The Oldest Game

Opalina stares down the enemy, her wand ready for action at a moment’s notice. “Do you know what they call a duel between Mages, Dear?”

“I don’t think this is the time for-”

“If you go back far enough, it used to be known as the ‘Oldest Game’. A battle between magic users isn’t always solved by who has the greater skill level, who has more mana, or who knows the most spells, no... oftentimes it comes down to whoever the best imagination.”

“Opal... are you really going to be ok...?”

“Yes. I may be an old lady, but this is a game that one never forgets how to play.” The witch taps her long, curly hair with her wand, and it ties itself into a neat bun. She’s getting serious. I watch the two Mages from the magical mirrors, waiting anxiously for someone to make the first move.

The standoff doesn’t last long.

The Crystal Sage closes his glowing eyes and thrusts his palms forward. Without an incantation or a tool with which to cast it, he launches another spell aimed directly at us. This time, it’s a simple volley of thirty multi-colored orbs.

Opal counters by touching each projectile with her wand before impact, popping them like bubbles until only one orb remains. She cancels the spell and effectively forces it to hover several inches away from the wand’s tip before taking bringing the spherical magic closer to her face to study it.

“Weaponized mentallomancy?” She scoffs and wiggles her magical instrument. “There’s no use sending it back then. Something tells me I couldn’t break your mind much more than you already have...” Opal dissipates the orb to burst into psychedelic particles that scatter harmlessly into the wind.

“I’m not broken. I can do more. I can do so much more. Don’t... please... give me more time, time is all I-”

“Severirus,” Opal casually chants her next spell, but the explosion of magical power that results upon its release sends our broom flying. Her spell summons what looks to be hundreds of tiny, spiked, purple marbles that start twitching and engorging in size until they’re as large as watermelons. The witch flicks her finger, commanding the projectiles to home in on their target. Once one closes in toward the Crystal Sage, it explodes into a cloud of powdery purple smoke that squirms like a swarm of flies.

Undeterred, the Sage disperses the cloud before it gets anywhere near him by thrusting out his palm and summoning a green wind to blow it away. He begins shoving out his palms in hundreds of directions, shooting a small burst of wind at the witch’s remaining projectiles. I watch him at work, awestruck not only over just how many nonverbal spells he’s able to cast in a row but also how fast he can cast them.

Opal’s eyebrow twitches with annoyance as she sees her attack undone but loses no morale and instead jiggles her wand to unleash a nonverbal command of her own. The remnants of her spell all merge into one giant orb meant to draw the Sage’s attention, begging him to attack it. He does, and instead of releasing a cloud as all the others did, this one explodes into dozens of syringes filled with a viscous purple liquid.

The Crystal Sage’s glowing blue eyes open wide in shock as he glares at the oncoming rain of needles. “Impossible, needles can’t hurt me... they would never! Needles are my friend! My friend... friends... Pimpington, give the sex man back... back!”

Opal clicks her tongue at this man’s erratic behavior, ready to reinforce her needles with another spell at a moment’s notice. The Sage stands up atop his flying carpet and makes several gestures with his fingers that summon the rainbow smoke from his hookah. It rushes out in front of his body, thickening and engulfing the whole of the incoming needles.

“I’m beginning to grow bored of this,” The elder witch groans.

“He’s not stronger than you, is he?”

“Absolutely not!” She snaps back as if I was accusing her. “I just happen to be under a few different limiting circumstances- the biggest one being that I’m trying not to kill him.” Opal laughs a dark, mysterious laugh. “If I wanted him dead, we’d be well on our way by now. Not only that, but I don’t have many decent options when we’re flying at such high speeds, whereas his class leaves him very well suited to this sort of magical combat. We can’t land and risk him getting to you, though. Defensive charm or not, I’m not going to take... that... chance?”

We both witness the rainbow smoke fading away to reveal a surreal sight hiding behind. The Sage stands exactly where he was only moments before, but his body has since altered dramatically. From out of his back sprang two additional sets of arms. “More... flow... more...” He pants as dribble falls out of his mouth, his body and face having returned to their emaciated and drug-addled default status.

The Crystal Sage clasps his natural set of hands together while the four extra hands each disappear into tiny portals. A split second later, his hands return, carrying cloudy mana crystals. Predictably, he smashes them in his fists so he can snort the resulting powder. The Elf roars as his body fills out once again. His eyes shining like a beacon in the darkness and his bright veins threatening to burst free from his skin, mana erupting out of his powdery nostrils as he lets out an absurd sneeze.

“Dear Gods,” Opal shakes her head at this unbelievable sight. “This Elf is a medical marvel. It... just shouldn’t be possible for someone to live with such an advanced addiction to mana crystals. I’m ashamed to admit it, but as a Doctor, I’m severely tempted to put him under the knife...”

“What the fuck is with his arms?!” Between the high-speed chase and the unfolding battle between mages, I find my ability to provide meaningful commentary beginning to dwindle.

“I’ll explain later. I need to focus!”

“ALL SHALL FLOW!” The Elf thrusts all six of his hands towards us, unleashes a volley of uncountable spells one after the other. Small lightning bolts, fireballs, water bullets, shards of ice, wind blades, creeping darkness... the sheer variety of his magic is beyond my comprehension.

I dive with the broom but the nonstop spell barrage closes in, and I fear I won’t be able to help us evade it. Opal has other plans. She takes her wand and deposits it into her sweater, then pulls a large, winged black staff decorated by two intertwining serpents running up its length out of her bra and swirls it over her head with both hands. “PROPERAFFLESHEVOUR!” She shouts as a gigantic version of the same corpse-smelling flower from earlier sprouts out of her staff.

