Field Trip! (Closed)

[Atzar]

Ettermire stood as the pinnacle of Althanian ingenuity, a metropolis of steel and fire in a world where most cities were mere wood and stone. Bloated airships threaded between soaring spires, and gigantic factories belched putrid smoke that coalesced into a hazy gray ceiling of smog. Mechanical contraptions dotted the wide, busy streets, from clocks to guns to an unsettling, spiderlike carriage that belched steam as it plodded forth.

In the back of his mind, Atzar Kellon held one final hope that the dark elves of Ettermire would be more open and friendly than those in smaller Alerian cities. For years, the human wizard had endured scorn, distrust, and even open hostility. Perhaps, he had thought, the capital of Alerar would be more civilized. He was dead wrong.

As he walked down the street, he saw the same tight-lipped frowns. The same cold, hard stares. The same balled-up fists. This, merely because he was human – they were completely unaware of his magic. He returned their meaningful glances with resentment, brow furrowed and teeth gritted. His nails dug painfully into his palms. He unclenched his hands and slowly, deliberately swept his long black hair behind his ears in an effort to calm himself. But when a sharp elbow slammed into his ribcage, he snapped.

He turned, fire in his blue eyes, and a quick right caught the tall dark elf square in the jaw. The man staggered but recovered quickly, a knife flashing into his hand. Atzar pulled in his focus. Passersby streamed past on either side, a few eyeing the duo with cocked brow, but most ignoring a skirmish that didn’t involve them. The wizard wished not to harm bystanders, but his assailant had picked this arena, not him.

A boot to his left calf caught him unawares, knocking him painfully to one knee. This man was not alone, the mage realized. A fist to the side of his head set off starbursts in his eyes, and he wavered on the precipice of unconsciousness. Then strong arms grabbed him by the shoulders and jerked him into a nearby alley, away from prying eyes.

A dire mistake. Not only did they give him precious seconds to collect his senses, but withdrawal from the crowd benefited Atzar as much as these thugs. They wanted the privacy to do their dirty work unseen. The young wizard wanted isolation, a space free of human obstacles so he could flex his magic with no reservations. Darting eyes counted four, five, six dark elven assailants, all in unremarkable attire but carrying small blades. Meat.

Shoving aside the throbbing in his head as best as he could, he regathered his focus. Fire spewed from his palms, igniting the pants of the two men who dragged him. They dropped their captive in their mad, shrieking dance. The wizard stumbled upright, hands at the ready, facing his now-concerned enemies. Armed and superior in number though they were, their thuggish confidence had deserted them. Atzar did not share their hesitation. The air crackled and a diffuse light emerged between his palms. The snaps grew louder, the glowing ball brighter, until a sizzling bolt of lightning shot forth at the man who had elbowed him.

Violent spasms seized the dark elf, and the knife he held actually wounded one of the cronies standing alongside him. Blood seeped from the tear in the man’s vest. He yelled, jumping away in confusion and pain as the electrified drow collapsed to the ground.

Footsteps padded behind him. He looked over his shoulder in time to see one of the elves, now singed and without pants, charging with dagger raised; his fellow had already run off. Without turning fully, Atzar attacked with ice. Two grapefruit-sized chunks crashed into the hapless attacker’s face. Crystals and crimson speckled the air and he dropped, blood flowing freely from his gashed forehead and broken nose.

The wizard turned back to the three remaining, noting their shock and fright. He was enjoying himself, he discovered. Turning the tables felt good - almost as good as the defeat haunting their eyes. Lips parted into a feral, admittedly-overdramatized grin as he looked at each of his foes in turn.

“Still hungry?” he invited.