Wonderful 114.

The Principality Of Maladimbáh...

Wonderful, Mira Reinholt the mage wryly thinks to himself as lord Farque kicks open the doors to the suite where the once powerful mage was held prisoner just two weeks ago.
I'm going to fucking die, the Vexilian mage in exile sourly thinks to himself, as the undead warlord suddenly moves forward at speed, holding the mage Reinholt to his right, and Dorc da Orc to his left.
The spellcaster from south of the equator sees everything as a blur, and holds on tightly to the heavily armoured deathlord who is going through the open doors.
Inside the large suite, a number of the mercenaries, including both Harrick and Linden from the region of Belinswae. Jump in surprise when the main doors of the suite, suddenly slam open with a loud bang.
Behind the large table in the center of the main room of the suite, Kaldeàlil Haldéilv the elven magic user, who didn't jump in surprise like a lot of her hired mercenaries. Thinks she spots three figures through the dust just on the otherside of the open doorway. Two of whom, are far larger than the average sized person, one in particular especially so.
The attractive elven maid doesn't care, for if they come through the open doorway, they'll get the surprise of their lives. Or so she thinks.
For one can't be surprised, and he hasn't a life to be surprised anyway. While another couldn't care less about what will happen to him when he comes through the open doors, he just wants to kill someone, or something, anything really.
While the third of the trio. Like the first, knows what's going to happen too. And he's not surprised at what will happen when they go through the open doorway. Though he is scared shitless at what's more than likely to happen.
Outside the large suite, off the balcony. Helbe the elven thief who is in mid air, has floated to his left, to the west alongside the long balcony,
The blurred and shielded elven magic user from the principality of Laerel in the Southlands, has a better view into the suite through the balcony doors now.
The elven masterthief is just able to see the main doors of the suite at this angle. And they slam open just after he moves into this position. When they do, Narladene the ground pixie who is on his right shoulder, whispers to him in a rather gleeful tone "They're here".
There's a blur of movement through the large open main doors of the suite. As there is, the hidden rift that Kaldeàlil Haldéilv has cast and left open just on the inside of the doorway, suddenly appears in full view.
With a grimace of anticipation upon his face, the mage Reinholt feels the rift more than he sees it. Even though he's holding his power within himself, and not actually sensing. He still feels the magical door, that he's suddenly going through.
Though infact he's not actually going through the rift as one would normally do. That is, entering it through one side, then coming out the otherside, wherever the otherside of the rift may be.
Here he's actually going through the spell itself, without entering it as such, and exiting out the otherside of the rift.
For a fraction of a moment, which he can barely comprehend, the once powerful mage feels like he's going through a rift, as he has done hundreds of times in the past. Though it's something he's never actually cast himself, as he's still yet to learn how to cast a rift spell.
That fraction of a moment, is the only normal thing about what he's experiencing. For as he goes through the rift, everything else he feels, and sees, with the exception of the vice like grip of lord Farque on his left arm, is like nothing he's ever experienced before. And that's saying something. For in his thirty years of life, Mira Reinholt has experienced a lot.
Everything around the once powerful mage changes. The brief glimpse he had into the suite where he was held as a prisoner two weeks ago. Turns into a blur, where every colour of everything runs into one another, that the Vexilian mage in exile can't distinguish one thing from another.
Forget about the shapes of things, they've all melded into one another as well. He can't even tell the floor from the ceiling, let alone the glimpse of the people in the suite he's certain he saw.
The spellcaster from the Southlands, who is also a highly skilled swordmaster. Feels like he's moving incredibly quickly, though even things are a blur, it looks like he's moving slowly.
Then it switches, and he feels like he's moving slowly, while it looks like he's moving quickly. Then it switches once more, then again, again and again, and so on. Then it feels like he's moving slowly and quickly at the same time. As well as everything looks like it's moving quickly and slowly at once.
The mage Reinholt can't get his head around that, so he closes his eyes, which proves to be a mistake.
The once powerful mage gulps, which feels like it takes an eternity, and just an instant of a single moment, at the same time. He gulps as it feels like he's suddenly floating. Not just upwards, but also downwards, sideways, back and forth, all simultaneously. A feeling he's never experienced before.
Not even when he was tortured, and stripped of most of his magical powers when he was offworld. That's if he could remember his time offworld at the other end of the rift/void he miscast a number of years ago. He only remembers a few things from that time when he was off the world of Volunell.
The swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil opens his eyes, which it feels like it takes a life time to do, and at the same time, just an instant. Which is something else the once powerful mage can't comprehend.
Mira Reinholt looks down and to his left, which at the same time, it feels like it takes both forever, and an instant of a moment. He sees his arms and hands as he holds onto the left arm of lord Farque. Well he thinks they're his arms and hands.
