He dashed over the half-inch of snow with an inhuman speed, his feet barely disturbing the cold precipitation. His breath left his mouth in thick, pillowy strands as he uttered the spell he was using to escape.
All around him were distant voices, desperately trying to keep track of his movements in the forest. It was all in vain, however, as he had already prepared a teleportation spell to a town that was days away; all that was left was to cast it. He rounded a large tree, focusing on casting the last few words. But instead of the final phrase, he uttered a strangled gasp.
The sword tore through his thin, mage’s physique. It sliced through his flesh and muscle, sliding gently between his ribs and through his heart, emerging with large ribbons of blood on the other side.
It was removed with no mercy by the soldier wielding it, as the mage was simply prey to him. As it left the mage’s body, he grasped at the hole, trying to keep the blood from spilling out, and the air from leaving his lung. He fell to his knees, trying to keep a hold onto the spell that had already slipped from his grasp.
“Nice work! You got him good, Yorrick.”
“I told you I’d be the one to kill this ********.”
“That you did… guess the beer’s on me tonight then. Anyway, let’s finish him and bring his head back as proof.”
As this dialogue occurred, the mage was flailing about in the snow. He couldn’t breathe properly. His blood was everywhere, furthering his sense of doom. Yet he still racked his memory, looking for some way to survive. He made a loud, gurgling moan through the blood rising in his throat.
The one named Yorrick kicked his side, yelling “What’s the matter, powerful mage? Was that a ‘spare me?’ Well, you should have thought of that before all those deaths you caused!”
After some more abuse from Yorrick’s foot, the mage tried gargling some more words, grabbing at the waist of the man who had dealt him the mortal blow. With a look of disgust, Yorrick quickly drew a knife and severed the mage’s left hand.
“We’re leaving. This is enough proof, and dying like this is more than he deserves. Die like a dog, you b*****d!” With those final words, the mage was left alone to spend his few final moments.
The cold was seeping in. Even the blood leaking from his body felt icy. As he lay on his right side, he coughed shallowly, blood dribbling from his mouth. “Not… yet” he murmured, both words taking all the air his lungs could hold. With the blood he still had left, he painted his fingers. Moving onto his back, he reached out to a spot where the snow had not yet been drenched. His practiced hand moved shakily, his body and mind slipping from life. Line after line of snow became painted, his left stub of what was once a hand resupplying his right with a medium.
He completed his bloody drawing and turned his hand back so that his palm was to the sky. Gathering what little power he could, he let his hand fall onto the crest. It glowed slightly, giving a small pulse as he breathed, then stopped as his breath fell short. The glow faded, along with the light in his eyes. He was dead.
Several minutes later, the scent brings a stray wolf along. The temptation of a free meal for the lone lupine is too strong, and it approaches the mage’s corpse. Its teeth tear into the mage’s throat, ripping and tearing the flesh. It swallows, then whines at the fire spreading throughout its body. As the bloody sigil glows, the wolf writhes in pain in the snow. The blood erupts from all around the animal and mage’s body, engulfing both and then condensing into a small blob on the snowtop.
The drop of crimson magic slowly expands, gradually taking shape of a creature. Where there were formerly two, there is now only one, combining the characteristics of both. Covered in fur, this creature has the frame of a human, but the body of a wolf.
It stirs, awakening to a world in which it doesn’t belong. After a few moments it becomes aware of its origin. Without panic, it utters several words, then pulls several garments out of mid-air. It dons them, grimacing at its figure, then begins muttering a complex incantation. It teleports away, finally finishing the spell it had failed casting in one of its two past lives.
Bladeglory Community Member 
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