35th trial, Ymiden, 720
Storm's Edge
Morning
Storm's Edge
Morning
It had become his habit to watch the mage when he worked his wyrd. Not in every instance, for the man everyone knew as "Karim" likely practiced his magic alone as much as in public. But when the little man came to the smithy and claimed whatever useless or broken items he needed for his "experiments", Rudy always found that he had errands to run beyond its baking atmosphere. There always seemed to be something. A message, a meal, some tool or material that had to be fetched right at once... yet always took a little longer to fetch than Isaak would expect.
If the smithy knew where his apprentice really was, he gave no sign of it. He had plenty of work to attend to. The arms and armor of Storm's Edge depended on his skill and his muscles. He focused on that, instead.
Rudy watched from the shade of a tower, as the little man heaved another barrel into place. He was stronger than a man of his stature should have been. He'd thought at first that was magic itself, but eventually realized the little bastard really was just that strong. A hard, brutal life to match his appearance, he'd wager. Sweating under the rising sun, Karim placed the barrel against an open patch of wall, and mounted a rusted suit of mail over the top of it. He adjusted it a few times, ensuring it wouldn't slide to the ground in a hissing clatter of red-brown metal... then he walked away.
The apprentice frowned. That was new.
The mage turned back once he was about ten paces away. He raised his hand, and Rudy saw the familiar witch-light start to build around it. Blue and white, sometimes more one than the other, as if the colors were fighting each other for dominance. Usually the man would get a decent cloud of the stuff, then direct it against whatever his target was. Watch it corrode and rust and fall apart as the ravages of arcs were packed into moments. But this time, he was too far... wasn't he?
He watched as Karim closed his eyes, and whispered a word he couldn't hear. The formless blob of magical power started to shape itself. Extending out from his fist, as if it was a stick... or an arrow... no, too long for that. More like a short javelin. Once it was about two feet long, the mage raised it over his head. Like a hunter stalking prey, he used his free hand to steady himself and mark the orphan suit of armor. The whole time, a halo of light bathed him, and when his arm whipped forward-
-the javelin didn't fall apart, and the bolt exploded from his hand, leaving tendrils of crackling etheric lightning behind, zipping and sizzling off his fingertips-
BANG
Rudy jumped as the missile struck the armor. But that was the wrong word. It didn't pierce it, not in any physical sense. It exploded against it, shattering and spreading out across the surface of the mail. Almost like it was thin glass containing liquid, and now the substance burst... and started to eat it. Rudy's widened as that same Corrosive effect he'd seen days before broke down the metal like fire would kindling. Rippling ether explosions, tinier than his eyes could see, spread across the interlocked links, dissolving each one or weakening them to the point of uselessness. Chunks of it fell away, bindings unable to support it.
The mage approached, slowly. Fingers flexing and tapping at his thing as he did. There was a restlessness in them, now. An odd physical sign of activity that clashed with his general stoic, silent, watchful nature. The man cocked his head and crouched down. Watched the hole his missile had blown in the armor take final shape as the last of his ether spent itself. He stroked his worn fingertips across the ragged edges of it... and seemed to decide something with his nodding head-
-which turned not quickly, but irresistibly, to look Rudy in the eyes.
The apprentice swallowed a squeak, and the Raggedy Man smiled.
"S'try that agen, eh?"
