The inescapable death of Mr Scarecrow. [Job | Solo]

The wind was blowing well tonight, blades of wheat blew back and forth as the breeze curled around the crops. Mr Jekis field almost seemed peaceful, and it was, albeit a little too peaceful. Standing in the middle of the field, his body leaning to the side, as his right arm hung over the shoulder of a scarecrow. Was none other than a man dressed in a bizarre suit, similar to that of a clown. A blue star painted on one cheek and a purple teardrop on the other. His bright red hair spiked back across his head, pointing diagonally towards the sky. And his cold yellow eyes staring out at the breezy afternoon. He looked onwards towards the little farmhouse, quite a humble cottage, with painted black beams, and white walls, smoke softly emanating from a chimney which was no doubt giving it's inside a cosy warmth. Jesters eyes were locked on the window, on the other side of which, he could see the old man pottering around in the kitchen. Most likely preparing a hearty supper for himself, paid for with the money from his previous good harvest. He lived a good life, too good a life, it had to change, and that’s why the Circus mage was there. Jester looked over at Scarecrow, a solemn look on his peculiar face. "Poor fella, Poor fella. Stuck here, staring at the same old field, the same old house, do the crows even fear you anymore?" Jester tilted his head, there was silence for a moment. As though Jester was waiting for the scarecrow to reply. Suddenly he let out a little exaggerating gasp, "They do you say! A pro you say! Well consider me impressed." He told the crow-scarer, eying it's brown button eyes with intrigue, "I think you need a vacation my good man, lucky, lucky, good news, annual leave starts today!" He said with a loud cheer, standing straight, he clapped his hands together. A dangerous glint in his eye. Jester moved away from the scarecrow, holding out his left hand, he felt the pull of his magic. Out of nowhere, three large rings appeared in his grip. Jester, swapped them from palm to palm. Moving two into his right, then turning to face the field. He swung his left arm through the air and released the ring. As it spun, the ring caught alight, burning bright with a fiery flame. It skimmed the top  of the crops, setting them aflame. He threw another ring across the field, and the spinning mechanism raised an even greater fire. He then turned to the house and threw the last ring, watching as it landed on the wooden, hay covered roof; very flammable, very foolish. With moments, the entire area was surrounded by a fierce fire. Crops burned easily, Hay burned easily. Jester watched as the old man stumbling out of his burning home coughing, looking around and spotted the clown a moment later. He seemed to begin to run out him, reaching down and grabbing a gardening hoe. Jesters eyes widened, and his face contorted into a delighted smirk. As soon as the man was close enough, Jester threw out the heel of his palm straight into the farmers nose, crushing it instantly under the blow and knocking him to the ground. Jester let out a loud laugh, "Take a look Mr Jekis, your world, it burns!" He called cheerfully, looking around at the glorious fire. The silent scaring staring on unable to move, unable to escape.


END