. Always the sharp one, that Wail - “Its’ wood you’re standing on, not rock! Wood, which you’ve been meticulously roasting with all those fires of yours!” - He continued to complain, while trying to distract himself from the mean glare he was receiving with a little support from his own fire. After conjuring a fireball of visibly smaller size - especially so after comparing it to those conjured by Sorro - he released it with visible strain. Its fading light traveled deep within the fortification - and ended up harmlessly extinguished in a puddle far away from any moving target.
A screeching racket echoed soon after, as the fires around Sorro extinguished - seeing as the creature was knocked out by a fit of maniacal laughter.
“That was pathetic!” - He squeezed out through a set of sharpened teeth, taking pleasure in the complete failure of his supposed master - “Can’t you use fire manipulation at all?”
Surprisingly, Wail managed to take a step beyond his grandmaster level in frowning - twisting up his facial features into a grotesque display of hideousness. At this point - he could have easily competed with Macrosh.
“Of course not, you ass! Only fire mages can use fire manipulation” - He replied through clenched teeth. Face turned to the side in a display of reluctance to reveal embarrassment.
“Says who? If the boys back in hell would find out about this, they’d never give me peace…” - Sorro fell into a rarely seen state of daze, as the demon contemplated something for a moment or two. Only to turn to Wail while flicking a left hand in a haughty manner towards the summoner - “Here. Take it. There’s no way that I’ll allow my conjurer to be some third-rate fire magician”
“Who’re you calling third-rate?!” - Wail turned towards the little critter in a heated fashion, only to freeze up once a certain table popped up in his view.
New skill!
Fire manipulation - type: “Warlock” (Passive)
Description: Allows the free manipulation of the conjured flames by the wielder. The sky’s the limit!
*Note: This is a unique brand of the skill “Fire manipulation” and is only reserved for class Warlock and related.
Wail’s eyes were ready to pop out of his sockets once he saw what he just received! From a creature he himself summoned to boot! At this point, a series of emotions swirled and battled within his inner-psyche. Pride and joy clashed relentlessly. Pride due to an imagined superiority over Sorro and a reluctance to accept hand-outs, and joy due to the rising possibilities after gaining this new passive skill. Eventually, greed rushed in to reinforce joy and Wail happily accepted the skill, rushing to test it out in full swing.
He turned towards the approaching enemy forces, gazing coldly upon the scattered dots all over the fortified outer-region of his base. With a flick of the hand, fire came into existence - floating about excitedly over an open right hand palm. Yet this time it grew. Grew in size and ferocity - while swirling in an energetic, yet chaotic routine. Once it was large enough to compensate for Wail’s insecurities - which was barely larger than what Sorro usually conjured - Wail put his shoulder into it and released. Throwing it high into the sky - seemingly intending for it to descend upon the heads of numerous foes.
As the shinning ball of fury descended - threatening to inflict questionable damage to the advancing men - Wail quickly performed a sudden motion. His hands hastily coming together - only to perform a ripping motion. Traveling to opposite sides, hands frozen into claw-like shapes. His fire responded - splitting apart into multiple fractions of its blazing glory, turning into a wide-area spell. Fire engulfed many of the scurrying about soldiers, wounding many, killing none regrettably. Satisfied, Wail quickly conjured another fireball - which seemed to be of a lesser size than the previous one.
In a quick motion and without careful aim, he let it loose like a fastball - surprisingly managing to aim it right in between two burning figures. Without a single wasted second, Wail flicked his fingers and the fireball exploded - consuming all the fires around and turning them into a flesh-torching shockwave that practically blew the two figures into bits and pieces of singed meat.
Congratulations! Due to your creativity, You have learned a new skill!
Combustion - Novice level 1 (0.00%)
Description: Consumes the flames in the casters selected area, dealing double damage of the cause for the appearance of the said flames.
*Note: Due to the wide range of the possible source of the said flames, the outcome might be the result of speculation. Use at your own discretion.
What was up with that shady description? Use at your own discretion?
“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” - Sorro suddenly exclaimed with excitement - “Now I won’t need to worry about you embarrassing me in front of my friends” - He added and quickly joined in on the fun that was hurling balls of fire at innocent bystanders.
Knocked out of contemplation, Wail was about to hurl some insulting phrase back at his insolent little minion, yet eventually decided not to. As the excitement did not yet fade from his vessels, forcing him to simply continue on together.
Both master and minion soon indulged themselves in an innocent session of playing with fire. Hurling life-taking flames at living beings. Relishing the moment of superiority as their position was perfect for picking off stragglers.
