A Laugh Stained With Blood

The actual wave of fire was slowing down behind me, though the residual fire spreading across the woven webbing around me maintained it hellish speed. I couldn't stop running though, even with the flames slowing they were still coming and the falling webs were easier to dodge while moving anyway. Worryingly, even seemingly pittering out as it was, the ambient heat was enough to burn my paws on the walls and leave the stone molten a few feet behind me.

HP -3

Skill Gained: Fire Resistance

I grimaced, I could smell my fur becoming singed as my paws burned on every contact with the wall. I hadn't caught on fire just yet, but it wasn't far away. I had to rapidly jump from spot to spot not just to avoid my paws melting to the walls, but to dodge the falling, burning razor webs and keep ahead of the wall of flames advancing on me; only Paranoia allowed me to judge the safest routes and coolest sections of wall without needing to actually look at them in these tight quarters.

Fire Resistance +1

That same Paranoia saved my life once again as the wall before me exploded, the pressure wave blasting back the flames behind me and sending razor webbing flying as a strange man flew through the once solid stone, slamming into the opposite wall with a thunderous crack. I barely managed to dodge the debris even known exactly where it was in space for twelve feet around.

The man slowly stood up, patting debris from his black feathered cloak and Crow-like plague doctor mask as he recovered from a blast that likely would have reduced a normal man to paste. He didn't seem bothered by the flames dancing across his cloak, not even attempting to put them out as he cracked his neck; admittedly, they didn't seem to actually be so much as damaging his clothes as they burned, let alone his actual flesh. He reached into the debris and picked up a red short spear with an orange blade that widened into an odd cup ended bulb shape at the base, gripping it near the bowl-like guard of the blade.

He didn't have time to do much more before a sickly green bolt of energy flew out from the dust choked hole he came from. While the Plague Doctor looking fucker managed to throw himself out of the way, the wall behind him had no such luck and swiftly began melting into a noxious black sludge.

I darted into the rubble left by the spear man's dramatic entrance, pulling the shadows cast by the flames closer around me as I huddled amongst scattered and partially melted stones (not that it likely mattered in retrospect given the place was still cast in supernatural darkness and the fact I could even tell there were shadows at all was only due to my skill). I pulled stones around me, nearly burying myself completely in my attempt to hide myself. While it wasn't technically necessary given my Paranoia, I left a small hole in my self burial (that I filled with shifted darkness of course) so I could watch the probably incoming battle; twelve feet is a decent distance, but I want as big of a grace period between seeing an attack coming and it hitting me as possible.

Out from the hole in the wall strode Alexhaustra, his purple robes waving in a nonexistent breeze and sickly light dancing around his gloved hands. The two men exchanged no words, their animosity evident in their actions. The Plague Doctor raised his free and launched forth a tidal wave of flame from his palm.

I was about to bolt for the fresh option when the Mad Mage raised a hand, watery green light pouring forth to meet the flames; where flame met unnatural light, the fire rapidly dwindled and died. The light around Kurzebald's left hand shifted to a toxic purple as he stretched that hand out and to the left. An explosion rang out and the crow burst from the dying flames… and right into the path of the purple orb Alxhaustra shot.

I couldn't tell if the feathered pyromancer was surprised by Kurzebald anticipating his movements from his body language, but his quick reactions suggested he wasn't as he raised his spear and batted aside the orb.

Axhaustra threw himself to the side as the Plague Doctor pointed his spear at him. Two sharp cracks like extremely high caliber gunshots rang out in a row as the spear blurred back and forth, leaving a neat and molten hole in stone of the tunnel, smoke drifting out and magma spurting like blood.

I decided right about then I needed to be just about anywhere but here. As Alxhaustra shot great gouts of crackling green energy that reduced everything they touched to a foul smelling sludge and the feathery Plague Doctor punched dozens of molten holes into the walls, floor, and ceiling in an attempt to kill the slippery experimenter I burst free from my impromptu shelter, dragging the shadows with me as far as I could as I darted towards the crumbling hole these asshats carved.

As I fled into the tunnels, following the trail of cooling destruction towards wherever the bird man came from, hoping against hope it'd lead me to the surface (though, in all honesty I can't be sure the surface isn't even worse than this shithole… I don't like that thought) I could hear the two strongest entities I've met clashing behind me and, to my great discomfort, feel the tunnels shaking around me.

I just have to hope I can get out of here before those assholes bring the roof crashing down on me…

A small stone fell from the ceiling, a glob of magma following behind it and splattering everything with molten rock. A droplet very nearly landed on me, its mere proximity singeing my fur.

Fire Resistance +1

..and run a little faster.

