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

[count_zantara]

The Great Absolute

Destructive Forces

YummyBiscuits

”Slash Zinrai”

Tres Ecstuffuan

Scalar Warfare

Arbitrary Fate

Fierach

Glory Sieg

Fiend the King

SpiritArcanis

Thomas Bravot and Tonro the Bronze

And Company

Ground Zero—Mage Guild

Thomas Bravot and Tonro

Watching the female fall after the body and begin to attend to him, Bravot looked across the crater at Master Mage Jace still there in the sky as he transformed himself and lowered to the edge. As the transformed man began to speak to Jace and Aria, Bravot spoke quietly to his companion the Bronze Dragon Tonro.

”Take the Sorcerous....quietly.”

With a little smirk as he dropped from the lip of the crater, the oily rag falling to be swept away in a updraft, the Great Bronze Dragon began to make his way down the side of the rubble strone debris field, his gray oriental collared jacket billowing with his movement, the strange weapon held in one hand easily. Bounding from one stable position to another, Tonro made his way from shadow position to darker crevasse before finding just the perfect position for his engaugement.

Noticing that the female seemed to be busy trying to revive the Fallen Male, Tonro grinned slightly as he bound the rounded weapon up to his shoulder, bracing it and gave the trigger a half-squeeze allowing the targetting unit to activate. As it tapped into his own partially-artifical eyes, he locked it onto the base of her neck, measuring the diameter of her spine easily enough from how her neck was bent. Flicking the switch over to the less-lethal setting, he began to fire the Cerebral Bore, the almost silent weapon would make a tiny 'putt' sound as compressed gas ejected a three pronged orb from the barrel, shaded a dark greyish silver. The center prong was much shorter than the other two as it unerringly continued to track on the female.

It would be probable clean hit, but Tonro had read the manual well. If the two stabbed correctly into the meat of her neck on either side of her spinal column, the center spike unused in this aspect of the device. The twin prongs would create neuromuscular incapacitation for long enough time for the Bronze to make a move.

Quick and Clean.

But before he squeezed the trigger all the way, the Bronze was interrupted.

"Hold Tonro...She isn't what she appears."

The Librarian said without moving his lips, speaking from his subdermal link in his throat to the comlink in Tonro's ear as he turned over his shoulder to his left his sapphire eyes looking over the shades up at Li, Kali and Hitomi. The female Hitomi obviously had missed the nin in the shadows around her With a little movement of the hand holding his coffee, the nin backed away as she moved to make her way towards the Master Librarian. And he sat there waiting for the woman known as Hitomi to make her way to Thomas.

"Talk with the female. See if we can help with the male. Take them into custody....politely.

With a mental sigh, the diminitive cambodian dragon bit back on a curse, sliding the Cerebral Bore under his left arm and began to make his way down to the two.

You look as if you two could use some help. I am Tonro, the Bronze. The Librarian asks for a word, if you would be so kind."

The Bronze spoke gruffly as he came up beside of Eli staring down at the male she was trying to....save?

[SIash Ex]

[!]Sigil :: The Mage's Guild Ruins[!]
Awake…
[]~O~[]

It spread through him as a warmth, first; quickly shifting to the frigid pinpricks of nerve-endings waking from a slumber, and screaming in that awareness. One-by-one, his senses started to return; allowing Slash to hear an unfamiliar voice.

"You look as if you two could use some help..."

His eyes popped open, and took in the unfamiliar sky; daylight, no trees, high walls...And a face from a dream. The beauty that had stood at the cusp of his earlier vision, and book-ended madness with a sense of peace.

It had been the tranquility of unconsciousness, but that meant little here.

Wherever 'here' was.

More words, and a scent on the wind; something he recognized...even if it was somehow different.

"I am Tonro, the Bronze...."

Confusion mingled with fear, and bred defiance in his heart. The Wanderer could not discern the course of events that had landed him here, but that only meant he didn't need to. It was not in his nature to waste time in pondering...so, he didn't.

"The Librarian asks for a wor..."

Metal hissed upon the compacted ground, leaping back to his bandaged hands; swords answering the call that had governed them for years. Up he rose, with preternatural speed, to brace his 'Angel' against the curve of his right-shoulder; hoisting her into place as both blades rose to defend. If Tonro...this Dragon...chose to utilize his weapon, then it would meet the lash of a blackened scimitar.

