Post by Dirge on Mar 10, 2020 1:45:09 GMT
Challenge: Law & The Red Magister VS Quise & Spark
Style: T1 (Level 5+, no limit. )
Guidelines: aetherastate.boards.net/thread/290/compendium-based-combat-knowledge-guide || Core rules.
Time Limit: Standard - 7 days.
Additional Notes: Introduction post will come within 24 hours thanks for waiting.
Compendium of Turn-Based Combat Knowledge - TBC Guide | Aethera State
Law Introduction
[ I. Ab Aeterno ]
Years ago The Eternals stood on the precipice of infinity within the astral plane overlooking the growth of universes not their own. Today?
Well...the humor wasn’t lost on him…
Universal armor effervesced, bursting into motes of golden ethereal radiation dissipating into the astral plane. At a glance The God Dragon was pristine, not a mark upon the flesh that was once kissed by the sun. Rumbling underneath his psyche was the volcanic convexion of both weight and substance that had begun to trouble him, enough so that a proportionately brighter light burned within his prismatic eyes. Ignited like cauldrons, ethereal energies flowed through the leylines of his body, The Xerxes Artifice, while his draconic spirit continued to rest beneath The Polydimensional Seals and The True Seal. Such a misunderstood power could only bring ruin. All of what he had grown to learn, and his newly attained power from both Tizon and Bahamut would be more than enough to deal with the acts of the future foretold by The Apocrypha of Yzark.
The God Dragon himself was seven feet and eight inches tall, a giant when compared to most throughout the omniverse designated as a “human”: which was fitting considering that he wasn’t human in any way. While his father was Bahamut, The Dawn Wyrm, his mother was the Queen of Eogazurd, born of the Yefrem bloodline belonging to The Golden Tribe. This gave him physical parameters that weren’t in any way comparable to what almost any universe would consider “human” or within the realm of their capability. His feats in virtually any measurement of physical potential is absurd, but the hyperdensity of his bones, muscle, and internal organs (arranged differently than a human beings, marginally) is what would often become important. Palpable subatomic particles and ethereal radiation groomed his solar hair while his prismatic eyes like the void consumed by an iridescent stardust; stared out at the monolith.
On that eve of battle Adell Illiandes Laemington wore what he was known for: a black suit and matching lacquered dress shoes. A shimmering golden watch to match on his left wrist, and minute variances of formal wear expression (like his sapphire studded cuffs) aside, there was nothing special about the old man who arrived. Along the sides of his head are intricate symbology similar to the signeturgy embedded in subatomic dialect along the material of his clothing, and they’re accentuated by his golden hair towering heavenward above his apathetic facade.
Adell and Vincent Fiorelli stood side by side, staring at the beacon of both aether and nether resonance glowing with forbidden fervor. It was one of the many beacons that simply “appeared” within the astral plane and didn’t appear to serve any distinct purpose outside of dense fusion of aether and nether.
“I’m going to burn that book.”
“Can you never be patient?”
“Today is special Vinni’ boy…”
The God Dragon didn’t have much left to say. Any armaments he could potentially summon remained locked behind The Maldieter Ceti, and at a glance there was no abnormal energy or radiation coming from Adell. Aside from his almost impossible muscular density and remarkable looks, he seemed relatively average if not slightly intimidating.
Champions, kings, “heroes”— each stood to weave their own legend with an implacable hunger. Dreams of men and God alike...Adell was nothing like them, not anymore. Life had become far more simple.
“Let’s be done with this then.”
Vincent Introduction
While Adell was a veritable creature born from legendary world destroyers, with the power to forge his own fate from the very beginning of his creation, the Red Magister was the opposite. Merely the byproduct of the union of a haughty demon with delusions of grandeur and a regular human woman, Vincent Fiorelli's destiny was to become a pawn to his biological father, a mere soldier following orders wherever he went, without a will of his own. It was only through tapping unto his latent humanity, through witnessing all the atrocities the horrific demon committed time and again, and through the sacrifice of his mother, that he had been able to break free from his father's grasp. From the lowest standing amongst entities in the Multiverse, the Red Magister had trained, researched, and honed his physical and spiritual vessels with reckless abandon, until he had finally carved a legacy for himself amongst the vast sea of stars.
