Three Forces Empowered | Dream Team

Bonus: BadBoyHalo

Bad wasn't a normal person.

Normal people didn't have magic. They didn't have the ability to curse people right on the spot. They weren't able to turn invisible at will or summon undead warriors out of the ground.

They also usually weren't getting chased by a mob of angry villagers.

His black hoodie kept him warm as he ran. He never liked running at night, even without people chasing him, waving sharp weapons and screaming bloody murder. It wasn't easy to avoid tripping with his clunky boots, but he managed all the same.

Bad regretted a lot of things.

Most of them had to do with his friend.

"Bad, would you please hurry up!" his friend in question, Skeppy, shouted at him. His blue cloak billowed out behind him as he ran, one hand tightly holding the rim of his hood down over his face. A bandana of the same color covered the lower half of his features, with his signature painted smile imprinted onto the fabric. He didn't even look out of breath.

Bad ducked as arrows whizzed past his head. "No, you can't tell me to do that! I wouldn't be needing to hurry if you hadn't stolen my potions and covered the floor of the mayor's in a layer of slime!"

Skeppy chortled. "Are you serious? That was awesome!"

"It was not awesome!"

He pushed himself harder, running faster than ever before. He had to get away, not only because he didn't really want to get caught by a bunch of unhappy villagers, but also because he had to scold Skeppy at a time when he wasn't out of breath and regretting his life decisions.

"You're no fun, Bad," Skeppy grumbled. He glanced over his shoulder at Bad, probably just checking to see if he was still keeping up, his pace never faltering. "I think I'm going to fight them."

"You can't, Skeppy."

"Stop!" one of the villagers behind them shouted, waving a sword in the air. "Pay for your crimes!"

"How about 'no?'" Bad called back.

"Look, they're asking for it," Skeppy said. "Please?"

Bad hesitated, then sighed. He didn't want to make things worse than they already were, but he also wasn't interested in going to jail again in one day. Skeppy gave a delighted whoop and stopped running, planting his feet firmly on the ground and turning around to face the villagers.

"Don't kill any of them," Bad said.

"Sure."

Skeppy pulled his sword out of the sheath on his back and swung it in a circle, showing off his wrist movements. Bad stopped just behind him. He tried to avoid fights if he could, but if Skeppy needed his help, he'd be here for him.

Not that it mattered. It was the mob of villagers that needed the help.

He sat down on the stones that paved the road. His feet were sore and tired, and the rest, even if it was going to be short, was a bliss.

Of course Skeppy had to pull a prank. Because that's just how he is.

But covering the floor in slime? That gets creativity points, I suppose.

Potions weren't difficult to make, but Bad didn't like doing it. He was a mage, not a potions master. It had taken him hours to make the few potions that he did have, all because he kept accidentally blowing things up.

Maybe it is difficult, after all. Or I'm just incompetent.

I think I prefer being a mage.