oh boy here we go

[hypnotherapy]

What Magicman considers fun and what other people consider fun tend to only overlap sometimes. Not many navis (at least, not many surface navis...probably) would find being outnumbered by a lot of hostile navis who wanted to take them apart for parts more of an interesting challenge than a terrifying situation.

Magicman lacks this kind of sensible barrier.

"Fifteen on one? That means I'm facing a gang, probably," he murmurs. If he'd had a visible mouth at that moment, he would have grinned.

"Good odds," he adds, before stabbing the closest one right through the chest and hurling them into their compatriot. After that, the whole situation devolves quite quickly into everyone hitting everyone else. Though he gets hit more than a few times, he's enjoying what he might couch as 'a brisk workout' despite his (admittedly fairly mild) injuries.

Some unsettling aura approaching, incredibly similar to something he's sensed before, makes him pause mid-slash. He absently hops back as his opponent tries to stab him and just as absently parries the strike.

He can't quite make out what that is. It worries him.

Comments

[hatefully]

[ Forte takes an instant to progress the situation. His arms, jolted by the focused efforts to push the blades down being abruptly stopped, don't get either blade through to their target because Magician blocked him.

Magicman has never been gifted with somebody staring at him with such pure loathing for the all of five split seconds the two of them are unmoving. ]

You - !

[ Then he's lost his footing, and going flying to slam into that boulder. Hard.

Ow. ]