Burning tongues swirled beneath and beyond, licking at both the yellow-wearing attackers and the wood beneath the feet of both Wail and Sorro. Oblivious to his own previously expressed caution, the excited Warlock continued to wither away his mana reserves. Lighting up the horizon with bright fireworks of red, orange and yellow, while occasionally being engulfed in fading shadows as Life Tap activated.
As always - it was up to Alternative Reality to give this slightly coo-coo fellow a wake-up call.
Scorched planks creaked under-feet - as the wood finally gave in after prolonged sessions of fire-therapy. Plunging both Sorro and Wail down into a pitch black abyss. A sinister glee visibly fading from both of their facial features - blood-freezing surprise and realization taking its place there instead.
“Fuck...!” - Was the last sound that managed to drift out before the two disappeared, as Wail refused to leave without at least one offensive phrase.
*******
Sparse light seeped t
hrough the cracks in the wooden walls around - providing a bare minimum of visibility within the structure. Its rays flashing every now and then as shadows flashed past outside. A gathering clearly visible at one particular spot beyond the walls, fractured, agitated voices drifting inside. Sounds of splintering wood echoing across the interior. Forcing those within to shiver in fright and realization. A realization of an oncoming danger.
“Hack at it, you idiot! Quickly! They’re almost here!” - A rugged voice rushed nervously. A sense of dread clearly audible in the tone.
Metal hacked upon wood in haste, forcing the barely held together door to heave and creak - threatening to give in any moment.
Three figures shivered in a corner opposite of the door, two pairs of eyes staring at the groaning door in despairing anticipation. While sheltering another pair in between with an instinctive, yet futile care and protection. A father. A mother. And a daughter. All three shivered - the parents due to the knowledge of what’s to come. And the daughter due to the fear transmitted through the embrace.
As moments passed slowly enough to feel like days, the father finally gave into the pressure and charged at the door in a last, pointless attempt to save more time.
Too late.
After the last assault, those outside put away their tools and simply rammed the door - breaking their way inside just as the father approached. Knocking him down on his behind.
Three ragged men charged in. Armed and armored - yet clearly battered after a prolonged battle. Their surcoats threatening to split apart - blood covered holes and tears seen all over. Formerly yellow tabards torn and soaked in dark liquids. Facial hair stuck together and messy due to sweat, dirt and dried blood. Crazed, their eyes darted about in the dark - observing the inside and its inhabitants. As if running from death itself they quickly closed up the newly made entrance the second they stepped in.
The mother screamed. The father begged. Which only worsened the situation.
“Shut them up! Quickly! They’ll hear us!” - One of the men, who was busy blocking off the entrance shouted - as he rammed his two handed axe into the door, placing its bottom end firmly into the ground.
“Shut up!” - One of them shouted, as he quickly rushed towards the mother and grabbed her by the hair - dragging her into the middle of the room. Without letting go, he lifter her face up right in front of his own - “Shut up or I’ll gut ya!” - Only to ferociously roar into it, splattering spit and blood all over.
Seeing his beloved so abused, the father managed to regain some of his knocked out courage and quickly got up - only to grab the abuser by the shoulders.
“Let go of my wi…!” - He attempted to drag the intruder away, yet only ended up receiving an elbow to the teeth without even finishing the sentence.
Bloodied and with a sudden dental situation - the father looked up at the man responsible and froze in place. Time slowed - as his gaze locked upon a piece of cold steel. A blade which was thrust right into his chest - piercing it in cold blooded murder. Ending the struggle and ending a life.
While the man was being butchered by one of the intruders, the other - who stood without participating for now, finally decided to cut in. Literally.
Since the mother continued to scream in an even higher pitch - he drew a one-handed axe and ended the noise with a few heated hacks to the head.
Only the daughter remained. Frozen stiff from shock - as her innocent, green eyes stared widely at the scene in motion. Unable to take in what was happening. A scene from the worst of nightmares. Nightmares that her pretty little head couldn’t even imagine. A shabby little critter this one was. With long dark hair - hanging loosely over her shoulders in a messy manner. Dirtied and unwashed - same as her one-piece dress and hemp slippers. She stared as the light from the outside shifted. Its color slowly turning to a deep red - rays of it passing through the facial features of the two intruders. Their faces - twisted mugs of anger, fear and madness. Eyes ready to explode from crazed fright. What could have driven these men to such lengths? Forcing them to such atrocities? Guess we’ll never know - as the wooden structure suddenly shook and ear-numbing noise came from above. A fading swear word drifting between all the racket - barely audible, yet not something for the ears of the underage.
With an unexpected crunch - the ceiling caved in. It’s mass of broken wood caving in together with the second floor. All of that heavy load crashing right onto the heads of the three crazed men. Ending their miserable existences there and then. Putting a stop to a futile struggle. A sudden wave of light entered through the gaping hole in the roof. Accompanied by fires burning amongst the wreckage that suddenly came-to be in the middle of the first floor.
