Jabidas smiles but not in a nice way, his smile is crooked with no humour and it dosnt touch his eyes. Almost imediatly large hands form out of the very air punching and squesing the enemy mages and soldier alike, blood spurts in small fountains, fireball hurl through the air and the smell of burning flesh fills the air cloying and sweet, fog forms around his enemies and inside they are snatched and torn apart by invisable arms, their deaths are not visable but very audible, green beams shoot from the sorcerer hands turning anything they touch to dust. Jabidas continues to grasp for weapons beyond imagination to tear his enemies to shred them for imprisoning him. When nothing around him breaths any longer he can be heard to mutter Im such a nice guy. Time to go then, out of this pit for some evermead.
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