Anoril
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The Vision of Flight
The creatures are known only as Flying Eyeballs. I shall tell you about their creation.
It was a good few years ago now. A Doomknight, at request of his master commissioned a coven of supposedly evil sorcerers to create a new way of summoning Demon Warriors to the battlefield. Over the following weeks the sorcerers did their best to make this a reality. However during the project each met their untimely end. They did however manage to create a device that allowed Eyeballs with wings to be summoned forth. At the time it was a useless invention.
Six dark men wore 6 dark hoods. No skin could be seen through their thick black robes. They stood in the darkness of a circular room and waited. Waited for the darkest one of them all. None of the men knew why they had been called here but they didn’t want the others to know that. So they stood in silence awaiting their leader.
Ignatius, the name positively screamed evil, he was their leader. With a dark heart and a dark soul, the other men feared him and were greatly jealous of his supposed power. They had never once seen him use any of the might he claimed to have and they hoped it stayed that way.
Ignatius’ voice was raspy and powerful, “Brothers,” he said in the way that only Cultists can, “You know why you have been called here.”
None of them did but not a man among the six was willing to be the first to admit that. Ignatius seemed to know already though.
“A Doomknight spoke to me not a week ago. He has heard of my power and was in awe of it. He requested that my coven of darkness create a new demonic warrior for his Master’s Army.”
The cultists began shuffling nervously, when Demons were involved it always made them queasy.
Not Ignatius though.
“He was very specific about the requirements for this demon. It has to be easy to create and summon forth. I told this Doomknight how lucky he was that I didn’t flay him alive where he stood. But no his master his very powerful and may grant us yet more power if we get into his good graces. Since then I have been working on a spell to create a staff that summons forth these Demon warriors from the ethereal realm. And now all that remains is for you six to gather the ingredients.”
At this there was a very audible wail from one of the cultists. Fortunately however the masks they all wore made it impossible to discern who it had been.
“Fiz! Byte!” Ignatius snapped at two of the hooded figures, “You will be collecting the element that will allow the demons to corporealise themselves and to tether themselves to this plain.”
The two terrified cultists looked at one another and then back at their deranged leader.
“It is a chicken’s feather.”
The sigh of relief from Fiz and Byte was quite clear in the tense silence.
Ignatius turned on another pair of cultists and barked, “You, Galeon and Zapth. You will find the element of intelligence. A dragonite will allow the Demons to think by themselves and to act in a fashion of purest rage.”
Zapth heard Galeon’s gulp and realized and identical one was issuing from his own throat. A Dragonite was a Dragon’s Brain.
Ignatius turned on the last two, the smile that was hidden behind the mask could be felt even if it couldn’t be seen. “Swiper, Freac. I have chosen you two to collect the most important ingredient, it is also the hardest to obtain.”
There was a long moment’s silence before the Cultist known as Freac said, “What is it?”
“What do you know of basilisk lore?” asked Ignatius, “Do you know how they are created?”
Freac thought and then said, “A Chicken’s egg hatched by a toad.”
“Or a frog,” piped up Swiper.
Emboldened by Swiper’s courage the cultist named Galeon said, “It can be a turkey’s egg too can’t it?”
The other Cultists began to speak, conversing about basilisks.
“So they’re the snake things right?”
“I thought it was another name for a cockatrice.”
“No it depends what kind of frog and what kind of fowl.”
“The moon is a factor too isn’t it?”
“Sop how come roosters kill them?”
“Dunno but I bought one once to get rid of some spiders in my basement.”
Ignatius sighed, “ENOUGH!” he bellowed. The room fell silent, the air around Ignatius was crackling with charged energy. “I’m not talking about a basilisk. This is something else. I need an egg. A Wyvern egg that is being hatched by a Gorrillaphant.”
There was total silence within the room. And it was the kind of silence that isn’t just absence of noise but the kind that actually removed the sound from the air.
“You all know what to do!” yelled Ignatius, “Return in a week and we shall cast the spell!”
