Sigil: T.C.o.D - [Walk-In][Modern Fantasy: Cycle 32][O/A]

[YummyBiscuits]

Better Than Gore

Hartia Raye Pendragon

>> Empyrae << Throne of the Gold

Hartia walked in, equal parts noise and posturing, and Ursan bowed his head slightly, giving the man at least a second's notice that he had been seen, and that his attention would be bought if in but a few moments. He obviously hadn't come just to talk, or even to show off that pretty armor he wore, but Ursan had a preexisting issue to lay down, one he would address in turn to Kane.

"You're right." Ursan whispered, reading his champion's mind, as if flipping through the first few pages of a book. "There's a new temple in the city. One dedicated to the God, Falis."

Ursan would grip his champions hand only tighter, and he'd feel something there. Not a burning, nor was it cold and icy. A lack of something, as if the grip itself lost it's ability to really be felt, at least for those few moments.

"I have reason to believe Kyle Baker is tied to the church somehow. Leave the castle for a while, and do what you do best, child. Find out if he's there, and come back to me soon."

Ursan would let go of his hand, revealing the skin to be black, as if covered in a leather glove, yet it moved and felt as if the skin itself were what had become dark, unholy, evil almost. Even the fingernails were not safe, having lengthened out into sharp little blades and turning just as black as the ichor seeping from the man's wounds, blacker than his unbeating heart if it were at all possible. Ursan's eye would lock with Kane's own, as if he were passing a simple message between him, as if a single look could encourage the man and bring potential and skill to the fore and give him some sort of strength. He was putting time and planning into Kane, and he would not be disappointed.

"Do well by me, for you are my Black Hand." Ursan would say, dismissing the man to do that which he was best at.

There was a long pause, where Ursan simply say back against his throne, and seemed to breathe in and out, if not slowly expand and contract entirely, his existence somehow dependent upon simply sitting there for that short while, breathing in the dark energies of the room, feeding on the bits and pieces of terror and gibbering madnesses that broke through the plane into this one; he tasted it and let himself heal those tiny little fractures in his mind that using so much energy so quickly would bring to a Lich his age. This was his time to recharge, but there was still so much, so so much, to do in such a short period of time that it left Ursan's head spinning in a too-human way. He'd finally look over to Hartia, and with a short wave of his hand, call the man up the golden stairs to step opposite of where Kane had stood just a few moments previously, as if representative of their opposite fates; one would work in the light and for the good where the other would be an example of the darkness this Lich was entirely capable of when brought to bear. Ursan was still silent for a few moments longer, reading around him and testing the waters.

"I know what you've come to ask about." He said, finally.

Ursan flipped the cane in his hands, leaning deeply into the throne, before tapping it's capped end against the floor, where it not only made a sound, but spread a force around the King which spread through the room, clearing the air entirely, and shushing out the candles and the oil filled dishes, leaving the room in darkness except for the inner flame coming from Ursan's eye, leaving it a single pinprick of light that reflected what little actual life was left in the Lich King.

"but the manner by which you'd like it surprises me, Pendragon." He chuckled, "So tell me, exactly how would you like me to make you another?"

[SIash Ex]

[!]Empyrae[!]
A fiery wind…
[]~O~[]

[!] ~”..You will all burn…”~[!]

Hastily, Djadi would stuff a roll of parchment and pen-set into his outstretched hand; She'd brought a spare, if only for pragmatic reasons.

"Silence, Petyr! The Yaga...you...Sit!"

She'd practically hiss the words at him, quickly stomping off to collect a pillow and place it where instructed. Her body followed suit, neatly folding down into a pill of breeze-ridden cloth. The girl took a moment to absorb the gravity of her surroundings...her nose wrinkling in distaste at the humidity in the room, and the standing water placed about the area. It was to be expected, of course.

Legend had held, traditionally, that the mighty witch made her home in a swamp.

The thought of living in such a horrid place repulsed the young Atmani, and even undeath could not keep her skin from crawling.