The God Dragon and himself did share one thing, however; an exceptional bloodline. While Adell belonged to the Yefrem bloodline, Vincent was modeled after a perfect soldier, much like every other pawn of the demon, which allowed him to grow exponentially throughout the years. Conferred with mastery over the four primordial elements and allowed access to sub-elements as well as being granted minor shapeshifting abilities, the Red Magister could modify his genetic makeup and anatomy as necessary. Biological processes had shifted through the years along with his physical vessel, and through careful modification of his genetic material on top of countless hours of training, research, and a hefty amount of battles, he had become a force to be reckoned with. It was unfortunate that half his power had been forcibly halved due to his demonic heritage - the everliving corruption within the deepest recesses of his soul - having grown a personality of its own. It eventually broke free from the seals it was trapped behind, becoming an antithesis to the Red Magister, and a full entity of its own.
Vincent's recent forays on Tizon had enabled him to regain a portion of that power, and though he certainly wouldn't be back in top shape until the inevitable encounter with his counterpart, his mind remained as sharp as ever and his knowledge completely unmarred. After all, those who managed to survive the horrors of war weren't those who struck the hardest, but those whose strategies enabled overwhelming victories. Numbers meant absolutely nothing in the Multiverse, as the both of them were veritable one-man armies.
"Special? To me, it looks like another Tuesday night... And I'm not even sure if it actually counts as night, given where we are."
The carefree quips of the Red Magister echoed through the air until they finally dissipated into nothingness. Crimson-clad digits pat the flaps of his attire to shake off any excess aetherial dust from them, with the buckles of the belts and straps fastened upon his arms and legs producing the soothing clink of metal. Certainly, it was deceptive to the senses, for each and every bit of the Red Magister's ensemble had been crafted out of Fiorellite, a singular material Vincent had alchemized after countless years of research in the depths of his tower's chambers. This particular material could assume the shape the wielder desired, molding to an innumerable amount of attires, with its elastic properties allowing it to fit any and all creatures. On top of that, the exceptional defensive properties it displayed allowed it to withstand tremendous amounts of heat, force, and cold, and it could harden or soften at will to distribute copious amounts of impact force. The Red Magister was always wearing his particular Set of the Shadow Queen, though all of its features were commonly disabled until he actually needed to access them, something that hadn't occurred since the set's creation.
The fabric of his ensemble clung to his body like a second skin of sorts, exposing his frail-looking yet oddly chiseled upper body, though flared out from the waist down in a pair of flaps similar to those of a coat. A pair of dark red leather pants fastened by a black leather belt with a golden buckle and layered leather battle boots topped off his attire. Silver locks cascaded down his shoulders, shimmering iridescently beneath the coruscating glows of the astral and umbral signatures in the vicinity, a testament to the amount of magic and supernatural sources of energy coursing throughout his veins at this point in time.
At this juncture, Adell stood beside him, though a particular scroll floated next to his opposite side. It was a worn piece of papyrus leaking golden luminescence, which reflected off of the polished, engraved, wooden scroll rods. This was a memento of his tenure at the Isamahii Gardens, acquired only after defeating his original teacher within the organization. Sohjin Kasake had put up a good fight, but the Red Magister had grown by leaps and bounds, and before he knew it, he was holding the legacy of the Gardens, along with its assortment of legendary weapons. Perhaps, if Lady Luck smiled down on the pair, Vincent would be able to return to his roots for once, employing his ancient style of elemental mastery coupled with unmatched swordsmanship.
Alas, this was something that merely drifted within the Fiorelli's mind, but why else would he bring the scroll without plans to employ it?
Quise Introduction
PRERERELIKIJAL OR ETERNAL? TIME TO DIE!
LUGUBRIOUS LUXURY-
Starring: ———————- Elesnar, The Wykked.
Guest Starring: Ecoythe, Binx.
Setting: Some Astral jawn that I’m gonna double prep in.
Duration: 7 days.
Tier: The highest. Triple prep.
Draped in the deep. A terrible aroma escaped from his maw. A flicker between realities exposed the landmark he used as a bridge; grasping many dimensions, enforcing the presence of his will, his magyk, his LAW. His appearance truly otherworldly, reach long enough to box y@weh. His slender appearance, truly an abnormal sight he was nothing but a monstrumn. Still had been the wind, but flowing--with the overdramatic skill of Fei did the cloak flail within the nonexistent breeze. His features were hidden by the cowl, as the magykal monstrosity stood proud, a stain of umbra at his rear.
I miss R@yne. I miss the R@in. Long live my reign.