Not that he would have much of a window to begin with.

"Hang on!"

Transitioning from stand, to leap, proved more curious than it would at first seem; sparks of static discharging into the crater-floor, and then physically hurling the cloaked swordsman towards the open sky.

Scalar Warfare

count_zantara

[Techpriest Enginseer]

[Sigil, City of Doors - Market Ward - Snowfall Service Office]
The line continued at a snail's pace as each vendor seemed to know Andrew in some way Either through work or outside of the building, each had something 'useful' to say to the man to cause a conversation to trigger. A proper inspection of the line would reveal that it was a bunch of blue collar guys who had that 'down home' mentality, a sign that this MIGHT take a bit..

After 20 minutes finally Fireside, had he been following the queue, would have his named called as Andrew stood behind what looked to be a cart that had a piece of particle board strapped to the surface. He walked out from behind his desk and looked the uncomfortable male over, walking around him as he gave a hearty chuckle. "First time on the job new fish? Heh, that uniform looks ridiculous. Anyways, lets see your pass please."

He held his hand out waiting for the proper paper to hit his palm as he let his foot knock against the bottom box in the dolly stack, a light tap which returned the familiar ting ting of glass knocking together.

The doors up ahead had people coming and going out of them as they walked out with little harassment and into the alley past the line.

Scalar Warfare

[Trexasle]

Mechanical Malfunction

The creature halted in his place once he heard the woman speak, and backed it’s head, almost staring at her indignantly. However, before he could continue, Indeed the villagers caught up with him, and caused the creature to react. He quickly began to sprint off again, going back on it’s fours. He however suddenly realized that he had not time to react. They were going to catch up to him whether he liked it or not. So in effort to try and stop this, the steel creature took the initiative, he dropped the bag and suddenly grabbed a hold of the female. “IF YOU GO NEAR ME THE WOMAN DIES.”


It spoke English, a dead giveaway that whoever was under the armor was not who Lian thought it was. Steel Liger, for what she remembers could never talk, and if it did talk it always spoke robotic monotone. He brought the sharp claws of the suit to her neck, giving her a visible sign of another oddity with the armor. Steel Liger’s claws were a strange beast, they weren’t very sharp but Terrance’s Molecular Manipulation made them able to cut even through the SHARPEST of Metals. These Claws her horribly sharp, touching the cheek of the now childlike Lian.


[******** NOW!” He was directing this more to the two men who was now with the small girl, It seemed that whatever happened to them with their own transformation was enough to get this guy in a panic, Seeing the other man disappear suddenly, and the other transform into a Knight, he was sure something was amiss, this should’ve been easier, this armor was supposed to grant him power and ease of use…WHY WASN’T IT WORKING?

Lian Fearone

Epic Myth

[Li the Fox]

˄Sigil – Rooftop near the Mage's Guild – With Hitomi˄
˂Chasing after Hitomi˃

Despite his poking and prodding, Hitomi was a good sport. His thoughts about heroes and dying never bothered her. On a number of occasions he had called her foolish for simply rushing into things without thought. But she was strong willed and spirited. He could only imagine what she would have done here in Sigil upon her arrival if she were in the right state of mind. Even as he spoke to her, his observant eyes could see her grasping the edge of the building top as if she were about to jump. His inquiry seemed to give him pause though as she stopped, loosening her hold.

“That man,”

The change in her voice and the pause didn't go unnoticed, he wondered what it was about but listened without interruption and turned to the screen she had directed him to. The large display was damaged slightly, he assumed during whatever had happened, yet it displayed the events of the last few hours. At the time, he had been engaged with a few other people in the Nine Swords Tavern, having been lead away from all the action by a beautiful Drow he had met. Alas he had left her side, along with the others, rather abruptly as Hitomi called for him. Now he could see first hand the carnage that had fallen upon the city.

His face was a stoic mask, golden eyes flickering here and there along with the images on the screen, the man Thomas Bravot and a few others showing up here and there. He didn't look away until she mentioned the library.

“Huh....Something like that exists here?” He turned his head, looking about to see if he could perhaps spot the place. “You know...” The brunette was smirking as he began to turn to Hitomi, but the girl was already throwing herself into the air. His eyes narrowed and his tail whipped back and forth annoyed. Her fleeting words were caught by the wind and his vulpine ears, but he was none too pleased to receive them.

