The serpent’s jaw—which was easily the size of a transport truck—unhinged to reveal a fearsome set of fangs. A forked tongue snapped wildly inside its maw, while acidic saliva dripped from its jagged teeth. The inside of its mouth was leathery, like an animal hide, and it lead to a deep abyss. The darkness there was eerie. It begged Oliver to give himself over to the nefarious depths. But he wouldn’t be smitten by the song of death.
Then came the bellow of the beast, “You, I will eat!”
‘Even better,’ Oliver noted, ‘a talking dragon.’
---
Suddenly, an emerald light emerged from the depths of the monster’s open maw, followed by a conical blast of green flame. Her demon was in fact a fire breathing one, it seemed, and its target was Oliver Nash. Eyes wide, the old man leapt from the island in a futile attempt at evasion, ending in…
“Shi-kaBOOM!” The ground beneath him erupted, the dragon’s breath washing over the island like toxic lava. Oliver was caught in the edge of the blast. The poisonous heat singed all the hairs on his body. His head too was burnt bald, while his outfit was left in tatters. Aesthetic damage aside, his skin felt as though it had been coated in oil and lit ablaze, and worst of all: the explosion had sent him reeling.
Wizard opened his eyes—while his body was still steaming from the impact—and saw that he was soaring uncontrollably through the abyss now, toward what looked like an island… though it wasn’t as structurally sound as the last had been. No, this was simply a rock formation, one with massive spires of metal and earth. And if inanimate objects could stare at you, well… Oliver was feeling the burning gaze of this island’s malicious intent, as he was heading right for it!
‘Now doesn’t that look like a cozy bed?’ he sneered sarcastically, as he stared right back at the structure; defiance in his eyes. The Wizard cocked his fist back and uttered the words to ignite his fist-magic:
“Annihilating…”
Oliver cracked his knuckles and marked the target.
“Second…”
Holographic energy started collecting at his back, concentrated behind the right shoulder blade.
“Bullet!”
The word boomed through the vast dimension, and then:
Nothing.
A familiar ffzzzzttt suggested that once again, the attack was a dud. Oliver’s eyes went wide as his last effort was blown out like a candle before his eyes, all thanks to this place, this ‘Astral Plain’. He took note to punch Death in the face, when this was all said and done... he should have let him die at the hands of Jackson Pride.
Meanwhile, Rosemary’s pet wasn’t slowing down any, and it would not be a stretch to call its advance unstoppable. Any islands that had gotten in the way of the Couatl on its path to the Wizard were shattered against its massive frame; leaving only dust and debris in its wake.
---
‘Now doesn’t that look like a cozy bed?’
Oddly, and quite unexpectedly, the thought—only seconds old—came back to him, for reasons unknown. It echoed through his brain, persistently interrupting his last moment of peace before an untimely demise.
Was a part of him trying to communicate? Could it be the same part that saved him from taking his vengeance on the Ripper? Whatever (or whomever) it was, Oliver knew that the recurring thought had to be significant, no matter how bizarre that might have sounded. Why else would he have heard it, at a time like this?
“Ah, what the hell.”
With all of his though and will power he repeated this line. ‘Now doesn’t that look like a cozy bed?’ Again. Up until the very last second, only a few feet away from being impaled by the nasty island, he repeated the statement in his mind; each time with a bit more psychic resonance. Until finally, out loud: “NOW DOESN’T THAT LOOK LIKE A COZY BED?!”
And then, in a feat of what must have been magic, the opposing spire shape-shifted. It was morphing before his eyes, followed by a poof when he collided with cushions. The island had transformed into what looked like an Earthy-colored marshmallow. Oliver landed in a mountain of pillows face-first, and stayed there for the better half of a minute. It wasn’t the pain from his burns, but rather the shock from what had just taken place. The Wizard had warped the spiked settlement… with his thoughts? He was nothing short of flabbergasted.
---
Rosemary observed her manifestation and its prey, the Wizard, at whom she cocked a brow. It seemed as though the detective was starting to understand this place. Maybe he would be a threat after all? Only if he defeated her pet, she surmised. “Curious.”
The beast was gaining on him now, but he used the bounciness he had given the reformed islands to vault him back and forth between them; so far with great success.
“Amazing,” he uttered, as a comedic boing sent him soaring through the astral sea to his next destination. When he landed this time, his feet sunk a foot or so into the fluffy terrain and he stood still. Planted, Oliver Nash took a moment to take in the mystery that was Rosemary’s Couatl.
It took only a few seconds for him to understand the beast as he was starting to decode this dimension.
‘Rose must have training in this curious magic. If so, then her manifestation is a design of her imagination and will. An idea, so to speak…’ he thought to himself, as the hungry serpent approached him. It was but fifty yards away when Oliver finished his thought. ‘Perhaps I can fight it with my own will to power; a war of concepts.’ He jumped at this potential discovery and immediately put it into practice.
The Wizard closed his eyes and held his hand out, open-palmed. Rosemary watched him, and her beautiful complexion was cracked by her annoyance. “What is he up to?” Rose asked aloud.
‘This dragon is a complex idea. If I focus… I can break it down into its roots.’ After coming to that conclusion, he focused—long and hard—projecting his will alongside his thoughts. The concerning question was: what concepts was a Couatl a compound of? The answer being: a bird and a serpent. And so, he concentrated on separating these roots with all that he was.
What happened next surprised even the Prophet of Kijara…
“I-I can’t believe it,” she said in utter disbelief. From several thousand meters away, she witnessed her pet dragon being suspended mid-‘air’ and manipulated by none other than Oliver Nash. The coiling serpent yelped, twisting in protest as its existence was being torn at the seems. Its wings seemed to rip themselves from its body, creating a cloud of feathers before—zap!—the entire creature vanished.
