((A while back, a friend and I were discussing what would happen if one of our characters had an Incarnate Trial made for them, where they were the boss at the end and it all had a story based significance. It was a fun little discussion, and ideas, both plot based and mechanical, came to mind in an hour or two of chatter. We'd spend a long time fantasising about how our characters would stand as bastions of power against the players, who would fight alongside already established characters.
Now that the game is coming to a close, I felt that I needed to write the ending to some of my most significant characters. First up was Magus Mu'Nerall.
Mu was made because, at the time, I noticed a distinct lack of mu mages within the ranks of Arachnos player characters. Sure, there was no archetype for it, but we could at least try, right? Mu'Nerall grew as a character, and was originally devoted to the Arachnos as much as the rest. After a while though, I didn't play him as much. it was only recently that he had reached level 50, sitting at level 44 for about a year. He had no significant plot, other than being a bad guy for my main hero and floating in the D, chastising fellow troops for wasting Arachnos time.
Eventually, I felt he deserved a chance, and set to work on a Mu Uprising on Virtue. He would work in the background, making improved Skyships and recruiting followers.
Then, of course, the game was given three months notice. After spending a couple of days in disbelief, I set to work on a series of Epic Epilogues for my characters. They may have stories to continue in other worlds, but I felt comfortable ending them here. Mu'Nerall's uprising, one that was doomed to fail, was the first.
This story is how it would have happened, using the iTrial format I discussed with my friend a fair while ago. Hope you enjoy it))
Magus MuNerall. 1 Year later.
The Skyship Event Horizon tore through the air to Paragon City, the immense galleon soaring with no trouble at all.
That is, of course, if you were to ignore the attackers.
Swarming the half a mile long ship, Vanguard Choppers and Arachnos Flyers bombarded the arcane shields with any ordinance they had left. Heroes and villains alike flew about, firing their strongest attacks upon the monstrosity. Within the twisting halls of the ship, soldiers and costumed fighters struggled against a legion of red and black, the crimson lightning crackling through the air, mixed with the shouts of Hequats most loyal followers.
The Bloodshed was extraordinary.
The bridge of the ship was filled with a deafening clamour of alarms, and Mu engineers rushed to every available monitor and dial, trying to ease the ships pain as best they could.
In a jagged and intimidating set of black and red armour stood a thin, ancient man, his arms folded behind his back, his calm and delicate demeanour unchanged, despite the alarms. All over his body, residual arcane sparks raced, the abundance of Mu magic failing to be fully contained.
MuNerall had started all of this many years ago. Over fourteen thousand years of age, the man had spent his entire life preparing for the return of his people. Recruiting those loyal to his cause, liberating technology in the name of the gods, even spending many a year suffering under the thumb of that heretic Ritcher, all of it was in her glorious name; in the name of Hequat, the one who would guide them.
The great ship shuddered as a section of it exploded. The lights and alarms increased in intensity, warning the crew that the armoury was now gone. Panic started to creep into view, the engineers struggling to put the wellbeing of their faith above anything else. MuNerall sighed. A pity that so many of his loyal troops lacked the back bone to continue this work; even in the face of encroaching death, they would flee.
Stay on course, she demands it of us, he ordered, the thin snarl of his voice cutting into his troops like a knife, forcing them to push themselves.
He wasnt about to let his efforts go to waste. They were half an hour away from the coast of Paragon, the corrupt shell that rested on top of his true target, Orenbega. They had to carry on. They had to keep fighting. It was his determination that had cost him so dearly. The hundreds of thousands of men and women fighting for him, the thousands of ships at his command, the missiles he stole from Warburg, and the countless spells and technology he took in the name of Hequat, all that was left was his flag ship, the Event Horizon, as well as a handful of troops.
There was a massive shudder, one that shook the rebelling mage in his place, tossing everyone on board like a ragdoll. The entire ship had stopped moving. Hundreds of Arachnos Fliers and Longbow helicopters had surrounded the ship, each one sporting ten or more psions, who used their powers to halt the thing mid-flight. With them were countless force field generators, sheltering the craft from the maelstrom of red lightning that began firing from the ship.