This celestial pocket had been afflicted with a mark. A signature that translated to She'ol. To damnation. Pardon that..SALVATION! Arm's shot up to the sky, as if these lengthy appendages sought to embrace the heaven's. The sleeve on his left hand exposing a charred tone, as daark as the cosmos. A limb imbued with magyk, giving the Wykked the ability to raw cast spells with a signature DESTRUCTIVE force.
The Elesnar had an anatomy rich with arcane artes, many that passively enhanced him into the cre@tor that he is today, others were short term bursts of power that he used in conjunction with his supreme evasive prowess.His other hand wielded his phantom limb. A branch from a tree of wonders; his conductor in this empyrean encore. The biosphere of this celestial deity demanded a lullaby. The setting was spectacular in the terms of battle grounds for him.An Astral wrealm for him to dominate, for his tower of woe to elevate from. What a waste. His cloak distorted the power to witness him. Many camera's failed to pick up anything other than static, denying the right on many spectrums, something that made it difficult for all Of The Choir to be witnessed! Providing a short term precision on techniques that would hone in one one’s being, or mystical techniques that allowed one to remotely view them, forcing one to put a greater effort in their visual blessings. They would witness naught. They would inherit naught.
I really miss R@yne.
Sloppy, had been the illustration upon this page. A sense of want powered the Elesnar, as the silent wisps of his wrealm laid in want. An eternal illustration had been conjured by his digits. His pose would be eternal in this story, as he viewed and acted on multiple dimensions. This moment. Drawn with no hue. Framed within the wrealm that was his mind, and stored instantaneously within one of his many shelves. flicker through the layers of life brought forth something familiar. Binx. The feline strutting along his desk, infiltrating his personal domain. “Oh, sissy boy. Writing instead of dying?” Persistent had been the annoyance that the pussy could deliver. To interrupt his thought process? THE AUDACITY!! This had been a summary of their relationship. Back and forth. Insult after insult. Such a burden, like all pussy….ya feel me?
Does anyone know where R@yne is? Tell her Wytch needs that Bytch.
The layers of his perception united to focus on this plane. A magenta aura blocked by the power of the cowl, as his afflicted limb reacted to the emergence, mixing it's properties into what would've just been a simple spell. Rhythm escaped chapped lips, the humming a fuel for this performance. Fist grasping naught, slowly pulling down as the entire foundation trembled violently. Those who could perceive dimensions would view this spectacle a few times over.
B@bel on. The landmark. The bridge. The Pandimensional anomaly. Emerging from its previous position, and forming atop of the building Wykked stood on. It's emergence rising him into a higher sphere in this celestial dreamscape . Constructed by woe, it's walls insulated by dread. A million screams flooded this plane. Pleas, violent tears of eternal agony drowned the canals of all who could witness. While he was unaware of the opposition, it doesn't mean the undread wasn't prepared for them. The eye imbued with @ll slowly opened. Look out into the dimension for any signs of life. His elevation had been just a means of allowing his kin and traditions to merge this plane with the various ones he has encountered. The towers surpassed the burning spires present by two mortal stories, and with its emergence did the stain of umbra that flanked him expand before dwarfing into forward and rear reflection of this unholy vessel. “Welcome. This plane should serve well as a means to nourish you.”
Spark Introduction
BLESSED MONOGAMY TO THE ETERNAL.
A STICKY BLIGHT ON THE CANVAS OF AETHER.
Writhing in the abyss; where it thrived and lingered like a pungent disease. Breath hitching with every supernal gesture of the conductor—euphoria running amok within a profane vessel of breeding roaches, elongated centipedes, dirt and slimy black ooze. Empty eyes that mirrored an empty cosmos with deadlights swarming about a triangular epicenter. Sickly pale skin and stringy raven locks matted to oily flesh. She was called forth from the bowels of an intimate yfel. A dastardly existence only rivaled by the perpetual palace of knowledge that was her master’s mind. Her posture was proper with hands splayed religiously at her sides, palms down as if resting on a phantasmal surface. Even her figure was a mirage, a murky veil that held back unprecedented horrors and damped sensory organs from peeking at her cursed existence without effort.
The shadow that was used as a conduit for her birth into this Astral Plane was sucked into her and worn as a cloak that barely held her filthy curves from view. It was a mix between fabric and some ebony quiddity. It was hooded, at least but did nothing to hide the malevolent glow of the deadlights that replaced her pupils. It was this cloak that bound the two to one another, they spoke the same eldritch tongue and the cloak made their quintessence swirl beautifully around one another. Those of the kult always engaged in a riveting symphony. Their connection was no different.
