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Post by Dirge on Mar 13, 2023 16:51:26 GMT
Archive Thread
It's a blue moon. This is a selective open challenge. I'll be taking on all people interested, either at the same time or one after the other, depending on how many there are and how I feel like doing it.
Time limit: To be decided. Usually, I employ 7 days as a standard time limit. Anyone who fails to post within that time limit relinquishes their right to posting for that turn. Note that the 7 days applies not to every combatant, but to every "team" or "wave". Tier: LP to FP. Generally anything goes, but I'll match and scale accordingly.
List of possible combatants (Will be updated accordingly): William. Longinus. Ei. Prada. Noize. Spork. Draxis. Nova. |
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Post by Dirge on Mar 13, 2023 16:56:46 GMT
Introductory Posts
Vincent Fiorelli
Legends often speak of untold wonders across the expanse of the Multiverse and beyond.
They speak of stories that drive the youth of many a world to take up arms, to train endlessly day after day in order to explore their immediate surroundings and, if they are lucky, the many worlds scattered throughout the void of space. Some in particular spoke about empires, of mass-produced runes instilled within the soldiers forming the ranks of their armies, and of heroes possessing unique sets of sigils enabling them to perform miraculous feats. It was stuff straight out of fairy tales and yet, in the Multiverse, fairy tales were very real. In fact, for every individual that existed within the realm that contained all realms, an equal number of universes were created and maintained until their inevitable demise. Limitless forms of magic, creatures transcending the veil between the living and the dead, planes of existence and non-existence, of creation and of destruction, of positive and negative energy... Anything that could be imagined was certain to belong to a specific universe.
For Vincent Fiorelli, knowledge was everything. When he became the guardian of The Secret Library of Hyades, a treasure trove containing data from an immense amount of Multiversal regions, he understood exactly how little he had witnessed in the past. From forgotten bestiaries to strange cookbooks, from sheets of papyrus detailing ancient magicks to blueprints depicting some of the most advanced technology in existence, Hyades was an astounding place for an individual like himself. Admission to this realm wasn't easy. The multiple datacenters the library was divided in - seven, to be exact - determined whether one was worthy. Worth was, generally, measured in the form of drive, mental and spiritual resilience, and probably the capacity to subsist in the open void of the Sea of Stars. Once someone was admitted into the massive contraption, Hyades picked out the kind of information they could access, and the more knowledge the fortunate few picked up, the greater the amount of data they were given permission to peruse. True wisdom, however, was seldom offered to the lucky traveler. The sentient realm hand-picked those with the most potential and revealed its secrets one at a time, testing the patience of the studious and the intelligence of the scholar.
Books weren't the only object the Red Magister learned from. Every encounter throughout the Multiverse was a new opportunity to learn something, and he could never pass up a chance to grow. An avid researcher into different arts of war, the wandering Fiorelli was quick to recognize patterns in his enemies, studying their abilities, and formulating countless strategies to refute his opponents' approaches. Every time he stumbled across something new and studied it, his physical, mental, and spiritual power grew exponentially only to be tempered by control, by self-imposed limitations and internal limiters. After all, power without shackles could run rampant through one's physical vessel, much like his counterpart currently roaming the fringes of the Multiverse. Regardless of the Red Magister's past, however, there was no denying he had been a rising figure in some universes through the years, and he had become a driving force in the study of magic, aetherial research and different forms of energy, and technological and magitechnical modifications. And yet, he was not the only one. The Red Magister had come up with a method to transfigure certain facets of his personality and knowledge into physical vessels possessing their own will. These vessels were christened "Aspects", and they were often sent into missions of espionage, into wars, and into universes where conflict was taking place in some way or form.
When he wasn't burying his head in books or treading the countless paths available to him, it was a known fact that the Fiorelli enjoyed a leisurely stroll throughout peaceful planets, peaceful planes, and peaceful universes.
Today was one of those days...
The planet in question had been christened Elysium on account of its paradisiacal environment. Lush forests, open plains, beautiful mountain ranges, and clear water with plenty of rare fish populating the seas. Practically untouched by industrialization, the people of Elysium bordered on druidic, seamlessly forming part of the environment without attempting to control it. The location Vincent had picked out was a massive clearing in the middle of a forest. It was completely deserted, save for the occasional animal roaming through the underbrush or burrowing beneath the dirt. A clear pond to the south allowed the fauna to quench their thirst, and predators to claim unwary prey every now and then.
