Dravon Windgust, Shout of Magic, attempts his greatest heist ever.

Stealing quickly past the massive giant, he gently tiptoes up beside the Destructor of Magic.

Deftly, he plucks the key to the Skull Throne from the Destructor's gear.

Nanorab: We behind of you, Dravon! Kick of buttock!

As he turns to open the Skull Throne, the skull of a long-dead mage crumples underfoot, alerting the Destructor to his presence!

Roaring like BoltThrower on a stormy day, the Destructor pincers the hapless thief, hacking and slicing at his frail body!

Tumarellen: Shout!

Nanorab: Gah!

Tsyda: nooooo...

Nanorab: Bastarrrrrd!

Ebiwen: Blast. Are you all right?

Tsyda: Dravon, become one with the magic...

Peering down at the horribly disfigured corpse, the God of Magic muses.

"I believe he might make a fine addition to the ranks of our young Immortals."

A gentle beam of pure mana strikes Dravon's being, infusing him with a small amount of godly energy.

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