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    Default In a Handbasket - The Wizard's Nemesis

    A short story revolving around Akladamas, encountering an old foe once again. This is a remake; I had the original on MyDDO, but failed to save it before MyDDO went down.

    “So, we meet again,” Akladamas breathed, his words carried by thin plumes of frost. The wizard set his storm-gray gaze upon his longtime foe, and he shifted the weight of the great sword on his shoulder. The mage's normal light and carefree words were weighed with uncommon seriousness, his face a mask of determination. He stood alone, his sister watching impassively nearby. Akladamas lifted the sword and brought it around, turning his body slightly so he could hold his arm straight out. The blade was held as if it were an extension of his arm, pointing at his nemesis.

    “I have grown far stronger since our first encounter,” Akladamas announced boldly. “My mastery of the arcane arts has grown more complete, and I wield the power of the universe the likes of which have probably been seen already, considering I copied most of them from scrolls. But still!” He held up his left hand, his index finger extended and pointing upward to emphasize his point. “My magic is far more mighty now! It is more then enough to overcome you now!'

    “Ak, you're going to get yourself killed,” Rainsinger observed, her arms folded in front of her chest. Akladamas shot his twin a sour look.

    “Shh! I won't have you underminding me or make me look foolish before my greatest challenge,” Akladamas admonished.

    “No, you're making yourself look foolish enough in front of all of Stormreach,” Rainsinger replied, raising a hand to mask her face and shield her eyes. “The Storm, give me strength.”

    “Ignore her,” Akladamas advised, looking back at his adversary. “For it is I you must contend with! Let us mince words no longer! Except for the magical ones I have to say for my spells! Those are the only words we shall mince! Actually, I'm the only one talking, so, yes. I'll just cast now.”

    “Get on with it or get out of the way,” Katrionas urged, poking Akladamas in the ribs. The wizard made a rather unheroic yelp at the jab. He looked back at the rogue, who jerked her thumb at the dwarf behind them. “Draerent's willing to give it a go if you're not.”

    Akladamas frowned a moment longer before sticking his tongue out at Katrionas. She responded in kind, sticking her tongue out back at him. This caused the two to chuckle in amusement, and then the wizard looked more serious again. He turned forward and called upon those very spells he had been crowing about. He wove the arcane energies around him, causing lines of eldrich power to form in the air briefly with the passing of his hands. Akladamas had practiced the motions and memorized each word, each proper annunciation until it was burned into his mind and waited for him to call them forth. He recited each spell and surrounded himself with its influence. He could feel himself growing stronger, faster, stronger again, jumpier, and other kind of buff-like descriptions.

    “Got 'nuff spells there, lad?” Draerent called from below, leaning against a wooden beam nearby. Akladamas ignored him for the moment, and instead called out to his nemesis.

    “Have at thee!”

    “About time,” Rainsinger muttered, but it was lost to the wizard. Akladamas jumped forth and felt the wind rush past him. Down he went, moving faster then he had ever gone before in his life. He coiled his legs beneath him, almost crouching as he descended, and then he pushed off in a mighty leap. Akladamas soared majestically through the air, feeling the wind whipping past him. The chill in the air made him feel alive. As he soared, the wizard felt the tingle of magic reverberating through him. He was invincible. He was unstoppable. He could practically fly.

    And then he slammed into the edge of the platform, knocking the wind from his lungs. Akladamas's upper half was bent over the edge, while his lower half dangled over empty space. For a moment, he thought he had made the jump. That ended as he felt himself slipping. Akladamas gaped at first, kicking his feet uselessly and trying to bite into the cold, angled surface below, but he could get no footing. He also clawed at the ice, trying to get purchase. “No,” became Akladamas's mantra, and he repeated over and over as he continued to slip lower and lower. And then, he was free-falling, flailing as he watched the floating ice whizzing away from him.

    “Curse you, Risia Ice Games,” shouted the mage, shaking a fist up at the platform before vanishing into the cold harbor waters below.

    --- End ---
    Last edited by Worldcrafter; 10-22-2013 at 05:33 AM.
    Anything can be explained by drunken wizards.

    "Hey! I got a piece of the +1 Butter Knife of Victory! Ah-oh, wait, wait. It's just a crummy, normal +1 dagger of ghostbane..."

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