Rum began to pick himself up, spiting the pain of his still healing body.
“Tarrato Flithro Gorsh!” A giant ball of fire, bigger than Rum’s whole body, materialized before Jorteg, and shot out towards Rum like the most terrifying thing in his life. Rum did not think – he ran to the side and threw himself rolling over the counter as the largest fireball he’d ever seen or heard of set both his feet and parts of his back on fire. The fireball then continued on throw the room towards the floor a few meters away. Rum’s roll completed and he fell off the counter, descending quickly coming to the floor at the other side. As firey menace detonated in an awe-inspiring explosion of fire engulfing half the kitchen – or at least the upper half of it – Rum’s back crashed onto the floor. Above him, the mage received a full view as the air above was consumed in a spotless ceiling of red and yellow flame.
“Aaaaufh.” Painfully, Rum rolled on to his side. He began to crawl. Can’t stay still, must move on, before there’s another fireball. As the pain resurged in him, he paused. “Trinity – uh – of Healing.” Feeling his feet burn – literally – he pulled them up into a curl of his body. There he pressed the cloth of his arms against the burning spots, suffocating the fire. “Oww!” He forced himself to endure the burning sensation on his hands, as the flames vanished into smoke. Meanwhile his healing magic worked to repair his skin. “Cool Body.” He pressed the spell against his feet. It shouldn’t work on his clothes, but if anything, it made him feel better. He uncurled and began to crawl, managing to pull himself forward a short distance as his health restored.
FOOTSTEPS! The sound of boots! Rum hastily turned his head to see Jorteg standing at the ends of the two counters sandwiching Rum. “Hah!” Jorteg exlaimed, showing a hint of despise in his tone. “Tarrato–” he raised his arm, and once more, Rum panicked. The mage on the floor sprang to his feet, “–Flithro–” and ran for all his life towards the next counter, “–Gorsh!” As the giant ball of fire left Jorteg’s hand, Rum dove with all his muscle, all of his body – he could break legs again and again, but, if that fireball hits me head-on I’ll be ashes before I can heal myself! His dive did not entirely send him entirely across the wide counter. However, he grabbed the counter edge and pulled himself over the last distance with speed, sending his face straight towards the ground. This time though, as the room above him blew up into another ceiling of fire, his arms managed to reach in front of him, couchening the smash of his face against stone.
“Ufh!” Rum inhaled on the ground. “Fooofffh!” He let the stress out. Then, painstakingly, rolled over, sat up, and spoke a spell – “Magic Shoes!” I am DONE reacting! A pair of slightly translucent blue shoes materialized out of thin air in front, and dropped between his sitting legs. He grabbed a shoe in either hand, and struggled up. When, rather predictably, an irritated Jorteg came around the corner – Rum threw the shoe in his hand straight at the dungeon lord, whose eyes, for the first time, went wide with surprise.
“Shak Det!” A spiral of air erupted in front of Jorteg, a spiral aimed squarely at Rum and the shoe-projectile. As the shoe approached, the spiralling air caught and repelled it. Jorteg gestured for the wind magic to go away. “A shoe?” Rum threw the other shoe. “Shak Det!” Again, the spiral was summoned, throwing the shoe halfway back to Rum. Once more Jorteg cancelled his magic. “Shoes? Is this what your pitiful self has to resort to now. Throwing footwear at me!”
“Magic Shoes!” Another pair dropped in front of Rum and he caught them. Like a couple of deadly – well, somethings – he held one up in either hand, his face narrowing into serious battle-focus. The lesser mage’s feet began to step back, slowly, as he kept his eyes on the dungeon lord.
“Hmf” Jorteg grunted. “You’re in my dungeon, pitiful mage, nothing will be beat me here. NO-THING.” The ginger mage raised his arm straight out, pointing a long index at Rum. “The very ground you’re stepping on will prove it. Taste the splendor of mageland MAGIC! Brondurnag Dolser!”
An orange-tinted fog began to materialize just above the mountain floor. Watching it come into being, it soon became evident to Rum that the fog was not going to rise, but remained there close to floor, obscuring everything from the kneecap and below, though nothing more. This can’t be all, can it? Rum looked about himself, confused. What is this fog about?
