ic Dreamweaver (IC)

[Sophistemon]

"Keeping them asleep," he whispered, glancing into the trash to inspect its contents. "And making them dream. But why?" And here, too, was more proof that Starlight was not so universally pleasant as its advocates claimed. Where most of the 'patients' dozed peacefully, Jenny's face was wan and fretful. He went about the room quickly, unlocking each of the captives. He might not be able to rouse them, but should they wake at some point in the near future, at least they could then free themselves. He then went about the room and slowly, carefully removed the IV needles from their forearms. If they did wake up, he didn't want them to injure themselves in a hurry to escape. What's more, it was possible that the IVs were themselves drugged. He couldn't tell, but if they were then removing them might hasten their wakefulness. Following that he turned the medical schedule over to a blank side and, using a pen conjured from his mystic pocket, wrote out a quick direction to lead the magicians to the rear door through which he'd made his entrance. If they woke before he could help them himself, he would at least make sure that they could find their way out. He set the paper down at the foot of Jenny's cot and went again to the door. He paused, looked once more into the room for anything that he might have missed, and unlocked it. Cautiously, he peered back out into the hallway.

Edited July 28, 2016 by Sophistemon

[Blarghy]

GM

 

None of the drug dealers had come back this way during his search, and Sam could probably guess why: gunfire and wild shouts continued upstairs.  Momentarily, the whole building shook, albeit gently.  A soft, raspy laugh drifted down from above, muffled by the ceiling. 

 

"Go on, boys, resist arrest--this way is a lot more fun for me!"

 

Thanks to his own stealth and his partner's lack of it, Presto was unlikely to see company for the moment.

 

Though standing in the corner of the medical room, between a cabinet and Waylon Wotts' bed, silent as a ghost and even less visible, company still saw him.

[Sophistemon]

The magician, seeing no danger, padded down the hallway as softly as he could manage. He turned his head this way and that, mask-enhanced eyes shining an eerie silver-blue, and searched for other doors to other rooms. If he could find the room where they made the Starlight, and destroy it at its source, this would all be over -- provided that he could convince the mastermind behind it all to stop the creation of any more. It wasn't Alton Bailey, he was sure of that. The man wasn't any sort of dullard, or at least he hadn't been, but the creation of Starlight was, Presto thought, very much beyond him. No, the person to blame for all of this was much more subtle. Samuel smirked. "Well," he whispered. "I'm not. And if I don't find you soon, I'm going to shake the foundations to smoke you out."

[Blarghy]

GM

 

The invisible figure watched him go, then phased back through the wall to observe his prisoners grimly.  Where was a henchman when you needed one?  Not that it mattered.  He had more pressing concerns; these magicians were likely lost to him, thanks to that sorcerer-detective and his mad dog upstairs.

 

"The foundation will shake, Presto," he said nastily to himself.  "And before I leave here, I'll see you buried under it."  With that, he adjusted his hat and fell gently through the floor.  Bailey couldn't be left alone for too long, or only the gods knew what trouble he'd cause on his own, and Mister B. had enough of that going around already. 

 

Besides, by now he should be finished gorging himself, and then they'd see how brave this upstart wizard was.

 

Meanwhile, Presto found a closet, two bedrooms, and a sitting parlor before he opened the door leading to a flight of unlit stairs. 

[Sophistemon]

Presto stared down the steps with a look of grim determination writ large across his face. "Well," he muttered. "I guess there there's nowhere to go from here but down." His attempt at humor did little to lighten his mood. He felt, and not for the first time, that too much was happening that he didn't understand and, what's more, he was increasingly convinced that he might not want to understand it, that it might be too gruesome to cope with, once he knew once and for all what all of the reasons were. Still. "In for a penny," he hummed to himself, and took the first step down into the bowels of the building.

[Blarghy]

GM

 

The stairs went down in a straight line, wall and railing at Sam's left elbow.  Halfway down, he could see the pale light from further into the basement.  This place was kept dim for some reason.  He soon discovered why. 