[!] ~”…As I have burned..”~[!]

XxTheVeganVampirexX

YummyBiscuits

[YummyBiscuits]

XxTheVeganVampirexX

Slash Zinrai

So, You wanna learn?

So, the girl was a bossy one, ehh. Didn't normally see that kind of girl walking around with a little kid, it left Baba wondering just why they had come to class side by side, and seemed to know each other at least a little bit. Questions that didn't matter though,she decided with a derisive chuckle aimed at the entire class. She had a presence about her, they'd all notice, that seemed to say that even though she was only facing maybe half the class, her little eyes were locked on each of them, watching and waiting, equal parts alligator and viper, looking for that weakness like a predator and scanning away, hungry.

"I am the Baba Yaga." She declared, dipping into one of the many pockets on her sleeveless vest, close to her knees, and pulling out a handful of seeds, which she promptly spread around in front of her feet. "I live in tha' swamp, see, and Mister Big Dead Guy thought it'd be cool to have me come and teach a bit. So I'm here."

She went on to explain a few more things about herself, while from the back of the classroom, a small birdhouse seemed to hop up of it's own volition, before thick chicken legs popped out the bottom, and it scurried past a student who's first reaction was to shout out in surprise. It came to the seed pile, and the front doors opened, before a thick and dripping-wet tongue lashed out at the little pile, eating up quickly. She was curt and concise, but told plenty much about herself, and tutted hard when someone went to write something down, reminding them she was just being nice and introductory since she was a big shot teacher according to that Lich fellow, and she wouldn't have it turn into a history lesson any time soon.

"This is Elementalism, y'all, good old fashioned stuff. Sometimes 't's better than up and cursing a b***h, and it's anything but subtle, so try not to go and drown us all or burn old Baba up, hear?!" She tapped her staff on the floor, before letting out a big declaration.

"Anyone know any spells?"

[VeganIncubus]

So, You wanna learn?

arrow Empyrae

Petyr had sat down even before Djadi had said anything, muttering an apology as she sat beside him. It was strange how she accommodated herself, but most everything about her was odd. This was meant not in an insulting fashion, but a statement of fact.
Baba Yaga introduced herself and Petyr sat there, attentively. She was a complete stranger to him, but right off the bat he just knew he did not wish to cross her or anger her further.

There seem to be strewn around piles of parchment and quills. Perhaps the teacher had been mildly thoughtful. Without making much noise, Petyr reached for some pages and a quill and scribbled stuff down. There was no such thing as too many notes. The vampire watched as the bird came scurrying down. The student's yell startled him a bit, though he gave no sign. Maybe a slight smile, but that was about it.

He shook his head in reply to her question. Maybe if he'd spent some time looking through his books...

YummyBiscuits

Slash Zinrai

[SIash Ex]

[!]Empyrae[!]
A fiery wind…
[]~O~[]

[!] ~”..You will all burn…”~[!]

While, typically, a person might be hesitant to draw further attention to themselves; Djadi had not come to Sigil, and left her preferred clime, to play it safe. She wanted to learn, and improve...

When the time came, and her master choose a new disciple, it would be her.

Her hand lifted into the air, exposing a wrist covered in glittering baubles...and a fore-arm scarred by thick, rope-like, lines. She fixed her defiant gaze firmly on Baba Yaga, and cleared her throat.

It would not serve to speak out of turn, but her desires would not allow her to remain totally silent. She served the Shadowless One, a God of sun and fire that demanded respect; inspiring awe, and terror, in his supplicants. It was anathema to hide one's splendor, or remain in the shadows.

Regardless of the risk.

[!] ~”…As I have burned..”~[!]

