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The steady dripping of water could be heard in the distance, but the mage had long ago tuned it out to his senses as irrelevant, along with the random putrid smells from time to time. The Kra'Hei spawning season was near ending, and the hatchlings were becoming more plentiful. Many Rathas chose to use these wide sewerways as a shortcut to move about from tier to tier on Ratha, and from time to time there were "accidents" as the hatchlings grew too bold in their usual hunting patterns. Hence why he was down here.
Bending to avoid a low hanging beam, the mage cast his senses out into the room before him. An entryway into a near vertically sloping tunnel of some sort, and the mana here was ripe, along with the smells. Hatchlings were sure to be about. After hunting them for over a year, the mage had become quite adept at following the distinctive patterns of the hatchlings, and eliminating them before their rampant growth could spill out onto Rathan streets. Brushing his long blue-black hair out of his face, he stepped into the large vertical tunnel.
If one were to strike a flint, it would appear as if the mage were peering up into the tunnel, however a more perceptive person may notice his nostrils flaring slightly as he inhaled the scents about him, deciphering the clues offered where viewing anything in the distance was impossible. Rising up from the shadows behind him, two hatchlings moved to flank the mage, the dim light glinting off their scales and razor sharp talons. With a glance over his shoulder, the mage sensing their presence behind him, he spun to face them, scimitar coming up to parry. First one strike then another was blocked, and the mage traced an arcane sigil in the air, chanting softly to himself as he split his focus between his magics and his surroundings. A glancing blow heightened his sence of urgency, and he finished his sigil, a strong Elanthian wind surrounding him to aid his movement. With his magical reflexes, he easily evaded the hatchlings now sluggish seeming blows, and began to counter. A few deft slices, and one of the scaly beasts was quickly dispatched and the tell-tale signs of crystal tears began to surround it's body.
As often happens while hunting hatchlings, the sounds of combat brought unwanted attention, and a small pack of four hatchlings rose from the shadows further down the tunnel, and began to advance on the mage. His options few, and death a certainty, he summoned his magic to aid him again. Arcs of electricity began to crackle between his fingers, sparks shot from his eyes as he began a low murmering chant that quickly rose to a near yell. Focusing on the hatchling in front of him, he unleashed his arcane fury, as lurid green lighting bolts began to dance around the room, striking anything in their path. His focus had grown over the past few days, and his magical abilities had increased to allow his focus to direct the strikes, going for anything threatening him and leaving bystanders unscathed. The hatchling facing him bore the brunt of the attack, as other bolts danced amongs the remaining hatchlings, striking as they may. Three of the beasts dropped instantly, and the other two moved woodenly, fighting against muscles that seemed to disobey their commands. Unfortunately for them, time to recover was not a luxury.
After finishing the last two hatchlings, the mage stopped to consider the work. Not a scratch had marred his skin, and his magical senses were strong and ready to continue, nor was he breathing heavy.
"So this is what it feels like, to be a Warrior Mage.." He said to himself, continuing down the tunnel, looking for more prey."
~Nazaruss/Player of.
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