The Crystal Sage’s assault is swallowed into the central chamber while the entire plant spins like a pinwheel, releasing spores aimed directly at the enemy. As he works up dozens of little wind spells to blow away this deadly powder, Opal chants, “ACILUGE!” and forces all the absorbed magic from the central chamber outward in the form of corrosive yellow bile.

“I’m not done! Don’t count me out! Please! I can still fight... still... FIGHT!” The Elf cries out more of his trademark gibberish, becoming more desperate by the word. Panic overtakes the Crystal Sage. He changes his strategy and defends himself by shooting six rapid streams of water out of his hands toward the oncoming acid. He’s just barely able to stave off Opal’s attack, but in the end, Opal’s imagination was greater.

“Galvanibeam!” She chants while twirling her staff like a dancer, summoning six balls of electricity hidden behind her giant flower. They crackle and whirr with unfiltered power before unleashing six large beams of radiant lightning. Opal’s spell tears through her own flower and the six beams merge with the acid spray, catching him completely off guard.

“Impossible! Why couldn’t I see it? I see everything... no... not enough... need... more!!” His voice is shaky as he exerts all his mana in a misguided last-ditch effort to save himself.

With no time left to defend, the Sage’s entire body is electrocuted once Opal’s lightning travels down the defensive water and connects with his hands. He shouts a bloodcurdling scream, falling to his knees and twitching involuntarily like a dying bug. The temporary strength granted to him by snorting mana crystals fades, leaving him ravaged to the core.

Tiny drops of acid and lightning cascade off of his body, tumbling down to his magical carpet. The fabric soon starts to catch on fire from the remnants of Opal’s spells. With nothing to hold him steady, the Crystal Sage and his golden hookah begin to free-fall down to earth.

“Damn it! Turn us around and dive, Dear! I can’t capture him like this!”

“Dive? Really...?” I’m not ashamed to admit that the idea of pointing the broom at the ground while soaring at high speed is one I find unappealing. Luckily, Opal knows how best to motivate me.

“Think of how much gold Duke Gloomcrest will give you if you show up with a second crimelord to hand over!”

I make a u-shaped turn and angle the broom so that we shoot down to earth with the force and tenacity of a falling star. Even though every part of my body screams at me not to dive, there’s no height I wouldn’t descend if it meant bringing my Guild additional income.

As I chase after him, Opal sits down behind me and aims her staff at the tumbling druglord. “Sombastille!” Another series of interlocking magical circles appear around her weapon as the spell manifests itself into reality. Thanks to her mana pressure I’m able to recognize the familiar feeling of dark magic, only for my suspicions to be confirmed once a large, circular black void appears directly below the Crystal Sage.

From out of the shadowy circle forms what looks like a prison cell made of darkness and abject suffering. The cage opens and a long, spiraling black hand snakes its way out of the structure and hastens towards the Sage, hellbent on binding and dragging him to his dark fate.

Seeing his looming imprisonment, the Sage springs back into action and performs the same portal shenanigans as before to procure himself more mana crystals to snort. His mana and body restored, the villainous Elf thrusts all six of his arms behind him and starts casting a high-powered flame propulsion spell with each hand. Using this magical thrusting, the Crystal Sage actually starts flying away at a far faster speed than the dark hand is capable of copying.

“He’s escaping! Can this broom go any faster, Opal?!”

Opal makes an annoyed, frustrated noise brimming full of anger. “Fucking pointy-eared, strung-out piece of shit!” She takes a breath and calms herself, saying, “...No. No, we’re already going top speed...”

“So... there’s nothing we can do?”

“Not exactly. Don’t ever say that I don’t love you, Dear...” The witch sighs as she removes the silky black glove covering her right hand. “I really didn’t want to have to resort to this, but...”

“I know you want to look all cool, powerful, and mysterious, Opal, but he’s flying away faster than a dragon. Whatever you’re going to do, do it now!”

Opal lets out another annoyed grunt as she reaches past my shoulder and points her index finger at the Crystal Sage. As she builds up her mana within it, Opal’s hand suddenly mutates in color. It changes from its natural pale olive into an unnatural, sickly shade of purple. Beneath the surface of the sorceress’s skin, I see evidence that this worrisome color is caused by a bubbling, churning, and restless fluid coursing within her.

Magic begins stirring in the air around her fingertip. A concentrated ball of foul-smelling magenta liquid secretes itself out of the witch. It swirls around her extended digit until taking the shape of a needle and darting off at astonishing speed. Although he’s escaped fairly far away by the time it reaches him, my eyes confirm that the attack lands and somehow burns a hole through his blue robes. Beyond that, though, Opal’s magical spell has very few observable effects. It certainly doesn’t stop the criminal from escaping so far off into the distance that my eyes can no longer track him.

“There,” The witch shrugs with disappointment, her hand returning to its standard skin tone as she pulls on her silky black glove. “I suppose that will have to suffice...” She says, stuffing her staff back into her Bra of Holding.

“What did that spell do?” I ask while bringing the broom back up from our descent.

“Not much, sadly. I shot a little something of my own design, but because of the speed and the distance between us, it was far from my best work...” The witch crosses her arms and shakes her head. “Let me back in front, Dear. My mood was already sour, but now it’s downright toxic... we’re getting tea before showing up at Castle Mourneheart.”

Opal leaps over me once again, and I let her take control of the broom. I’m eager to let her fly me away to Dawnstead so that I can process whatever the hell just happened.

PunishedKom

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