The Red Magister currently rested against the trunk of a massive tree near the northern region of the clearing, enshrouded in his typical ensemble. Robes crafted out of fabric resembling velvet tightly clung to his body, not dissimilar to a second skin of sorts. Black dress pants secured with a leather belt possessing a sizable golden buckle, and a pair of black leather dress shoes topped off the lower section of his attire. Golden eyes remained veiled behind sunkissed lids, nigh-clouded by flowing silver locks. Naught but serenity embraced this place, but that was all going to change soon, when warriors from different timelines and universes would be summoned forth to this location. After all, they should've received his invitation by now...
Ishiro Ichiraku (Spork)
『There's an anecdote of a personage going by the name of Father; this tale spoke of his various voyages of ancient lands protecting the inhabitants from roaming spirits.』
This myth of Father was widely known throughout his realm as a harbinger of peace or even a shinigami murder cannot be justified these myths and stories caused an uproar it was almost impossible to think that a mortal can achieve the power to fend off beings with godlike abilities this very possibility was mind boggling to the mind of the general public this man wasn't praised or worshiped has never been seen he appeared in history at random with different monicker's. Ishiro found himself in an unfamiliar area wandering aimlessly searching for a suitable place to rest his head swiftly dodging and avoiding brushes and tree branches effortlessly he sauntered in-between the clearing and one layer of trees and bushes as he moved alongside the trees carefully raising a foot before placing his opposite foot down continuing this process he constantly scanned the area while he carried a Katana blade within its scabbard the scabbard was covered with bandages tied tightly around the scabbard Doragon no tamashi the mune the katana had an Emerald green wingless dragon affixed to the Habaki with two braided blue strings attached to the Habaki looped through a hole located in the very middle of the Habaki
He appeared to be a fairly Young man his attire seemed like something a kid raised in a big city would wear his hoodie was stretchy and flexible it had two pockets with buttons on them to contain whatever was within his pocket his hoodie was zipped up beneath his chest revealing the relaxed collared white shirt under the hoodie the collar was pointed up sharply with the top button loose he wore a black suit jacket on top of the hoodie accompanied by a matching pair of black relaxed slacks he wore glossy black dress shoes with a golden buckle sitting underneath the last shoelace shaped as a wingless dragon.
He continued on his journey while staying hidden behind the trees his eyes were glowing blue reminiscent of a blue moon his aura matched the color of his eyes the flow of his aura matched the flow of nature's essence making it hard for people to differentiate his energy from the Forest's energy (Life force) his dark gray hair was constantly caressed by the the winds breeze gently through flowing through his hair his aura shimmered like glitter accompanying him on his stroll.
Aquilos (Draxis)
The world at large was a magnificent thing indeed. In this multiverse, Dozens of energies and bodies of ideals and thought would manifest- Pouring into the branes and antahkarana which compose our very existence. Through different frequencies and emanations, Different levels of perception and oscillation were achievable. At the lowest level, was the physical or ground realm- Which simply feeds off the energial and fundamental spectrums which compose existence. But this physical world is nothing more than a reflection of its true self, the intelligible and physicality planes. This is where one's direct comprehension (noeta) and imagination (noemata) Becomes real, And the floods of nature and nurture, and chaos and destruction start manifesting in all sorts of ways. There are an infinite number of subjects, and archetypes, which are broken down into lesser "types" And sub categories. But these facets are what makeup the stronghold of these varying realities, by tapping into the lifeblood of existence known as Kraft and energeia- Which is by itself subject to change and alteration based on one's inner and subjective desires
The same way extravagant and fantastical ideals flooded the laws of reality and these energial spectrums, The fragments of chaos and darkness would boil within the crevices of existence and the hearts of those who roamed these realms. One such being was Aquilos- A stoic individual with a unique skill set which would soon be polished and advanced through differing means with his lineage and lifespan. Aquilos was generally phlegmatic and melancholic, traits otherwise known as neuroticistic- But these exact emotions are what would empower him on different facets, Providing his intellect, experience, and skill with the magical, supernatural, metaphysical, and vice versa.
However, Just because Aquilos was a cautious man, didn't mean he was entirely melancholic. He showed positivity, integrity, and hubris in most personalized manners–
And was a man of historical, supernatural, and archaeological expertise. So whenever there was a chance to explore and experience new worlds, realms, or locations, He would most definitely take it with a hint of caution and an indomitable composure. In this particular instance, He received some type of parallel message inviting him somewhere to something- The estigma and phrenic codes of the message were unclear, But what was were its coordinates. Thus, he had already taken measures to travel through said location.
In this era; Magic and metaphysical technology were considered mesozoic from their creations and fundamentals. This was a world where the idea of metaphysics, which later evolved into the studies of hyper physics and super science, brought numerous changes to the world at large. These ranged from ambiguous items such as artifacts, relics, and caster orbs, to more recognizable ones such as portal's. This was what aquilos would utilize with the help of his colleagues to perform convenient yet complex transportation across large enough distances. This device was known as a Magion particle acceleration device- and was simply a loop chamber shrouded with runes which was controlled remotely in order to project portals and adjust its functionality.