Dammit Hitomi... He thought before his form vanished as if it were grainy and blown away by a gust. Li reappeared an instant later, his form materializing like a shimmering mirage as he placed himself on the ground where he figured Hitomi would land, having beat her to the earth.

“Before you do this, tell me more about the library!” The words were shouted up to her descending form, carried on the wind, as she plummeted towards him.

Hitomi Ishida

Tres Ecstuffuan

Count Zantara

[Scalar Warfare]

Sigil, City of Doors - Market Ward - Snowfall Service Office

= The Acquisition =
Infiltrate, Annihilate...

'Travis Gonn' fished about in the pockets of the too-tight shorts, producing the requested paperwork with a grimace, and handed it over. He fidgeted under the gaze of the dockworker, less from nervousness and more from the mocking gaze being directed towards his attire. Fireside, the master mage, would never have allowed himself to be debased like this. But times were different now, and for the sake of the disguise, he bit down the bile that rose in his throat.

"Yeah..." he answered, trying to mimic the colloquial ease with which the others had made conversation. "First day, had to borrow a co-worker's spares until they get me fitted. I dunno what he kept in them... but they're awfully itchy." The 'deliveryman' punctuated this with a vigorous and entirely genuine scratching of his upper arm.

Techpriest Enginseer

[Techpriest Enginseer]

[Sigil, City of Doors - Market Ward - Snowfall Service Office]

Andrew snickered and signed Travis's name into the book on his cart desk and smiled, handing him back the pass. "Well, I guess I can understand that, anyways just head on it. Since this is your first time I should let you know to keep to the right as today is item shipping day, so if you see black crates coming down the hall stand aside and let the gentlemen pass. Otherwise don't be an a** or loud and you should have no issues." Travis reached out and gave the nervous nelly a heavy handed pat on the back and laughed as he walked over to the red door and held it open. "Come on through, just remember what I told you. If I have to kick you out I won't be too pleased on it."

As the door was held open immediately two gentlemen in what looked to be light leather armor and wearing metal pot helms walked by, carrying what looked to be a long wooden crate. They looked as if they were struggling as they slowly continued their march down the hall, heading to the left of the door.

Scalar Warfare

[Scalar Warfare]

Sigil, City of Doors - Market Ward - Snowfall Service Office

= The Acquisition =
Infiltrate, Annihilate...

"To the right? Got it." 'Travis' affirmed, and hefted the makeshift dolly, pushing it inside and into the hall to the right to make room for the incoming crate. The moment he entered, he began to run over the directions from the previous night in his mind... immediate right, down the hall to the T intersection, acknowledging the other workers with a slight nod of the head.

With the light clink of aluminum and glass, he then set off down the hall at a moderate clip. He did not want to arouse suspicion, but also would rather not stay a moment longer than necessary.

Techpriest Enginseer

[YummyBiscuits]

Tres Ecstuffuan

Deus ex Aizen

Red the Ambivalent

The Reader

He pulled away again, when Tres moved and scooped her up in the nick of time - he was quick, and protective, something The Reader could appreciate. Mortals were like that, and he remembered the time when he had felt similar stirrings of emotion, protecting those he was close with had been second nature, as akin to breathing as it was to actually taking action. He bowed away, allowing Tres to pick her up, and adjust her weight against his shoulder. It saved her from having to touch her, at least, and subjecting himself to that burning flare of life. He came closer though, turning the movement seamlessly into an obvious wish to help and then into something more akin to stepping up afterwards, curiously graceful as it all was.

Jean noticed the change in Tres' body language, how it went from something protective to something slightly more animalistic, like a bull protecting his leagues of cows. It was an interesting shift, and Jean was subtle enough to read into that, gentle coaxing his mind out and tasting the emotions running through The Main Man's silver body. Fear, exhaustion, he tasted those immediately, a spice that people put into a hard cider in order to warm themselves in the middle of winter., then underneath something more concrete, disgust, revulsion almost, and respect coloring the normally bitter emotions in a shell that was sour to the touch. The edge of Jean's smile tugged at the right side, and he let out the smallest of giggles, nothing more than a quick sound that escaped him, as easy to him and as natural looking as Tres did in the heat of battle. His reaction to the revelation of Jean's origin was in a way pleasing; Jean understood that many people had a very negative opinion about the undead, and to see Tres' opinion shaped, however slightly, by respect was proof of concept in that what Ursan was doing might just be the right path for their people.