“Hunt him!” Jorteg commanded, and all around Rum, the fog started to condense in places, turning from a simple fog and into – is that some kind of creature? Thick packs of orange gas moved through the fog in the resemblance of long blobs with large green eyes. Their forms gliding through the fog like ghosts, with pointy sharp fingers reaching out from stubby arms, their hands appearing more material than their bodies. And these creatures – they come for me! Rum could barely discern each shape as it moved through the fog, but when one came right upon him he jumped over it, and then jumped the one after that, and the next one. Within seconds, what had been three rose to over a dozen, and Rum began jumping around on one leg at a time like the floor was made of lava, with the creatures haunting his legs like rabid firey monsters. Finally, Rum got tired of the floor and jumped up on one of the counters, landing into a squat – only to see a fireball heading right his way. Rum jumped again, throwing himself into the orange foggy floor on the other side. As he fell a fog-creature came into sight below him. He reached out with the magic shoes, one in each hand, and swung his weapons together, smacking the creature on his descent, before crashing into and smashing it with his momentum. “Uffh!” The fog-creature went up in smoke, its dense form disintegrating and scattering in every direction. Okay, Rum thought, breathing heavily, I now know that these things can be destroyed. Somewhere above him, a portion of the room lit up in flames and he glanced at the burning air. Just a regular fireball? Am I lucky for dodging the lesser threat, or unlucky Jorteg didn’t waste more mana? No – that’s the wrong thinking, it won’t be mere luck that wins me this fight. Rum pushed himself up to his knees, and, leaning one shoe against the counter, stood up first with one leg, then the other. This fight is decided by the momentum of the combatants. If I want to win, I have to take charge of the momentum.
Standing over the counter and looking across into Jorteg’s antagonistic, calculating eyes, Rum saw several bodies of shadows converging in on his own position from several directions across the floor. Jorteg pointed a finger at Rum – then Rum was distracted by something. Something lying on top of another counter. The magic shoes, they haven’t despawned! As he stared at the blue and partially translucent things, he realized something. If I throw shoes at him, I can throw them again – and again, and again, and again! The lightbulbs inside the lesser mage’s head all exploded at once, and his gaze rose to meet Jorteg’s.
“Mar Gorsh!” A fireball materialized from the finger, and it flew straight towards Rum’s position. Rum ducked under the counter, and the fire detonated on top. Okay, maybe there’s a bit of luck – this mage loves throwing around big spells like he’s saltbathing a leg of pork.
Rum got up, and threw a magic shoe. His aim was poor, but Jorteg, full of himself, conjured a repulsive spiral of wind nevertheless, sending the shoe halfway back towards Rum. With the other shoe raised in one hand, Rum quickly skipped over the attack of a fog creature, before spinning around back to it and plunging himself down into a squat, the shoe becoming a hammer to smash the creature. “Poofh!” It worked – it disintegrated! Next Rum got up from his squat and proceeded to skip, twist, squat and hammer another clawed creature of gas. But what had been a few creatures soon grew into a swarm, and Rum no longer felt safe where he was. He decided to jump up on the counter again, throwing his hammer-shoe at Jorteg to distract the magelord. “Magic Shoes!” Another pair dropped into his waiting hands, and just as the previous shoe was sent back and Jorteg cancelled his wind spell, Rum threw another. Jorteg repulsed it, cancelled his spell again, and just as he did – Rum threw another. The lesser mage’s throwing arm was far from the best, but his goal wasn’t really to hit Jorteg – it’s only to distract you.
