Wednesday, April 11, 2018

From the Internal Narrative of Callidus Igni

The fights began once more, and I stepped into the light.

I slipped behind the caster and pulled out my own lantern, its ruddy light casting spare shadows around her. I nudged her original light-bearer, waving my hands dramatically, and he obediently shook the "wytchlight" a few times, then flicked it off.

Her voice grew wary as the light above her grew murky, and it quaked when I started to circle her. I stopped in front of her, and she lifted her eyes to the glow of the friar's lantern. Her voice continued rambling through the repetitive cast, but once she looked into the light, she was mine.

I glanced around furtively, and saw everyone else engaged. The two dryads countering our two satyrs seemed to be the only cards they'd held in reserve, which left me free to handle to caster and the pinnacle, unless... no, Umbo and Succus had their hands full. It was up to me.

My smile grew. I liked when it was just me against the world. That was my favorite way to play.

I took a step back, gesturing to the caster to keep pace with me, and after a look to and a nod from her storyteller, she stood up and followed me. I walked a half-circle around her and moved forward, so she was moving backward, and kept her moving backward until she collided with the pinnacle, who was kneeling on the ground, still focused on holding the spell.

They went down in a flail of limbs.

The caster stopped reciting, which was rather the point. The pinnacle dropped her focus too, and the circle was as good as fallen, all that remained was the matter of keeping it that way, keeping them from starting it back up again.

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