Standing straight again, the ancient Mu Mystic had to wonder how it all went wrong. How did they get caught off guard? They attacked so soon after the Battalions defeat, with any opposing force being too weary to retaliate. Where did this second wind come from? Perhaps it was that snivelling lap dog MuDrakhan that had tipped his enemies off. That pathetic mage, MuNerall thought, how dare he jeopardise the return of their goddess for the sake of his own hide? Hed have the worm gutted and displayed before the people for this!
Another shudder. Looking to the screens, MuNerall saw it. An immense spider, possibly bigger than a building, was dropped onto the hull of his ship. Within a few minutes, the impervium panels that lined the hull started to bend and tear away, all while this monster stood perfectly still. The mage cursed himself as the Jade Spider did its work, so beautifully too with all the improvements made over the years
Amplify the lightning, generate more storms. Knock those pathetic flying contraptions of theirs out of the sky! he snarled.
No one listened. Already frightened by their impending doom, the Mu Engineers had fled in all directions. All over the ship panic had ensued. The enemy force the crawled through the ship was moving faster now, cutting through the rabble of terrified Mu like a hot knife through butter. Their former leader shouted orders once more, adding the threat of Hequats wrath, but it was too late, none of his people would listen anymore.
He clenched his fist in rage. Cowards, the lot of them! What happened to the dedication that was unrivalled? The unshaking character each brave soul in his employ would have? Was the death of the Orenbegans so unimportant that their own lives were worth saving? The mage breathed deeply through painfully ground teeth. The storms outside grew progressively worse, the flowing crimson lightning over his body seeping into the floors and walls around him.
He couldnt lose now! HE WONT! Even if he had to fly what was left of his magnificent flag ship by himself and personally hunt down each demon-dealing swine, he would win! They would all perish and a new, golden age for the gods of old would come back! Whose fault was it that Tiellekku initially failed to defeat Mot? Whose fault was it that the fight against the Battalion required us to fight alongside an untrustworthy and mad source? It was them! Humanity had failed praise or even acknowledge the gods of old, leaving once great and powerful beings weak and unprepared! Now they would pay, they would pay in blood.
The door behind him shuddered in protest against the strike force within the ship. They had finally worked their way to the bridge, to end the threat at the source.
Good, the ancient mage mused, itll save him the time of hunting them down himself.
The door once again groaned under the continued assault. MuNerall turned and waited. By now the sheer volume of electricity had fried the monitors, the alarms and lights shutting off. He was ready. The moment they came into the bridge, he would end them all, one triumphant strike and then he would rise, blast every one of the heathens that dare cross him before! Thatll force them to praise the glorious Hequat. Fear was always a good tool to use.
In one deafening crash, the giant metallic door was wrenched off its hinges and fell to the ground. On the other side of the wall of dust, he saw them. The menacing visage of Arachnos troops, the bright, self-righteous colours of the Longbow, the dark, cold image of Vanguard and amongst the lot of them, a sea of heroes and villains, each wearing the costume of whatever failed and petty ideal that they hoped to portray; a sea of misguided and arrogant fools. Rage and determination coursed through the ancient Mus being like the lightning that surrounded him.
Come, come meet your doom, heretics! MuNerall barked, meet your doom at the hands of your superior!
The strike team charged, bounding and flying over the fallen door and right towards the mage. With a sinister grin, MuNerall raised his hand. What happened next was unknown. A bright flash of reddish-white had filled the area, and a high-pitched tone filling the ears of all those who might have survived the blast. There was nothing left of the bridge, with the Incarnates and powerful heroes and villains being tossed into the air. When their senses returned, it reeked of ionised air, the muffled crash of thunder and the blurry flash of lightning. The troops, lesser beings as they were, had been instantly vaporised in the colossal strike of lightning that had obliterated the front of the ship.
Standing in the smouldering crater that once was the bridge, MuNerall floated in the air, confronted by the opposing strike team, and behind them, the still stationary Jade Spider. His fist quivered with rage as he saw them still breathing.