Soon enough; Esoteric particles would gather before accelerating and collapsing into a wormhole, Which aquilos would soon step through. Experiencing a Pseudo hyperspace travel before stepping headfirst into an entirely new dimension, Which felt reminiscent, but was unlike anything he'd normally experience.
The world he passed into was filled with nature and beauty, energeia was frolicking around and vayus were pressing against the atmosphere, granting an effervescent ambience. Taking in the calm and vibrant atmosphere would place a smile on his face, Which was different, yet refreshing to his usual experiences.
As the winds frolicked about, his gold-raven black hair would follow–
Tracing his soulless, lavender-gray eyes, which were somehow still capable of a fury of emotions. He had a number of symbolic tattoos in the form of water, and serpentine decorations below around his eyes, tattered on his pale, non pigmented skin. He observed the area for any mishaps before brushing his hair, allowing his earrings to eerily rattle in the distance which consisted of a mysterious ghostly skull on his right and what appeared to be some form of ofuda, Dreamcatcher designed talisman with a Mon in the form of a bunny. Aquilos was dressed in a regal attire- His getup was futuristic in nature, apparently alien to a common physical world, with a leathery azure sweater and pants with some arcane design and attributes. Aquilos wasn't one for overly fancy attire, But his stoic composure would be applied to the way he carried himself- Thus, he would be consistently prepared for any and most situations.
Now settling into the new location- He remained diligent, continuing to observe and comprehend what this new environment even was. It was fairly similar to a lot of other places he's been to, but it likely had its own history and biomes. Nothing much was given to him in advance, nor did he expect some type of leisure advice or invitation. Thus, he strolled across the massive forest for awhile- Before picking out a large open spread, Appearing in the middle of a bay or Midway point between all the other's.
Aquilos went back to taking in the ambience around him, but he already had numerous tricks up his sleeve- he wasn't only extremely powerful and intelligent, but knew how to execute his plans and ability and wouldn't normally act rash unless such was in his favor. Ergo; He reached into his pocket, pulling out what appeared to be some type of pure black, Highly dense organic orb. This device produced meager amounts of energy when in effect, but it was also capable of masking it's own signature, on top of assistance from its wielder
Aquilos would use the abilities of this device to scan the area around him, utilizing their abilities to detect any distant– Direct or indirect spheres of influence. One would assume this would give away his location, but he had plans for that as well—...
Through a higher form of ability, He amplified his perception with this device- While using his own skill to mask his own energy entirely, Giving off basically no signature— At a surprise to any who may have already picked him up.
Talutah (Fantasia)
"The kiss of a dying flame."
Heat coiled around their frames like a blanket of transcendence.
Yet burned out as quickly as it began.
From the backdrop of the sky; soaring through it's beautiful mantle came a ship brushed in ivory and vermillion streaks, the clouds becoming evanescent as its towering form erased their colorful scores. Bringing itself as the one true victory of this magnificence. It tore apart the intricacies of the world with it's aetheral jets blanketing the atmosphere in a nasty purple haze, much like a bruise upon delicate skin after enough force had been applied.
Sometimes even a virtuous king has to resort to shield and blade, and so..
A voice rung out, from within the confines of the flying object. Harsh, yet ever so gentle much like the doves that tried to scatter away from the seering ship's humidity claiming the serenading winds.
"Here, bring me forth. Descend us unto the realm of God's."
Without a challenge or rebuttal, the sentient ship descended from the heaven and hellbit created whilst dancing above; slowly it calmed and nested into the new landscape that foretold the story of perfection, as for Talutah, perfection was something she sought all along, or at the very least, discover her own philosophy for what perfection truly was. She knew naught what this realm would entail upon entering, but it was a world that was virgin to her foot, so it was only seen as a new opportunity.
Not a danger.
finally; emerging from a cockpit that slumped open from its deepest parts..
A woman adorning a black suit accommodated by shimmering gold that screamed of an enriched value, leathery gloves that covered her soft, slender hands. Crimson eyes that scanned and washed over the location in curiosity. Cherry lips that ached to speak whilst her thoughts leaped from the cognitive scrapers of her highest desire, for they knew but another idea would catch their drops as they tumbled. — Her hair capturing threads of air, seeing how the winds knitted those luscious white locks in a jaunty rhythm.