The tearful woes of the damned and tortured followed a beat in her metaphorical awakening. A rhythmic thumping. A thunderous beat that reflected her dark-core beating like that of a rotten heart. And soon screams of terror merged into one, voluminous horn; an alarm to all who sought the sky for power and worship. And it was the sky that was pulled from if it wasn’t their patronage. It sounded for miles upon miles in every direction. Possibly from their connection to it or perhaps, it was a subconscious reaction pulled from the subconscious of the meat suit she wore. One of many defense mechanisms the body both mentally and physically exerted as a result of a foreign power burrowing itself deep within its biological roots. It was tearing at the seams. Howbeit, the Ec0thy3 was less definitive than her composer. Her physiology was riddled with the voyd’s plague and possessed surreal physical and arcane abilities. Enough to be able to swallow worlds and desecrate deities within that of a loosely held together “vessel”. Howbeit, it wasn’t without its own defensive and offensive blessings; magical sequences were carved inside the flesh, chipped into bone. Throat silenced by a sacrificial hexbag. Which further bolstered the unfathomable fury’s connection to her marionette.
This place was filled with echoes. Both corporeal and incorporeal, they ebbed from the boundless tides of archaic energies that swept the plane. She tasted every flavor on her tongue like Benadryl to an eight-year-old. She was thoroughly disgusted, and her head gently canted in the direction of two anomalies. She took a single step and was halted. Her head violently jerked back to the man behind her. She had forgot about their tether for a moment. Eyes rolled back into her skull and a series of annoyed, animalistic sounds spilled from her gullet. The "feminine" figure lowered to an Asian squat instead and her index finger began to draw a circle in the foundation they lingered atop of. It was wide, approximately twenty-four inches in diameter but she drew it very sluggishly, stuttering in her movements as if even basic motor skills were unable to be done properly. She further traced it several times after its initial shape, using the only nail that hadn’t been ripped off or split in two to carve its way into the tower. The blood that would’ve gushed outwards like puss was instead soaked into the shape. The tower and her craft were hungry, but she didn’t have an immortal want like the composer did. Her sin was I R A and so it would remain until the Ec0thy3 fulfilled her destiny and returned to THE SELF’S mind; perpetually resting in the shadows of babel. Though most of the skin suit’s functions had been diluted and swallowed by the sentient horror. It seemed that she could at least hear as her other hand tapped along to the violent beat of conduit drums. The fuel to It’s performance.
Law Post 1
[ II. The Maldieter Ceti ]
The Astral Plane was a forlorn realm that sought to capture the esoteric, celestial, and mysterious energies running parallel to the other planes various planes such as the Material. For many it was the source of their miracles, others a cauldron of their universe’s chaotic energies— in was the Alpha and Omega of most supernatural phenomena and the basis of arcane energy within the multiverse, atleast, that was the peer-reviewed hypothesis proposed by Tonelcius Maxima of The Magisterium. Limitless, like all other planes demi or not, it was enough to suspect that immaterial abominations from any and all religions and faiths would be there, isolated by the endless conduits of varying radiation and energy wavelengths coalescing haphazardly and creating an atmosphere of palpable pressure capable of burning and crushing any without preparation of the metaphysical plane’s unpredictable nature. The moment that the isolated anomalies began to manifest themselves, The God Dragon rationalized his crude humor. There was no technique not yet seen, no combination of miscellaneous racial features he had not encountered or steeled his battle regimine for, his dogmatic focus on the battlefield in the millions of years he had now transversed had paid off. The road not thought to exist had long since opened itself up to him. A faint smirk could be seen on his thick lips, and a slight furrow of his sable eyebrows cut like a monkey’s.
It didn’t matter what metaphysical means his enemies had to distort their parameters. If they were in the world of the material it would have taken a lot more focus, but being in The Astral Plane benefitted the cosmic serpent born from the egg of the Mother Fabrolias. Not only did this allow him to observe the mark that blighted the realm as the will encroached on the dimension, carving through the thick flesh of the world’s boundary into existence. Unfortunately for his wicked enemy however, he made careful calculations about their entrance and had already gathered what information was necessary.