Weak minded, pathetic heathens. You cant hope to stand against me! He raved, raising his arms to assault the attackers once more. As a demonstration of his power, he flung another bolt of lightning at the Jade Spider. The bolt collided with the mechanical beast with great force, staggering it, but nothing more. As the heroes and villains charged the mage, the giant spider let forth a dreadful psychic wail.
MuNerall braced himself against it, and working through the immense pain focussed his attention on two of the Arachnos Flyers that were still by the ship. Eyes, ears and nose bleeding, the mage launched two tethers of electricity, which sliced through the force fields and lassoed around the flyers. Swinging both his fists down, the flyers jerked out of their flight path, sending them crashing down in a smooth arc and into the Jade Spider. The sky lit up with the explosion, and the Event Horizon jerked slightly as the psychic demand to keep it in place was increased.
With the psychic assault over, he could pay more attention to the attackers that were almost upon him. He spent a moment to count them, seeing that they numbered at around twenty four. With a smirk, he called down a smaller bolt onto himself, disappearing as it impacted him. Another bolt came crashing down into the rear ranks of the enemy, blasting them apart and sending them tumbling across the hull, and positioning the mage where they once were. As he gained his bearings again, he felt the sudden flash of heat from a pyromancer, one who had used his superior speed to get into close range.
The mage howled in pain as flames engulfed his right arm. Once more working through the pain, he clenched his fist and brought it round to meet his targets chin, discharging enough power upon impact to light a city block. The hero stumbled back, each nerve in his body twitching each muscle, forcing the man into a series of spasms. As more of the attackers reached into range, the mage threw out his arms, another discharge of lightning coursing through the lot of them, overloading their synapses and stunning them. With the lightning still fresh in their bodies, MuNerall raised his arms above his head. Each of the affected attackers flew into the air, colliding with each other in a mass ball of pain. Still in his arcane grip, the mage threw his arms forward, sending the sorry bunch of fools over to the side.
A section of the fighters broke off from the assault to aid their comrades before they fell off the side of the ship. The ones that remained unleashed their Well-given powers in a flurry of power. In the explosion, the mage had attempted to shield himself, with the force knocking him into the air and tumbling backwards. Braking in the air, MuNerall let a heavy snarl of rage pass through his gritted teeth. How dare they strike him, those who had shunned their rightful masters?! Such insubordination!
In retaliation, the mage clapped his hands together; the sudden crack of energy in the air delivering a powerful pulse that forced the attackers back even further, bar one or two. Throwing aside any form of tactic or grace, the ancient Mu Mystic flung bolt after bolt of lightning at the accursed beings. In his rage he failed to see the waning effectiveness of his powers, even with the hate filled prayers to his patron deity, and his attacks slowly started to bounce off his foes.
They were regrouping, moving back and forth, gaining their strength while MuNeralls was weakening dramatically. Unable to keep himself afloat, he was staggering about on the ruined hull of the ship. Even with the pain, he couldnt see passed the rage. They had to die, they all had to die, be reduced to nothing more than smouldering husks! They turned away from the gods and not even grovelling would save their miserable lives!
As the Mus magic faded from his being, the attackers stopped their assault. Had he won? Had he finally won? Had they seen sense and realised it was futile? Halting his attacks, the mage caught his breath, waiting for his enemies to bow down and grovel. To his continued confusion, the strike force wandered away as if bored. It was preposterous, were they toying with him? What was going on!?
It was then that he realised what was happening. Between him and his retreating attackers, parrying down hundreds of tethers, Bane Spiders of varying ranks landed, prepping their maces and standing ready. Before he could raise a hand to retaliate, between them descended a man who had been a subject of ire for the mage, one who had generated enough contempt within the years he had worked alongside him. He was garbed in tan robes, his dreadlocked hair dancing in the winds from the now dying storm. A curved blade rested in his right hand, a blade that was dripping in a cursed, magical aura.
Scirocco simply looked upon the mage with something akin to disappointment. The anger that this one mage had towards the world, it was painful to see. A part of him wondered if there was anything that could have been done to save him, much like his ward, Ice Mistral. As he took a step forward, MuNerall flinched.