Alxhaustra sneered at the Crow breathing heavily a few meters away. Frankly, he was insulted The Raven hadn't deigned to come himself; he liked to think he was a threat worthy of the big leagues and having this damn near rookie Crow sent to kill him was a blow to his ego he simply couldn't tolerate. He would send a strongly worded letter to the Master of the Order Of The Burning Feather scrawled on this child's flayed hide once he was done torturing him.

The fool had the gall to fling more flames at him rather than just lay down and die like a good little plebeian. The wall of flames sputtered and died before they ever reached him as the Decay pouring from his hands withered all unfortunate enough to fall beneath it. It had taken him decades of research to elevate his Weakness to Decay, but he had to say it was more than worth it.

An explosion heralded a spear flying out at him faster than most could even perceive, a trail of fire following behind it. Truly, it was little more than a parlour trick, if put to rather impressive use. He could tell at a glance all he was doing was manipulating Flame to cause small but powerful explosions at the end of his weapon, causing it to shoot rapidly forward or back; a spear with a convex end and a cupped guard only enhanced it.

The spear didn't even get close to hitting him, a wave of the Sorcerer's hand batting the extremely quick blade off into the supernaturally dark hall lit only by thin strands of burning webbing behind him, where it vanished into the distance.

Of course, he hadn't neglected Force in his studies, it was far too valuable an Element to simply leave it by the wayside; magnifying kinetic energy was ever so useful for one who didn't have the time or disposition needed to truly train their body for combat.

His cold expression didn't budge an inch as his enemy flung themself forward once more, an explosion beneath their shoes as they ran propelling them as if they had taken a great leap. He watched them shoot from the dying wall of flames, trailing smoke and fire as they rocketed to his left with their fist drawn back. A blast of Decay met the intrepid Crow's chest…

And went right through him as if he weren't there at all.

Kurzebald's eyes widened, seeing just a second too late the hazy edges of his foe. He began to turn, the most powerful spell he could conjure quickly at his fingertips. He didn't even make a half turn before a black gloved fist slammed into his back, compressing his flesh for an instant before an explosion nearly turned him inside out, splattering his partially cooked innards on the wall before him.

Of course, Alxhaustra Kurzebald was not so weak as to instantly die from a sudden and acute lack of vital internal organs and a good chunk of his spine. Even as the force of the attack began to fling him into the air, he carried through his attempt to turn around, his broken body rotating as it flew towards the wall. The spell he conjured flew from the dead man's fingers, catching his opponent off guard.

The Crow reacted as he had trained himself, shifting his fist from where it was extended to eviscerate his target to the side and attempting to blast himself away. He was too slow, the green ball of energy slamming into his right shoulder as he flew away and turning a good chunk of his chest and most of the arm he had used to slay the mage to black sludge.

What remained of the militant Plague Doctor's forearm trailed behind him as he flew some distance before slamming into the ground and rolling to a stop, leaving a trail of sludge and blood behind on the ground. As he shakily struggled to rise, Alxhaustra used the life energy his signature magic parasitically stole from his foe to heal himself, closing much of the gaping wound that his chest had become and restoring many of his lost or damaged organs.

It wasn't enough. Had the blast hit the Crow head on and killed him outright, Alxhaustra would have been able to heal himself completely, perhaps even regain more health than he had lost; but the spell hadn't killed the invader, and close just wasn't close enough. Alxhaustra's lungs were mostly restored, his spine had extended like grasping bamboo and knit itself together where the stalks met, but the gaping hole where his heart was meant to be remained as he slammed into the stone wall, likely rebreaking some of the bones he had so recently regained.

As the purple clad mage slid down the wall, feeling keenly the absence of his heart as his lifeblood poured onto the floor, he couldn't help but smirk at the sight of a beautiful, crystalline white spider skittering down through the hole in the wall he had blown his enemy through; this foolish Crow couldn't hope to cleanse the entire labyrinth before his most wicked and vile creations escaped into the city, not in his condition anyway. Alxhaustra may never see the mayhem he would create, he may never get to enact his vengeance on the wretched Order that forced him to spend so much of his life in squalor, hiding like a rat in the sewers; but his life's work would blacken the world just a little bit further forevermore.

His choked, watery laughter rang out in the suffocating darkness of the nightmare-scape he had crafted to hold and test his most dangerous creations, unnerving the now one armed knight and all that could hear the deranged sound. He would never know which of his warped creations would go on to be the greatest and most terrible of them all, but as his laughter faded and his legion of twisted monstrosities and unspeakable diseases spread into the night, he could guess.

Alxhaustra Kurzebald, the Mad Mage of Malkaeth, died with a bloodstained smirk on his lips and unholy fire in his eyes…

And in the darkness, unknowing and barely caring of its many potential futures, a rat desperately scurried through shattered corridors and broken tunnels in a mad rush to escape its crumbling prison.