XxTheVeganVampirexX

YummyBiscuits

[stillnohero]

When beckoned, the Cambion lifted to his toes in a fluid grace, swiftly on cue as if this act was practiced numerous times. It was even comparable to a master wield a puppet. Though it was just more of the ironic oddness Hartia brought with him where ever he went. He came to stand where designated. To the opposing hand that cane would stand before. His eyes simply stare into the black void where eyes use to be. searching that abyss yet again for any glimpse at the Lich King's soul. Yet he appeared hollow in every aspect of the manner still.

So he knew. He knew why Hartia was here. Perhaps that was part of it. The other part was to participate in the empire he pledged allegiance too, even if he wasn't in it as deep as Kane was. He had to participate to receive any mutual benefits that could be offered. And then came the benefits. Behold before his very eyes was The Caster Sword itself as it was commonly known, yet it never truly had a name. Or so the book says. It took little to no time to assess what may or may not have happened to Ursan. The price fell to darkness, seduced by that blade. He did some catastrophic s**t, and his brother's demolished him for it. Whether or not that was the case he was certain of one thing. Ursan was a variation of the living dead. He wield the blade as if it were childs play, and he seemed sane in some strange way, despite what the sword is fabled to do to the mind of it's wielder, which all known Pendragon attempts were Human. Being part demon, Hartia thought he could do it. But it was apparent that only a dead man was perfect to wield such a powerful blade.

What surprised him was the extended offer to give him a sword to replace his wishes for The Caster Sword. A way to have it, without having it. By having a different Caster Sword. In this case, crafted by the right hands, a faux variant of the fabled blade was his best option. Even for his own good. The question was how would he like it? How as in how would he feel or what would he think about it, or, How as in "How ya' want that cooked!?"

"I would like it in a manner that was undefinable by words. When drawn on one's side, it's awe inspiring and boosts morale! And in the face of it's enemy, it strikes fear to their very core. I would like it, so ******** much. In fact I would feel obligated to even say I owe you one."

YummyBiscuits

[YummyBiscuits]

XxTheVeganVampirexX

Slash Zinrai

So, You wanna learn?

Baba assented, there were a few students out of the bunch who either raised a hand or stood up, and Baba turned to each in turn. She pointed to a ghost first, who rose up in ethereal vestments and brushed the silks of his non-there robe to smooth it over, before popping both hands in the air and creating a shower of sparks. The few others who followed did anything from shooting a small spurt of fire into the air before it died, or even making the air sizzle with heat, and someone even poked a finger out and shot a spurt of shimmery water into the air, where it splashed against the wall. Baba actually stood up to help a few people along, even pointing out that it was better to hold a finger like this, posture in this fashion until you've reached greater levels of skill, what have you. Her eyes passed over the other side of the room, her wide face spread nearly in half by her wrinkly smile, and her eyes settled on the vampire boy, Pater or Peter, whatever his name was a few milliseconds longer than usual.

Nothing from him, as expected. He was too little.

The woman he had come with had stood up, and she wasn't all around that surprised. She had the look of at least a little bit of the mysticism about her, with all the silks and the flowy winds. So she smiled nice and wide, giving a sweeping gesture with a sausage-fingered hand.

"Your turn, dollface."

[VeganIncubus]

arrow Empyrae

It seemed that plenty of his fellow students were far more advanced in elemental magic than him; Before his arrival in Empyrae, he wasn't even aware that he had the possibility to study magic. He wasn't even aware of such things until he stumbled upon the city. No surprises when his new friend also got up to participate.
The least he could do was taking notes. Taking notes and studying before next time. Though he was young, he wasn't about to fall behind.

Petyr waited and wished his new acquaintance the best

YummyBiscuits

Slash Zinrai

[SIash Ex]

[!]Empyrae[!]
A fiery wind…
[]~O~[]

[!] ~”..You will all burn…”~[!]

She watched each display with mild curiosity, and attempted to discern the nature of their arcana.

Up until the sprout of water, which sent her recoiling back and away from the offending liquid. One could never be too careful with the stuff, which had a tendency to flow and seep; finding places it simply did not belong.