***
Fiz and Byte stood outside the newly built shop.
“Who is this ‘Cysero’ anyway?” asked Byte, who now, out of Ignatius’ presence was far more confident.
“He’s a Weaponsmith. Deals only in Dragon Coins,” said Fiz.
“And why is a weaponsmith going to have a Chicken feather for sale?”
Fiz had wondered this himself, “Well he deals in other magical objects. Besides it’s not even Cysero himself in the shop. He’s left a crystal ball to watch over things for him.”
“So it’ll be easy to steal the orb?”
Fiz looked aghast, “Steal?”
Byte smirked nastily, “Yes Fiz, steal. We are the bad guys. It’s what we do!”
“Oh…” said Fiz, catching on.
“Look you go in an grab the feather. I’ll stand watch.”
Byte was about to protest but the look on Byte’s face changed his mind.
***
A few minutes later Fiz reemerged from the shop gripping a feather in his hand tightly.
“Okay great,” Byte was smiling in an unnatural way, “Give me the feather.”
Fiz was about to hand it over when he saw something in Byte’s mouth glint. “No, no I’ll hold onto it.”
“Give me the feather,” repeated Byte more forcefully now.
“Why do you want it so badly?”
“I don’t want to damage it when I incinerate you.”
Fiz’s world slowed remarkably. “What?”
In one motion Byte twisted Fiz’s arm and wrenched the feather from him. Kicking the pitiful man away, Fiz examined any damage to the feather. It was a bit scuffed but not too badly.
Byte was about to walk away when he remembered his ex-comrade lying on the floor. He clicked his fingers from which sparks appeared.
Fiz could feel his insides heating up. “What?” he wheezed “Why?”
“Spontaneous Combustion. A personal favorite of mine.” Bytegrinned and walked away, the Chicken feather safely inserted into his belt.
***
“Where are going to find a dragon?” Zapth had been in a terminally bad mood since the meeting two day before.
Galeon looked around, the forest they stood in, comically as though in a state of great confusion. “Well…I dunno. Where do dragon come from?”
Zapth lightened slightly, “Well when a mummy dragon and a daddy dragon love each very much…”
“Haha. I just can’t stop laughing, my sides are almost splitting,” Galeon said sarcastically.
“Seriously though,” said Zapth, “I think they probably hang around with Dragonlords. We should look for them.”
“Well there’s some Dragonlords in Falconreach,” suggested Galeon, “And there’s the Renegade Dragonlords of course.”
Zapth considered both options then said, “You know we don’t have to kill a dragon. We could buy a dragonite on the black-market. Or find one that’s already dead.”
“Hey! That’s it!”
“What is?” asked Zapth, confused.
“We find one that’s already dead. Remember that dragon we were hearing about. The largest ever. The one that that creepy Prince was going to build a castle on?”
“Huh?” Zapth said, bewildered.
“It’s perfect. We just need to find that dragon and hope that there’s still a dragonite inside it’s head. They turn to stone when the dragon dies right?”
“I think so. I’m not up with Dragonology myself.”
***
“Wow it is huge,” remarked Zapth.
“No wonder the prince was going to build a castle on it. It’s plenty big enough.”
The dragon skeleton towered over them both. Even lying in death it would have easily made a Guardian tower look dwarfish in comparison. The rib cage solidly stood, an empty hall with walls of pearly white.
The tail had been cut away somewhat, clearly it was highly desirable to have the tip of the tail of the world’s biggest dragon as a weapon. The skull however remained as frightening as it would have in life. Th eye sockets, though empty continued to watch the what ever living there was in the barren and scorched wasteland.
The two not-so-evil cultists approached the back of the neck to gain access to the skull and the brain cavity. The two of them stood in the empty skull. It was the size of a small paladin chapel. Although by no stretch of the imagination could it ever be converted into one.
“Where’s the brain?” Zapth began looking around the dusty charcoal that littered the inside of the skull.
“One of these rocks has got to be it,” assured Galeon, beginning to look himself.