After the 6th shoe was cast, the dungeon lord groaned. “Why are you bothering with such pathethic tactics?” He paused to utter another “Shak Det!” and throw the 7th shoe back towards Rum. “How long are you going to hurl shoes at me? Even if you hit me, you couldn’t possibly hurt me with a mere shoe. Even a dagger would have to hit deep to harm ME.” But Rum didn’t stop, he threw the 8th shoe, the 10th, the 12th, the 16th – and Jorteg exploded with frustration. “EEEEE-NOUGH!” The dungeon lord let the whirling air spell channel freely while digging into his robe pocket for what Rum could only discern to be a most exquisite mana potion, as the item surfaced. Rum took the opportunity to jump down closer to Jorteg, and also smash a fog creature with his landing feet. He proceeded to skip over, twist, and smash a couple of other fog creatures before jumping up on the next counter. He was now closer but not too close to Jorteg, and around him was the whole scattered heap of magic shoes Jorteg had neatly placed out for him to grab. He picked a couple of them up and smiled at the furious expression of the magelord, as the latter finally cancelled his wind spell for the n-th time.
Rum held out his magic shoes, as if to say “wanna go another round?”, and his new confidence leaked into his all-too-genuine smile.
“I’ve played with you long enough.” Jorteg declared. “No more patience for you. FROM THAL YRD-NASH!” A whipping coiling snake of a white magical rope shot out from Jorteg hand and on towards Rum. Panick filling him, Rum dropped his shoes and twisted just quick enough to throw himself to the floor, back and away from Jorteg. The rope, however, followed him. As Rum crashed into the foggy floor, granting his shoulder a likely bruise, the rope shot after him and curled itself around his legs. There it instantly began snaking up his body at speed, binding around his legs, then torso, arms, and finally neck – that’s when it tightened.
Oh cursed spoiled mushrooms! Rum wriggled around on the floor, trying to roll away and somehow dislodge himself of the rope. But the rope held tight and as he moved it only tightened further, until he felt like he was choking and his veins were blocked from bloodflow. I’m getting dizzy. Maybe I should just give in to it. I can’t escape like this. As he stopped moving the rope loosened some, and Jorteg was still out of sight. But – footsteps! He’s coming to finish me off! And suddenly Rum remembered another thing. The fog creatures! They’ll tear me apart! None was there at the moment, a lucky reprieve no doubt, but they’d be there any moment, both the creatures and Jorteg with them. What can I do? What can I do!? WHAT CAN I DO!? – wait! “Magic Shoes!” A pair of shoes dropped out of the air near his hands. He moved a little, just enough to touch one of them. The rope constricted, but not too much. Okay, this HAS to work! “Magic Arteries, Magic Art’ies, M’gic Art’ies, M’Arties!” He tried to whisper the spell, but in his desperation it became a very loud whisper, and the rope seemed to constrict ever so slighty at even the tiny motions of his vocalizations. Inside of Rum, the remnants of today’s previous channels of magic expanded into new lanes, new paths, going from everywhere across his body, and to his fingers. As the magic accumulated there, he shifted into the ethereal world, reaching out with his mana to the magic shoe, tearing open a gap into its construct. A task not too difficult given that he’d entirely made this spell himself through study, work and experimentation. He knew his own design. Then he summoned into his consciousness another spell of his. He willed the newcomer to modify ever so slightly, before pressing it into his hand wordlessly. Transcorporal Bridge, that was the spell. Rum shifted back into the physical world, and turned his head ever so slightly against the constricting response of the rope.
At the end of two kitchen counters, Rum saw him – Jorteg – in quiet triumph, walking over to Rum in slow confident strides. “I could’ve ended this game of yours any minute, petty mage. But seeing you so eager and confident to fight me: it made it all the easier to end you.” Rum started to struggle against the ropes, and Jorteg smiled, just a little. “Aaaah, that won’t work, stupid, silly mage.” But as Jorteg spoke, something unexpected happened before the magelord’s eyes. The white fibres started to thin out, break apart, and dissolve into nothing. First Jorteg didn’t believe his eyes, then he was dumbfounded by what he saw, finally his sneer came back on his face, and he pointed a finger down at Rum – ready to end him. “Mar Gorsh.” The words left Jorteg’s mouth like a slow death-sentence, and from that very death-sentencing finger, materialized a big, flaming hot ball of explosive fire.
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Rum, tightening the grip on his shoe, rolled over so that his back and bum faced the dungeon lord. He curled up to protect his conjured footwear.
BOOOM!
