Prisom nods. "Good speech. If you weren't such a stuck up jerk, maybe you would actually be a competent mage." His hand fills with light, glowing until it becomes literally blinding to look at for any period of time. The ruins in the floor he's standing on glow, and a white portal swirls into form, showing a burning, lava flooded, obsidian wasteland. He lifts his blade in salute, and walks though the frame of the portal.