 

Eight large aquariums, and twice as many smaller common tanks, lined the north and east basement walls.  Tables, cabinets, cages of live crickets, fine mesh nets, packs of the plastic shot glasses, and other necessary gear were arranged elsewhere, but he likely wouldn't notice them for some time to come.  The creatures in the tanks were rare, especially in such numbers; Presto may have never even seen one in the flesh before.  Thanks to the dim lamps--they didn't like artificial light, or enclosed spaces for that matter, Sam knew; these and other such factors made them difficult for ethical breeders to keep--he had to approach nearly to the glass for a good look.  Brown and bright red shapes flickered through the water.  Some stopped to look at him.  One even put its webbed hand against the glass, staring at this intruder with big, black eyes.

 

Starlight, or at least part of it, was the roe of bloodpatch pixies. 

 

These mythical creatures were small, the adults no longer than his extended hand.  They resembled tiny mermaids, their bottom halves a tail leading to a humanoid torso.  Mostly they were brown, but splotches of red marked their name in special, individual patterns, but most commonly around their gills.

 

Their tanks had criminally few decorations; although not brilliant beasts, they were hardly mindless, and much like octopi, the lack of stimulation did unfortunate things to their minds.  Now that all of the isolated communities had noticed Presto, they swam to the glass and watched him, excited by something new.  Though the way they swam away again with any movement of his hands, fearful, said a great deal about their treatment. 

 

As he walked the basement, something crunched beneath his foot.  An empty starlight container.  Looking away from it revealed two more underneath the table, and further away, even more scattered near the wall.  An overturned cardboard box lay on the ground, little plastic cups spilling out of it.  All empty.  A tray on another table held more cups, yet all empty.  Mixing bowls on another table were still damp--if the eggs were sold in their base form, like caviar, he and other wizards would've recognized it instantly--but all empty.

 

There was starlight here, recently and in great quantity, but no more.  The implication of this was likely not comforting.

[Sophistemon]

Sam stopped to take it all in, his eyes drawn to the tanks and their unfortunate contents. He raised his hands, white gloves still clean, and spread his fingers to show that they were empty. "It's okay," he murmured. "It's okay, I won't hurt you." Bloodpatch pixies. This was bizarre. The whole damn thing was bizarre, but this was the bizarre cherry on top of a bizarre sundae. Their presence here explained a great many things -- that Starlight increased a person's magical power and gave them vivid dreams -- but left other questions unanswered, such as the source of the nightmares and the addictive nature of the drug. So far as he knew, bloodpatch roe was pleasant, but not addictive. Presto conjured his wand and, with the other hand, drew his cellphone out of his pants pocket. He dialed Warne and waiting, hoping for the other man to pick up. "Come on," he muttered. "Come on, Warne; I know you aren't dead. This is important."

Edited August 6, 2016 by Sophistemon

[Blarghy]

GM

 

"There is no need to trouble your friend yet," a snide voice said from somewhere behind Presto.  "We will consult with him...afterward."

 

But Sam saw only empty air; beside himself and the pixies, the basement appeared lifeless.  Though, shuffling footsteps slowly came from an adjacent hallway, a different direction than the voice, and further away.  Momentarily, a ruffled and slightly bent Alton Bailey emerged from the shadows.  He hung his head, rested one hand on his stomach, and moved oddly, his expression drooping.  The man might've been very tired, or perhaps drunk. 

 

"Feels...weird..."

 

"That's the power, Alton," the unpleasant voice came again from nowhere.  "Don't be afraid of it."

 

After several rings, the phone in Presto's hand finally crackled with another voice, muffled by gunfire that he could hear both through the line and above on the upper floor.  "What is it?  Come on, Steiner, I know you aren't dying yet," Warne ironically mimicked his own words. 

[Sophistemon]

Presto stared at Bailey with wide eyes, then glanced at all of the empty packets of Starlight. His mouth dropped and he was, for a moment, unable to speak. "Please," he said aloud. "Please, Alton, tell me that you didn't..." He cleared his throat and, keeping an eye on Bailey, slowly retreated until he had his back to the wall -- hopefully limiting the directions that his invisible enemy could assault him from. He raised the phone to his mouth. "Warne," he said. "I'm in the basement. There's... Bailey, he's down here with me. And someone else, someone that I can't see. Pixies, Warne! Starlight's made of Bloodpatch pixie eggs!" He pointed his wand at Alton and the silver tip glowed with arcane power. "Back off, Bailey. I've whipped you once tonight; don't make me do it again." His narrow-eyed glare shared that same glow, and accentuated the steel in his voice. "Come out of hiding," he told the voice. "Haven't you played the coward long enough?" A sly grin slid across his features. "Besides, can't you tell? This is the finale! It's time to raise the curtain and have an ending."