Falling out of the sky and landing only an inch from his feet were a mockingbird and a garden snake. The Wizard smirked.
Then came the bellow of the beast, “You, I will eat!”
‘Even better,’ Oliver noted, ‘a talking dragon.’
---
Suddenly, an emerald light emerged from the depths of the monster’s open maw, followed by a conical blast of green flame. Her demon was in fact a fire breathing one, it seemed, and its target was Oliver Nash. Eyes wide, the old man leapt from the island in a futile attempt at evasion, ending in…
“Shi-kaBOOM!” The ground beneath him erupted, the dragon’s breath washing over the island like toxic lava. Oliver was caught in the edge of the blast. The poisonous heat singed all the hairs on his body. His head too was burnt bald, while his outfit was left in tatters. Aesthetic damage aside, his skin felt as though it had been coated in oil and lit ablaze, and worst of all: the explosion had sent him reeling.
Wizard opened his eyes—while his body was still steaming from the impact—and saw that he was soaring uncontrollably through the abyss now, toward what looked like an island… though it wasn’t as structurally sound as the last had been. No, this was simply a rock formation, one with massive spires of metal and earth. And if inanimate objects could stare at you, well… Oliver was feeling the burning gaze of this island’s malicious intent, as he was heading right for it!
‘Now doesn’t that look like a cozy bed?’ he sneered sarcastically, as he stared right back at the structure; defiance in his eyes. The Wizard cocked his fist back and uttered the words to ignite his fist-magic:
“Annihilating…”
Oliver cracked his knuckles and marked the target.
“Second…”
Holographic energy started collecting at his back, concentrated behind the right shoulder blade.
“Bullet!”
The word boomed through the vast dimension, and then:
Nothing.
A familiar ffzzzzttt suggested that once again, the attack was a dud. Oliver’s eyes went wide as his last effort was blown out like a candle before his eyes, all thanks to this place, this ‘Astral Plain’. He took note to punch Death in the face, when this was all said and done... he should have let him die at the hands of Jackson Pride.
Meanwhile, Rosemary’s pet wasn’t slowing down any, and it would not be a stretch to call its advance unstoppable. Any islands that had gotten in the way of the Couatl on its path to the Wizard were shattered against its massive frame; leaving only dust and debris in its wake.
---
‘Now doesn’t that look like a cozy bed?’
Oddly, and quite unexpectedly, the thought—only seconds old—came back to him, for reasons unknown. It echoed through his brain, persistently interrupting his last moment of peace before an untimely demise.
Was a part of him trying to communicate? Could it be the same part that saved him from taking his vengeance on the Ripper? Whatever (or whomever) it was, Oliver knew that the recurring thought had to be significant, no matter how bizarre that might have sounded. Why else would he have heard it, at a time like this?
“Ah, what the hell.”
With all of his though and will power he repeated this line. ‘Now doesn’t that look like a cozy bed?’ Again. Up until the very last second, only a few feet away from being impaled by the nasty island, he repeated the statement in his mind; each time with a bit more psychic resonance. Until finally, out loud: “NOW DOESN’T THAT LOOK LIKE A COZY BED?!”
And then, in a feat of what must have been magic, the opposing spire shape-shifted. It was morphing before his eyes, followed by a poof when he collided with cushions. The island had transformed into what looked like an Earthy-colored marshmallow. Oliver landed in a mountain of pillows face-first, and stayed there for the better half of a minute. It wasn’t the pain from his burns, but rather the shock from what had just taken place. The Wizard had warped the spiked settlement… with his thoughts? He was nothing short of flabbergasted.
---
Rosemary observed her manifestation and its prey, the Wizard, at whom she cocked a brow. It seemed as though the detective was starting to understand this place. Maybe he would be a threat after all? Only if he defeated her pet, she surmised. “Curious.”
The beast was gaining on him now, but he used the bounciness he had given the reformed islands to vault him back and forth between them; so far with great success.
“Amazing,” he uttered, as a comedic boing sent him soaring through the astral sea to his next destination. When he landed this time, his feet sunk a foot or so into the fluffy terrain and he stood still. Planted, Oliver Nash took a moment to take in the mystery that was Rosemary’s Couatl.
It took only a few seconds for him to understand the beast as he was starting to decode this dimension.
‘Rose must have training in this curious magic. If so, then her manifestation is a design of her imagination and will. An idea, so to speak…’ he thought to himself, as the hungry serpent approached him. It was but fifty yards away when Oliver finished his thought. ‘Perhaps I can fight it with my own will to power; a war of concepts.’ He jumped at this potential discovery and immediately put it into practice.
The Wizard closed his eyes and held his hand out, open-palmed. Rosemary watched him, and her beautiful complexion was cracked by her annoyance. “What is he up to?” Rose asked aloud.
‘This dragon is a complex idea. If I focus… I can break it down into its roots.’ After coming to that conclusion, he focused—long and hard—projecting his will alongside his thoughts. The concerning question was: what concepts was a Couatl a compound of? The answer being: a bird and a serpent. And so, he concentrated on separating these roots with all that he was.
What happened next surprised even the Prophet of Kijara…
“I-I can’t believe it,” she said in utter disbelief. From several thousand meters away, she witnessed her pet dragon being suspended mid-‘air’ and manipulated by none other than Oliver Nash. The coiling serpent yelped, twisting in protest as its existence was being torn at the seems. Its wings seemed to rip themselves from its body, creating a cloud of feathers before—zap!—the entire creature vanished.
Falling out of the sky and landing only an inch from his feet were a mockingbird and a garden snake. The Wizard smirked.
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]
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