Lemons

A Tyrant's Undoing

The general idea that I had going for the second group was that they would essentially go all-in and and start guerilla'ing guard groups as a diversion so the King would get pissed and send more men after them instead of Tahra as she gathers allies.

A Tyrant's Undoing

But again, to be honest, the only reason I did that was in response to the railroading, and Avad probably won't pull anything nearly like that out of his ass anymore. Again, he's more of a utility, crowd-control guy, so he doesn't do that a lot.

A Tyrant's Undoing

@Zetsuko

Yeah. In my mind, since he's so high up, Wledic is really, absurdly, obnoxiously skilled and strong. More than enough to 1vAll us, especially since there's still more guards behind him that didn't get murdled and Avad's down.

Oh, and one more thing: Avad didn't just overexert himself, he also shredded his eardrums. He's going to be almost entirely deaf for probably about two months, which is going to make things complicated.

A Tyrant's Undoing

@Zetsuko

So a brief overview of my magic: each mage has a specialization, one that usually broadens as they advance in skill. For example, Avad might have started as a lightning-only mage, then advanced from there. When casting a spell, one draws from a finite pool of energy that replenishes gradually over time and then speaks several words and draws a rune in the air, or more than one, depending on the power/focus, to direct the energy. More words can either equal more power, or more control. Both drain more energy.

The ability to use magic gives mages the ability to manipulate their energy, and thus they are able to store it, adding it to an object, almost entirely a prism. The reason it's usually a crystal is that the energy it takes to move power into an object is exponentially higher than the energy that is actually transferred, and crystals have the best ratio. The mage can then essentially use it as a battery of sorts. The stones, which have to be exceedingly high-quality to store six years' worth of energy, are then consumed, turning to dust.

That clear things up?

Also, I only killed the twenty-five standing next to the cart. I might not have made that clear enough. The thing about Avad is that his power is really front-loaded now that his stone is drained out. He uses his magic up, he can't do jack. So that burst of power is a one-time-per-battle thing, which, in a larger-scale fight, wouldn't make nearly as much of a difference.

A Tyrant's Undoing

Not to mention, I'm pretty sure there are more than twenty-five or so people in the King's elite guard, to say nothing of the full army. Including mages that aren't equal to Avad's skill level, but far outstrip it.

A Tyrant's Undoing

@Zetsuko

I got the feeling that other than the mages and the captain, they were mostly grunts. They didn't seem like elite units.

A Tyrant's Undoing

@IncredibleBee

In the interest of fairness, these aren't quite the force of natural lightning bolts, or Avad himself would be dead, and wood is nonconductive.

The powergaming happened, but at this point, I've returned it with some of my own, and we should just drop it and go on. More than a fair share of RPs have died because of stuff like this.

A Tyrant's Undoing

@Zetsuko

Shoot. Now I feel bad about my counter-powergaming, since there was actually a good reason for that story element.

A Tyrant's Undoing

Avad laughed, though he still faint faint. Gallows humor.

"Please, Wledic. You remember me from a decade back? Well, I'm going maverick again."

His mind raced as much as it could, analyzing the situation from every tactical standpoint. Okay. Surrounded by a small unit of guardsmen. Approximately twenty-five, if I had to guess. His face scanned the crowd. One High Battlemage, Anton Vedvoin. Specializes in ice and storm magic. So that's where my clouds went. Two Battlemages, brother and sister; Erin and Serra Nolindin. Both specialize in fire. Ten or so spearmen. Spears are useful in nullifying electricity. About that many sword-and-shield knights. Metal sheilds are a weak point. They conduct electricity. All are dressed in metal armor. Major weak point. I'm nearly out of innate magic, but there's a Vedlyn stone in my spellbook I've been charging for six years. If there ever was a time to use it, it was now.

He reached out to his spellbook, opening it to the back cover and yanking a large blue-white gem out. It glowed with a brilliant blue light, and he palmed it, forcing himself to breathe deeply. As he took cover in case of magic—no archers among the troops—he began to channel the energy from the stone into himself. The headache receded, and with it the faintness. He ground out to his allies, "everybody hold on to something and plug your ears!" before forcing all of the considerable energy that had been in the stone into a single spell.

"Achmat atial venedin altolis manahasta irredire verelest na'in!"

A shockwave of lightning raced out from him along the ground. No stormclouds for Anton, no fire for Erin or Serra. The lightning arced up the metal armor worn by all the guards except the battlemages, electrocuting them where they stood. Then, a second or so after, there was an intense wave of sound as a thunderclap exploded from beneath them, launching the guards several feet into the air. His hands, occupied with sigil-tracing, were unable to plug his ears, and the sound shredded his eardrums, leaving him in immense pain and deafness. The shockwave knocked him back from where he was standing at the edge of the cart, cannoning him back into the side. Through all the pain, though, before unconsciousness grabbed him, he shouted out one phrase:

"Go! Ride!"

Then nothingness.

A Tyrant's Undoing

Panic had a way of making anybody, even Avad, drop his buzz.

Grunting in irritation at the interruption, he climbed on back of the wagon, yelling "On it!" before tracing a sign in the air and mouthing a few words. The fire was enveloped in a blast of vapor, glowing from the inside with a hellish light. Then, grimacing at the impending headache, he flipped out his spellbook, turning to a page covered in runic lettering and beginning to recite a lengthy spell, focusing less on raw power and almost entirely on razor-fine control over the magic's direction. He had a very clear idea of what he wanted it to do.

Eventually, the fires went out, and he released the magic, tracing half a dozen sigils back-to-back before him. There was a tremendous thunderclap as storm clouds began to build thirty or so feet over, and twice as much in front of, the pained, burned, blinded guards. Another thunderclap and a lancet of lightning, and then the real fun started: an immensely powerful wind blew nearly horizontal, forcing utterly torrential rains, ice-cold and lashing like tiny daggers, into the hapless troop. He nearly dropped the spellbook at the sudden energy expenditure as the intense wind wiped out the fog, reestablishing line of sight.

Rhythmically chanting a three-word spell of lightning several times, "Achmat elike monâven," he forced them to stay down unless they wanted to be electrocuted. As he felt his energy, which had been vastly depleted even prior to the exceedingly long stormcalling, peter down, he screwed his eyes shut, ramming the last of his magical energy—into another overdraw, he understood, grimacing—straight into a heavy raincloud that followed behind the cart, turning the dirt of the road behind them into a thick, gluey trail of mud. Blinking owlishly at the sudden fatigue and headache, he toppled backwards into the cart, fighting to remain conscious.