Though Fas’ threat carried a significant amount of venom, the specter before him showed no signs of intimidation nor over hostility. A quiet, somewhat mocking invitation accompanied by what Fas felt was almost a coy expression made Fas grit his teeth in irritation. So this thing had no fear of him. That was something that would be rectified sooner or later, though the half-elf dearly hoped it would be the former. In the midst of his thinking, Fasumbra felt a surge of magic pulse through the area with his Mana Sense. Though if that hadn’t been enough, the crystals lining the walls and floors around his person shined with power before fading away… leaving Fasumbra’s shadow standing beside him.
If one were to imagine the situation, how would they feel? Aghast, perplexed? Enraged, terrified?
Fasumbra Langardo felt none of these things. He was suddenly feeling very at home. So comfortable that-
“HAHAHAAHAHA!”
He burst out in a fit of laughter, which boomed off the walls as though it were the sonorous voice of God. Gracefully Fasumbra stepped outside the summoned creature’s reach, knowing it perfectly well seeing as it was his own. He took a few more steps away from it in case it tried to surge forward and assault him before his voice rang out again.
“Wretched creature, how pathetic you are! Are your imitations always so limited in imagination, or are you constantly so feeble in your mastery of shadows?” If the shadow would mock him, Fasumbra could do so in return just as easily. But indeed he spoke the truth; the shadow summoned an imitation of him, and the half-elf wanted to laugh at how primitive it was.
“I knew a man who so mastered the shadows he was considered as one with them, and swallowed entire armies with a whispered command. You are a poor substitute for true power, a petulant child begging for acknowledgement.”
With that, Fasumbra flicked his right arm to the side, causing the Warcloak to flare out to the side. At the same time there was a flare of golden light in that same hand, which suddenly collapsed in on itself and began making a shape. In less than a second the flash of light had become a short sword, quite similar to a Roman Gladius, forged entirely of the energy that shone so brightly beforehand.
“Be gone, or I will smite you where you stand.”
Externally, Fasumbra was all pride and glory. But inside his mind was racing. Machine-like, his trained mind took in all accountable variables from the situation and began analyzing them, trying to form a proper strategy as swiftly as possible.
‘This copy it formed before me is underwhelming, but this proves at least it is capable of forming illusions as it says it can. Perhaps then, with preparations and assistance from the Judges, it would be capable of as flawless an imitation as it lays claim to.
So then, let us presume it speaks truly. One of us here is an imitation with no distinguishing characteristics revealing it as such. Even the illusions believes it is the original entity it was copied from, and it lacks any way of telling itself apart. In essence this illusion, this clone, IS the person it was made to replicate.
Why? This makes discovering the fake extremely difficult certainly, but this doesn’t aid the shadow at all. The fake will behave just as the original would, which would mean fighting against the Shadow rather than its teammates.’
Fasumbra almost blinked. The realization hit him so suddenly it was like an arrow striking into his heart.
‘The fake wants to be victorious as much as the original, even if it is just an imitation. Not knowing it is the fake, it works to unravel the mystery and work through it logically, attempting to solve the puzzle.
Just as I am doing right now.’
Fasumbra wanted to scream. The situation was insane, maddening. The dark magic at work here, sowing discord and paranoia, was all too reminiscent of his past. A past he greatly wanted to forget, to leave behind. But through his horror, he began to work through the situation in depth.
‘Let us assume I, Fasumbra Langardo, am the fake. What evidence is there to support this theory?
We can begin with my Mana Sense, then. Mere moments ago I examined my compatriots with it and found nothing strange about them in any way. One could posit that perhaps the entity that formed the illusion did so flawlessly, without leaving any trace of magical creation behind.
But then, why even take the risk at all? Why not simply make a copy of the one person who could possibly unravel your plot with a cursory glance, preventing them from observing your magic at work? Then surely the most logical choice would be myself. One could make a side note that Sokoya can also detect magic, but it seems doubtful her sense of smell would be as analytical as my Mana Sense.
Personal bias aside, what then is certain about this presumed illusion? What has been stated, or is inherent to, this work of magic?
The most obvious answer is that it was performed by either dark magic or shadow magic. So then, it must be assumed that the mimic contains, or perhaps even is composed of, that magic. How then would one detect the presence of dark magic, assuming all sensory observations are moot?’
Fasumbra slowly turned his head. He stared at the Blade of Light in his hand, and knew with sudden clarity what must be done. For you see, though their surroundings were suppressing light magic of all sorts, the weapon in his hand inherently dealt additional damage to beings connected to dark magic. Regardless of how much weaker it was as a weapon, that fact would not change.
He had seen it before, the way the blade lit wounds ablaze as he struck down fiends of shadow and abyssal demons. A grin split his weathered face. Fas almost laughed again, but the moment was too sweet to ruin it with an uproar of mocking humor.
“Shadow, your plot is undone.”
And with that he brought up the blade and cut a deep gash down his right cheek, stopping when he felt the flesh over his jawline slice open. It was time to see if his theory was correct. Fas would know immediately if he was the false one. If he indeed was the mimic, the wound on his cheek would ignite in golden flames; if he was truly himself, the cut would bleed and be fairly uncomfortable but otherwise would have no effect on his fighting capabilities.
If he was not counterfeit, it would simply be a matter of testing his edge on the others in his party. If they wished for victory, surely they would be prepared for a small analysis of their flesh’s purity?
Paidi tou Selini Wrote:
Abilities Used Wrote:
Mana Remaining: 12/15
Name: Blade of Light
Type/Target Light-based Weapon Spawn/Self
Cost: Small = 2 mp; Medium = 3 mp; Large = 4 mp; Anime Large = 5 mp
Description: Fas generates a shining representation of any weapon, made of light-magic. The weapon functions much the same as a normal weapon, except that it is fragile and can be broken completely by a heavy blow. However, the weapon deals greater damage against darkness/shadow/”evil” opponents.
Death of Gods, Doom of Men
Fasumbra spent decades being trained as more than a mere soldier, and the effects of that training show both mentally and physically. His mind is sharpened to a razor edge, capable of quickly and calmly discerning the flow of battle and instinctively forming a plan of action. His body has been forged into an instrument of death and destruction, combining strength, durability, and swiftness.
Mentally, Fasumbra is highly intelligent, observant, and trained to react in an instant to a threat. His knowledge of fighting techniques and strategies is extensive, so he will very rarely be surprised by an opponent’s course of action. Of course this knowledge only extends as far as “vanilla” techniques, so unique fighting styles/strategies (or lack thereof) can still take him off guard. This includes knowledge of metaphysical abilities; unless his opponent is already known to him he obviously cannot discern their supernatural capabilities, so he must always be wary of the potential for a surprise.
In the area of strength he excels overall (as stated in the Physical Build section), but in particular his arms and hands are extremely strong. Summary: Fasumbra’s arms are where his greatest strength lies, although certainly not his only strength.
When it comes to durability Fasumbra is far from invincible, as his scarred body will attest. Thanks to those years of warfare and intensive training, Fas is capable of dealing with pain much more easily than most. This higher pain threshold comes along with general toughness and resistance to damage, such as the strengthened bone structure martial artists typically develop. Summary: Fasumbra has a high pain tolerance, and a body which has adapted to better withstand punishment.
While not a fighter based entirely on speed, Fasumbra is still very quick. Reaction speed gained through training; mercurial body positioning and footwork; and running speed that one would expect from a special operations solider. Summary: Fas is quicker than one would expect, and can at least keep up with all but the fastest opponents.
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