Yangan [The Soul Eye] took care of Adell’s observational means, his draconic brain churning with the processing speed of a multifarious hyper computer, every manner of nuance picked up over his fourty-eight conventional and non-conventional senses were compiled into information and gave him an above average understanding of their adversaries. Even with a cloak, likely possessing several supernatural means to blockade him, they weren’t a match to prevent every single sensory ability that the dragon was in possession of, crossing several planes and several means (mostly biology related). While he couldn’t directly ascertain what each of his arms could or would do, he was able to break down the enigmatic energy and begin hypothesizing about their aim.
Fortunately the person who accompanied them, their fated enemy who was a convergence of woe and terror wasn’t exempt. Veil’s are made to be lifted. There was no absolute immunity or exemption to any of the astral, arcane, supernatural amalgamations that manifested throughout the multiverse. Having dealt with several ambiguous entities allowed his biology to literally evolve. When conflicted with something that he couldn’t detect with any of the senses that he had already manifested, his draconic cells were capable of manifesting the necessary means of detection on whatever plane was necessary to perceive. This meant a multitude of things for his mysterious enemies, but it was more meaningful to The God Dragon himself who was determined to once again thwart the prophecy foretold by The Apocrypha of Yzark.
While contentious, arcane manifestations began to infect The Astral Plane around The God Dragon and The Red Magister, the two had already begun their own simultaneous reactions. Of course, Adell Illiandes Laemington had zero intention of interrupting them as they made their entrances, but not even a millisecond thereafter, directly after Ec0thy3 metaphorical awakening, a tumultuous explosion suddenly collapsed on them, smothering everything within fourty meters (radius) of them both. A lance of gold penetrating the layers of The Astral Plane, the incorporeal tethers focused themselves as the vaporized the ambient radiation and energies circumventing the chaotic world around them into coruscating motes of etheric harmony that glittered immutably. Beneath the ultra dense, practically instantaneous manifestation of incandescent, coalescing energies waves, stood The God Dragon. In the epicenter, he was the axis by which the pillar stretched into the sky endlessly, and into the world below, penetrating the layers of The Astral Plane beneath them and fracturing the foundation for which they stood on. The prismatic cracks manifested themselves slowly under Adell’s heel, cracking in each and every direction outward as if reality itself was carefully forged rainbow glass.
While The God Dragon exposed a sliver of his true presence, the flickering scales of fire and gold singing the leylines within the realm and galvanizing The Xerxes Artifice by presence alone. Adell had long since separated his faculties,mind, body, spirit, and breath (philosophy), which not only made them individually stronger than they had been together, but allowed him to avoid corruption of one’s state to the other. The Xerxes Artifice’s power came not from directly interfacing with the erupting etheric force, but from the carefully leaking power of The Polydimensional Seals that had begun to lose their effectiveness since their time on Tizon.
Meanwhile, one of his opponents may have been expecting him to “hear” them in The Astral Plane. Of course, this would be a mistake. This wasn’t the Material, sound waves and the laws of physics didn’t hold the same gravity or weight as they did in the physical, which was already a given to any who had truly studied the mysterious existence. The screams, the echoes, the choirs...well, Adell didn’t hear any of it. Not like he wanted to anyways, and even if sound did pass through in this world, none of them were louder than the bitterly conflicting energies, religions, faiths, and world’s of energies duking it out through the underlying conduits of The Astral Plane’s multiversal existence. The pillar of growing energies continued to converge and grow, not in size, but in density.
We will defy fate once more.
Only a second after the pillar of etheric force shiskabob’ed The Astral Plane, colossal reverberations began to shake the plane, radiation, energies, and what little matter had manifested itself there alike. The physical lines of all within became distorted by several overlapping imitations of one another carefully struck by the convoluted drums of a certain elegy. It didn’t come from Adell, Vincent, or anyone or anywhere in-particular, it was an obnoxious, weighted thrum on the entire spectrum that lasted a millisecond before the locationless whisper that pervaded the entire realm began to come alive. With titans of such power on the same stage, the ritual of summoning had been completed.
The white hot brilliance not to be undone by any sun or energy signature on that eve, began to manifest itself into a single monolithic structure undulating and with it came calamity, the sudden fickle sways of chaotic energy shaking the limitless world, and synergies collapsing with surgical precision, The God Dragon remained unnerved as the hallowed ground built suddenly intruded on the world around them. While this Artifice created for the same applications of the Wave Existence as all of the other mega computers, only a fraction of its power could bleed itself from within the demi-plane of its origin, but that was all that was required to call on its power.