I'll give the old man that much, He thought to himself wryly.

Tres mentioned something about the hospital, and Jean saw it as a good enough chance to learn something about this man. His name was common around Sigil, in other lands even, and as for news Jean had heard of the man, he was the leader of one of Sigil's major factions, beside characters such as Ursan and Bravot, with a multitude of lesser men squabbling beneath them all. A chance to find new information, taste the man's fears and figure his picky little failings, it was something The Reader would be all to happy to accept. He gladly assented, nodding his head quickly enough to translate his interest.

"I can fly. If you give me time to summon a mount, I can join you."

Jean extricated himself swiftly, before Tres had turned towards Astrella and seemingly angered her to the point of outburst. He could feel the tempers flaring between the two, enough so that he almost turned back, but his tact held and he kept at a spot clear of rubble and as much dust as he could see. It took him almost four yards away from Tres and Astrella, but he knew he not only needed the space but he felt that his distance would make Tres at least somewhat more comfortable for the time being. Whispers reached his ear, Queen here, Empress that, something about a husband, enough prompting that Jean did turn his head after stopping, and he looked at Astrella for a long moment, his glacial eyes centered on her for a moment. For that moment, his hunger was obvious in those deep eyes, which went from that glacial depth into something much more abysmal. But it was gone just a second later, only seeping through his glamour just enough to bleed into the visible spectrum, and he was back to that handsome diplomat.

They would be flying, and looking above Tres for a moment, The Reader noticed something coming into existence, psychic metabolites working at crafting something that quickly stabilized into a solid shape before tearing into reality. He was working at something, and Jean shrugged the thought coming to his head away. He needed a clear mind for a summoning.

He drew his sword, a b*****d sword with a decorative hilt in the shape of a cherub's face, smiling wide and with a lustful look to it's young eyes. The silver colored blade rasped against the leather of it's sheath as he pulled it's needle point away and he took a moment to run his finger down it's length, before it caught the light in full and he was forced to turn it away from his eyes. He was quick to press his thumb against the side of the blade, going just under the skin for as many blood vessels as he could sever without causing an extreme amount of damage. Blood would spill freely, dropping to the ground in a quick spurt before Jean dragged it down the flat of the sword, slowly enough it was almost completely covered with his blood, stuff that was more black than blood had any right to be and seemed right out of a storybook. He brought his ruined thumb towards his mouth, and licked the last little bits away, and it was healed by the time he let it drop over the Cupid's face, words of power already parting his bloodied lips, the strength inherent to the words enough that the skin on his lips peeled and Jean would feel an unwelcome warmth wash around inside his throat.

The blood covering the blade bubbled obscenely, rising tendrils of the steaming stuff that evaporated into the dull and dusty air before adding it's power to the spell, and a quick gust of smoke billowed from his mouth along with it. It was hardly a few heartbeats later that the blood was gone, leaving the blade clean and shining enough that he could push it back into it's sheath. With mental will alone, he was somehow unperturbed by the sudden gout of flame in his mouth, just as quickly gone as it had appeared, he shaped the magic that had begun to clog the air in the little space; he felt it pulsing around him, and he could see how it danced through the air and around his feet like dancing little currents in the ocean, one moment allowing him to see through the mass clearly and the next making it darker than the deepest trench. He breathed it in, feeling it's music thrum through his bones and into his still heart, he tasted it as he let the breath out and added his own silvery notes to the music he alone could hear for that moment in time, lasting eons while being nothing more than a passing second as his hand rose, and he pushed it away from his body and towards the ground. There was hardly time to mourn the music going away - gods, it was beautiful - before the summoning began to take shape.

[Techpriest Enginseer]

[Sigil, City of Doors - Market Ward - Snowfall Service Office]

Coming from the dock area which was well lit thanks to the open doors was quite the change.

For starters, embedded in the drop tile ceiling every six tiles was a large orb which radiated light. The light it put out was quite bright and did a great job... except about every third one was out of service. The ceiling tiles were a drab light grey with little specks taken out of it for ~3D Effect~. Every so often a tile was missing, showing the emptiness above. An occasional pipe running along the ceiling could be seen, but ultimately it was empty. The walls were painted a stunning antique white, crafted from the finest cinder blocks which gave the hall a 'school' feel to it. The floors were simple concrete covered in what looked to be some kind of cheap, thin carpet with little padding underneath it.