Illuminated like a fallen angel - in both sunlight and fire - a figure emerged. Cursing, moaning and grumbling - a bloodied and scorched man in ragged dark robes. Lines pulsing in a deep red covering the whole of it - coming together in peculiar shapes and forms. White, bony arms emerged from within the robes, as the figure started inspecting his own physical shape, using the right one to hold onto his balding head. Barely covered by sparse tuffs of dark hair. To some - this would have been a sight even scarier than the one previously displayed. A true coming of a devil. An ominous birth of the “antichrist”. Yet the girl breathed in deeply with pure amazement, as she looked on wide-eyed. A magical sparkle in them as she looked upon the cursing magician as if at a savior. An angel.
Frozen, on the brink of forgetting to breathe - the little girl looked on towards the robed figure without even blinking. As if afraid to miss a second. As if afraid that once she closed her eyes - he would disappear. Yet suddenly - her little body twitched, as a sudden realization struck as a hammer. Without a moment to waste, she swiftly stood up and darted towards her target of observation. Running as fast as her little feet could manage.
*******
*You have received 4153 falling damage!
*You are critically wounded!
*Bleeding for 25 points of damage every second!
*You have gained experience points!
+45 health due to Soul Syphon!
+44 health due to Soul Syphon!
…
Wail groaned and cursed as he gathered himself up. Fires burned all around him, as he stood atop the mountain of debris that gathered from both the roof and the second floor on the way down. Lighting the inside of this dark, rundown structure in an earie red. Accompanied by the sunlight that gushed in through the gaping hole above.
Illuminated by a mixture of white and red, Wail descended from his position - guiding fires away with but a flick of the wrist. As if a God - he descended to the mortal plains, nature itself opening a corridor of safe passage for him.
He stepped over twitching limbs without even giving them a glance, as blood soaked his dark robes from the numerous wounds that were received on the way down. Tears and holes left by sharp, splintered wood fragments.
That was a close call. Wail cast a quick glance around his immediate surroundings - seeing not a hair of that contemptable little critter. Seems like Sorro either got squished or de-spawned just in time. For some reason this bitter figure could not help but wish for the former. Seeing as he cast all the blame for the way circumstances unfolded upon the obnoxious minion.
Luckily, not only did Wail not die from the fall, he even managed to escape the same immediate outcome caused by the bleeding effects. All thanks to the countermeasure ingeniously placed in advance - Soul Syphon.
As a matter of fact - the warlock felt quite good about himself at this point. It might be an extremely rare occasion, sure - but every now and then he enjoyed the occasional positive outlook. He might have fallen through two floors and got himself separated from the conflict outside. A conflict that he needed to manage unless Wail wanted to lose his land and worldly possessions. Sure, he might be stuck and even surrounded by enemy forces in an unfavorable position. He might be left alone and without a single companion nearby- to serve their function. That is - being punchi
ng-bags.
Yet he survived a lethal fall and was fine and dandy. Battered up, bloodied, alone and probably outnumbered, but fine nonetheless. Yeah, that’s right. Screw you Alternative Reality! You’re not winning this round.
Wail’s lips twisted in a grotesque smile as he placed a point on his side of the board, mentally. That didn’t last long though - as the mentally challenged magician was caught off guard by a sudden attacker. An attacker that should have been expected if judging by the trend of his game-life.
A little shadow dashed from within the darkness beyond - threatening to rip off a limb with its sheer speed.
Before Wail could even conjure a fireball - that shadowy bundle latched itself upon his right leg. Yet what came next was so out of the ordinary for Wail that he was frozen and lost as what to do next.
As the little figure was now in the lighted part of the room - the paranoid anorexic could finally see who took possession of his one precious limb. It was a little girl. Seemingly no older than eleven years old. Wail’s left eyelid twitched as a sudden sonic attack was released by this unexpected guest. As the child burst into tears, while creating quite the racked with her vocal-chords. Her little shoulders twitching in convulsions of complete mental breakdown.
“Get the hell off me!” - Wail finally shouted as he tried to shake this small beast away from his prized leg. Shaking it together with the unwelcome attachment. Annoyed and with not a shred of kindness or sympathy - he could only try to get rid of this bundle of strained emotions. A source of unanswered questions. A means to rip at Wail’s inner-psyche. To force his oh so human mind to find common ground and attempt to empathize - yet bump into a concrete wall on the way. As Wail couldn’t help but feel a void within that part of his mind. Even if he did receive a comprehension mechanism and even examples during his earliest days of childhood - all of it was quickly buried or ripped out by the cruelty of life. Thus none of it could ever develop and none of it could be used.