Stay back, I say stay back! he shrieked. Raising his arm, he launched a bolt of lightning, only for Scirocco to raise his own hand and block it like it was nothing. The blast rippled around him, causing a few of the Bane Spiders to buckle and spasm. The Desert Wind took another step, earning another bolt, only this one was weaker than the last. MuNerall edged backwards, further and further, getting closer to the end of his once great ship. By then his magics had well and truly abandoned him.
We gave you sanctuary, mage, Scirocco stated, quite calmly too. He took another step forward, closer to his exhausted foe, we provided food, succour and medicine. You turn this down for some old ideology that has aided no one but your god. The Mu Mystic took an ill-fated swing at the man, missing entirely and stumbling in his fatigued state.
We could have saved the world! he snarled, The gods would have lit the way for our own good, but you and your heretic master, Ritcher, chose to exploit us! Use our blood to further your own, crumbling goals, and you consider us detrimental!? You misguided monsters are only paving the way to your own destruct-
The mage couldnt finish his sentence as the curved blade cut a deep gash down his chest. He stared in disbelief at the pure speed that Scirocco had launched the attack. Within his rage, he was blind to the intentions of his adversary. Rapidly losing the strength to stand, he fell back, tumbling over the side of the ship and into the dark waters of the Atlantic Ocean below.
Scirocco stood straight and gazed over the edge. Regret filled his being as he hoped that there might have been a way to redeem the man, to save him. He reasoned that a man whose hatred had been present for so many years had consumed him completely; there was no coming back from that. It was simply unfortunate that it had to come to this. He looked up and to his left, seeing the fish-like man he called a comrade staring at the same spot in the water. He was always curious as to how the former Gideon Ray was able to sneak by him so often, but it was something that got the job done. He dare not question it.
Are you not going to dive after him? He asked, the question oozing with sarcasm and disdain. Regardless of his effectiveness, he couldnt bring himself to appreciate his fellow Patrons sadistic nature.
Not yet, Captain Mako replied, the row of pointed teeth in his maw becoming menacingly visible as he began to grin.
((A while back, a friend and I were discussing what would happen if one of our characters had an Incarnate Trial made for them, where they were the boss at the end and it all had a story based significance. It was a fun little discussion, and ideas, both plot based and mechanical, came to mind in an hour or two of chatter. We'd spend a long time fantasising about how our characters would stand as bastions of power against the players, who would fight alongside already established characters.
Now that the game is coming to a close, I felt that I needed to write the ending to some of my most significant characters. First up was Magus Mu'Nerall.
Mu was made because, at the time, I noticed a distinct lack of mu mages within the ranks of Arachnos player characters. Sure, there was no archetype for it, but we could at least try, right? Mu'Nerall grew as a character, and was originally devoted to the Arachnos as much as the rest. After a while though, I didn't play him as much. it was only recently that he had reached level 50, sitting at level 44 for about a year. He had no significant plot, other than being a bad guy for my main hero and floating in the D, chastising fellow troops for wasting Arachnos time.
Eventually, I felt he deserved a chance, and set to work on a Mu Uprising on Virtue. He would work in the background, making improved Skyships and recruiting followers.
Then, of course, the game was given three months notice. After spending a couple of days in disbelief, I set to work on a series of Epic Epilogues for my characters. They may have stories to continue in other worlds, but I felt comfortable ending them here. Mu'Nerall's uprising, one that was doomed to fail, was the first.
This story is how it would have happened, using the iTrial format I discussed with my friend a fair while ago. Hope you enjoy it))
Magus MuNerall. 1 Year later.
The Skyship Event Horizon tore through the air to Paragon City, the immense galleon soaring with no trouble at all.
That is, of course, if you were to ignore the attackers.
Swarming the half a mile long ship, Vanguard Choppers and Arachnos Flyers bombarded the arcane shields with any ordinance they had left. Heroes and villains alike flew about, firing their strongest attacks upon the monstrosity. Within the twisting halls of the ship, soldiers and costumed fighters struggled against a legion of red and black, the crimson lightning crackling through the air, mixed with the shouts of Hequats most loyal followers.
