Warehouse: Byz'zul
Byz'zul knew he really should have expected this, all things considered. In answering that invitation he'd made three faulty, dangerously untrue, assumptions.
1. He has assumed that the universe did not, in fact, hate him personally.
2. He has forgotten dear old dad's sage advice: "If the world can find a way to fuck you, it will."
And last but certainly not least....
3. He had forgotten that traffic at this hour was practically a layer of hell unto itself. The layer of dumb pedestrians, dumber drivers and enough carcinogens in the air to make Bejing blush. Making him late. Resulting in....Gandalf the Insipid over there bursting in on them.
Of course, he was processing all of this even as he was desperately twisting away from the blasts of magical energy that said insipid larper had launched at him and his new comrade-in-suffering. It was two on one, which was something of a comfort, but it was the sort of comfort one might take from the fact that, even if they were in the middle of a school of sharks and bleeding from a stab wound, there was someone else alongside them to be consumed in the orgy of blood, teeth and fins that was about to commence.
So....yeah....
If they were gonna get out of this, they needed a plan.
Truly, your powers of perception are the envy of all demonkind.
Not the time Azazel. Not remotely the time.
He could feel his overly sarcastic familiar twist and coil around his body beneath his robes, no doubt trying to get out of the way of the incoming magical blasts and whatever other tricks ol' insipid had up his sleeve by shielding him with his "masters" body.
The snakes confidence in his ability to avoid harm was touching. Really.
Nothing for it then. A plan...they couldn't get one of those nailed down, let alone time to think of one if they didn't get the resident hero on the backfoot, if only for a few seconds.
Less focus on the evasive, and more on firing back. Dropping to his knees in midtwist, Byz'zul tapped into the infernal energies bound within his tattoos. He could feel the heat, the power, as it broke through it's bounds and traced it's way up from his lower back to his hands. Just as it reached his finger tips, a blast of pure fire sprang forwards, aimed directly at Byz'zul's least favorite larper.
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