As the two men looked for the precious stone, neither was aware of what was approaching from behind them.
“I found it!” shouted Galeon triumphantly.
“And I find you!” said an echoing voice from the neck joint.
The Cultists turned and saw a Paladin in shining silver armor standing with a gleaming sword pointed at them.
“Necromancers! You reign of terror ends here!”
Galeon and Zapth looked at each other and then at the goodly warrior standing poised in an ancient attac stance.
“Reign of terror? Necromancers?”
“Indeed, the pair of you. I have been tracking you for some time now.” The paladin walked forward. “One of you is a necromancer and the other is a vampire, skilled in Pyromancy. Either way, evil-doers are evil-doers. Necromancer or Vampire, I kill undead.”
“Hey,” protested Galeon, “We’re not evil…”
Zapth stared at him, “Yes we are.”
“Oh right,” laughed Galeon. “Bring it on then,” he said to the Paladin.
“Oh by the way,” said Zapth, addressing the paladin, “Is your name Artix?”
The paladin stopped listening and charged. Both Galeon and Zapth drew their staves and battle batons and leaped to either side. The paladin swung his sword and both of them but missed since they had each bolted in opposite directions.
Zapth fired a darkness spell that the Paladin cut down with his holy sword. While the paladin was distracted Galeon came running at him from behind and hit him with the baton.
The blow bounced harmlessly off the Paladin’s armor. Galeon ducked a wide arc the paladin had aimed at him.
Zapth shouted, “Oi Gal, you got the dragonite?”
Galeon checked and sure enough he’d stuffed it in his pocket at some point. “I got it.” He replied meeting the paladin’s sword with his baton. He rolled from the fight and ran toward Zapth.
Zapth thought fast then sped toward the skull wall. After enhancing the run with magic he grabbed onto the edge of an eye socket. Looking to his left he saw that Galeon had also managed this feat. Both slung themselves through the holes and out into the nearly-fresh air. Balancing on top of the great skull, they waited for the paladin’s next move.
In a blur of gold the paladin appeared between them. He kicked upward sending Zapth flying off the skeleton completely. Galeon was knocked backward by a well-aimed punch. He lay sprawled on the cold bone, looking up he could see the paladin’s hands bathed in white light. The next second he was thrown from the fight.
With both of his enemies gone the Paladin was without anybody to fight. Deciding to chase his prey, the Necromancer and the PyroVampire, he ran to the edge of the dragon. But not matter how hard he looked there was no trace of them anywhere. “Damn!” he said, punching the hard bones.
***
“How the hell did we get stuck with this job,” complained Freac.
“No idea, but it bites!” agreed Swiper.
The two of them had spent the day in the forest tracking a Wyvern to its nest only to find that it had been a giant snake instead. Out of anger the two of them had killed it and Swiper was now cooking the mean over a mystical purple fire.
“So what now?” asked Swiper, “Where are we supposed to get a blooming Wyvern egg?”
Freac shrugged angrily.
From behind them in the trees there came a voice, “Did I hear someone say Wyvern egg?” The voice was heavily accented and sounded foreign.
“Who’s there?” snapped Freac at the darkness, drawing his battle-staff.
A purple robed figure wearing a matching turban appeared. He was tugging behind him a cart of some sort. The cart was covered in what looked like the accumulated junk of the world. Corners of portraits could be seen with various scrolls and mugs. Tit and tat blended together magnificently on this cart.
The man spoke again, “My name is Ali Salaman. I is merchant and I just so happen to have what you fine gentlemen are looking for. A Wyvern Egg. Newly laid too. I is selling it very cheaply, only 1000 Dragon Coins.”
Swiper was almost pushed physically backward by the force of the price, “What? 1000…”
“It is very difficult to obtain, my friend almost die getting it for me. Also pet Wyvern, very valuable. Rare too.”
Freac stood, “Look pal, we ain’t gonna pay you 1000 DC for some egg.”
“Your loss. Not another like this one.”
“No matter we aren’t gonna give you that much, 50 DC maybe.”
