Role

Chapter 29

These pages are soaked in blood, drops pool and form around the words making
it difficult to read even though the handwriting is well scripted:

"They are all dead... every last one..."
The penmanship here shakes a little as if the writer was extremely fatigued
or extremely angry.
"It is over. Now there is only one direction for me to go. Up. I will rise
forever until nothing is left in my way"


Arratoks scouts were correct and he was able to find the location of the
Magi who had tortured his past. The power of the magi had grown
exponentially. They had tapped into some dark arts awaking alternative paths
into further uncontrollable power. Obsessed with fire, they pushed the
boundaries of their art drawing forth unimaginable power.

The battle was nothing short of a storm. Blood, fire, and hatred raged in all
directions like a tempest. The Grand High Pyromancer, who had so long ago
burned his sister alive, had since unlocked the deep secrets of the black
arts able to invoke magma scalding with such heat not even his own pupils
were safe from the onslaught. Arratok was able to evade some while pulling
lessor magi into the main stream of blackmagma. Locked in close combat with
the Grand Magi Arratok was unable to fully avoid the assault. The Flesh
running from his lower lip on the left side of his face, neck, chest and
shoulder was seared into scarred twisted mess. In a blur of death and hate he
flurried left and right leaving no place for retreat. The very foundations
of their order were cracked and shaken, raining boulders down upon any magi
who were lucky enough to evade his unyielding blows. Blood showered from the
open mouth of the High Pyromancer as Arratok struck a telling blow burying
his sword to the hilt into the chest of his powerful foe. Fire chased up the
cracked and tumbling pillars and blood boiled upon the stone floor as if he
was standing in a deep circle of hell.