Two Wizards fighting.

This is a dark age, a bloody age, an age of daemons and of sorcery.

Two Wizards fighting.

Postby schaferwhat‽ » Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:32 am

A night of fire and shade.

The hiss of hoarfrost turning to steam filled the night as Anthonius Halbmeister made his way down the crooked streets between von Dhurn’s manse and his tower. None of the townsfolk paid his cacophonous journey any heed; the ignorant feared those with true power, so the streets emptied each night in preparation of his passage. His magesight saw the luminance beneath his skin and Anthonius smiled, thinking how disturbing his power must seem to the magic blind. With his focus the glow brightened, the heat soaring, towards combustion. He stopped abruptly, wards stumbling from his lips as he focused his will to quell the wind of Aqshy swelling within his form. He breathed deeply and slowly, letting power ebb from him until the danger had passed.

"The door was unlocked so I let myself in." An unfamiliar voice spoke as Anthonius reached his chambers. It was the baby faced hunter that had won the favour of Lord von Dhurn and the townspeople the past few weeks.
"That was unwise." Anthonius warned, fire erupting at the head of his staff as a smile did likewise on his face. He had power to burn; he may as well scare some manners into the boy.
"Apologies Herr Halbmeister I should introduce myself" the hunter said with a bashful smile, a sword appearing in his right hand.
"Bartholemus Teuflel, my sword is at your service, though I warn you it is largely symbolic."
Anthonius' eye was drawn to the charred parchment that littered the floor beside Teuflel, undoubtedly the remnants of the concealment put on the sword the young wizard was brandishing.
"So that’s what the grey college has its members do now? Not enough gold in cheap tricks, so you have to hunt game to get by." He laughed, his knuckles whitening around his staff, Teuflel’s smile remained fixed.
"I bring tidings from your old friend Thyrus Gormann and an invite to meet with him in Altdorf." Bartholemus said, laying his sword on Anthonius' workbench.
"Do you think me stupid boy? I've been practicing magic since before you were born." Anthonius spat, pointing the flaming staff square at Bartholemus. "No lies, tricks or dissemblance. I've known Grey Wizards, none of you are as clever as you think." The boy’s face hardened.
"Your actions here have not gone unnoticed. Herr Gormann extends an invite to you, so that you may face a tribunal of your peers and be spared the attentions of Witch Hunters; a party of which will be arriving with the dawn."

A blazing jet of flame burst angrily from his staff scorching the brick wall. Anthonius cursed, the boy was sharp enough to see the attack and quick enough to dive to the floor.

"Witch Hunters? Priests and zealots are peddlers of ignorance and lies. What sort of wizard are you? Selling me to those dogs." Anthonius roared willing the wind of Asqhy in the room to ignite as real fire, casting it at Bartholemus’ prone body, but even as the fire surged the wizard flickered like a shadow in candlelight and from the distorted mass of shade ethereal ravens flew out to smother the flames. .

"Blunt people make for blunt tools, but they are a tool suited for removing the cancer you brought to Rauksdorf.” Bartholemus said, raising to his feet the other side of the room.
“Over a dozen caches of warpstone. What madness drove you to poison this place?" The sword flashed into the grey wizard’s hand as he charged. Anthonius barely brought his staff up to parry the blade and strained as he resisted the younger fitter man.

"Cancer? Who are you to judge me? A wizard so young and stupid he thinks he can win this duel with a sword." Anthonius yelled, drawing power within to form an internal inferno that surged from his core through his staff and into the sword. The blade glowed red and Bartholemus dropped it with a pained cry and the smell of charred flesh. But Anthonius wasn't finished, he spoke three words of combustion and watched as his opponent jumped backwards away from the encroaching conflagration. Bartholemus' body contorted in unnatural ways, dancing with the engulfing flames. A shadow stretched backwards to the ceiling and the grey wizard fell shirtless to the floor, his tunic left burning before him.

A sword of fire raged in Anthonius' hands as he towered over his burned and battered foe.
"You’re quick of wit and wind boy, but you haven’t the experience or knowledge to win against a master of the art." Anthonius said rising his blazing blade for the killing stroke.
"Funny, I'm not the one gloating over an illusion." Bartholemus voice taunted from behind Anthonius. The bright wizard swung round the arc of his sword burning a dull afterglow into the air. A howl of pain extinguished the fire and Anthonius was shocked to hear it from his mouth. A red hot blade protruded from his gut, the hilt of the sword resting in the small of his back. He fell to his knees, words of flame stumbling from his lips ineffectually. All he could see was pain; there was no more fire for him to grab hold of.

"Ventriloquism is the Tilean circus art of voice throwing. There’s more to cheap tricks than magic." Bartholemus said, pulling himself to his feet with a pained grunt. He held his right hand out and the sword manifested into it accompanied by the sickening suction of the new vacuum in Anthonius' gut. The Bright Wizard whimpered briefly before the sword tore into his throat.

Blood pooled at Bartholemus’ feet as he gathered the shadow to him, submerging his body in shade and rendering it invisible to the magic blind. He walked to the nearest window; there was no sign of movement in the town below. No one was minded to investigate the noises and lights that came from a wizard’s tower in the dead of night and Bartholemus was once again thankful for the fearful ignorance of the general populace. He grimaced, as he turned back to face the body. He was battered, bruised and burnt; he hadn’t expected Halbmeister to resist, no matter what his tutors had said about the corrupt. He was a wizard, a man of learning and reason, not some maddened dog. He examined his charred hand, next time he’d wear gloves in case they resisted. If it was going to happen often he might need to bring a staff. He laughed at the thought, hard to look anything other than a wizard when carrying a big magic stick.
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