02-11-2012, 03:20 PM
The Death of Ruibarra.
"Open the door." The paladin's fingers tensed around his mace, turning to the red-robed elf with folded arms.
"No. You're staying here." The elf's voice was stern, and resolute. He glared with brilliant emerald into the face of the paladin as he summoned a hammer of holy energies into his palm. The man swung at Astus, the robed elf, not with the hammer, but with his fist.
The plate glove stopped as if it hit a wall of steel, and the air around Astus would shimmer and drip like a stone into a pond. "Did you really think I would lock myself in such a small space unprotected?
The barrier of arcane would shake, the air around it sizzling with heat as it shot outwards, slamming Ruibarra backwards with the force of a cannon. The magic swirled about the elf before resolidifying into an aura as the armored man stumbled to his feet. He hurled his hammer at the shield flickering around Astus, the holy light tearing a chunk of arcane from the barrier. Astus's fingers would spark suddenly as flames launch like a jet towards Ruibarra, and as if the Sun's hand itself the paladin was surrounded by glittering gold, sending the fireball careening into the wooden ceiling. Drawing his blade, the paladin charged at Astus, slamming into him and causing the shield to shatter like bits of glass. The elf bent over, coughing as the wind raced from his lungs. His lips moved, and after a moment the golden aegis surrounding the paladin faltered.
The Light blurred as if sucked towards Astus, and after a moment the bulwark of bullion surrounded the mage's form, protecting his abdomen from several swift punches. Looking upwards, the mage hissed a word in the tongue of dragon's, and upon suffusing the word with arcane might a torrent of searing fire shot Ruibarra backwards, causing his armor to glow white with heat. The man let out an impudent shriek as the sizzling steel scalded his flesh, causing him to stumble backwards. Astus focused himself with one eye closed, whispering a secret into his palm. The black words called into being darkness, and the seed of death incarnate glowed sallow in his palm.
Thoughts of doubt exhaled in a final, steadying breath, the necromancer hurled the coil of unearthly luminescence into the being of the paladin, the arcane sinking through his breastplate and disappearing into the sarcous being it was made to protect. The elf fell supine as the dark magic settled in his gullet, and after a moment Astus stood and stared down at the man from behind a veil of smoke.
Someone had tried to force the door open. Astus supposed it was good of him to set the rune there, and as the flames erupted from his handiwork, he pressed his fingers to the dying man. Heretical words, one might call them, spilled from his lips as violet energies coalesced around his wrist and fingertips. The spirit of the paladin was in his palm-- such a pure and noble thing. Such an arrogant thing.
The mist coalesced with another word, a whirling gush of power trapping it within a small, azure gemstone. The necromancer ducked under the table, shoving the gem within a pocket of his robes. The wood was burning about him, and the entire cottage was creaking. He saw footsteps as a female elf rushed into the room, sword at the ready. The rune of teleportation, however, was already in his palm. His soft-voiced words masked by the roar of the blaze, his form was enveloped by blue, and soon gone with a burst of wind to fill the space he once occupied.
"Open the door." The paladin's fingers tensed around his mace, turning to the red-robed elf with folded arms.
"No. You're staying here." The elf's voice was stern, and resolute. He glared with brilliant emerald into the face of the paladin as he summoned a hammer of holy energies into his palm. The man swung at Astus, the robed elf, not with the hammer, but with his fist.
The plate glove stopped as if it hit a wall of steel, and the air around Astus would shimmer and drip like a stone into a pond. "Did you really think I would lock myself in such a small space unprotected?
The barrier of arcane would shake, the air around it sizzling with heat as it shot outwards, slamming Ruibarra backwards with the force of a cannon. The magic swirled about the elf before resolidifying into an aura as the armored man stumbled to his feet. He hurled his hammer at the shield flickering around Astus, the holy light tearing a chunk of arcane from the barrier. Astus's fingers would spark suddenly as flames launch like a jet towards Ruibarra, and as if the Sun's hand itself the paladin was surrounded by glittering gold, sending the fireball careening into the wooden ceiling. Drawing his blade, the paladin charged at Astus, slamming into him and causing the shield to shatter like bits of glass. The elf bent over, coughing as the wind raced from his lungs. His lips moved, and after a moment the golden aegis surrounding the paladin faltered.
The Light blurred as if sucked towards Astus, and after a moment the bulwark of bullion surrounded the mage's form, protecting his abdomen from several swift punches. Looking upwards, the mage hissed a word in the tongue of dragon's, and upon suffusing the word with arcane might a torrent of searing fire shot Ruibarra backwards, causing his armor to glow white with heat. The man let out an impudent shriek as the sizzling steel scalded his flesh, causing him to stumble backwards. Astus focused himself with one eye closed, whispering a secret into his palm. The black words called into being darkness, and the seed of death incarnate glowed sallow in his palm.
Thoughts of doubt exhaled in a final, steadying breath, the necromancer hurled the coil of unearthly luminescence into the being of the paladin, the arcane sinking through his breastplate and disappearing into the sarcous being it was made to protect. The elf fell supine as the dark magic settled in his gullet, and after a moment Astus stood and stared down at the man from behind a veil of smoke.
Someone had tried to force the door open. Astus supposed it was good of him to set the rune there, and as the flames erupted from his handiwork, he pressed his fingers to the dying man. Heretical words, one might call them, spilled from his lips as violet energies coalesced around his wrist and fingertips. The spirit of the paladin was in his palm-- such a pure and noble thing. Such an arrogant thing.
The mist coalesced with another word, a whirling gush of power trapping it within a small, azure gemstone. The necromancer ducked under the table, shoving the gem within a pocket of his robes. The wood was burning about him, and the entire cottage was creaking. He saw footsteps as a female elf rushed into the room, sword at the ready. The rune of teleportation, however, was already in his palm. His soft-voiced words masked by the roar of the blaze, his form was enveloped by blue, and soon gone with a burst of wind to fill the space he once occupied.