Post by James "Mustang" Morrison on Oct 4, 2007 23:22:23 GMT -5
Moment of truth.
James thought this as he approached Roberts' House of Jokes. His Left Eye was working overtime, he was pulling images and visions off everything. He saw petty thievery, sordid love affairs, broken hearts. Powerful emotions that left imprints on the world around him. But he didn't need these little footnotes in the history of Drakborough. He focused his energies on the House of Jokes. Most of the memories of that place were Hayzie's, but he pushed past these, towards the more recent past, and he found them. The Shadows had set up shop at the House of Jokes. And what more they were there now.
Excellent.
He broke the transfiguration spell on himself, his features rearranging and settling back to his own. Red hair and amber eyes, the left one currently emitting an eerie green glow. His rumpled and faded suit returned, and the coat changed from cloth to dragon-skin. He had kept walking while he did so, but now stopped 75 feet in front of the House of Jokes.
First, he pulled out his wand and cast the Anti-Apparation Charm on the House of Jokes, setting a perimeter of 60 feet. He stashed the wand and then he reached into his coat and pulled from a sling holster a stick that was roughly the diameter of a quarterstaff and about a foot and a half long. Carved into the surface of the wood were intricate runes. This was a neat little relic known as a blasting rod. It was very similar to a wand, in that you could cast spells with it. Well, destructive spells at least. It had no core though, magical energies were channeled through the runes, and it was the lack of a core that altered its function. While a wand, with the control and accuracy it provided, could be compared to a sniper rifle, a blasting rod was the magical equivalent of a rocket launcher. Which is why most wandmakers flat out refused to create these tools. Don't ask how James got a hold of it.
James pointed the rod at the building and said, "Confringo." A bolt of red energy leapt from the end of the rod and struck the front of the building. It began to rattle and shake, shattering the windows. The tremors continued to intensify until finally the entire front of the building exploded. Shrapnel and splinters flew towards him, but James was untouched. Only his coat was blown back in the blastwave. None of the other buildings were harmed in the explosion and the House of Jokes still had three walls standing.
James walked forward and watched as the dust cleared. He addressed the Dark wizards he could now see inside, his Liverpudlian tones flowing free and easy as if meeting someone for the first time. "Hello there, I am Auror James Mustang, and this," he gestured with the blasting rod, "is my boomstick." He smiled pleasantly before continuing. "Oh, and you're all under arrest by authority of the Iberian Ministry of Magic, for various crimes against the Wizarding community."
James thought this as he approached Roberts' House of Jokes. His Left Eye was working overtime, he was pulling images and visions off everything. He saw petty thievery, sordid love affairs, broken hearts. Powerful emotions that left imprints on the world around him. But he didn't need these little footnotes in the history of Drakborough. He focused his energies on the House of Jokes. Most of the memories of that place were Hayzie's, but he pushed past these, towards the more recent past, and he found them. The Shadows had set up shop at the House of Jokes. And what more they were there now.
Excellent.
He broke the transfiguration spell on himself, his features rearranging and settling back to his own. Red hair and amber eyes, the left one currently emitting an eerie green glow. His rumpled and faded suit returned, and the coat changed from cloth to dragon-skin. He had kept walking while he did so, but now stopped 75 feet in front of the House of Jokes.
First, he pulled out his wand and cast the Anti-Apparation Charm on the House of Jokes, setting a perimeter of 60 feet. He stashed the wand and then he reached into his coat and pulled from a sling holster a stick that was roughly the diameter of a quarterstaff and about a foot and a half long. Carved into the surface of the wood were intricate runes. This was a neat little relic known as a blasting rod. It was very similar to a wand, in that you could cast spells with it. Well, destructive spells at least. It had no core though, magical energies were channeled through the runes, and it was the lack of a core that altered its function. While a wand, with the control and accuracy it provided, could be compared to a sniper rifle, a blasting rod was the magical equivalent of a rocket launcher. Which is why most wandmakers flat out refused to create these tools. Don't ask how James got a hold of it.
James pointed the rod at the building and said, "Confringo." A bolt of red energy leapt from the end of the rod and struck the front of the building. It began to rattle and shake, shattering the windows. The tremors continued to intensify until finally the entire front of the building exploded. Shrapnel and splinters flew towards him, but James was untouched. Only his coat was blown back in the blastwave. None of the other buildings were harmed in the explosion and the House of Jokes still had three walls standing.
James walked forward and watched as the dust cleared. He addressed the Dark wizards he could now see inside, his Liverpudlian tones flowing free and easy as if meeting someone for the first time. "Hello there, I am Auror James Mustang, and this," he gestured with the blasting rod, "is my boomstick." He smiled pleasantly before continuing. "Oh, and you're all under arrest by authority of the Iberian Ministry of Magic, for various crimes against the Wizarding community."