When her turn finally came, Djadi had found her calm; settling on a specific spell, and allowing the magic to flow from within...swaying her body in time with the music of her people.

"विन्द् ओफ़् हे व्हो बेअर्स् नो शदोव्, प्लचे योउर् हनद उपोन थेसे ओफ़्फ़ेन्सेस् अन्द् सी थें उन्दोने!"

Her voice grew shrill, the lyrics intoning to unseen skies as the wind around her form lashed and grew more violent. They would all feel the rise in temperature, and note the obvious hiss as water turned to steam nearby; roiling up, and onto the ceiling.

Where it promptly began to condense, and form miniature rain clouds.

So proud was she of her ability, that the girl did not notice her folly; not until it was too late.

[!] ~”…As I have burned..”~[!]

XxTheVeganVampirexX

YummyBiscuits

[Scalar Warfare]

Sigil, City of Doors - Guildhall Ward - Ruins of the Mages' Guild

Judgement of an Artificial God

Biding Time You Don't Own...

--------------------------------------------------

Steel rain and scorched sky, a prison of glass unbreakable and rusted will. All these and more fell upon ruins already shattered, the shell of a place once glorious in its might, humbled before a god from the machine. Corpses animate but not alive, fought by the living that lost another small fragment of sanity every time they snuffed out a soul... the forces of eternal equilibrium too strong to deny. Forces not meant to be wielded and horrors not meant to be seen had been called forth to fight the dominion of unfeeling steel... and at what price? Madness already consumed both hero and villain alike.

For no man is truly sane... and it takes only a single thread to unravel the entire fabric of his mind. And thus... the magus of the stars fled. Fled from the falling tyranny of the skies, and fled the rebellion of the earth, and fled from those that fancied themselves 'allies' whilst burning the very fabric of reality. But where does one flee in a prison that binds the soul and blocks the mind and body from exit, a prison with no doors, and no locks?

There is only one escape... death. One must embrace the darkness of despair to find the light of hope.

Ivory tapping on cement echoed hollowly behind her, her rapid steps practically causing Elianna to float along the debris-stricken field with the grace of a spooked gazelle in flight. Behind her... the earth roared its protest as the power-mad archdevil tore into foundations deep enough to unbalance the entire torus... but she paid it no heed. There was only one way out... and it would be by stepping... no, leaping into the abyss. It beckoned, greedy for sustenance... and Elianna would be happy to provide it.

Fiercely, she threw herself headlong into the crater, the burned air whipping her few scraps of cloth about her statuesque body in a great billowing gale, as she plummeted into the catacombs that held the keys to annhilation. Darkness enveloped the sorceress... but darkness was no stranger... but a welcome friend. A soothing embrace of calm... against which the contrast of the harshly blistering void portal was a bas-relief, a stark beacon of oppression, against which she would test her very existence.

A thunderous crash echoed in the subdued dungeon, the already punished flooring suffering a renewed assault as she landed, the gravitational repulsion literally tearing into the masonry with an audible groan below her arched feet... settling haughtily onto the surface with a light tock!. Though scarcely clad... the star-sorceress' mere presence commanded some measure of respect, as she cast what was undoubtedly a royal gaze upon the shattered remnants of the vault.

She was not alone here, but for a moment she simply stared into the heart of oblivion, its clutches contained by bands of arcana immutable, machinery that defied understanding. Runes and energy sparked upon them... their form a perfect mockery of the movement of the spheres. A shuddered breath racked her frame.

"Anathema..." she whispered, knuckles pale blanching further white, clutched about the artifact she called her birthright.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aetheric Essence
100 + 20 = 120!