Upon arriving to the T intersection another guy could be spotted to the left, sitting on top of a smaller crate of similar make and build as before. He was holding his back with a pained look on his face, while an older female with long grey hair and a build that could only be described as discarded big league chew wadded in flower print fabric stood over him.

"Ohhh you poor thing, you should of used a dolly to get that to the dock. What is in there anyways that makes it so heavy you threw your back out?!" She said as she put helped rub one of his shoulders, quite poorly.

"These damn magic boots made of iron that do something probably mundane and stupid. Also some hat that changes your looks around. The boots though are reeaaalllyy heavy." He winced as her fingers worked on his muscles as if it was a crab trying to pinch a brick to death.

"Well, use a dolly like this gentleman does, and you can get it there. Actually, lets ask him for help. Sir, sir!" She called out to the delivery boy magus and beckoned him over to them, a mere 6 feet away. Truly, office drones were terrible with people.

Scalar Warfare

[Betty Beelzeboop]

Lovi had to consider the concept of happiness for a moment. It was something all people of this modern realm seemed to yearn for. They pursued it relentlessly, as though the slightest hint of joy would extend their soul beyond oblivion. Maybe they were right. Even so, there was an often overlooked value to fear and suffering. Few people truly deserve to suffer, but fewer still are people who may grow in virtue without it.

"I don't need you to make me happy," she said quite plainly, though she meant no harm by it. "I would never place the burden of my happiness on your shoulders, Tres. I care about you too much to assume that you exist to fulfill my wishes, however well meant they would seem." Lovi was not not made shy by his wavering gaze. She met him head on and stood with a kind of confidence that almost mimicked his former self. "Neither should you presume to need me. Time has proven well enough that I will come and go as I please, and you persist through the interim." There was a brief pause. An knot formed in her chest as she searched his eyes for the strength that hid behind them.

"You act as though we're two minerals fused by the heat and pressure of eons; that if one of us breaks in the wrong way the other might, too. Really, we're just dull river stones independently waiting to be swept up by the current." She smiled faintly, but sincerely, "Even so, I'd sooner face oblivion having known you briefly than never at all. The people are not ignorant of what happens around them. They, too, will come and go as they please. If they follow you into the void despite their fears, it's because they've lived already."

[Flakkky]

The Thug Warriors

TRANSFORMED~!

Tyrone Tyson the Boston Ninja (Visible)
&
Frankie Jack Washington the L.A. Knight (Ethereal Item Summoned)

Market Ward... is in a frenzy!

Frankie Jack Washington felt anguished.

The girl disobeyed him, walked in front of the menacing metal monster and was snatched while he stood there like an idiot and watched. His first initial instinct was to run forward and deck the metal feline in the face, but his legs wouldn't move. He was petrified. Impaired from the waist down, he stood, trembling, with his hands balled so hard that the inside of his palms were white. Never before he imagined himself in a situation like this, where he had something to lose that wasn't his exactly—a girl he just met. But he saw too much of his little daughter in the claws of that beast, perhaps not exactly alike, but the feeling in his chest thumped the same.

No little girl was going to get hurt on his watch, and with that mentality pushed to the forefront of his mind, he instantly relaxed, but he remained attentive. In doing so, he recalled a few episodes from the Earth show 'Cops,' and some of his run-in with the law, where police officers tried to negotiate.

[******** me, I'm gonna act like a cop, Frankie thought. But what choice did he have?

“Look, sir, the girl has nothing to do with this," Frankie said while he stretched out his hand and looked eye to eye with the metal beast. “Nobody's gonna hurt you... okay. I'dunno what you did to piss those people off, but if it has anything to do with that bag, then let them have it back. I'm not gonna stop you from running off and they aren't either. They just want what's theirs and I just want the girl.”

Frankie shuffled his metal boots closer. He stretched out his hand for Twiggy but he kept his eyes centered on the metal beast.

“I'm not goin' to hurt ya. I'm just a random dude walkin' by. We'll get out of your way.”

It didn't help that by then, the surging mob would have surrounded them and their hostility wasn't going to go away so easily. Frankie tried to ignore them. Beads of sweat rolled down his brow and his heart bumped at an accelerated rate. He just wanted to get the girl back.

And then some invisible force threw the bag of gold into the air and spilled its riches everywhere.

The immediate area was showered by gold coins, most of which would have clanked and clicked off the metal feline's armor.

