((The first in a multi-part series of posts, revealing the final stages of Serkr's experiments with arcane and fire magics, and their aftermath.))
"I am close. Very, very close." A deep, calm, and serene voice echoes within the room. Serkr lets out a sigh, closes his eyes, and sets a small, flat, hexagonal plate of blue crystal on the floor. Tiny, intricate runes and lines of text flicker along its surface. The man slides the device away from him, lowering his head, seemingly lost in thought. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly.
Without warning, the mage thrusts his hand out, summoning a spheroid of bright orange, burning fire magic. It shrinks rapidly, growing brighter, shifting to brilliant, blazing yellow, then white-hot. It flickers and stretches erratically as it shrinks further, condensing into a pulsing, strobing, bluish-purple speck - held together by nothing but a faint silver mist of arcane magic. It drifts away from him at his command, flying slowly. In the blink of an eye, it re-expands back to its original size with a muted 'pop', and dissipates into orange vapor.
Serkr closes his eyes again, retrieving the hexagonal crystalline plate. "Dammit...it's too unstable. That compression can't be maintained for more than a few seconds. Even the slightest deviation..." Serkr's mind echoes to itself, contemplating the problem. The calculations in his mind yield the same results, over and over again, regardless of the changes to the magic. Sweat forms on his forehead from the intense concentration.
Hours later, he finally opens his eyes, and lets out a sigh. "Ugh. I need sleep," he admits to himself. He leisurely begins channeling an arcane spell, summoning pulse after pulse of blue light around himself. Light around him wavers, distorts, and stretches, then begins refracting as if shone through broken glass. The shattered reality around him twists and stretches, and his body spontaneously implodes into the mass of shredded space and time.
A microsecond later, he emerges with a brief flash, and the distortion receeds from around him. He is in a different room - a house in Ironforge, with an awaiting bed. He glances toward the thick, metal door, checking to make sure it is locked - then collapses onto the bed. The accumulated exhaustion quickly overtakes him, and he falls asleep in mere seconds.
((The first in a multi-part series of posts, revealing the final stages of Serkr's experiments with arcane and fire magics, and their aftermath.))
"I am close. Very, very close." A deep, calm, and serene voice echoes within the room. Serkr lets out a sigh, closes his eyes, and sets a small, flat, hexagonal plate of blue crystal on the floor. Tiny, intricate runes and lines of text flicker along its surface. The man slides the device away from him, lowering his head, seemingly lost in thought. He closes his eyes and exhales slowly.
Without warning, the mage thrusts his hand out, summoning a spheroid of bright orange, burning fire magic. It shrinks rapidly, growing brighter, shifting to brilliant, blazing yellow, then white-hot. It flickers and stretches erratically as it shrinks further, condensing into a pulsing, strobing, bluish-purple speck - held together by nothing but a faint silver mist of arcane magic. It drifts away from him at his command, flying slowly. In the blink of an eye, it re-expands back to its original size with a muted 'pop', and dissipates into orange vapor.
Serkr closes his eyes again, retrieving the hexagonal crystalline plate. "Dammit...it's too unstable. That compression can't be maintained for more than a few seconds. Even the slightest deviation..." Serkr's mind echoes to itself, contemplating the problem. The calculations in his mind yield the same results, over and over again, regardless of the changes to the magic. Sweat forms on his forehead from the intense concentration.
Hours later, he finally opens his eyes, and lets out a sigh. "Ugh. I need sleep," he admits to himself. He leisurely begins channeling an arcane spell, summoning pulse after pulse of blue light around himself. Light around him wavers, distorts, and stretches, then begins refracting as if shone through broken glass. The shattered reality around him twists and stretches, and his body spontaneously implodes into the mass of shredded space and time.
A microsecond later, he emerges with a brief flash, and the distortion receeds from around him. He is in a different room - a house in Ironforge, with an awaiting bed. He glances toward the thick, metal door, checking to make sure it is locked - then collapses onto the bed. The accumulated exhaustion quickly overtakes him, and he falls asleep in mere seconds.
((To be continued.))