Salaman smiled, “Sorry, in Falconreach there is adventurers pay me lot more. Excuse me.”
Salaman picked up his cart and continued on his way. Freac gritted his teeth in rage, ‘1000 Dragon Coins? Is he insane’ he thought. Freac could feel the anger reaching his hand, flowing down his staff, ready to be unleashed.
Just as the bolt was about to hit home the crooked salesman turned, waving his hand he dispelled the bolt with ridiculous ease. He smiled nastily and kept walking.
“Damn!” cried Freac watching the figure walk away.
“What are you so upset about?” asked Swiper.
“We lost the egg?”
“Em no we didn’t, they don’t call me ‘Swiper’ for nothing.” Swiper revealed the wonderful rough green egg.
“Haha!” shouted Freac in triumph, “What do you think of that Sally…whatever.”
“Don’t shout he might hear you,” warned Swiper.
“Oh right.”
“Now we need a gorrillaphant to sit on it right?”
***
Finding the gorrillaphant had been easy enough, there was by now means a shortage of them in Surewood. The two supposedly evil men watched as it tugged on a tree, determined to reach the cat that was purring temptingly at the top.
“And how do we get it to sit on the egg?” hissed Freac, not wanting the gorrillaphant to notice them.
“You have a point there Freak.”
“I’ve told you its ‘Freac’ ”
“Whatever. I suppose we could curse it. Make it think it’s a chicken or something.”
“Ooo I know,” said Freac excitedly, “Does the gorrillaphant have to be alive?”
Swiper decided not to answer. “Maybe we just place the egg next to it when it goes to sleep.”
“Uh huh, the gorrillaphant rolls over and crushes the egg. Besides killing it or cursing it is so much eviler.”
“Okay so we make it think it’s a chicken and that the Wyvern egg is its young?” clarified Swiper, moving forward from his hiding place toward the Gorrillaphant.
He gently encouraged the Gorrillaphant’s attention, “Gorrillaphant….gorrillaphant…” he said in a soothing voice whilst still attempting to be evil. The gorrillaphant looked round and saw a small human carrying an egg staring at it him.
“Okay, now you’re not a gorrillaphant, you’re a chicken okay?”
The gorrillaphant stared for a moment before walloping Swiper in the face, sending him flying backward into the bushes.
“So how did it go?” asked Freac, trying and failing not to laugh.
“Right that’s it!” Swiper stood up, his face was bashed in badly, and there was blood dripping onto his otherwise pitch-black robes. And his eyes were changing color to sickly green. “Now more Mister pretending-to-be-nice-guy! Time to do things your way Freak!”
“Yeah, it’s Freac. With a ‘c’, try saying it.”
Swiper ignored the wisecracking Cultist and stormed out of the bushes to confront his foe. “Tig diputs a era uoy.” he chanted.
The gorrillaphant turned again, brushing off the spell from its fur and began to lift Swiper off the ground. Once Swiper was held in a vice like grip above the Gorrillaphant’s head, it started to bend him. He could feel the joints in his spine popping. “Freak! Help! Freak!”
Freac appeared to watch the show. “You gonna pronounce my name right?”
Swiper gasped, “Help!”
Freac realized that Swiper wasn’t joking so he ran forward and kicked the gorrillaphant in the shin. This did nothing but enrage the gorrillaphant further.
The word suddenly is a perplexing one. It refers to one state of affair being immediately replaced by another state of affairs with no harbinger of the second present in the first. The word suddenly is the only one that can be used to describe the appearance of a man in the midst of the fiasco.
Suddenly a man appeared in the midst of the fiasco. At first he was a blur but as he stopped moving he became apparent that he was a warrior, plainly dressed in the traditional warrior garb of ludicrously light armor. The new figure whistled a long shrill note, the gorrillaphant dropped Swiper and knelt obediently.
With the help of Freac, Swiper managed to stand. He was a bit lopsided, he seemed to be bent at an angle toward the left. It was a peculiar image. “Wha…hoo…bah.” Swiper had trouble speaking due to his broken bones and organs.