Tres Ecstuffuan

Arbitrary Fate

Fierach

The Great Absolute

Glory Sieg

Slash Zinrai

Not Roen

SpiritArcanis

count_zantara

Deus Ex Aizen

Tenkai Matsumoto

[YummyBiscuits]

Hartia Raye Pendragon

>> Empyrae << Throne of the Gold

Naturally, that was the route Hartia wanted to take, much like the one he had taken in turn. Was Hartia learning after all, were the few whispered words during their bout enough to make a difference? He wanted to inspire fear in others, using it as a weapon in of itself, rather than allowing himself to succumb to the otherwise listless emotion, he wanted to crush it under foot for all intents of the word. Ursan found himself falling silent again, wordlessly letting stretches of time spread between the two. It could have been minutes or even hours before he finally let his eye start moving again, before it locked on Hartia with the vivacity that could only be translated as a grimace.

"You owe me enough as is, child." Ursan would say plainly enough.

Ursan remembered how he found the blade, all those years ago, and rubbed at the hardwood beneath his bony fingers plaintively, his eyes and mind aflame with the heated stuff memories were crafted from, and he felt for a long moment as if he were fit to burst with it all. But it subsided into gentle passiveness again, as he recalled pulling the sword out of some forgotten tomb, raiding the deathbed of his so called brothers and sisters, a mass grave nearly a catacomb for it's depth where the smell of time had ceased and it left the air dusty and drier that a woman dead set on menopause, but there was no stopping the Lich, even in those days, and he whispered sweet nothings as he broke apart some nameless Pendragon's death-clenched and bony fist for his prize, which he took in his own bone hand and raised to the air, desecrating the tomb a final time by gallivanting about with his prize when he felt it's dread being possess him in full, long and empty years only strengthening the monster that's fury bubbled within the blade, for after nearly three thousand years alone, oh how it hated to even be touched, for it's metal to be in some manner perverted in use, and that fury was directed towards Ursan in some wave of malevolence that almost took him then.

But no true master of death would fall to such a beast, and like the dragons it would fall beneath his heel, for Ursan's strength was not in spellcasting or the reserves of energy he boasted, nor even the writ of knowledge that was a size only age could explain, but rather it was the ineffable treatise of willpower the Lich owned and controlled, and unlike the dozens who were not fit to handle the blade, Ursan walked from the tomb with it at his side and stood stronger and uncompromised.

He was still, when the sconces were lit again as if that were the intention in it's entirety, and yet so still and like an icon was he in his sitting that Hartia would feel a certain circumspection rise within him, as if indulging him further or speaking would awaken something that was better left sleeping for eons past, but it would easily raise that feeling of apprehension if he were to attempt to retreat down the steepe for it was so that the image itself had become that of unerring stillness, in that disturbing it's lack of movement would thus shatter some power Ursan held over the world. When he finally looked up again, Ursan was taking to his feet, strong arming himself out of the heavy golden cape and letting it fall against the throne in lumps and whorls of folded fabric that seemed to stretch on forever if not cut at the shoulder, and the fur itself seemed alive before Ursan strode past Hartia, down his steps and away from the throne, his bones working and pumping powerfully, before the cane in his hands transfigured with the sound of souls tearing and bones snapping and in a single instant the king would be brandishing a saber fit for dueling, which he would look upon with a mixture of admiration and hatred, a curse and a blessing both and yet belonging to him entirely so that he alone could hold this blade and the creature within which still whispered in his ear from time to time, unerringly reminding him that it would never be gone but one day he would be and how it took great relief in knowing that.

"You'll have your blade." Ursan confirmed with his voice commanding and as firm as ever, that deep sort of strength that was either there or not there in a man's heart, and couldn't be earned or won or inborn, simply there due to presence and power and some ineffable proof of concept.

"Curse and all."

