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The chilling and dark touch of the shadow rushes over him enfolding him in a terribly pure malice. With a horrible delight it seeks to awaken his own recent memories of hatred and anger and he is thankful for the clasp which shields his mind from so strong an assault. He feels strength draining from his limbs into the cold embrace around him, but the movements of the One called Larry are the important thing. The Mage shouts and with the violent exhalation of the death threat Cyril crushes the flask.
A new and living wind swirls around him, a wind alive with the strange breathing of one who had been suspended along the boundary between life and death. The memory of its terrible transformation at the hands of the Modding Mage burns within it and there is now no Ring of power to protect the object of its anger. The wind that was once a shadow rider shrieks into gusting and angry movement of its own, disrupting the flight of the swords and displacing the very air that the One Who Mods seeks to breathe with its own terrible presence.
Feeling the wind, Cyril gives the shadow that which it desires, burning it with the stormy outpouring of the power of his life. As it screams in surprise he turns and strikes it with the lightning-tinged edge of the stormreaver.
Even with the sudden bursting of the angry and living wind, one of the swords strikes him a painful blow, one that may well prove fatal if the Mage can withstand this last attack.
ooc: Talk about matters of inches and seconds! *LOL*
[ 05-13-2002, 11:21 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]
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