“What do you think you are doing going up to a wild gorrillaphant like that? Almost got yourself killed?”
“We…” began Freac, “Who are you?”
“Rarely matters, and I asked you a question I think.”
“We wanted to get the gorrillaphant to hatch this for us,” Freac showed the man the Wyvern egg.
Although he tried to remain impassive, it was clear that the man was fit to bursting, “Can’t think why but okay. Give it here.”
Freac gave the egg to the man and watched as he spoke to the gorrillaphant.
“What’s he doing?” asked Swiper with difficulty, “Everything’s squint.”
“He’s talking to the gorrillaphant. Weirdo.”
“Okay,” announced the man, “Sheila says she’s hatch your egg. She’ll give it to you the day before it hatches so that it’ll know you two as its mothers. Now get out of my forest you strange, strange people.”
***
They were back in the room again. Robed, hooded and masked. However this time there was one fewer than the last time. Only two among them knew why.
Ignatius spoke to his ‘followers’ once more, “I must apologize for the untimely death of one of our number. Byte informs me that Fiz was a traitor, he attacked Fiz who was forced to defend himself. No matter the death of a traitor is irrelevant and of no consequence. We still have the spell to perform. I trust everyone has remembered to bring their ingredients.”
There were nods of consent and murmurs from the cultists.
“Good then we may begin. Place the ingredients in their places in the pentacle.”
There was a large 5 pointed star drawn in chalk on the floor. There was sand and incense scattered aimlessly around the place, just to give the right atmosphere. The Feather and the Dragonite were placed at the bottom of the pentacle and the ready to hatch Egg was stationed at the upper most point of the star.
“Let us begin,” hissed Ignatius.
“Wait,” said Galeon, “So the egg has a demon inside of it?”
“No,” said Freac, “The egg is an ingredient in the summoning spell.
Smoke began to rise from Ignatius ears, “No the egg is an ingredient in a spell to create a staff which then summons the demons.”
“Oh,” said Galeon understanding.
“Let us begin,” repeated Ignatius.
The six cultists drew in closer to the magical symbols on the ground. Ignatius raised his arms and began chanting. The 5 others could feel their power being used by their twisted leader but while they feared to give him the power the feared to resist much more. The charge in the air rocketed, lanterns were extinguished and were instantly re-ignited. Colors races around the perimeter of the room. Smells permeated the air and sounds from other worlds howled like insane maniacal gods. Ignatius’ face was becoming larger and twisted, the smile that was splayed across it was no longer human it belonged to some other…
And the spell stopped, normality reigned.
The feather, stone and egg were gone. In the center of the pentacle was a short staff, no larger than a wand. It was fairly plain, it’s only decoration was a jewel of green at the base and the head and two short stubby wings coming from its head.
“There it is, it worked.” Ignatius was in awe. He lifted the newly created weapon as though it may explode and examined it carefully. “Now to test it.” He waves the staff and pointed it at the wall.
A Massive, Powerful, All Encompassing Demon Prince of Power, Sorcery and Doom completely failed to begin existing within the room. Instead a small, fairly harmless looking eye with wings began its pitiful life with a flop.
The six cultists each stated their confusion.
“Huh?”
“What”
“Huh, who…”
“Whoa!”
“Phew”
“NOOOOOO. HOW CAN THIS BE?”
This last one was rather obviously Ignatius. Seeing his work perverted in this way was too much for him.
“How can? Huh? Why? It should have worked!”
The other cultists began to creep away from Ignatius as though he were a disgusting slug that they didn’t wish to be associated with.
Ignatius began muttering to himself, he leafed through books and papers desperate to find out where he’d went wrong.
The other Cultists tried to leave but Ignatius slammed the door’s magically closed. “You’re not leaving until we do this right!”