The crowd went into a frenzy.

It was enough of a distraction for someone—who moved like the wind blew—to sneak into the metal feline's blind side. It was Tyrone, visible now, and in his hand was a hook tied to a rope. He tossed it and snatched at the elbow joint between the metal plates of the feline's arm. He aimed for the arm that had its claws close to Twiggy's face so he could peal it away with a tug.

“FRANKIE!” Tyrone yelled.

Frankie bolted. He pushed his right hand forward and something fantastic occurred. Magical, purple energy swirled around his hand before it shaped itself into a short ethereal sword. At first he was going to grab Twiggy.

Instead, he aimed the sword at the feline's shoulder. The shoulder attached to the arm holding Twiggy. His other hand would try to snatch the girl away from its clutches.

“I don't know what the ******** I'm doing!” Frankie screamed as he charged.

“I don't either!” Tyrone yelled back as he pulled with all his might to keep the offending arm from clawing at Frankie or Twiggy.

And all around them the mob dove onto the scattered gold coins.

Pandemonium.

Lian Feaorne

Trexasle

[Lian Feaorne]

arrow The Market Ward

Lian/Twiggy was trying to get the guy in the suit to calm down and at least ditch it...but no. This guy was in such a high adrenaline rush and had such a fear of what they would do to him if they caught him that now it turned into a hostage situation...which she was a hostage. Somehow this was like deja vu all over again. Something about a princess being in another tower or something another...either way...She inhaled sharply when she was swiped up and felt the hot metal press against her cheek. Biting it wouldn't do any good since it wasn't flesh...but she had taken the Steel Liger down before but then again she was about two feet or more taller. Lian looked to Frankie and searched around for Tyrone. Dammit this was the worst...Was she older and stronger, this guy wouldn't stand a freaking chance!

Ancient badass warrior woman now reduced to being a child in a hostage situation. It was enough to make her blood boil. She leaned her head back, moving away from the claws with her head pressed up against the metal. Frankie inched closer and if she could shake her head without getting a claw through the skull then she would have told him to keep back...Man this kid thing was bullshit. When Frankie started to make for her, she started kicking her legs. "WAIT! Stop! You don't know what this thing can do!"She shouted, bringing her hand up to the claw and slicing her hand with a hiss.

Lian moved her head as much as she could, looking up to the head of the beast. "You need to say the transformation code! Say: Steel Liger Power Activate and spin like a helicopter!"She said, trying to see if she could at least dupe him into letting go or at least, getting caught. She could feel her hands and face sting.

Epic Myth

Trexasle

[Trexasle]

Slash Zinrai

/quote]

Name: Leontias Métaliene

When Leon’s first heard the man step in, he only slightly tilted his head. There was something about him that pissed him off the instant he heard him. He seemed so sure of himself, like he could simply just come into the place and take whatever he wanted, and it seemed for a while he got that wish. Leon clicked his tongue to the side as the man begun to play and, To be honest he was amazing, The way he drew a crowd and the way he proceeded to just take control. There was something unnatural about his ability, then again Leon could equally say the same for himself. However, this caused quite the odd Phenomenon. Leon himself has never felt anger toward earthings it was either discomfort or pure disinterest. However, Today for the first time, His blood proceeded to stir. And not just for the scent of adventure, but off the pure adrenaline of playing his instrument.


Leon said nothing, he barely did much talking and action was the only thing that mattered to him, He slid his hands across the frets again, a screech echoed from the guitar before he played again. At that moment Jack Might notice something about the alien Guitarist. He was playing Notes, but they weren’t exactly music, Well of course they sounded like music, but something about it lacked something, It lacked the humanity of a normal earthling Guitar player. His Skill was well above the person he was playing against, but something just seemed so untouchable about his instrumentation, his skill was unmatched sure, but he simply lacked passion, It seemed he was more doing it for duty than anything else.

[YummyBiscuits]

Hartia Raye Pendragon

gay pirate cziri

>> Empyrae << Snake Room

There it was, Hartia was beginning to understand - the nuances of the art would escape him for some time yet, the fine motor skills required to work with Negative Energy never came easily to the living, and unless the trait was inborn it was rare to see a mortal holding such power in their hands. But here, Hartia was proving himself capable, in so much that eventually he might have a modicum of skill in necromancy, which was as much as Ursan could ever ask for. He nodded slowly, patting Hartia on the shoulder again and signalling for the man to step away from the table.