A hot, searing fire enveloped Rum’s body and bathed him in stinging pains. The explosion lasted maybe a second, or two, and after it – Rum just lay there, curled up. His body smoking. Large parts of his stone-grey attire gone up into flames, leaving him mostly naked, and wearing tatered remains. He could feel burnmarks all over, and his beard was singed for the second time that day, shortening its magnificent length by at least a couple of centimeters. But, I’m alive. Daring to open his eyes, Rum rolled over slowly to look up at Jorteg, the dungeon lord’s mouth hanging open in astonishment. Meanwhile, the white rope seemed to have more less broken apart around Rum, and, as he began to lean up and bring a hand to the floor for support and push himself into a kneel, it became apparent that he was largely unscathed. In Rum’s hand, however, resting in his lap, the shoe was shining brighter than ever before. It had gone from a dark and mysterious blue color, to now look like footwear made purely out of light, blue and white, radiant like a cool sun. Jorteg’s eyes fell down upon it, and as Rum noticed the magelord’s eyes fall to his lap, Rum’s own eyes followed to stare down at himself as well. “Oh, I think it’s about to blow.” Rum moved a hand to the floor and used it to quickly push himself up to a leg, the other leg following suit. Jorteg readied a pointing finger at Rum’s sudden motions. “Here–” Rum gently threw the shoe over the short distance to Jorteg, “–you can have it.” The dungeon lord didn’t catch, but looked at it land before him and roll over to his feet, its radiant light more intense than ever. Mesmarized by the obviously powerful magic before him, Jorteg abruptly recalled Rum’s first words – and backed off quickly! Nearly stumbling into his own legs. Meanwhile, Rum had already turned around and began to run off to a safe distance.
VROOOAAAMMM! The explosion of magic that ensued was not one of fire or shockwaves, but like magic turned strange and wild, the explosion produced a powerful vibrant soundwave that assaulted Rum’s eardrums as well as his adversary, sending them both to their knees, along with the crowd of spectators in the kitchen entrance who each one yelled out in surprised agony like a choir of torment. Meanwhile, a sparkling shower of dozens of bright lights erupted one after the other at the site of detonation, each one lasting but milliseconds, but disorienting every onlooker. The surrounding stone on the floor and at the counters, at the same time, cracked with unseen forces, and nearby pots and pans and cutlery shot out in singular trajectories all over the place. Finally, the air became an equally assaulting stench of ozone as small electric arcs erupted all over the viscinity of the explosion. Two such arcs hit Jorteg, jolting the man and sending him to the floor. A third arc struck Rum and he shook moderately where he stood – he’d gotten electrocuted before, after all, and was ready for the experience as soon as he saw Jorteg’s jolting motions.
It had only been a handful of seconds when the room quickly calmed downed from magic. Yet for all its brevity, the lord of the dungeon was down on the floor, the orange fog was dispersing – disspelled or cancelled by the exploding shoe. Rum was still standing, but breathed heavily for proper oxygen, the adventurer also feeling mildly disoriented. “Foofh” Rum let out, in a long exhale. He glanced around, his expression tired like he’d just ran a race. “Everyone okay?” He said so despite clearly not being entirely okay himself. For a little while he could do nothing but just stand there, trying to keep his feet flat and his body balanced. Then he heard groans coming from over at Jorteg’s, and he saw the man lean up to sit. As Jorteg’s eyes caught the sight of Rum’s standing, the magelord was initially stunned, before a greater embarrassment struck him. He hurried forward on his knees, and leaned on his staff as he rose first to one leg standing, and then the next. As he came to a standing, Jorteg’s form fell on his staff with a crooked arched back, as if the spell had aged his posture by another decade or three. Looking over at Rum with his eyes only partially focused, the mage’s breaths came out noticably quick. He was a mess. Most evidently in his orange beard and hair, which were chaotically bent and curled up into every direction like a wild man who’d just survived being struck by lightning – twice.
“What WAS that!?” some wizard yelled from the kitchen entrance.
Rum turned a little to glance at the people there, who had all collapsed into a heap of limbs trying and largely failing to untangle from each other. “Just, fooofh” Rum catched himself nearly fainting, and he paused momentarily, taking in a few deep breaths, “–a shoe bomb of mine.”
