Snippet #1826791

(Post written by Script)

“What do you mean we have to leave? Didn’t we just have a meeting where most of us decided it wasn’t necessary?”
Peregrin sat on the edge of his bed frowning and rubbing his eyes. Across from him, Arran stood at the window, looking out at the College courtyard warily. The entire building had been roused when Arran arrived with warnings of an attack, and guards and mages were patrolling the gates. The college wasn’t built to withstand assault, however, and Arran doubted that the Orsa would use the front door...
“We have new developments. Aurion detected a massive fluctuation in the Sealed One’s energies earlier today, much greater than we thought him capable of. It was directed to four notable locations – an area near to Amarathia, where Sylvire and Selwyn are at present; the forest where Merethyl and Oron are; Gawyn’s kingdom of Cordelia and an area near to here. The logical assumption is that an assault is planned on you, as your whereabouts is known.”
The half-celestial seemed less than pleased with this, scowling. “Guh, couldn’t they have waited till, like... tomorrow? I need my sleep...”
This is not the time for joking.” Arran scowled at Peregrin, “Your life is at risk, as is everyone’s in this building. Now we need to get out of here, do you have a bag packed?”
Peregrin nodded. “Yeah, yeah, I’ve done what Aurion told us.” He murmured, going to a drawer and picking out a backpack that was serving as his emergency-departure bag.
Arran nodded, “Then let’s get to the roof, we need to fl-“
The celestial was cut off from his speech by a sudden crash, and the entire building seemed to shudder. Screams and shouts began to fill the air, and Arran darted back to the window. The guards and mages outside were looking about in confusion, before one of them shouted something inaudible from here, and they began to run back towards the doors. But that meant...
“They’re inside!” Arran shouted, “We don’t have time to fly – this place has a portal chamber, yes?”
Peregrin nodded, “But we aren’t sup-“
“This is the sort of time when I really couldn’t care less what people are and aren’t ‘supposed’ to do.” Arran interjected. “Come on, stay close to me!”
The two winged beings emerged from Peregrin’s room at a run, out into the corridor. “Which way?” Arran yelled, and Peregrin pointed towards a side corridor. “You take the lead!” he instructed, and the younger boy nodded.
Arran’s manner had apparently spurred Peregrin into full action, all jokes aside, and he was voiceless as they made their way through the corridors of the college and down stairs towards the portal room. A portal room was a room located in all of the magical institutes that were officially endorsed by the council of mages, and allowed for fast travel between them for senior faculty members. Or for quick evacuation for the Patronus, as it were.
As the pair rounded a corner, Peregrin abruptly skidded to a halt with a start. At the end of the corridor there was a scene of fighting – mages and soldiers were clashing with abominable creatures; black and twisted - all claws and teeth. Even as the two had arrived, the battle was clearly going against the men and women of the college, and the demons hit them in wave after wave until they were overwhelmed by the sheer volume of them. Then the creatures began to charge down the corridor towards the two Patronus.
“Get back!” Peregrin shouted, to Arran’s surprise, and the boy flung back his arms. The bracers began to glow bright gold, and fire gathered in the youth’s palms. The demons grew closer as he gathered power, and Arran was beginning to worry until with a cry, Peregrin threw his arms forwards.
From his palms shot a torrent of flame that spread outwards and filled the entire corridor with searing hot fiery death. The demons were incinerated; the entire horde of them reduced to ashes, and as the magical fire cleared naught was left in the corridor but a black charring. Arran placed an arm on the panting Peregrin’s shoulder and nodded, and the boy turned. Once more, they made for the portal chamber.
As they approached the stairs that would lead them down to the room in question, Arran turned to ensure the corridor behind them was clear, just in time to witness a man tossed from around a corner slam into the wall at the end of the passage. A few seconds later a single figure stepped into view – a woman, clad in black armour and wielding a pair of curved swords. Her hair was white, and her skin dark – a dark elf.
With the celestial watching, a pair of college battlemages followed her around the corner, and as one they sent a powerful bolt of lightning searing towards her – enough to kill her within seconds. But, alarmingly, before the bolt struck her the woman was turning. Faster than Arran’s eyes could place, the elf had brought her blade down on the bolt, and with a crack of magical energies the bolt split and reflected back. It struck the mages in the chest, and both of them flew back, impacting the wall with a crunch.
Cursing, Arran turned back to Peregrin. “Go!” he hissed, urging the other down the stairway and following close behind. He slammed the door to the room behind them and slid the bolt across, but that wouldn’t hold for long against the likes of that woman. “Can you get the portal working?” he asked.
Peregrin nodded, “But it only takes one person at a time! One of us will have to wait for it to recharge after the other goes.” He said, frowning with worry.
“We can deal with that when it comes to it, just get it working!” Arran urged. The boy nodded and made his way over to an orb in the centre of the room, placing his hand on it and directing magic into the glass. As it began to glow, he twisted it to the side, and when he released it, it flashed once.
Stepping back from the now glittering orb, Peregrin turned to Arran. “It’s ready!”
A thud against the door drew both of the Patronus’ attention to the doorway, the wood buckling slightly as something impacted it. Arran cursed and made his way over to Peregrin, reaching into his cloak. “Here,” he said, pushing the rod into Peregrin’s hands, “Take this and go first. I’ll follow after.”
Peregrin blinked, “But if you’re following, why are you-“ he began, but Arran cut him off.
“Just do it!” he hissed, pushing Peregrin’s hand down onto the orb and stepping back. When the boy still hesitated, the celestial scowled. ”Go!” he yelled.
With obvious reluctance, Peregrin nodded, and with a crack of magical energy he was gone. Arran sighed and walked to the wall of the room. The door let out another sickening crunch as it buckled inwards again, and Arran moved his hand to one of the statues at the side of the room.
Each of them held a ceremonial weapon of some sort, and the celestial took down a battleaxe from the stone knight that he faced now. The orb in the centre of the room was glowing again, but he did not move to use it.
Because if he could, then so could she.
The door splintered.
With a cry, Arran charged forwards, hefting the axe over his head and bringing it down forcefully. The blade impacted the orb, and it shattered with what sounded akin to a roll of thunder, a shockwave of force knocking the celestial back and into the wall with a thud. Blood seeped from the back of his head as he lay there, and the sound of the door finally giving way reached his ears.
Blackness danced in front of his eyes as he heard footsteps approach, looked up into the cold grey eyes of the dark elf witch.
Blackness took him when her sword came down to meet his neck.