"I couldn't expect anything more. Very good, Pendragon, very good."

Hartia went far enough to apologize, words that he didn't truly expect to fall from those proud lips. The last bits of his presence in Hartia's mind told him what he needed to know; he had doubted the aged Lich, doubted his knowledge before and probably would again, but he had learned that in this space, in the fields of magic, Ursan was the best source of information he'd ever find. He was sorry to have doubted that much. It pleased Ursan somewhat, knowing that the prideful Cambion did know humility, at least in the presence of his King.

He let it slide however, with another curt nod before he drew closer to the table again, pressing against the pliant skin of the dhampir's arm for a moment, as if testing for the life underneath of it by noting but mere touch and some extraordinary extra sense.

"Hartia." He whispered, pulling the Cambion's attention back to him with a stern tone. "What I'm about to do would be considered evil by many. It is an evil thing. If you wish to leave the room, do so."

He'd give Hartia enough time to leave the room, but was otherwise silent in the way that only the dead were silent; not a single breath would escape this man, not a single acknowledgement of Hartia's voice if he rose up or took action. Hartia would have questions, burning questions - he knew that Ursan was an evil man, a cruel man at times, all Liches were by their very definition malignant creatures. Would it surprise the Cambion, nevertheless, to have it shoved into his face and put into plain view; he could see the magic this Lich used, he could smell the death that hung around him, he could eventually pick out every little nuance about Ursan as a concept but that wouldn't ever label him as absolutely evil unless it was pushed into Hartia's field of view plainly and in simple language.

He could only guess at Hartia's reaction, if he'd step forwards and shove the Lich aside, or if he'd simply refuse to give notice that Ursan was one of those evil men who were impossible to see in any other light and if so if Hartia would just walk from the room in a huff.

And then he began.

Ursan's hand hovered over Ingri's chest, where through that faint distance, he could feel the veil of life that surrounded this half-dead woman in such a way that a lover could feel the subtle beating of their partner's heart through close contact or intercourse, and it was with that general sense that Ursan would push down and apply pressure to the air just above Ingri's heart. It seemed stuck in air for a moment, as if he had suddenly been stuck solid against a plane of some invisible material that dared bare it's fangs at the Lich King and it refused for a moment to give way, refusing access to some inner corner of this woman which he was all to willing to dispatch with a quick movement of his fingers.

Then, before their eyes, his hand darted down like a viper striking it's prey, and amazingly, sunk right through the silk robe, and into her chest as if either one of them had become incorporeal, the silk bunching around his wrist and somehow bereft of blood. He didn't root around in viscera and push his way through the walls of her heart, he went for something not so concrete, something beyond the scope of reality. He slunk around in the stuff of the Dhampir's spirit, the thick and cloying perfume of her soul, and took a hold of it with a grip that was so akin to iron that it was hardly any different. The magic surrounding Ursan was so thick that it made the air around him hazy, and finally, with a direct line to her soul, he could read her deepest thoughts and feel the essence of her being - and he wasn't surprised by what he found.

With a sound like ripping fabric, Ursan would pull his hand out, his black fingers wrapped around a shining diamond that glowed from somewhere deep in it's flawless depths, the energy of the stone obvious in it's cadence. He looked at the gemstone for a long moment, even as Ingri began to stir beneath him in part due to his actions and her healing. The human soul was a powerful thing, it's energy and vitality nearly unmatched in the scheme of magical potential and the energy it could give under pressure; like the diamond this piece of Ingri's soul had conceptualized, pressure was the key. And he held it in his hand, looking at the little facets and the way they caught the candle light only to refract it like a surgeon's spot light. He whispered a word of power that slunk it's way between his teeth and burned at listening ears with it's strength, a single harsh syllable that was just as if not more than inhuman as the very action Ursan had taken to ensure some measure of loyalty, and with that word, Ursan planted something in the missing hole of the woman's soul, a prerogative and desire, something that would apply a little bit of pressure right where it needed to go.

"Wake up." He ordered suddenly, his voice booming between him to Ingri's head like a red hot lance. He would see to it, simply through the pressure he had placed, that every little order he gave she would answer in kind, and his magic would snap around her head like a vice, nearly impossible to escape from.

"Now." He whispered, pressing down on the gemstone before it disappeared in a flash of light, off for some dark storage where it'd be safe.