by Archmage144 » Thu Jun 29, 2006 1:07 am
One of Hakaril's eyebrows shot up in response to all the thugs staring at him. He glanced over toward a young woman who had been bound, gagged, stripped, and knocked unconscious before being thrown to the floor in a crumpled heap.
"The ropes and gag are pretty kinky, but the stabbing is even worse. While I'm not so sure about the knife stuff, you guys know you could've gotten the bondage play for a nominal fee, right?"
The man who had just shoved his blade through Jeri's back shoved his heel into her scapula, pressing the brothel owner to the carpeted floor. He stepped over her body toward Hakaril and indelicately crushed the elbow joint of his fallen companion with a heavy booted foot. He was bigger than the rest of his allies, dressed in worn but still once-fashionable clothing, but neither hygiene nor sharp thinking seemed to be among his list of assets. There was a muffled whimper from the man beneath his feet, but it went ignored, apparently written off as a death rattle. Hakaril guessed that this was an accurate analysis.
"I dunno who you are, buddy, but you screwed up big time poking your face in here!" growled the enormous thug as he took a few more steps toward the General. "Stupid pretty boy thinks he can be a hero, huh? How about I give you a couple more scars!?" The brute lunged toward Hakaril, knife first. One of the thug's scrawnier subordinates snickered a little.
Hakaril calmly raised his left hand, exposing the flat of his palm to the charging adversary as though he intended to deflect the blade with the fleshy part of his hand. As the thug closed in, a sudden burst of sound erupted into the room like a localized sonic boom. The air rippled distinctly, like the ripples visible on a hot summer day, and a colorful pyrotechnic display erupted from the assailant's body in the form of a shower of multicolored sparks. The force of whatever energy had struck the thug threw him backwards across the room, slamming his body into the dining table and leaving him lying in a crumpled heap admist broken wood and torn cloth. The flunkies had stopped laughing.
Hakaril's gaze slowly turned toward the two standing hoods.
"You two are just a couple of punks. Your boss clearly wasn't very bright, mostly because he didn't recognize me on sight. But no big deal, right? You guys are so tough that you can beat up a bunch of women! You can take me!"
The two men pointed their swords at the General. One of them spat on the floor and waved the end of his weapon menacingly. "There're two of us and one of you! Get him!" Without further ado, the duo charged recklessly toward the mage with a mad fury in their eyes.
"Good point," mused Hakaril. "Not fair, is it?" With a sweep of his hand, a sword-shaped plane of tangible light formed in the air. Using his other hand, he drew his sword from his belt just in time to parry one of the incoming strikes--and his newly created blade of energy parried the other. Hakaril sidestepped, trying to separate the two thugs so that he could deal with them individually. The greasy-haired man whose sword had been deflected by Hakaril's sudden conjuration recoiled as the blade shoved back against his metal sword with a surprising amount of force. As Hakaril held back the first man with a few skillful parries, he mentally commanded the brilliant blade to move so that it was both flanking his current opponent and interposed between the two foes. He could see everything happening in real time on the astral as his will dragged the currents of energy forming his improvised weapon through the fabric of reality.
A sudden, sharp pain brought the General back to focusing on the material world. A misjudged angle had compromised his parrying, and the thug's sword had managed to tag Hakaril's upper arm, drawing blood and rendering his weapon hand almost completely useless. His adversary grinned.
"You haven't got enough teeth to kill me," mocked Hakaril as the blade of light swung around in a wide arc, decapitating the thug before he could raise his sword for a follow-up strike. Gripping his sword's hilt as tightly as he could muster to prevent himself from dropping it, Hakaril flashed a grin at the one enemy who remained standing. The confidence had been wiped from his enemy's face, evidently siphoned away by Hakaril's immense ego. Even with a wounded arm, it was apparent that this battle was a mismatch.
"You're lucky" commented Hakaril, "because you're the last one standing, and that means you get to live." The thug breathed heavily, as though somewhat relieved. "Oh. Wait." Hakaril scratched the back of his neck and frowned. "Cardinal left that guy in the front hallway alive. I don't need to keep you for interrogation." Eyes widening, the thug glanced nervously between the nearest outside window, Hakaril, and the doorway. Opting for the most likely chance of survival, the man turned around and started to dash toward the window, ditching his sword to avoid having to deal with the extra weight. As he leaped toward the opening, an invisible force yanked him roughly backward, slamming the thug against the floor with a harsh thud.
"Oh, I'm sorry," added Hakaril apologetically. "Was that noise your back?" The mage flashed a dark smile. It was clear that some sadistic part of his mind was enjoying this immensely. As the thug opened his mouth to beg for mercy, Hakaril gestured slightly with his free hand and yet another unseen force shoved his jaw shut, clamping them down on the man's tongue. Hakaril scratched at his head again, then paused to tally something up on the fingers of his free hand.
"I think that's enough payback for what you've done here. Besides, your partner stabbed that woman, and I can't let her lay on the floor and die while I torture you, as much fun as it could hypothetically be. I'm not really a sadist, you know," continued Hakaril as he circled around to stare down at the thug. "I worked all those issues out a long time ago. I don't really hate people who break the law, either, because that'd be hypocritical of me." Hakaril sneered a little and knelt down next to his fallen enemy.
"I just don't like people who mess with my friends," the mage concluded as he rested the blade of his sword across the man's neck. The thug struggled madly, eyes widening as he fought the inevitable, but no amount of force he could manage would will his limbs to move.
There was the sound of steel slicing flesh and a final gasp followed by silence.
Hakaril rose, sheathing his sword and shaking his right arm with a grimace on his face as he strode toward Jeri's fallen body. He stared at her for a moment. She seemed familiar, yet he did not recognize her. It was like looking at someone's daughter and seeing her mother's features. The mage sighed heavily and made some hand gestures, calling long strips of cloth into material existence from energy and ether.
"Man, I suck at this. If you die on me, Shakti's going to be pissed..."