[Blarghy]

GM

 

The pause from the other end of the line betrayed Warne's limited knowledge.  He probably wore a puzzled frown, as he continued to harass and scatter the gangsters above.

 

"...Hold your position and don't do anything foolish.  I'm on my way," he said simply.

 

Alton reacted with more emotion and less sense.  His unfocused eyes--and if Presto stared, he could see them rapidly shift colors, even shapes, becoming the long slits of a snake or the huge yellow orbs of an owl--glared with murderous intent.  "You don't.  You, you don't talk that way.  Not to Mister B."  When he pointed threateningly at Presto, his calloused hand morphed into an alien mass of claws, then back again.  Scales, then feathers, rippled across his body in waves. 

 

"It's alright, Alton," the unseen voice purred.  "We should make allowances.  Everyone's allowed their last words, after all."

 

Then he appeared, a comfortable distance from Presto, standing beside one of the empty tables.

 

He stood like a man, yet leaned somewhat unsteadily, like a bear, and was half as tall as Sam, with some rather unusual features.  Short orange fur covered his skin, except for the smooth gray trunk on his face, draped over his lips.  His hands looked more like feline paws than human appendages.  Though his feet were bare, the creature wore an ancient, simple tunic, cut with a slit for a slim tail that might've belonged to a cow, or one of its relatives.  The only other article of clothing was his felt cap.  He swept it off his head for an awkward bow, and clutched between his claws, it became a black top hat instead, much like Presto's own. 

 

"Consider the curtain lifted," this monster, whatever it was, said slyly.  "Now, how would you like your ending?"

[Sophistemon]

Samuel's lips quirked when he finally got a look at his mysterious assailant -- the beginnings of one of his trademark grins. He looked back to Alton, his eyes feigning confusion, and shrugged his shoulders as if to say this is it? This is what all of the fuss was about? When he spoke, it was to the former adventurer, and not his bizarre employer. "Be careful, Al," he said. "If I'm understanding things right, you've downed a lot of drugs in the last hour or so. It looks like your powers are ramping up out of control. You should be at a hospital, or something." The 'or something' was hastily added at the end, a concession to the fact that Sam wasn't sure at all where a person with Alton's condition could go to get help -- but the thought was there. "Did he tell you to do this? To take so much of the drug that you start to lose control? God's sake, man, look at you! You're changing as we speak!" He took a breath and looked back to the illustrious Mister B. "Look at what you've done to him. He used to be someone, and now he's... what? A super-powered junkie to Starlight? And the pixies! They're just poor animals, they don't deserve this." He snapped his fingers and the wand appeared in his hand. "Now, as for the ending... well. I suppose that I'll take mine 'happily ever after,' which means that you're going to jail." He pointed the wand at the one-man menagerie and his grin split his face wide open. "You're not quite the wicked witch that I expected to find, but I suppose you'll do in a pinch. Now, before we start this, you should know that I have backup on the way -- not that I need it, but the odds aren't as far in your favor as you might think. Consider this your first and final warning, Mister B., since I've turned over a new leaf: surrender, and I won't have to hurt you."

[Blarghy]

GM

 

"Oh, I'm well aware of your nature, Presto," the odd creature smiled nastily behind its trunk.  "But despite your past and your present, if you think to harm me in the future, then you will need a much better trick.  Your, ah, backup may disappoint you as well."

 

"Yeah!" Bailey shouted.  "You got nothing now, Presto!  I'm stronger now than you'll ever be!"  He grinned sharply--very literally, as his teeth changed to resemble a shark's vicious mouth.

 

The small monster flickered a glance of annoyance at its partner.  "Yes, yes, you are, Alton.  Now be hush, yes?  After all...perhaps we can come to an agreement.  It won't trouble me to leave you dead here, magician, with your friend right beside you.  But if you prefer to live instead, in wealth and greater power than you've ever known, then you might consider a change of allegiance.  Had I heard of you before tonight, then I would've made such an offer in better circumstances, but the past is behind us.  Will you save your future, Presto?  Will you choose life instead of death?"