***
“I’ve found out where we went wrong,” announced Ignatius. The other cultists were perplexed by the use of the word ‘we’. They had clearly not said or done anything other than have their own power temporarily sucked out of them. “In order to create and evil, powerful creature we have to use the power of a Deity of Death.”
“What?” cried Zapth aghast.
“We need to bless the potential of Demon with the power of a dark god.”
Galeon had had enough, “No,” we can’t do that, that is just too far.”
Ignatius’ eyes flared red. “You think it’s too far? Well in that case I have no further need for you.” With a violent hiss Ignatius shot dark flames from his hands. Galeon was totally enveloped and was consumed by the fire instantly. All that remained afterward were a small pitiful pile of ashes.
Ignatius looked at his followers and said, “Anybody else think that this is too far?”
The Cultists shook their heads frantically.
“Good. Now you Zapth, you will be performing the ritual of summoning.”
Zapth was about to protest when he saw the look in Ignatius’ eyes and the pile of ash on the floor. “What am I summoning?”
“An entity named Suicide.”
There was a sharp intake of breath from the Cultists. All were glad that they were not in Zapth’s position.
“Don’t worry Zapth,” said Ignatius in a falsely kind voice, “Suicide can only take your soul if you kill yourself.”
‘That’s true,’ thought Zapth ‘perfectly safe’.
***
The ritual of summoning was performed again. After the special effects Zapth was left standing in the middle of the circle facing the entity only known as Suicide.
“What do you want?” it said.
“I…erm…” mumbled Zapth.
“Oh good, summon me from the depths of limbo just to mumble something incoherently, you know I’ve had that trick played on me One thousand million, four hundred thousand, and sixty five times. And will have it played on my over 100 billion times before this universe is totally devoured. I hate humans.”
Zapth decided to play the humble card, “Oh great god of all mortal endings, please grant us but a portion of your power so that we might further increase the amount of mortals ending themselves.”
“Yeah, cause that’s what I want. I really need more people killing themselves, oh and by the way I’m not the god of Suicide.”
“Forgive me for asking oh great life taker, but then what are you?”
“I am a personification of the mortal concept of one ending one’s own life. And I do not take lives, I take those that have been taken by their owners. Really how stupid can humans be? In fact not just humans, the entire Mortal Coil. Why? Why me? Why did I get stuck with this job?”
Zapth hesitated and looked to Ignatius to help him.
Suicide continued, “Anyway I’m bored of you now, I think I’ll reap your soul, although it wont cheer me up at all. Never does.”
“What?” cried Zapth, “No you can only take the souls of those who kill themselves.”
Suicide sighed, “But really I consider you summoning me to be suicide so…” The Demi-god reaped the Cultist’s almost-dark soul with about as much remorse as an anvil dropping on a foot. Then with a wave he stopped being present within the room the standard form of God departure.
***
“Now let’s try this staff, all powered up with Dark God juice,” squealed Ignatius excitedly. He waved the staff around and another eyeball flopped out. “GRRRR.”
“No wait,” said Freac, “It’s got a black eye this time, the last one was red.”
“Yeah and look,” said Swiper, still at a weird angle, “It’s attacking that wall.”
“Oooo great,” said Ignatius sarcastically, “I have a staff that makes flying eyeballs that hate walls? I’m sure the Doomknight will be thrilled.”
“Maybe if I take a look at the staff?” suggested Byte
“Oh fine,” huffed Ignatius, with half his coven gone he felt it no longer necessary to keep up his toughness charade.
Byte took the staff and turned it over in his hands. Then Swiper and Freac watched in horror and Byte sunk his teeth into it. His long hard vampiric teeth. The staff shuddered as though in pain. Then Byte took one of his horrible elongated Fingernails and slid his own skin. Although he’d inflicted a serious wound to himself Byte seemed not to bleed at all. He rubbed his hand over his cut wrist until it was red with blood. He then applied his own blood to the staff. It began to shudder even more violently. It was changing, becoming longer, more elegant. The new staff had a great long sabre at its base and a huge eye at its head.
“Let’s try it now,” laughed Byte.