“A what?” another wizard yelled back.
Rum inhaled and exhaled again. “Just... phew... a SHOOOE BOMB!” He breathed some more, and turned back to face off against Jorteg. It’s time, I have to finish him up now – I’ll hardly get a better chance. Rum forced himself to step forward. The first step was the hardest, he was still slightly light-headed. But from there, he continued. The second step was easier. Then the third, fourth, eighth. He was practically running now – straight at Jorteg. The dungeon lord lifted a finger at him. “Magic Shoes!” Rum countered, and a pair dropped into his running hands. He held them up for Jorteg to look. “You want ANOTHER shoe bomb?” It was a bluff. Rum would’ve needed at least a little time and concentration to connect his magic arteries to either of the shoes in question, but I bet you’re too shocked to even speculate on that. Jorteg’s finger, pointing shakely at the adventurer coming for him – hesitated. The spell that Jorteg had been about to say got caught in the magelord’s throat as his eyes swelled with a most recent recollection. Capitalizing on Jorteg’s moment of uncertainty, Rum halted in his place to act. There, in a motion of near instant transitioning, he leaned back his left arm, and threw one of his shoes.
On instinct, Jorteg summoned his wind magic. But Rum didn’t stop to watch the older wizard repell the shoe back at him. No, he kept going again. This time, he walked towards the dungeon lord, fast but focused steps. When he got close enough to start feeling the force of Jorteg’s wind magic trying to grab hold of him to push him back, just then did he stop. At that time, he reached out with his own left hand. “Mana Ghost!” Shifting into the ethereal world, Rum’s own magical self lunged at Jorteg’s, invading and seeking to seize his very soul as mana. But it was like trying to go in for a wrestling grip on man much, much bigger than him. That said, his opponent was also a man stuck in place. Rum tugged and pulled at a great magical structure. Unsurprisingly the wind magic soon broke off, and in the physical world Jorteg’s whole body froze into a mildly shaking pose. Hunched on his staff, and staring straight into Rum’s eyes: the dungeon lord’s body was arrested in state, captured in a magical tug-of-war. Rum tried his best to rip this new mana ghost off of Jorteg’s body. But Jorteg wasn’t as easy this time. The dungeon lord’s mana resisted Rum’s advances. In the end, Rum was able to create a mana ghost, but the thing didn’t want to leave Jorteg’s body. He tugged at it, wrestled with it, trying to tame the significantly superior magic soul – this star of bright mana that was Jorteg’s ethereal form. But the lesser mage only found himself reaching an impasse. He was able to pull out a chunk of the mana ghost’s body, sure, but with the rest attached and resisting him, it was a losing battle. Rum had given himself an impossible task. He had to give up. Letting go of his tugging, Rum decided to try dissipating parts of the mana ghost into their surroundings while the rest was gradually reabsorbed by Jorteg. Quickly shifting back into the physical world, Rum saw Jorteg stagger forward and almost fall to his knees – THIS IS MY CHANCE! Rum sprang into a sprint, running straight and fiercely for the dungeon lord. “Magic Blanket!” Rum threw the shoe in his right hand at Jorteg’s bent and panting head. He missed and it hit the man’s shoulder, bouncing off harmlessly. However, in Rum’s two free hands, he instantly grabbed for the materializing cloth. Within three seconds he was right there, a mere meter in front of Jorteg. At that time Jorteg shot up, the man’s back straightening with the speed of military attention, his finger racing up alarmingly to point at Rum. However, Rum had already cast his die. The scholar halted and threw the blanket towards Jorteg’s head, and suddenly Jorteg was blindfold and scrambling to grab and pull the blanket away from his face. Just as planned, Rum thought. The lesser mage used the moment of disorientation to step up to Jorteg and raise an arm, as if ready to slap the magelord. As the lord of the dungeon scrambled and finally managed to pull the fabric off – Rum’s fingers shot forward and entered into Jorteg’s open mouth, catching the magelord with sudden and complete surprise.
“Waaahhh” Jorteg tried to speak with the adventurers fingers touching his tongue and grabbing onto his teeth.