 

Bailey's jaw hung slack in confusion.  He shuffled a bit, his rage and hunger for battle turning to puzzlement in seconds.  "So...Mister B., he's gonna work for us?"

 

"Perhaps, Alton," the creature said harshly.  "And I have told you before: that is not my name."  Its eyes, small and dark, turned back to Presto.  "Whatever your choice, mortal, you should at least know the ancient being of power that stands before you.  I am Baku, and you defy me at your peril!"

[Sophistemon]

Presto rolled his eyes at Bailey's boast. "Alton, you've only ever been a two-bit globetrotter grasping at concepts so far beyond your reach that they may as well be the Moon. I could have outsmarted you back when I was headlining in Las Vegas. Now, you're barely worth my time -- and I've proved that once already with the whipping I gave you earlier. Sit down and be quiet; the grown-ups are talking." He took a deep breath and turned back to the elusive Mister B. "A Baku," he repeated, and the word bounced around in his head looking for something to connect with. It found some references to a Japanese dream-spirit and stuck fast. "Oh, yes, a Baku." He smiled, and shook his head. "I should have realized, but there are so many boogeymen out there that it's a little hard to keep track." His grin widened. "I suppose I'm lucky that you aren't one of those floating-head vampires, aren't I? The... nukekubi? Now that would have been something." He shrugged his shoulders, but kept the wand pointing firmly at his adversary. "State your terms, Baku. If I like them, then we'll talk. If I don't, then we'll fight it out and learn which one of us the the more capable. But I'm willing to listen, for now, to what you have to say." At the back of his mind, he hoped that stalling would allow Agent Warne enough time to make his way downstairs. Despite his earlier insults the super-powered Alton Bailey gave him pause, and though he didn't believe that Baku were particularly dangerous in the waking world there were always differences between myths and reality.

Edited August 22, 2016 by Sophistemon

[Blarghy]

GM

 

The details of Presto's insults appeared to mostly go over Alton's head, but he could grasp the idea enough to fall into another immediate rage.  His eyes seemed to fill with blood, and all along his limbs, long scythe-blades of bone sprouted. 

 

His monstrous partner held up a hand to quiet him, though that creature was hardly any happier by Presto's frivolous tone.  "I am the Baku!" it corrected.  With some effort, it relaxed.  "...And my terms are your obedience.  Do my bidding as dear Alton does, and I will grant you the material profits of our venture, which I have no use for anyway.  You will also enjoy the power of the pixies, and any other such magical substances I may decide to involve us in.  Finally, I will grant you the sweetest gift of all: a soothed mind, free of all your worries and fears." 

 

A slow smile came over Baku's face, and he continued, "I know the troubles that plague you, Presto.  Such anguish over past mistakes.  Tell me..."  It steepled its tiger-paw-claws in a parody of humanity and asked, "How did it feel when you let her fall?  In front of such an audience, no less.  Was it a slow, hollow horror that ate away your insides?  Or perhaps a sickening?  Or that cold build of realization as you saw your future changing in that one fatal moment?  I can make it go away, Presto.  You never have to relive it again.  That agent upstairs will only give you insults and more chains, but I, I can give you peace."

[Sophistemon]

The wand wavers. Just a little bit -- not much at all, really. But it wavers. Presto's face, however, remains stoically and cynically amused. The magician laughs slightly, a harsh bark of humorless, mocking faux-mirth. "That's your offer? We're at the end of a caper and when we finally get to your big 'join me in the Dark Side' moment you offer me... what? Magical therapy? Not even that? You offer me an easy way out?" He raises his free hand a taps a white-gloved finger against his temple. "Do you think that I couldn't magic myself into a good night's sleep if I wanted? That I couldn't erase the memories myself if I needed to?" He lowered the hand. "I'm Presto the Preposterous, Baku. I can do anything. I don't because I don't want to. Because I can't afford to forget her. Because forgetting her would invalidate everything that I've worked for. She doesn't know it, but she's my inspiration. She's why I am who I am, now." The wand was steadfast, pointing at the Baku. "Do you want to know what it felt like, watching her fall? It felt like I was falling, too. Like everything that I was, everything that I'd built, was crumbling down around me." He smirked. "Good riddance." There was a brief pause, and then he lowered the wand. "Still! I'm intrigued. It was you in my head, then? Not Bailey?" He cast an eye at the rapidly mutating adventurer. "I'm not surprised. That kind of magic is as beyond him as, well. As tying his own shoes, really." The smile widened. "I'm afraid that I don't work with amateurs. We wouldn't want poor Alton here to go thinking that we're equals, after all. Release him from your service and then we'll talk."

