!kyfms5tN66 04/02/12(Mon)02:10 No.18545599|
File: 1333347040.jpg-(169 KB, 720x352, IrinasFakedDeath.jpg)
Jean Ducard knew when a mission was hosed, and this mission was long hosed. The theurge and the ninja were all kinds of dead, and they'd lost the rigger earlier when the fire spirit torched him--now was the time to run. Picking up his assault rifle, he beat feet.
Or, rather, he would have, if he wasn't hovering with no traction a few feet above the ground.
Ducard scanned the crowd until he found the black mage, standing there in his suit and pointing at him, maintaining the spell. He tried to aim, to pull the trigger, but he was too disoriented, and it was like there was something in his mind keeping him from shooting...
He noticed he was floating, slowly, at a rate of inches, towards the center of the ring. And the mage was smiling. Glancing briefly towards the nuke spirit, he felt his eyeballs begin to tingle.
And then something in his head made him look.
And he screamed, and he screamed, and he screamed, as he died by inches as he was slowly moved closer and closer to the spirit, until there was nothing left but his constituent atoms, and the shadow of a man in inconceivable, incredible pain, etched forever into the opposite wall.
Geppetto made eye contact with the spirit (with his shades on, of course), and, despite himself, he smiled. He could almost feel the spirit smiling back. It had been a truly exquisite death, and it wasn't often he met anyone or anything else capable of appreciating that.
>...And that was basically the darkest scene in the campaign, yes.