“Clean Skeleton” came Rum’s calm, collected speech. The adventurer pulled out his hand and stepped away from the man, equally calm.
As soon as Jorteg got his mouth back, he lowered his staff at Rum in defense, before trying to think. “What was that for?”
The annoying mage said nothing. Instead, his face contorted into an expression of – sorrow? No, was that an expression of regret?
“I am very sorry” Rum spoke in a quiet, sad voice.
Jorteg took a second to merely stare suspiciously at his lesser. He could’ve sworn the expression on the other mage’s face was even one of pity, and – was he genuine? Something inside of Jorteg told him that he was not being played with right now. This was real. This was real emotion on the other mage’s face. “What nonsense are you on about, scoundrel!”
But Rum didn’t reply, instead he just stood there, giving Jorteg the pity-eye for someone who had no future.
A burning, tingling sensation struck at Jorteg’s face, like a mosquito. He slapped at his cheek. “What was that!?” The man’s expression twisted to uncertainty, to confusion, and – fright. Something was happening. His skin began to show motions, tiny, tiny motions, scattered across, but happening all over. Jorteg stared at his hands. It was as if it was being scratched, by something. Then tiny things began to fall off of Jorteg. Tiny, tiny pieces of... “Waaa-aaaah-WAAAAAH!” The dungeon lord’s face and hands were rapidly starting to scrubb off, his skin starting to fall off en masse like shredded particles of dust towards the stony floor.
It was a scene equally inspiring of terror and the grotesque. Yet Rum, in his accute sense of guilt for having implicitly sentenced Jorteg to this gruesome fate, could not avoid but to look on, as if only to punish himself for this doing of his, by having himself witness the events. Bit by bit, and with the loud accompaying screams of agony, every tiny little millimeter of Jorteg’s skin began to scrape off like if a hundred invisible, and very tiny people, simultaneously applied rasps to coarsely grind off his every bodily surface. Quickly, the man’s eyes were starting to look unfocused, then they roamed about like blinded, and then, finally, they began eroding away extremely quickly altogether. Jorteg began to bleed – no, not bleeding, ejecting! Blood and other bodily fluids began to fly everywhere around his position, splatting on the walls, on the counters, and even onto Rum’s own face, all while a pool started to form around Jorteg’s feet in the accumulation of splashing sounds. Before long, Rum started to feel sick and allowed himself to close his eyes, and at least for the moment, to look away. He did not need ejected pieces of Jorteg finding their ways into his mouth after all. But the screams did not stop. They followed Rum as he looked away, yet the adventurer stoically endured them, and did so by taking big meditative breaths to cancel them out in his own mind. In the end, the screaming only lasted about half a minute anyways. After that the screaming died out in a gurgle, before slipping into an even more eery silence of very quiet wet noises. Except for the sounds of SPLAT! and SPLASH!, those went nowhere but if anything only rose in volume and intensity to a gory crescendo.
Even when, after a totally horrific minute, the splatting and splashing began dying out, Rum could not look back yet. He waited, and waited some more, and – he decided to open his eyes, and look back. Where once a ginger-bearded middle-aged wizard had stood, Rum now witnessed, well... that must be the cleanest skeleton I’ve ever seen. Except for my own White Rose, of course. Indeed, Jorteg’s skeleton had been cleaned most efficiently and pristinely, all by scrubbing off any other bit of Jorteg, Rum recognized. Standing there in the former magelord’s place now, was only a skeleton. Wearing a red robe and red hat, and holding a ruby-topped staff, the skeleton was more importantly surrounded in its entirety by a big gory slush of ground-up human.
“Huuuh” Rum exhaled, staring at the scene. As he continuing to stare a bit longer, the skeleton’s pose decided to collapse before his eyes, down into the soup of human. Rum’s eyes moved to said soup. To the lifeless bones, and to the indescribably messed up colors making out the mixed-up liquids. Quietly and introspectively he reviewed his own work. A moment after, and having seen enough, he finally turned about. He looked over to the crowd of onlookers, all of which still practically stood on top of each other, trying as best they could to fill the entrance archway for a view.
“I suppose” the former lesser mage began, “that the battle is now – over.”