Edited August 25, 2016 by Sophistemon

[Blarghy]

GM

 

Baku's slimy self-satisfaction gave way to rage again.  The little monster practically shook with anger at Presto's refusal--though that was nothing compared to Alton Bailey, who was beyond words.  He warped from one shape to another, his body a mix of feathers and scales, tentacles and spines, shifting continuously like some ancient evil from beyond the veil of humanity. 

 

Before Baku could retort--most likely with a death sentence, judging by its expression--the door at the top of the stairs creaked open.  Soft footsteps approached...along with the smell of cigarette smoke.

 

Agent Warne paused at the basement floor and cast a slow, calm look around the drug lab.  His suit was somewhat ruffled, torn even, with a bit of blood on one leg, but he seemed unconcerned.  The sight of Baku raised his eyebrows, but little more. 

 

"Hello, Bailey.  And...Bailey's pet."  Baku's trunk writhed in fury, here.  "I'm going to guess you don't have the proper permits for those pixies, because there aren't any," Warne continued.  "So I'll be adding that to a long list of charges.  I don't suppose anybody feels like surrendering?  Most of your goons weren't smart enough, but wouldn't you know it, some of them wised up after watching me turn their friends into crash test dummies.  In case you can't grasp the implications here, Bailey, let me spell it out for you: your gang's either in handcuffs or dangling from drug dealer-shaped holes in your roof, my fellow agents are massing on your lawn as we speak, and if you don't pick a shape that can fit conveniently in the back of a squad car, then I'm about to help Copperfield here embarrass you so badly that your upcoming stint in Blackstone will be downright cheerful by comparison."  He took a long drag on his cigarette, dropped it to the concrete floor, and scraped out the embers with one foot.  "So what's it gonna be?"

 

Baku sucked in a long stream of air through its trunk.  Its head tilted down, and it brushed the brim of its top hat with two claws; when it looked back up, that cruel smile had returned. 

 

"...Kill him, Alton.  Kill this ignorant mortal and sedate Presto, if you can.  You should've taken my deal, wizard.  Now you'll just be food, until I tire of the way your deepest, darkest fears taste."

[Blarghy]

GM

 

Warne reacted instantaneously.  He didn't appear to do anything beside shift his position toward Baku, turning his eyes toward the dream-monster, but the pause that followed indicated some unseen action.  Mild confusion spread over his face.

 

"...You're not real," he claimed.  "You're just a figment."

 

Baku cackled madly.  "I am more real than you can imagine, with your flesh and your easy deaths.  Let Presto explain my majesty, if he understands it.  He led you to your end tonight, agent; the least he can do is narrate your last moments!"

 

Meanwhile, Bailey's mutating body began to solidify at last, but not in any way the heroes would likely find comforting.  He grew and grew, putting on such bulk that he fell forward onto all fours, and then all sixs, when the hunter grew another set of limbs.  His skin became thick, layered scales; bone spikes sprouted from his hands and forearms until they might as well have only been piercing clubs.  With his original legs and his new lower arms, Bailey supported his great weight, while his upper limbs reached and reached and reached, crossing the distance to Presto a good thirty feet away. 

 

Apparently he had an unusual idea of sedate, when he swung his spiky fists at the mage that insulted him so cruelly.  The attack was fairly accurate, in spite of Bailey's increased size.  It only just missed Presto; a pale ivory spur nearly grazed his arm, on its way to smash apart one of the tables.  Suffice to say, whatever clumsiness Bailey still harbored was balanced by immense power. 