Were The Red Magister to care enough, or his enemies to attempt and penetrate the walls of ethereal energies with their perceptions, they would see that the hair upon his face had dissolved, and the wrinkles straightened. Before their eyes he shed his skin, his flesh warping beneath the translucent light consuming them. Nothing appeared to change outside of his youth, the absurd density of his body seemed mostly the same, but his transformation was far more telling than his opponents could ever know. While his body appeared to be much the same, his other faculties had changed dramatically.
The ambiguous lines of The Maldieter Ceti continued to solidify within its realm of authority, though Adell did not rise up and into it. Rather instead he, like Vincent Fiorelli, remained within the metatemporal, biological supercomputer, which to his enemies would appear to be more of a haze of metaphysical providence, layered in intricate, complex dimensional technology within. Somehow.
The Eternals were once four. Now there were only two.
After all, only the strong survived.
Vincent Post 1
The Red Magister was a veritable force of nature unto himself. By himself, he was capable of becoming a one-man army, devastating entire continents, toppling the strongest empires, decimating the toughest legions, and obliterating some of the most powerful entities in the entirety of the Multiverse. However, his true potential could never be realized alone; the ways he could support his allies in large-scale battles was seldom witnessed by his enemies. In this particular situation, Vincent would support Adell to the best of his ability, much like he'd done in every single instance where the two of them went up against any sort of hostile advances.
Their synchronization was astounding. As Adell's tumultuous explosion occurred, the Red Magister pulled their shadows away from the very ground itself, channeling the very branch of Shadow found within the magic school he'd adopted as his own, and manifesting the Nocturna Nigredinis within the material and the astral planes. The result were two tiny sable specks, not dissimilar to a pair which orbited around Adell and Vincent respectively. Cocoons of light scintillated for all but a moment around the Red Magister a moment after the fact, something that had become second nature to him the very moment he sensed unknown presences within his surroundings. Not only would these cocoons aid him from the coruscating chaos of the astral plane, but they would serve as a means of protection against the possibility of future assaults.
Regarding Adell, the Red Magister utilized his Extrasensoria Perceptio to share his own knowledge with his companion. Their experiences throughout Tizon had allowed their combat capabilities as a team to grow exponentially, and this would also be evidenced when their potential wasn't currently being quelled by the universe around them. By linking to Adell's psyche, Vincent could share his own biological abilities to sense and see energy, and the combination of skills that conformed his mental map. In the same token, the Red Magister could fuel off of the God Dragon's Yangan, momentarily sharing in the discipline of the Zenoushka-Ryu, and enhancing both his own perception and Adell's. This was the true strength of the Red Magister; not utilizing his versatility to fell foes in the battlefield, but assisting and further strengthening his allies. Nothing would escape their vision or their senses in neither a physical or metaphysical way.
The Isamahii Scroll merely remained floating beside the Red Magister, enjoying the protection and the comfort of its own seals and protective enchantments, which enshrouded the object due to the influence of the weapons within. This only protected the scroll from being destroyed, though it hardly did anything to stop any attackers who would've wanted to claim the object as their own. After all, the scroll only followed one master at a time, and while copies of the weapons within had been distributed to a number of warriors, the souls of the original elemental blades rested within. Even as the astral plane began to grow more chaotic with every passing second, as it was often wont to do, even after a myriad prismatic cracks manifested themselves beneath the sole of Adell's and Vincent's boots, even after the pillar of aetherial energies pierced through the skies, the scroll did not waver; it did not react. It knew that both the Red Magister and his companion were currently safe where they stood.
Naught but a mischievous little grin surfaced within Vincent's visage, silver locks quivering and shimmering iridescently under the God Dragon's show of power. To construct an Artifice from seemingly nowhere... It was clear Adell was trying to prove a point here, especially after his features shifted from the 'forced normalcy' that he often showed. Then again, what was normal for this pair? The state Adell had been prior to this shift was considered normal, much like it was for the Red Magister to employ his spells whenever and wherever he saw fit to cast something. Truthfully, some scholars throughout the Multiverse really needed to do their homework on that single topic, but that was neither here nor there. Right here, right now, the two entities that had rudely interrupted the pair's admiration of the astral plane were about to realize that they'd bit off more than they could chew. Either that or they'd die in obscurity, never realizing the error of their ways...
