Me: :3
The Magus Ascendant
Foolish Summoners. I will be free. The thought stood pronounced among the other musings of the former-mortal. The once-man shifts, the visage of a face etched in stone that surrounds the top of his body like an oversized pith helmet replacing what used to be a head and face. His body, once soft flesh and flowing blood now churns and crackles with pure, natural magic energy. His form was what he willed it. During the first moments of his ascension he took whatever shape he pleased, altered his own form like he altered his surroundings to fit his studies, to fit his desires. But then he was chained. Chained, bound, corralled like some pathetic animal and thrown into a basement in the hopes of being sealed away from the world for good. But those chains could not hold him. They could not stop him, for as all things manmade those chains would decay, and he was immortal. He could wait.
And so he did. Finally when the time was right he burst free of the petty boundaries his former colleagues tried to set on him. With an explosion of power he destroyed most of the enchanted sarcophagus that held him, shattered it into various pieces and bits that burned to nothingness as they fell away. Except for the blasted core. Though not fully functional, a majority of the spell was intact, holding him on the plane of existence he had tried to transcend. Mortality.
It held him in the mortal realm. It kept his body from altering to what he wished, forcing him to remain in the humanoid figure he has had since birth. And now it is a hindrance he will eventually rid himself of. But before that…
He looks to his left, energy crackling across his fingertips and almost immediately shorting out. He looks down, a blade sliding away from where his neck would be. More exploding out from behind him and through his body. The scratch and chip the stone of his bindings, the damage disappearing almost instantly as his own power is siphoned to fix it. The blades return, cutting him once more and slicing at candescent bolts of magical energy instead of flesh or blood, a low hiss coming from the shadow as the flash heated metal is palmed into sheaths after slightly burning him. With a low grunt he stabs, a long serrated armblade piercing the back of the magus and through the magic of the summoners, when the blade is drawn back both entry and exit wounds leak moderately, dripping his energy as superheated plasma that sizzles upon contact with the ground. With a loud screech of metal against metal the man disappears again, a ring of blades surrounding the Magus and hanging before flying back in and cutting him even further. Meters away, the Blades shadow reappears, drawing all the blades back into their sheaths easily and watching.
With a flick of his wrist the immortal sends an orb of unstable magic, crackling with deep blue energy to smash against the chest of the man who attacked him.
"Simple fool…" He says, straightening as a large, thick bolt of magical lightning pierces and sears the man in his chest once more, blasting him to the ground on his back in a twitching heap. A blue glow surrounds a flying sarcophagus as it breaks apart once more, rigidly positioned before the Blades Shadow with lightning crackling and arcing in solid streams between in and the ground. He raises his arms to the sky and with a single shout blue appears in the clouds above, glowing brighter and larger until 3 separate beams are visible as they stream down immediately.
"It will take only a SPARK of my magic to end you!" The Ascendant proclaims, eyes steady and without remorse as he calls upon a fraction of the destruction wreaked during his ritual, bombarding the man before him with 3 column-like blasts of pure arcane energy, the last blast sending the man flying back in a twist with a loud yell of pain in death.
Satisfied he releases himself, the newly allowed mobility a delight to the restless energy in his body as it pushes him faster, quickly bleeding off the extra kinetic energy it had built up while being forced to remain still. Right into a sudden wall that appeared before him without a single warning. Like a bad acid trip his senses are thrown into disarray and everything is suddenly backwards. Right is left, left is down, up is square, and down is homophobic. His senses careen into oblivion, few snatches of clarity coming up and confusing him as they aren't even on his own plane of logic. Suddenly all is righted and he can once again tell where he is, what he's doing and move. So he does, sensing a well of powerful dark magic behind him he quickly whirls around, preparing an orb of unstable magic in one hand and an Arcanopulse in the other. Vaguely he realizes now that while he was incapacitated something happened for dark energy to hit his shoulder and burn at him while something crashed on top of him to create the crater he now stood inside of.
With a gleeful laugh the dark Yordle thrust his staff forward. It did not matter who it was. It did not matter how much larger or how much more fed he was. Actually it did, because the more power he had, the more power this Tiny Master of Evil could use against him. And so with a blast of magic, the gleeful laugh finishes just as the resulting explosion begins.
First to go is the arcanopulse and unstable magic, sucked into the missile fired at him. He feels their own power as they hit, overloading his energy with his own and suddenly destroying the core of his bindings. For a second he is gleeful as he feels the bindings to the mortal world slip away. Then he is terrified as he feels himself following.
NO! He yells in his mind, clutching at the chains that shackled him to this plane as they drag him with them to their demise. They crack and vibrate with his body, energy fighting against the control of the seals as the voice of its master is silenced to them. Within seconds they find the leak and in a flood like the walls of a dam were burst with explosives they rush out, tearing, burning and destroying anything that would hamper their escape. With a single shout the explosion is finished, lightning arcing across the ground away from the bits of stone, the single most pronounced swirled sigil of sealing, and the pith helmet head of the sarcophagus that once substituted a face.
I will be freeee….
Me: Didja miss me? Here's a new chapter for you all! And for anyone who had to relearn Xerath. Yeah, I know he's damn strong now but relearning him is a bitch.