[Sophistemon]

Presto laughed, a great roaring guffaw, as Bailey's strike whiffed harmlessly by and broke a table into pieces. "Really, Alton? You're embarrassing yourself!" He breathed and looked at the man across the room, the twisted thing that had once been human. The magician shook his head. "To think, you could have been someone. Oh, well. I've already beaten you once tonight, Alton, and doing it again would be a waste of my talent. I'll let my partner deal with you." He stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled. "Warne! Focus, man! Baku's a dream-spirit, he eats nightmares!" He pointed at the mutant across the room. "You take Bailey; he's real enough! Let me handle the fuzzy little creep." He stared at the Baku, his mouth pressed into a thin line all but hidden behind the hair of his goatee. "You want my nightmares, Baku? Your eyes are too big for your stomach; I'd give you indigestion. But if you're hungry, I've got plenty of magic for you to chew on." He took a step forward, staring down at the tourist from Japan. "In my home, when I captured your thugs and chased Alton from my door -- those chains. Did you recognize them? They're called Marleys. Like you, they're not native to the real. But I captured them anyway and bound them to my service. Care to see how I did it?" He took another step and started chanting in low, sibilant tones. Normally, the spell would take some time -- several minutes at the least. But time wasn't something that he had, and he forced the magic out, feeding it with energy that he drew out from within himself to hasten the process of casting. Thanks to his earlier spell the effort was merely tiring instead of outright soporific. His body hummed and his wand... faded, its rigid figure blurred between this world and the world of dreams. He pointed the now slightly indistinct shaft of wood at the malevolent spirit and smiled, his eyes only slightly pained by the effort. "It's time to wake up, Baku. Bon appetite." He spoke a word and a searing gout of flame burst from the wand and streaked across the room, arcing towards the newly-vulnerable Eater of Dreams.

Edited September 7, 2016 by Sophistemon

[Blarghy]

GM

 

Slowly, so slowly, that smug satisfaction on Baku's face turned to understanding, and then to fear.  Then to agony. 

 

Its fur caught fire immediately, turning the dream demon into a waist-high torch, arms waving frantically.  The outer layer of the blast lifted Baku from its feet, but the bulk of this magic, strumming with power that radiated magical tingles throughout the basement, shot this evil creature into the air and right through the basement wall, in a smooth upward arc that Presto thought would probably end somewhere near the bay's shoreline.  Even so, Baku's shrieks of pain and rage still took a moment to fade from hearing. 

 

Bailey's own shouts immediately replaced them.

 

Warne presumably tried his trick, but it carried no visible cues, and his target didn't appear to even notice.  The agent's face flickered with frustration, and then a hint of concern, in spite of himself.  "Steiner, move!" he shouted, as Bailey's giant, razor-studded fists both swung across the length of the basement, crashing down atop Presto's head. 

 

"Die!" Bailey screamed.  "Die die die die die DIE!"

Edited September 13, 2016 by Blarghy

[Sophistemon]

Presto bared his teeth in a vicious smile as Baku was engulfed by flames and the explosive force of the fireball blasted him up to and through the wall of the gristly laboratory. In his mind, the crowd went wild. They clapped and cheered his name, reveling in his victory against the dream-demon and applauding his vengeance against the monster that had invaded his mind. Their praise invigorated him, restoring the energy lost to fuel the spell he'd cast. Pride swelled in his heart and warmed the blood in his veins -- he had won, and winning was the sweetest thing in the world. He heard Warne's shout of warning only dimly, the words barely cresting the wave of self-adulation that roared inside of him. He turned and saw Alton's massive, club-like fist barreling down on him, the spikes of bone glinting in the light like stone knives. The magician raised a hand, palm flat and fingers spread, before speaking a word. It appeared from nowhere, the wall of opalescent white bricks, formed from the stuff of myth to absorb Bailey's extended punch. The fist struck like lightning and the wall wavered, bowed slightly, but held. Presto closed his fist and dismissed it before he leveled his want at the outraged and rampaging monster. "The show is over, Alton. Baku is gone; I've beaten him." His voice was loud, too loud, speaking to an audience that wasn't there. He was grandstanding and loving every second of it. "But if you're looking for an encore, I'd be happy to oblige." He laughed, and then winked at Warne. "But for my next trick, I feel like I'd prefer a captive audience!" He spoke another word, and a whirling maelstrom of multicolored handkerchief ropes burst from the silver tip of his wand and launched towards Alton Bailey with the intent of tying him up tight.

[Blarghy]

GM

 

Bailey's only defense was a clumsy lurch; the nearest aquarium rattled a bit, its occupants swimming about madly, and then the monster was securely wrapped.  For about six seconds, anyway. 

 

He twisted and shouted, at first to no avail, but all too soon his body began to sprout more of those long, cruel bone-blades.  With a powerful heave of his shoulders, Presto's colorful ropes burst into shimmering threads. 

