[h3][color=bedded][b][center] Thomas Richard Harrison [/center][/b][/color][/h3]
[center][indent][color=bedded][i]Location:[/i][/color] "The Structure Formally Known As Tower" & Freedom
[color=bedded][i]Interacting with:[/i][/color] Satilla, Keystone, [/indent][/center]

[i]
Well, the undertaker drew a heavy sigh,
Seeing no one else had come,
And a bell was ringing in the village square,
For the rabbits on the run,
[/i]

Man on the run. Fueled by a powerful mix of anger, fear, and the arrogant airs of superiority, Thomas sloughed off the vomit as he rose up from his fall. A long descent from the heavens for a stellar being, but the boy brushed off his shoulders as he turned his head to see their foolish healer tumble face-first into a pile of stinking vomit. Surely with such emesis, Keystone earned himself another nemesis. Thomas'own filth lay outside, just beyond the tower where surely by now the patch had dried as the earth swallowed up the wallowing waste. The healer could get up herself, she had two arms and a two able limbs, and once Thomas could rid himself of these robes and find a hot bath to be drawn to wash his vessel of this cretin's gastric contents he could perhaps drink a potion to recover and rest. Vengeance could wait until he was appropriately dressed to harvest the long-due reckoning upon that oaf! He had robe left unspoilt, one befitting of his current stellar phase. His black robes as dark as night would match his goal... Good. Use your aggressive feelings boy, Let the Hate flow through you.

So he did, the surge rising as the tower fell, blocks of stone crumbling like hailfire and dust like rain. His feet moved and towards the exit, the doorway of his escape. He would not be entombed there in that idiot's folly, no the buffoon must pay dearly for the mistake. A fellow mage, they could have interrogated, questioned, learned from maimed. All the knowledge of the tower and his techniques lost. Yes, burning the infuriating thoughts into the combustion engine, Thomas took off after Keystone, running past the imploding ruins and into the promise of freedom and whispers of revenge. The loose archway of the door itself began to fail, the breaking archstone began to quiver, an omen of things perhaps? And the brown dirt and the black ash and the grey dust, curtained over the doorway, into a cloud of obscuring fog as the structure became a storm. Yet his final push knew no bounds, his eyes closed and chin tucked, his shoulders squared off as through the shaken void the cosmic sorcerer ran, freedom at last... 

That is, until he felt something stopping his further movement, as a paunchy fleshy wall stopped his advance. This was a rather awkward moment given both parties'positioning. The younger lad having his forward momentum stopped by the bulk, notably colliding with the other man's backside. Of which, when perhaps looked at a particular angle, maybe if one squinted one's eyes a bit, and cocked a head over to a degree of tilt... 

You might have sworn that Thomas just pelvic thrusted Keystone.