The Bloodshed was extraordinary.
The bridge of the ship was filled with a deafening clamour of alarms, and Mu engineers rushed to every available monitor and dial, trying to ease the ships pain as best they could.
In a jagged and intimidating set of black and red armour stood a thin, ancient man, his arms folded behind his back, his calm and delicate demeanour unchanged, despite the alarms. All over his body, residual arcane sparks raced, the abundance of Mu magic failing to be fully contained.
MuNerall had started all of this many years ago. Over fourteen thousand years of age, the man had spent his entire life preparing for the return of his people. Recruiting those loyal to his cause, liberating technology in the name of the gods, even spending many a year suffering under the thumb of that heretic Ritcher, all of it was in her glorious name; in the name of Hequat, the one who would guide them.
The great ship shuddered as a section of it exploded. The lights and alarms increased in intensity, warning the crew that the armoury was now gone. Panic started to creep into view, the engineers struggling to put the wellbeing of their faith above anything else. MuNerall sighed. A pity that so many of his loyal troops lacked the back bone to continue this work; even in the face of encroaching death, they would flee.
Stay on course, she demands it of us, he ordered, the thin snarl of his voice cutting into his troops like a knife, forcing them to push themselves.
He wasnt about to let his efforts go to waste. They were half an hour away from the coast of Paragon, the corrupt shell that rested on top of his true target, Orenbega. They had to carry on. They had to keep fighting. It was his determination that had cost him so dearly. The hundreds of thousands of men and women fighting for him, the thousands of ships at his command, the missiles he stole from Warburg, and the countless spells and technology he took in the name of Hequat, all that was left was his flag ship, the Event Horizon, as well as a handful of troops.
There was a massive shudder, one that shook the rebelling mage in his place, tossing everyone on board like a ragdoll. The entire ship had stopped moving. Hundreds of Arachnos Fliers and Longbow helicopters had surrounded the ship, each one sporting ten or more psions, who used their powers to halt the thing mid-flight. With them were countless force field generators, sheltering the craft from the maelstrom of red lightning that began firing from the ship.
Standing straight again, the ancient Mu Mystic had to wonder how it all went wrong. How did they get caught off guard? They attacked so soon after the Battalions defeat, with any opposing force being too weary to retaliate. Where did this second wind come from? Perhaps it was that snivelling lap dog MuDrakhan that had tipped his enemies off. That pathetic mage, MuNerall thought, how dare he jeopardise the return of their goddess for the sake of his own hide? Hed have the worm gutted and displayed before the people for this!
Another shudder. Looking to the screens, MuNerall saw it. An immense spider, possibly bigger than a building, was dropped onto the hull of his ship. Within a few minutes, the impervium panels that lined the hull started to bend and tear away, all while this monster stood perfectly still. The mage cursed himself as the Jade Spider did its work, so beautifully too with all the improvements made over the years
Amplify the lightning, generate more storms. Knock those pathetic flying contraptions of theirs out of the sky! he snarled.
No one listened. Already frightened by their impending doom, the Mu Engineers had fled in all directions. All over the ship panic had ensued. The enemy force the crawled through the ship was moving faster now, cutting through the rabble of terrified Mu like a hot knife through butter. Their former leader shouted orders once more, adding the threat of Hequats wrath, but it was too late, none of his people would listen anymore.
He clenched his fist in rage. Cowards, the lot of them! What happened to the dedication that was unrivalled? The unshaking character each brave soul in his employ would have? Was the death of the Orenbegans so unimportant that their own lives were worth saving? The mage breathed deeply through painfully ground teeth. The storms outside grew progressively worse, the flowing crimson lightning over his body seeping into the floors and walls around him.
He couldnt lose now! HE WONT! Even if he had to fly what was left of his magnificent flag ship by himself and personally hunt down each demon-dealing swine, he would win! They would all perish and a new, golden age for the gods of old would come back! Whose fault was it that Tiellekku initially failed to defeat Mot? Whose fault was it that the fight against the Battalion required us to fight alongside an untrustworthy and mad source? It was them! Humanity had failed praise or even acknowledge the gods of old, leaving once great and powerful beings weak and unprepared! Now they would pay, they would pay in blood.