 

"PRESSSTOOOOO!" Bailey roared so loudly that his voice stung their ears.  In contrast, Adept made neither noise nor movements when he reached out with his mind for another attempt.  But for the second time, nothing happened.  Bailey's skin smoothed for an imperceptible second, much like holding an air hose close to one's flesh, but he experienced no pain and even less incentive to halt his attack.

 

"Damn!" the agent softly swore.  Without any other results to see, Presto might just think his ally was commenting on the destroyed snare, and otherwise standing back and offering no aid whatsoever. 

[Sophistemon]

The mystic snare was shredded by an onslaught of rapidly-generated bone-spurs, tearing into a series of scintillating particles before fading out of sight. Presto watched, aghast, as Bailey regained his footing and took to his feet, breathing heavily. It appeared that his escape had cost him energy, leaving him open to reprisal. Presto, on the other hand, still thrummed his power -- his every cell was bursting with arcane energy that nipped at his heels like an overexcited chihuahua in its eagerness to escape, to be seen, to conquer. The magician's surprise and uncertainty left him quickly, evidenced only by a single stutter. "F-for my next trick," he said. "I'll need a volunteer from the audience." He lowered his wand, once again, at Alton. "You there, in the indecisive skin! Breathe deep!" He muttered an incantation and his wand began to spew forth a fearsome gale of icy wind in the form of a miniature tornado. Crackling with frost, the storm spiraled towards the monstrous Bailey, blowing papers and other small items hither and yon in its wake.

Edited October 7, 2016 by Sophistemon

[Blarghy]

GM

 

Pale frost-fog obscured the back half of the basement for a moment, but perhaps to Presto's frustration, the only real effect was adding a sparkle of ice crystals to Bailey's thick hide.  He rolled back to his feet and lower arms, then lashed out with the upper set, swinging both razor-studded fists at his hated enemy.

 

"Breathe THIS!" Bailey shouted.  It probably sounded better in his head.

 

Fortunately, the first hand swept a little too high, and the second crashed down just short of his chin, shattering the concrete at his feet.  The magician could feel the fresh cold on those knuckles, so near was his escape.

 

His temporary and grumpy partner took a sharp step forward now.  Frustrated by his continual failure in the fight, Warne ground his teeth and made a small, rare physical gesture to accompany his mental attack.  His childhood trainers would've admonished him for it, after all the time they spent breaking him of the instinctive habit, but in his desperation he allowed himself an angry thrust of one hand, palm out, his fingers curled like talons.  In response, Bailey finally snapped his head back as though he'd been punched.  He rocked backward on his heels, and when he came forward again, his eyes were glazed. 

 

"Finish him off!" Warne shouted to Presto.  "Quickly!"

[Sophistemon]

Despite having just barely avoiding a super-powered pummeling at the flailing limbs of Alton Bailey, Presto was more aghast at the mutated man's inhuman durability. "My God, Alton," he breathed. "That was the Wind of Ithaqua! What on Earth are you made of?" And then Warne motioned, ever so slightly, and the monster was knocked silly by an invisible force. Presto cast a glance at Warne when the older man issued the order and muttered something under his breath. "Mister Johnny-Come-Lately," it might have been, but it wasn't really important in the grand scheme of things. Presto took a few steps back, hoping to make the most of his enemy's fugue, and leveled his wand at Alton's enormous heaving chest. "You ran a good race, Alton," he said, his smile reduced but still present on his face. "But it wasn't quite good enough. It's time to close the curtain." He spoke, and thunder boomed as a bolt of lightning streaked from the silver tip of the wand. Electricity split the air, crackling, as the scent of ozone permeated the room. The sizzling electricity barreled across the distance between magician and monster, zig-zagging towards Alton's abdomen.

Edited October 10, 2016 by Sophistemon

[Blarghy]

GM

 

The lightning burned him harshly, leaving a black scar across the shapeshifter's ribs.  The resulting spasm kicked out his back legs as well; Warne latched onto the opportunity and hit Bailey in the back of the head with another mental strike, which slammed him face-first into the concrete floor.  Bailey still managed to struggle upright, but he looked slower, weaker. 

 

"Keep the pressure on!" the agent ordered.  "If you won't surrender, then this ends the hard way!"