[Tres Ecstuffuan]

The outside of the Ruined Mages Guild

_____The warbling roar of warpfire produced a cacophony of maddening noise. Tres and all his men tore down at the constantly rebuilding mass of Infiltrator troops whom attacked their regrouped formation at the steps of the ruined guild. The tear in reality that gave way to the Immaterial with all of its strange lights and hues that did not exist in the sane mind. They ought to be distracted and perhaps even tainted by the radiation of the all consuming presence of the Warp. Yet the Enforcers whom survived to this point were battle hardened warriors, all champions of the people. Their resolve and moral was bolstered by the gathering of heroes including the missing General Raven Kanzaki, who commanded her men and claimed dominion before the Succubi mother of constructs Hellena. Besides that an Elven Queen Lian Feaorne a gentlewoman of titanic strength stood with them united against this threat. The infiltrators, shaped to match their humanoid forms would be cut down, regrow and be cut down again! The line held at the steps of the mages guild as if by a singular infectious will that had come over the Enforcers. This was the true power of the Main Man.

Powers

World Mind Network


______Tres may tap into his ability to form subconscious telepathic connections with large groups of people to produce unique effects. This network of connections is referred to as a "collective".

United

______When standing against a single threat along with at least three other heroic characters. Tresondros may share the fighting instincts of the heroes with the collective and form a unique group cohesion to produce a group of individuals who fight with uncanny teamwork and battlefield awareness. They all feel a unique sense of bravery, inspiration and trust in their fellow soldier. They each find it easier to focus on the task at hand despite the chaos of the situation. The group may include up to three hundred individuals, plus 100 for every heroic character after three supporting the effort.

Departed

______Fallen comrades who die while a part of the collective, may store their consciousness within the initiate (Tres) of the collective as psychic information. This information can be put to use at a later date to various purposes, including transmission into another vessel.

______It was not a conscious effort on his part, he hadn't realized exactly that he was doing it, only that they were no longer being pushed back. Tres hated Roen for the fell forces he unleashed on them today, not simply the Warp but whatever conspiracy he had come together with Ertai to form. Yet the devil who's clothes had been eradicated by the warp fire spewing from his force blade might have presented the best chance for hope in this hopeless situation against the titanic Artificial God, Ertai Vexic. The amorphous collossus did several things in the moments as Warp fire flooded over it. Massive stalk like protrusions exploded from its form, no doubt for some nefarious end. Tres stepped back to give himself some space with eyes alight with an emerald glow. An Enforcer Private Thomas Brillig stepped in to catch the Infiltrator blow against his ruby shield. The Private was perhaps the youngest Enforcer who still remained, maybe except for the Infiltrator who fought against his own. Tres wondered what it was. Perhaps some flaw in Ertai's nefarious designs? Whatever it was, he could not ponder it save for a cursory thought that was but a whisper in the maelstrom of psychic energy that pulsed in his mind.

_____With crystalline and flesh arms Tres reached out into the space slightly above and in front of him, as if he were catching the something in the air. Massive emerald ectoplasmic panels, hardened with psychic energy popped into the space, forged to stop the monstrous extrusion from ever reaching the walls of the pyramidal force which formed the quarantine for Ertai's disease. Its body had begun to burrow in an attempt no doubt to find an exit to whatever kept them contained. In a roar of warp wrought telekinetic might, Roen upturned the strange material Sigil's ground and clutched the titanic amorphous mass. Tres did not trust the devil, but when he saw an opportunity, Tres took it. Silvery blood ran from Tres's nostrils as he groaned, clearly struggling under some mental strain. A massive blood vessel throbbed at the side of his head as an invisible wind caused his emerald crusted dreadlocks to flutter wildly.

______The Panels that blocked the arms of the colossus expanding out of Roen's telekinetic grip would grow, bend and squeeze inward enveloping the telekinetic contained mass. As he pushed in his hands drew close to his body, squeezing together as if crushing a ball of paper between his crystalline and flesh hand. The panels would come together to ball the Colossus up, hopefully making Roen's job easier.

______Amid the strain of this titanic display of psionic power and the chaos of the battle ensuing around him as his Enforcers covered him, he received a telepathic message from Gloria.

