John pushed through the free swinging doors out of the kitchen, practically skipping along holding the small basket of chips that no one had asked for. That was fine by him, if no one wanted any then he would just help himself.
The pub was back to bustling, thankfully. At least now there would be something to do. Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Charlize taking an order from a customer. She was much better than John at remembering what people wanted.
Just when he had crossed the floor to offer her the chips he had just made, a cloud of smoke dispersed into the air around a patron, revealing a completely different person when it cleared. The hulking man was at least a foot taller than John, towering over all normal sized people. His trench coat hung over his shoulders like a cape, casting a menacing silhouette. John was frozen at the sight of this man; he radiated power like no one he had seen before. The Abandoned Bar was certainly a strange place to all who came to it, but even this den of everything supernatural, the only home that John has known for two years, now had an unfamiliar specter looming in the center of it; an intruder.
There was...something else, too. At the sight of this figure, John felt as if a key had been struck near the top of his spine. One of the wires of his cluttered mind resonated thickly in his head; it was a sharp and familiar note. Because of this reaction coupled with the man's presence John could only stare at the man and gape as symbols appeared on the walls around them. He could feel the little magic that he knew draining out of him, leaving him weak and still immobile. The feeling was fleeting, though, as the symbols quickly shattered with a sound that in normal circumstances would have made John jump.
John hadn't even seen the guard sneaking up to this man, if he even really was a man. The sight of the guard's head exploding horrified John; his heart leaped into his throat and his knees threatened to buckle underneath him. The note ringing in his mind became a dissonant chord. He stepped back slightly, away from the psychopath.
"Now I am a mage like you people, well, kind of like you people. Now I have a dream, a dream where we are the ones on top! A world where we no longer have to hide ourselves from the mortals in this world. I can wipe them all out leaving only those who are magically gifted untouched. But I need your help. I need people to find things for me and join me in the new world. So I ask you? Will you join me? Do not think though that I will slaughter you if you say no."
John's mind raced while this mad man was speaking. What could he do? He couldn't attack, he only knew illusionary magic, which would be ineffective anyway, and his only offense were his fists, which were never in a real fight that he could remember.
John stood there, coming out of his shocked daze slowly but surely, looking around at his fellow patrons. Stunned silence everywhere.
He couldn't attack, he couldn't and wouldn't hide, so what could he do?
John thought for a moment, and steeled his nerves.
He could be the first person to say no.
John looked down at himself, realizing stupidly that the chips he had made were still sitting in his hand, in the little basket. It felt foreign and absurd, a little bowl of fried potatoes nestled in his palm while this raving lunatic shouted plans of world domination.
Going with his gut reaction, John hurled the chips in the direction of this intruder. It landed rather lamely at the man's feet, but that didn't stop John from shouting, “Are you fucking mad?! You're talking about genocide!”
The pub was back to bustling, thankfully. At least now there would be something to do. Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Charlize taking an order from a customer. She was much better than John at remembering what people wanted.
Just when he had crossed the floor to offer her the chips he had just made, a cloud of smoke dispersed into the air around a patron, revealing a completely different person when it cleared. The hulking man was at least a foot taller than John, towering over all normal sized people. His trench coat hung over his shoulders like a cape, casting a menacing silhouette. John was frozen at the sight of this man; he radiated power like no one he had seen before. The Abandoned Bar was certainly a strange place to all who came to it, but even this den of everything supernatural, the only home that John has known for two years, now had an unfamiliar specter looming in the center of it; an intruder.
There was...something else, too. At the sight of this figure, John felt as if a key had been struck near the top of his spine. One of the wires of his cluttered mind resonated thickly in his head; it was a sharp and familiar note. Because of this reaction coupled with the man's presence John could only stare at the man and gape as symbols appeared on the walls around them. He could feel the little magic that he knew draining out of him, leaving him weak and still immobile. The feeling was fleeting, though, as the symbols quickly shattered with a sound that in normal circumstances would have made John jump.
John hadn't even seen the guard sneaking up to this man, if he even really was a man. The sight of the guard's head exploding horrified John; his heart leaped into his throat and his knees threatened to buckle underneath him. The note ringing in his mind became a dissonant chord. He stepped back slightly, away from the psychopath.
"Now I am a mage like you people, well, kind of like you people. Now I have a dream, a dream where we are the ones on top! A world where we no longer have to hide ourselves from the mortals in this world. I can wipe them all out leaving only those who are magically gifted untouched. But I need your help. I need people to find things for me and join me in the new world. So I ask you? Will you join me? Do not think though that I will slaughter you if you say no."
John's mind raced while this mad man was speaking. What could he do? He couldn't attack, he only knew illusionary magic, which would be ineffective anyway, and his only offense were his fists, which were never in a real fight that he could remember.
John stood there, coming out of his shocked daze slowly but surely, looking around at his fellow patrons. Stunned silence everywhere.
He couldn't attack, he couldn't and wouldn't hide, so what could he do?
John thought for a moment, and steeled his nerves.
He could be the first person to say no.
John looked down at himself, realizing stupidly that the chips he had made were still sitting in his hand, in the little basket. It felt foreign and absurd, a little bowl of fried potatoes nestled in his palm while this raving lunatic shouted plans of world domination.
Going with his gut reaction, John hurled the chips in the direction of this intruder. It landed rather lamely at the man's feet, but that didn't stop John from shouting, “Are you fucking mad?! You're talking about genocide!”