For though they're a blur of colours, and though their shape somewhat resemble arms. One is extremely long, as if he's standing fifty yards away from the deathlord of Farque. While the other is barely a foot long, but incredibly bulky. It looks like the width of the arm of a giant.
As he sees and feels what he thinks is his fingers growing and shrinking, and constantly changing through a myriad of colours. He's pretty certain that he feels he's holding on tight to the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
The once powerful mage shakes his head, and immediately regrets doing so, as all of a sudden he feels like he's spinning around on the spot at an extraordinary speed. Making the blurring motion and the changing colours of everything, even worse than before, that's if that's even possible.
The spellcaster from south of the equator, who happens to also be an expert swordmaster. Keeps his head fairly still as he leans forward a bit and looks past the undead warlord.
The mage Reinholt blinks as he looks at Dorc da Orc, well he assumes it's the ork warleader. Because it's a large distinguishable bulk, that changes every shade of green possible.
The exiled Vexilian mage who felt like it took an eternity to blink, as well as a fraction of a moment. Sees what he thinks is the head of the large ork look at him.
The spellcaster who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, suddenly sees the head of Dorc da Orc come into focus, and look relatively normal as the ork weaponsmith looks his way.
Normal being a bit of a misnomer, as Dorkindle's head suddenly shrinks to the size of an apple, instantly followed by growing to be larger than wagon.
The mage Reinholt has always thought the large ork has had a fat head, now he's actually seeing it for real. Well as real as this passage through a rift spell is making it.
The ork warleader's head instantly returns to a somewhat normal size, and it hinges open at the mouth as Dorc da Orc grins as he looks at the once powerful mage from the city-state of Vexil.
Mira Reinholt slightly grimaces as the large ork's sharp teeth grow to be longer than swords, then suddenly shrink to be smaller than berries.
The ork weaponsmith's head which has hinged flat open, snaps shut, and the swordmaster from south of the equator, is pretty sure he hears the booming laugh of Dorc da Orc, in what is an otherwise silent experience he's undertaking.
The Vexilian mage in exile looks away from the warleader of the ork race, and instead looks at the only normal, and constant thing as he moves through the rift spell, lord Farque.
The heavily armoured deathlord is completely normal, and appears as he normally does. Nothing about him has changed, while everything else around him is a blur of motion, and a myriad of ever changing shapes and colours.
The full helmed head of the lord of the death realm glances in the mage Reinholt's direction, and the once powerful mage is pretty sure he sees the undead warlord roll his eyes, which is followed by a slight head shake from the lord and ruler of the lands Farque.
The swordmaster from the Southlands is definitely certain he hears lord Farque murmur "Idiot" as he looks at him. Then the undead being who is also known as Draugadrottin to the people of his lands. Glances the other way at Dorc da Orc, who to the exiled Vexilian mage, resembles a giant green blob at the moment, and dryly murmurs "A bigger fucking idiot".
Things return to being silent to Mira Reinholt as he looks forward, as the clings onto the right arm of the lord of the death realm. The once powerful mage takes what seems a lifetime, and but a moment, to blink. As all of a sudden, the multitude of colours and shapes he's looking at, all seem to be streaking out in long lines, heading in his direction, or away from him, he's not too sure.
The spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster is pretty certain he starts to feel like he's coming out the otherside of a rift. Infact he's definitely certain of it, as the blurring of colours slow and lessen, and things start to take shape.
The mage Reinholt takes a breath, the first he can recall taking since lord Farque kicked open the doors to the suite, and moved through the doorway and entered the hidden rift spell, with the exiled Vexilian swordmaster, and the ork warleader in tow.
Then suddenly the blurring of colours and shapes stop, and everything comes into focus, and once again the mage from the Southlands sees into the suite he was held as a prisoner just two weeks ago.
An moment's instant after that, Mira Reinholt feels like he's just stepped out of a rift, and he knows that he's just gone through an actual rift spell, not enter it or exit it as one normally does. And lived to survive the ordeal which ordinarily would of killed him.
The once powerful mage doesn't get a moment to take that in. For all of a sudden he's flying through the air to his right as lord Farque flings him away.
In mid air, as he stops holding his power within himself, Mira Reinholt looks back and finds Dorc da Orc, with an insane grin upon his brutish looking face, flying through the air too, as the undead warlord has thrown the large ork in this direction as well.
The Vexilian mage in exile who now senses spells being set off, and spells being cast, slams up a barrier spell around himself, just before he hits the floor, which he slides along, then he crashes up against a wall.
Though fine, Mira Reinholt winces, as Dorkindle lands by him with a thump, and smashes into the wall. The once powerful mage hears the large ork groan, then he hears Dorc da Orc chuckle and say "That was fucken awesome".
An explosion then rocks the room they're in . . . . . .