Deviation Addressed
Elzalore had finally reached his limit. He had remained calm while the inbred gate guard with missing front teeth had looked him up and down. He had remained calm when the dolt asked him about his business at the castle. Then the guard stepped in it. Deep.
"You will need to swear an oath on yer gods, if ya have any, that you are not some kind of deviant. Like a queer or a Dwarven-lover."
The Deep Magic came so quickly, and so focused, that Elzalore was startled to feel it pouring out of his hands without effort. Indeed, he had never felt so in tune with the power of the universe.
"AHHHH!" The guard cried out and stumbled back, the bones of his face twisting into a hideous mask. A lady at a nearby market stall screamed and ran away with a toddler in tow, his dirty feet barely touching the ground. Dogs all over the surrounding village began howling. A flight of crows called out and erupted from the trees.
"Stop right there," another guard bellowed, drawing his sword as he ran toward Elzalore. The toothless, misshapen guard continued to shriek and thrash at the mage's feet.
The power came again, and the new guard's sword flashed molten red, igniting his dirty tabard and dripping liquid metal down his leg.
The second guard, now engulfed in flames, ran screaming into the pond, scattering ducks and lilly pads.
Elzalore sighed as the Deep Magic roiled and rumbled away like an ocean wave. He combed his fingers through his hair and strode into the city gate.
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