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Jace Arcanis

Location: The ruins of the mages guild.

Jace sat on the platform he had created above the remnants of the great portal to oblivion. Arcane magic seethed around him, the result of an unfortunate spell failure that had occurred when he had failed to maintain the binding spell he had been erecting. It had latched on to the power that had shaped it, the wyrd, and coiled around it, deep into the place where Jace drew on it. For now, it was gone, his access to his greatest tool tied up in a tight little magical bow he could not untie. Between the loss of the wyrd, and the loss of the Rosharin houses support, Jace was still reeling and it showed as time slipped past him, both in a literal and in a figurative since.

Large quantities of arcane magic did strange things to space and time, and it welled from within him now at a rate he couldnt really grasp. The energy arced around him coiled tightly enough, that you had to be looking directly at him to sense it. Finally he pushed himself up and reached down into his magic expressing will through it and speaking his desire in one of the ancient tongues. The sapphire blue arcane energy flowed like ribbons of power, sinking into the clothing he was wearing.

The clothing transformed a a result, red, deep and sensual in tone blossomed covered with little copper scale disks, forming a scale male vest and hood. The vest was buttoned once near the shoulders. The scales each bore an arcane rune of power. Below, black pants with red accent metals to protect the shins. Down his arms overlapping thin metal plates formed attached to light leather armor. His hands were wrapped in fighters gloves. The transformation continued event to his eyes, his hair, his build. Like being the subject of a polymorph spell.

Long black wild hair fell visible beneath the hood. Dark green eyes cracked with emerald light. A tan, well muscled man replaced the Jace that had been reincarnated. All this before the magic settled even a little. He strode towards the exist walking up the staircase he and his companion had created. A companion that had since departed into the aether as best he could tell. So each step carried him towards the exterior of the guild now collapsed, and thus up to the edge of the pit that the oblivion gate had created.

Few would recognize him by anything but his energy. Still some might see him and know him for who he was.

The Collapsed Mages Guild

_______The old man had been thankful for the arcane staircase that had been created. Yet even so it would have been amazing to think about how such an old and fragile looking human man was able to bypass the likely treacherous ruins of the guild to arrive to deep pit where the portal of oblivion erupted to pierce into the out-lands.

_______When he arrived at that scene however he felt a distinct feeling of -wrongness-, a sensation that had many times in his life preserved his existence against the mad forces of the dark tapestry. Yet he felt it here as well. He couldn't see anything and though he did not look it, he was a high wizard and had a sense for the supernatural when it was about. It was not a sensation describable by words but was best described as abstract certainty...perhaps, faith.

_______Doyle reasoned that it must have been the residual effects of the presence of the Elder God Ertai Vexic. So, driven by his still youthful curiosity, the professor continued. He was thankful to find an Arcane wrought staircase and was thankful that the path going forward would be more simple. However, before he descended down the staircase, the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen in his 79 years standing to his left at the edge of the crater.

_______He was an elderly man but with a surprised glance, the image of the star strewn beauty evoked sensations that Doyle had not felt in years. Elianna took him back to his youthful years at the Miskatonic University at Arkham Massachusetts and his brief but horrifically passionate rendezvous with the Shambleau creatures of old legend. Even in these dire times, with the fell forces of absolute oblivion raking against his old flesh, he was utterly distracted and stunned until she finally jumped down the pit.

________Likely, while the old man was collecting himself. The Polymorphed Jace would finally ascend the staircase and come face to Face with Doyle who was standing at the edge of the crater within the ruins of the mages guild. Doyle did not recognize Jace at first, due to his masterful polymorph self. However, Doyle's knowledge of spellcraft, his history with the occult and his force of will would threaten to pierce the deception. (70%)


((call of cthulhu style, need to roll low to succeed, you can decide to sell for it or not Jace. Either way is fine.))

Ground Zero

TRESONDROS!

_______His name echoed painfully against the walls of his mind. He turned away from Roen, clutching his head and alerting the four men whom accompanied him to some sort of disturbance. As their Chairman took a knee, buckling beneath the desperate painful sensation of Raveena's telepathic cry, the rest of them drew their silvered blades and conjured their ruby shields of light. Tres quickly calmed them down, telling them that it was nothing that they need be concerned about, but that they needed to move quickly because the General was badly injured and called for her commander. Raven vanishing was strange and he knew that likely whatever she had to say would be about why she disappeared at such a crucial time.

_______Eventually Tres and his men would come across another group. To Tres's clear astonishment it was Red.

"Red! By Ioun, you have persevered. I am happy to see that you are alright."

_______Overwhelmed by emotion at seeing his Sister Under Ioun safe he would move forward and attempt to embrace her in a hug. This action was sparked by emotion and irreverent of the ominous words that she spoke before her disappearance and the fact that she placed some sort of blame on him. The four men that followed Tres would stay close by him, as they seemed more aware of their surroundings than him. Behind black visors and helmets they eyed gazed suspiciously at the Kruidian Queen, the "Doctor" who charmed his way through the barricades (not that they are aware of this) and the men whom accompanied them. They were not Enforcers. They did not belong in Ground zero in their opinion.

________If Red did not stop him he would continue on to say;

"but we must hurry, General Kanzaki called out to me, she was badly injured in the battle and I fear for her well being. I feared I was going to lose all three of my sisters on this day, hopefully Doyle has found Gloria."

Jace Arcanis

Location: The ruins of the mages guild.

With: Doyle

What Doyle saw, was no deception, it was as real as the ruin of the once proud guild all around them. The transformation would stick in a way that no disguise ever would. Still Doyle glympsed that at his core, the man he watched was a man he knew. A spell caster certainly, and one he had met before if fairly briefly, at the beginning of this whole uwp farkas. Doyle was looking at a man that had once aspired to be guild leader. Given he perception, he would also since the strong magical bindings on the master mage. It would be difficult to call whether the bindings were the result of one of his own spells, or if they were the result of an action taken upon him.

What was known now, was that Jace walked out of the pit where oblivion had
just spawned. A man last seen at this sight, on the day of his execution a blessed week before this nightmare. Though reincarnation is not a perfect art, it is generally understood that when a new form is chosen, the memories of the old were oft wiped clean. Jace seemed to have found a way to cheat that death, to bring himself back from within a soul prison. Then, to subsequently provide for his own survival, especially under the overall shadow of Ertai Vexic, and his obsession with oblivion.

Jace pressed forward though stepping sideways around the impediment of a man. Whether Doyle had a reason to further stop the master mage, Jace had no way of knowing. But at this point he was ready to wash his hands with the death and destruction wrought by ignorance, and an archetype of magus that bore no inclination to indulging in the wonders of the art. His frustration with the death, chaos and devastation was so profound it seeped into the wild riptide of magic seeping through him. The result would be a cluster of Blue Arcana, a type of flower with long blue stems and darker blue leaves, and a blossom cut through with the blues, and purples and blacks and starlight of the unbound universe. Each flower was kindled, like a flame, drawn out of a lancing strike of arcane power from his aura. Step by step he left a trail, leading into the depths of the pit of oblivion.

It was in Doyle’s hands now, to decide what he would do with the knowledge that this man, was the supposedly executed would be guild master of the mages guild. A man who had however briefly had an affiliation with both the uwp, and the bravot magical library with the hope of making a better world from the down trodden one he had spent so much time on. Now the man seemed in a world of his own not unresponsive, but not particularly prone to heeding the environment around him either.