[Poor Grallus, the Rogue – 8]

Eyes barely focusing on anything in the continually changing light of the room, Dreg quickly mumbles in response, “uh well, um, you see, uh he sort of, uuuuh, there was this hole in the ground see, yeah um…” Interrupting Bexter blurts out, “I shoosted him with an ar-rah!”

The room immediately goes black. Nothing is seen, and nothing is heard for what seems an infinity to the two quivering mercenaries. In the bleak darkness, Bexter whispers, “Did he leave?”

In a bright flash of pale-yellow light a maniacal face appears directly in front of them, “Well that’s something at least, you gave him pain! HahaHAHA!”

Lightning is crackling all around the dark form which suddenly rises to over ten meters in the air. Holding the height for only a moment the man flies forward with blazing speed placing his face within a few inches of Dreg’s nose. Dreg notices the boss’s head is so pale-white it seems to emanate light from within itself.

Twitching like a caught animal Dreg gazes forward seeing no detail of the man’s body other than the assumption that he must be tall and thin. The area around the man is either flaring in electric light or bathed in darkness. Lightning continues to crackles around his hands and alarmingly even his face. Dreg is suddenly aware that he has made eye-contact with the man, realizing that even the man’s gray eyes and mouth have tiny threads of lightning skirting around the surface. With great apprehension, his heart pounding in his chest, Dreg’s eyes curiously move to stare at the small sporadic tufts of ashen colored hair on the man’s head, shooting off like little burnt sprigs. Pulling back with the same inhuman speed as before he dramatically strokes his patchy but mostly bald head, “Oh, so you like my coiffure?”

“Uh boss, I didn’t mean to, uh…” Dreg says quickly in timid defence. He feels Bexter shake down to his bones beside him furthering his uncontrollable fear.

Rising once again to an impossible height, thick lightning bolts shooting straight down out of his hands seemingly propelling him higher, the boss holds his place for a few seconds, then flies again with absurd speed to land seated on a stone carved throne a few meters away from the shaking pair. Calmly sitting, dark-blue lightning flashing behind him at a slower rate, he tents his hands to his face. As the boss sits calmly contemplating something beyond Dreg’s comprehension, he is astonished to see that even the boss’s fingers are now acting as conductors for little strands of light-red colored lightning.

Dreg swallows hard.

[545] Words : Ignorance is probably better