<...I'm a bit busy...>

Tres Ecstuffuan

Arbitrary Fate

Fierach

The Great Absolute

Glory Sieg

Slash Zinrai

Not Roen

SpiritArcanis

count_zantara

Deus Ex Aizen

Tenkai Matsumoto

[Zeonis Mieriba]

Tres Ecstuffuan

AlarminglyCharming

Li the Fox

"Beef steak, medium rare. Also, I would like a glass of water, and a chicken salad please." Zeonis bowed his head towards the server again and leaned over to Al'hara. "Al'hara, I'm sorry to ask, but could you pay for this for me? At the moment I'm broke. I do intend to pay you back."

With that out the way he turned his attention back to the others. "Nice to meet you Li. My name is Zeonis Mieriba, and I'm not from here. I came to Sigil to start over. I figured a fresh start wouldn't be bad, and a change of scenery is never a bad thing either. Hopefully I'll be able to make money and relax here."

[YummyBiscuits]

XxTheVeganVampirexX

Slash Zinrai

So, You wanna learn?

Pretty decent spell for someone untrained, Baba had to admit, but the girl didn't pay attention to a thing; if she was right, she was one of those weird undead who cater to their environment, in this case the hot desert and fire and the like. The old woman gave a hard snap of her fingers as the clouds formed along the back edge of her class, and a small but potent counter-curse shut it right on down, leaving only a hard and stiff feeling in Djadi's fingers, all part of the magic. Baba would raise an eyebrow, giving her one of those hard looks that seemed to say mess up again, won't save ya' girl.

"Alright, I didn't see something from any of you." She explained with a clap, in order to bring the attention back onto her. "What if ya' can't get out of a pickle, n' all ya' got is yer magic?" She asked.

There weren't any hands raised. People didn't want to answer a question wrong in Baba Yaga's class, after all.

"Elementalism isn't all about the offense, chill'un." She would drawl on, slowly enough as is. "You gotta worry 'bout that skin of yours."

With a twist of her hand, a disk-shaped shield right about Baba's height would come into being, shimmery and moving ever so slightly as if it were made of a bright, clean, white silk. She gave another twist of her hand, and it disappeared quickly.

"Y'all are gonna learn the easiest defensive spell today, real simple."

She'd drone on for a few minutes longer, explaining how to collect that little bit of mana required to summon a shield of this sort; it was simple but tough, and only required the bare minimum of willpower in order to bring it about, she'd go on to say, and even folks who didn't have a lick of magical power could learn how to do it with enough time and patience.



Quote:


Elemental Ward
A simple spell that costs a negligible amount of mana, but provides a modicum of defense that leads many elementalists to learning at the very least a permutation of this spell. When summoned, a shimmery shield about the casters height appears rooted at the casting hand. It will offer protection from all four of the main elements for a period of three posts, but sufficient power can breach the shield.



"Give it a try, erryone."

[VeganIncubus]

So, You wanna learn?

arrow Empyrae



Petyr felt a little bit for Djadi. The heat was palpable and then some clouds form and before he could react, they were gone, thanks to Baba. All he did was try to give her a quick smile that did not come off as condescending. It wasn't as though he'd done anything impressive himself to even judge.

The vampire jotted down more notes on the pieces of parchment. As stated before, it was all about knowledge and the theory before practice.
Not wasting time and somewhat knowing what to do with the instructions he'd been given, the boy closed his eyes, and stretching out his hand, he focused as hard as he could to bring the shield into being. He could feel a bit of power surging and manifesting itself, but upon opening his eyes, all he saw was the faintest shimmer, not even remotely enough to form a shield. It disappeared in the blink of an eye.

He took another deep breath and gave it a try, and this time around, the air around him seemed to coalesce into something a bit more corporeal and stronger as he allowed the energy to flow through him, so that for an instant he appeared to be encased in a faint glowing cocoon or bubble of sorts. It wasn't as she'd instructed, but it was his first bit of magic. Petyr was so excited that the cocoon itself began to grow and push some students out of the way before bursting with a faint pop and splashing water over the surrounding area. Petyr blushed and hid his face in his hands.

YummyBiscuits

Slash Zinrai