The door behind him shuddered in protest against the strike force within the ship. They had finally worked their way to the bridge, to end the threat at the source.
Good, the ancient mage mused, itll save him the time of hunting them down himself.
The door once again groaned under the continued assault. MuNerall turned and waited. By now the sheer volume of electricity had fried the monitors, the alarms and lights shutting off. He was ready. The moment they came into the bridge, he would end them all, one triumphant strike and then he would rise, blast every one of the heathens that dare cross him before! Thatll force them to praise the glorious Hequat. Fear was always a good tool to use.
In one deafening crash, the giant metallic door was wrenched off its hinges and fell to the ground. On the other side of the wall of dust, he saw them. The menacing visage of Arachnos troops, the bright, self-righteous colours of the Longbow, the dark, cold image of Vanguard and amongst the lot of them, a sea of heroes and villains, each wearing the costume of whatever failed and petty ideal that they hoped to portray; a sea of misguided and arrogant fools. Rage and determination coursed through the ancient Mus being like the lightning that surrounded him.
Come, come meet your doom, heretics! MuNerall barked, meet your doom at the hands of your superior!
The strike team charged, bounding and flying over the fallen door and right towards the mage. With a sinister grin, MuNerall raised his hand. What happened next was unknown. A bright flash of reddish-white had filled the area, and a high-pitched tone filling the ears of all those who might have survived the blast. There was nothing left of the bridge, with the Incarnates and powerful heroes and villains being tossed into the air. When their senses returned, it reeked of ionised air, the muffled crash of thunder and the blurry flash of lightning. The troops, lesser beings as they were, had been instantly vaporised in the colossal strike of lightning that had obliterated the front of the ship.
Standing in the smouldering crater that once was the bridge, MuNerall floated in the air, confronted by the opposing strike team, and behind them, the still stationary Jade Spider. His fist quivered with rage as he saw them still breathing.
Weak minded, pathetic heathens. You cant hope to stand against me! He raved, raising his arms to assault the attackers once more. As a demonstration of his power, he flung another bolt of lightning at the Jade Spider. The bolt collided with the mechanical beast with great force, staggering it, but nothing more. As the heroes and villains charged the mage, the giant spider let forth a dreadful psychic wail.
MuNerall braced himself against it, and working through the immense pain focussed his attention on two of the Arachnos Flyers that were still by the ship. Eyes, ears and nose bleeding, the mage launched two tethers of electricity, which sliced through the force fields and lassoed around the flyers. Swinging both his fists down, the flyers jerked out of their flight path, sending them crashing down in a smooth arc and into the Jade Spider. The sky lit up with the explosion, and the Event Horizon jerked slightly as the psychic demand to keep it in place was increased.
With the psychic assault over, he could pay more attention to the attackers that were almost upon him. He spent a moment to count them, seeing that they numbered at around twenty four. With a smirk, he called down a smaller bolt onto himself, disappearing as it impacted him. Another bolt came crashing down into the rear ranks of the enemy, blasting them apart and sending them tumbling across the hull, and positioning the mage where they once were. As he gained his bearings again, he felt the sudden flash of heat from a pyromancer, one who had used his superior speed to get into close range.
The mage howled in pain as flames engulfed his right arm. Once more working through the pain, he clenched his fist and brought it round to meet his targets chin, discharging enough power upon impact to light a city block. The hero stumbled back, each nerve in his body twitching each muscle, forcing the man into a series of spasms. As more of the attackers reached into range, the mage threw out his arms, another discharge of lightning coursing through the lot of them, overloading their synapses and stunning them. With the lightning still fresh in their bodies, MuNerall raised his arms above his head. Each of the affected attackers flew into the air, colliding with each other in a mass ball of pain. Still in his arcane grip, the mage threw his arms forward, sending the sorry bunch of fools over to the side.
