In a darkened room of a posh, expensive inn, a man slumbered, comfortably dry as the heavy rain assailed the closed wooden shutters. The embers of a dying fire glowed warmly in the hearth, casting the barest hint of light. There was no sound over the pounding of the rain as the door to the room opened, and a shadowy figure slipped inside, followed by another, then another still. There was still no sound as a blade was drawn from a sheath, no glint of light from the naked steel as it was placed pointing at the sleeping man’s eye.

The blade pressed forward.

The sleeper’s eyes shot open, one of them with difficulty, compressed by the advancing metal. His health prevented the blade from penetrating, but the shadow pushed it forward with merciless pressure. A crackle of arcane energy began to build in the air, emanating from the supine man, but the second shadow threw open a leather sack, dumping the contents over him and filling the air with fine iron dust while the third shadow held him down.

The doomed man screamed. The Teleportation magic he had been summoning flickered, failing as it was disrupted. He thrashed against the shadow holding him down as the pressure of the sword increased, finally popping his eye like a grape as his health fell. The wicked point dug deeper, sticking hard and scraping against bone.

Space quivered.

In desperation, the dying man tried to force his spell to completion, even through the interference of the iron.

There was a purple flash.

The screaming stopped, replaced by a sharp pop.

Chunks of pulped blood and bone splashed wetly across the bed and floor, pointing in an expanding cone toward the shutters. In the dim light, the barest outline of a femur could be made out, lodged halfway through the wooden wall, blood dripping to the already-soaked floorboards.

The shadow who’d been holding the man down straightened, slicking away a slurry of blood and iron from his arms. Another of the shadows spoke, knowing that the words would be heard.

“Translocationist neutralized.”

The three shadows left the room holding an even deeper silence than it had held before, stepping over the bodies of the guards and servants in the hall. The quiet of death lasted for but a few moments more before it was broken by fire in the night.

Time seemed to slow as the Knife’s sword crept toward Rain’s upraised arm, blurring under the effect of some skill. He couldn’t identify it. Didn’t know the element.

Force Ward would not be enough.

He could not be hit.

The enemy had to stop moving.

Now.

Fulmination.

focusboost.sh: 500 points shifted to Focus from secondary stats

focusboost.sh: Focus: 770

modmon.sh: ['amplify aura', 'aura compression', 'channel mastery']

autocompress.sh: Target: 10 meters

autocompress.sh: Compression Applied: 72.5 meters

iff2.sh: offensive aura detected

iff2.sh: foes: unknown_entities

iff2.sh: friends: !foes

iff2.sh: ignore: none

iff2.sh: friends non-empty, power target doubled

iff2.sh: piercing_buffer: 2,500 – OK

autopower.sh: Target: 19998 dps

autopower.sh: CM Setting: 89.95%

Fulmination (15/15)

.00-22854.86 arcane (fcs) damage per second to foes and environment

.00-11427.43 arcane (fcs) mitigation per second to friends

Sufficient damage causes paralysis

Range: 10 meters

Cost: 269.855 mp/s