View source for Tirost/Logs/encasement-ic-fic

==The Encasement==
He climbed the edge of the crater with unrestrained desperation, his breath ragged and wild. Standing before the writhing vines and stone of the encasement, he felt a keening wail reverberate within his body. Rage swallowed all his thoughts. Instinct dictated the weaving of spell patterns he'd trained to be a reflex beyond conscious thought.

Into his mind flashed memories - his mother tending the garden, he and his sister watching the frogs by the creek, fights with the other boys before the statue of their great chieftain, the old songs sung in Arnack's Tavern. The tears that streamed down his face evaporated instantly in the swirl of fire that blazed down from the ash-choked cloud that billowed around him. Swords of lighting flashed into existence. "Lymira!!" he screamed, slashing at the vines and rock, but with each severed fiber or crumbled stone, more rose to fill their place. His left hand blazed with fire. The elemental charge that crackled through his body forced open aetherial pathways. In an instant, the flesh of his hand burnt, as he fired blast after blast into the encasement. His nerves buckled under the pressure, split and frayed. His skin exploded into bleeding wounds. Little more than a withered claw, his hand shattered under the force of his magic, but he could not make a way in. Darkness crept over his vision, and he slumped to the ground.