Lightening pulsed through the air. Crackling and set a glow as it impacted upon the would be Mage. As the man moved to stand once more against his attacker, he was hit by a sudden gust of cyclone like winds. Casting him back into the trunk of a large oak tree. As he reached a hand along his torso to feel for what surely was a broken rib, the ground below him suddenly rose upwards like a massive tablet of earth and rock. Flung from his spot and rolling to a pause upon the ground before slowly rising to stand, the man groaned with a narrowing of eyes at his attacker.
"I am sick and tired, of your kind plaguing the city and the surrounding lands. Your stench is sickening. You bring nothing but misery and misguided happiness to those you touch. You are a disgrace to the play of magic and might upon these lands. I've watched your kind through the decades. You strut around like you own, or should own everything. You want to control places, people and things. You all think you're so powerful. Your high and mighty. That none can knock you off your pretty pedestal. You prey on the weak. Those without a predetermined path. Those looking for a place to belong. Those who want to feel part of something. You take them all in and offer happiness. Hope. But as always they're lies. They were lies years ago and their lies today. You brain wash, you enslave and your destroy the possibilities of hope of those who could be so much more. You're a disgrace to the very grace of magic upon you."
A swirling and rolling of his hands together as Zayveon lifted a tornado upwards into the sky. In one quick swipe, the twister snatched up the weary man and lifted of him into the night air above the tree tops. With a snap of his fingers, the tornado broke and the man fell to impact upon the ground. The sickly sound of bones cracking, breaking could be heard through the forest play of the glen. Zayveon shook his head and turned upon the heel of his boot. Two fingertips set to his lips, a kiss before a casual wave of his hand back toward the crumpled mess of a man. As he ventured away and back toward that of the city, the man's body burst into flames behind him.
"I am sick and tired, of your kind plaguing the city and the surrounding lands. Your stench is sickening. You bring nothing but misery and misguided happiness to those you touch. You are a disgrace to the play of magic and might upon these lands. I've watched your kind through the decades. You strut around like you own, or should own everything. You want to control places, people and things. You all think you're so powerful. Your high and mighty. That none can knock you off your pretty pedestal. You prey on the weak. Those without a predetermined path. Those looking for a place to belong. Those who want to feel part of something. You take them all in and offer happiness. Hope. But as always they're lies. They were lies years ago and their lies today. You brain wash, you enslave and your destroy the possibilities of hope of those who could be so much more. You're a disgrace to the very grace of magic upon you."
A swirling and rolling of his hands together as Zayveon lifted a tornado upwards into the sky. In one quick swipe, the twister snatched up the weary man and lifted of him into the night air above the tree tops. With a snap of his fingers, the tornado broke and the man fell to impact upon the ground. The sickly sound of bones cracking, breaking could be heard through the forest play of the glen. Zayveon shook his head and turned upon the heel of his boot. Two fingertips set to his lips, a kiss before a casual wave of his hand back toward the crumpled mess of a man. As he ventured away and back toward that of the city, the man's body burst into flames behind him.