“You…you’re a vampire,” said Swiper, amazed.
“Well done,” said Byte, swinging the staff like a sword. More of the hopeless eyes balls flew out of it.
“Hey,” said Freac, “Now they have pink eyes…is that better?”
“No it’s not better,” shouted Ignatius, “We wanted Demon Warriors, not these stupid little eyes ball thingies. They’re useless!”
“You could use them as scouts,” suggested Freac.
Ignatius looked away, “Byte kill him please.”
Without a warning other that the one that Ignatius supplied Byte flung two great streams of fire at Freac. Freac, to his credit, did try to duck but wasn’t nearly fast enough, he went the same way his fellow cultists had.
“What’s that sound?” asked Byte, looking up from his victim.
“It’s like a ripping sound,” said Swiper.
“It’s a transportation spell,” hissed Ignatius loudly, drawing his wand and for some reason the Eyeball summoning staff. “Something is trying to gain entry.”
Byte readied another blossom of fire around his hands. Swiper just backed away into the corner to wait the arrival of whoever was transporting.
A small rip appeared in the fabric of space in the center of the room. The rip grew to a slash and then to a gouge, figures were moving within, it was only a matter of moments before they leaped out.
One was a mage, obviously the one who had performed the spell. He was wearing midnight blue robes and held a long wooden staff.
The other newcomer was a Paladin wearing shining silver armor and a matching sword in his hand.
The new arrivals stepped from the tear, which remained in the room sucking the moisture from the room. The goodly Paladin and Mage began advancing on the two battle-ready cultists.
Ignatius was facing the grim-faced mage with just a hint of fear across his face. He summoned a shield around himself and began to attack the oncoming mage. Waving his steel wand he send a burst of energy flying at the mage, who cast it aside like it was a breath of air. Then Ignatius looked to his other hand for support. The Mage was showered in flying eyeballs. The Black eyed ones did make a half-hearted attempt to cause pain to the blue clad mage but to no great avail.
“Enough,” said the Mage. With one solid punch to it the shield fell away and vanished. Ignatius shrieked in terror and threw the staff at his oppressor. Just as it was about to make contact it flew away onto the floor from where it was sucked up by the tear and taken to some other place. Ignatius shrieked again, a long drawn out shriek at the mage began to paralyze him from the head down. That was the problem with good guys, they never went for the kill when it came to fellow humans.
Across the room the paladin was advancing on Byte who was being driven into a corner. Just as it seemed Byte would give in he let loose an unforgiving torrent of flames. He smirked as the paladin was covered in the supernatural fire. A smile that vanished as he saw the paladin rise from a crouch with little more that a burn. The paladin snarled ferociously and began to stab at Byte’s body. As a vampire this caused him little harm. However there are few creatures that can live on without a head. And Byte certainly couldn’t. The Holy sword cleaved his neck in two with a subtle grace. The vampiric body fell to the ground, where it aged dramatically and eventually turned to little more than a pile of dust.
“Is that all of them?” asked the Mage
“I think so,” replied the Paladin.
“I thought I saw another one.”
“Oh well, letting one get away can’t hurt.”
***
The Doomknight spoke “You expect me to buy this from you? A staff that makes flying eyeballs?”
Swiper hesitated, it had been a mistake to take the staff to the Doomknight a horrible dreadful mistake. “Well…think you could use them as scouts…”
“You are wasting my time.” The Doomknight stood as he left the room he casually stuck a knife between Swiper’s already bent ribs.
***
While the Cultists were all killed in their attempts to create a Handheld Demonic Warrior, they did manage to make a small difference to the world. The Staff that was later named, by the lucky necromancer who found it, The Vision of Flight. It was more useful than anyone may have imagined. After travelling in the ethereal realm when it was sucked through the tear, it gained new powers. To its arsenal of Eyeballs it could, if enough concentration was applied, summon blue eyes. The Necromancer also found it to be a good general staff and hand to hand weapon.
As for the Mage and the Paladin, their names have been hidden purposely to protect them.
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