A section of the fighters broke off from the assault to aid their comrades before they fell off the side of the ship. The ones that remained unleashed their Well-given powers in a flurry of power. In the explosion, the mage had attempted to shield himself, with the force knocking him into the air and tumbling backwards. Braking in the air, MuNerall let a heavy snarl of rage pass through his gritted teeth. How dare they strike him, those who had shunned their rightful masters?! Such insubordination!
In retaliation, the mage clapped his hands together; the sudden crack of energy in the air delivering a powerful pulse that forced the attackers back even further, bar one or two. Throwing aside any form of tactic or grace, the ancient Mu Mystic flung bolt after bolt of lightning at the accursed beings. In his rage he failed to see the waning effectiveness of his powers, even with the hate filled prayers to his patron deity, and his attacks slowly started to bounce off his foes.
They were regrouping, moving back and forth, gaining their strength while MuNeralls was weakening dramatically. Unable to keep himself afloat, he was staggering about on the ruined hull of the ship. Even with the pain, he couldnt see passed the rage. They had to die, they all had to die, be reduced to nothing more than smouldering husks! They turned away from the gods and not even grovelling would save their miserable lives!
As the Mus magic faded from his being, the attackers stopped their assault. Had he won? Had he finally won? Had they seen sense and realised it was futile? Halting his attacks, the mage caught his breath, waiting for his enemies to bow down and grovel. To his continued confusion, the strike force wandered away as if bored. It was preposterous, were they toying with him? What was going on!?
It was then that he realised what was happening. Between him and his retreating attackers, parrying down hundreds of tethers, Bane Spiders of varying ranks landed, prepping their maces and standing ready. Before he could raise a hand to retaliate, between them descended a man who had been a subject of ire for the mage, one who had generated enough contempt within the years he had worked alongside him. He was garbed in tan robes, his dreadlocked hair dancing in the winds from the now dying storm. A curved blade rested in his right hand, a blade that was dripping in a cursed, magical aura.
Scirocco simply looked upon the mage with something akin to disappointment. The anger that this one mage had towards the world, it was painful to see. A part of him wondered if there was anything that could have been done to save him, much like his ward, Ice Mistral. As he took a step forward, MuNerall flinched.
Stay back, I say stay back! he shrieked. Raising his arm, he launched a bolt of lightning, only for Scirocco to raise his own hand and block it like it was nothing. The blast rippled around him, causing a few of the Bane Spiders to buckle and spasm. The Desert Wind took another step, earning another bolt, only this one was weaker than the last. MuNerall edged backwards, further and further, getting closer to the end of his once great ship. By then his magics had well and truly abandoned him.
We gave you sanctuary, mage, Scirocco stated, quite calmly too. He took another step forward, closer to his exhausted foe, we provided food, succour and medicine. You turn this down for some old ideology that has aided no one but your god. The Mu Mystic took an ill-fated swing at the man, missing entirely and stumbling in his fatigued state.
We could have saved the world! he snarled, The gods would have lit the way for our own good, but you and your heretic master, Ritcher, chose to exploit us! Use our blood to further your own, crumbling goals, and you consider us detrimental!? You misguided monsters are only paving the way to your own destruct-
The mage couldnt finish his sentence as the curved blade cut a deep gash down his chest. He stared in disbelief at the pure speed that Scirocco had launched the attack. Within his rage, he was blind to the intentions of his adversary. Rapidly losing the strength to stand, he fell back, tumbling over the side of the ship and into the dark waters of the Atlantic Ocean below.
Scirocco stood straight and gazed over the edge. Regret filled his being as he hoped that there might have been a way to redeem the man, to save him. He reasoned that a man whose hatred had been present for so many years had consumed him completely; there was no coming back from that. It was simply unfortunate that it had to come to this. He looked up and to his left, seeing the fish-like man he called a comrade staring at the same spot in the water. He was always curious as to how the former Gideon Ray was able to sneak by him so often, but it was something that got the job done. He dare not question it.
Are you not going to dive after him? He asked, the question oozing with sarcasm and disdain. Regardless of his effectiveness, he couldnt bring himself to appreciate his fellow Patrons sadistic nature.
Not yet, Captain Mako replied, the row of pointed teeth in his maw becoming menacingly visible as he began to grin.
I like to give em a head-start.