Gods almighty, ever hear of a fucking -sword-?

Storm presumed he had set himself up for this when he allowed Shinsou to cast the obliteration spell. In all their years, the wizard had never actually seen Shinsou cast all of these foreign sounding incantations, and he suspected the powerful attack would finish this brazen, crafty intruder. What he had failed to envision, as things would turn out, would be the complete vaporization of Durandel. Walls of white energy raised from seemingly random angles and positions, energy raging about the forest floor before an explosion knocked the tandem back some ten feet. Storm was instinctively hovering, his metallic soles pulsed from the ground by a reflexive magnetic field he had generated to buffer his fall. Shinsou had hit the ground a bit harder, and scrambled to his feet as the wizard rose. The fire in the grasses surrounded what was probably once Durandel in a horrific white blaze. The smell was still acrid and horrible.

Even foreign superwitchcraft smells the same when it comes to burning flesh.

Shinsou had posed a question before passing out; for his limitless power Storm couldn't help but smirk at the lack of discretion. After all this time, the Telgradian still couldn't pass up the chance to conjur something over his pay-grade and wind out no more energetic than a child's stuffed frog toy. Amused, the elder statesman pulled Shinsou's left arm around his own shoulders to lift the limp body, genuinely amazed at how lifeless Vaan Osiris had been left. In a few sturdy steps, the ultra-powerful was propped against a felled log near the fire, his body warming as Veritas scanned about the area.

"Not much use in trying to cover our tracks now. If Mephisto sent this clown to mark our position, safe to say that it's mission-fucking-accomplished with the bright lights, big-city show you just put on." He glanced down tauntingly at his friend, unsure if the fatigued swordsman could hear the taunts. It made no difference either way.


It has to be Tylermande. He's getting a feel for our arrival, but it has to be Tylermande.

Tylermande was the first place Storm had been introduced to Arius Mephisto. A gifted portal- crafting wizard, Mephisto had been a deft and promising star within the Brotherhood, until his power play. It was in Tylermande where Shinsou had been shot in a failed assassination, and the brazen mastermind just failed in finishing the job before Storm could intervene. What the electromancer had failed to learn, it turned out, was the true ability of Mephisto. Using some totemic ring, the bald conniver had acquired the ability to manipulate time. Seemingly invincible, Storm was still unsure of how powerful this ability was. Could Mephisto freeze time, making him invincible? Little was clear.

Grimacing at the prospect, Storm recalled resolve in the form of the little spoon arisen from the ashes of Whitevale. Perhaps Mephisto would kill them both, putting a sour punctuation on a wonderful, disappointing journey. Perhaps the Brotherhood would rise once more, finally seizing vengeance on their most devastating enemy. Either way, the port town was the only destination.

Sitting on a log by the warm campfire, Storm ignored both his close friend at his side and the flaming wreckage of death and despair about him. The aches in his aging body slowly quieted as he slowly stretched his hips, knees, and back. His power was returning to him. The orange fire lit his face warmly as night settled about the tandem once again, an odd quiet in the wake of devastation. He spoke to the body of Shinsou, who appeared to be stirring in the warmth.

"Rest up, my friend. Tomorrow we make for Tylermande, and it's the end of the rainbow for Arius."

Where everything had begun, they would end it.