The ship closed the pit and vanished into seemingly nothing by the mere wave of the Monarch's Hand, leaving her here to carry out her duties in discovering knowledge the apostles gatekeep from her. Since a young age, she always wanted to create something that would prolong the inevitable grasp of death, not for herself but for her friends and family, she did not want to see their ends flash before her, their final smiles becoming nothing but an anchor to history until it was own her time to remember. A subset of aetheral energy clung to her frame, this was the doing of the Gyakusatsu or the "Slaughter Passage" she was an supernatural human reawakened by the steed of arcane forces, a zombie to the masses of the magical world. A puppet to its physics. That surely would explain the emptiness swirling in the void of her irises.
Though it felt some glamor of life still buzzed within her carcass because a gentle smile marched across her salted skin as the sunshine glistened beyond just the forest, from tree to tree. From the thin heads of grass as high as an unbent knee,
Her aura was quite strong; pulsating with the power of her Bijuu. Each member of the Gyakusatsu held bjiuus that was predilected or interlinked to their personalities, seeing her eager expanses for knowledge, one could quickly guess that she was the Passage of "Knowledge" and Human Ego.
Though she didn't quite know where to start in this murky sea of life, it was like she was conflicted with drowning in enlightenment or walking amongst its watery beds. |
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Post by Dirge on Mar 13, 2023 17:16:41 GMT
First Rotation
Vincent Fiorelli
Vincent needn't stand to understand the first three invitees had arrived. His eyes needn't open to witness each and every single one of them in their full splendor, even when two of them tried their hardest to conceal their energy signatures. One hiding behind the trees surrounding the clearing he'd been relaxing in, embracing the katana as a weapon of choice and sporting an attire far more modern than the blade would suggest. The other, far more regal in appearance, produced a constant soothing sound in the wake of the sweet summer breeze that caressed the earrings he wore. The methods of detection the Red Magister employed were largely complex. In the dawn of his life, he'd mastered the art of sensing the quintessence of all living and non-living objects and entities, courtesy of his biological's father genetic manipulation. It was a fairly straightforward ability which allowed him a deeper look into the makeup of the world surrounding him, but it wasn't until he'd acquired proper Extrasensoria Perceptio within the magic school he'd adopted as his own that the handy mixture of abilities affably known as his mental map was complete.
The world around him was a mere canvas, his highly advanced perception coupled with mental processing speed not dissimilar from a state-of-the-art futuristic supercomputer, his brush. The mental map was simply the resulting work of art, constantly being updated in real time as he analyzed each and every variable, however esoteric, available to him. This ranged from the most minimal fluctuations in the wind to the tiniest sound echoing throughout the land, to the most veiled form of energy. Layers upon layers of analytical knowledge allowed him to pinpoint the exact location of the newcomers, which wouldn't really be a secret to begin with. After all, he'd invited all of them here; it wouldn't do to remain hidden, and this is why he made no efforts to conceal the raw power coursing through his veins.
All of them, if they were capable of doing so, would be able to sense the thin bounded field surrounding the magister's silhouette. Something he'd affectionately started calling the Inner and Outer World Paradox a few years back, what this particularly constructed approximate to a reality marble did was fairly simple: it practically superimposed the Red Magister's "inner world" no matter where he went, often shaking off the afflictions various fields of horrid influence would attempt to impose on him. Energy nullification fields, aether stifling fields and the like saw themselves seemingly bouncing off of this outer layer. At the same time, it made targeting spells upon himself far easier, as he could simply lace the bounded field with them if in dire need.
The sunlight reflected off of this faint translucent cocoon surrounding him before this... Ship blotted it out over the forest. At least it wasn't long before it properly descended, the third invitee within, and dissipated shortly after they'd landed on the planet. Admittedly, they could've all employed the teleportation sigil ingrained within each letter to make it to the clearing, but it seemed each individual had their own method of doing things. Not that it bothered him; it simply added another layer of spice to the encounter.
But once all three pawns took their respective positions on the board, it was the king's turn to move, and he did so decisively. Four replicas of his famed blade, Liberi Fatali, fanned out over his relaxed frame. They all looked exactly the same: sizable broadswords crafted out of a glimmering azure ore, with a particular runic pattern running along the surface of the blade and an apple-sized ruby encrusted within the guard. Sharp beyond belief and with enough magical power within them to obliterate a planet if necessary, they awaited his orders. Naturally, three of them tore through the air toward the location of his guests, sparing a singular sword for each of them. The fourth blade eventually descended tipfirst, if only to lean against the selfsame trunk the magister rested against. This one would be employed by his hand, if necessary.
The first copy of Liberi Fatali found the boy hiding in the woods before the rest reached their respective targets. Twenty feet away from him, the blade's ruby shimmered with a scintillating glow, focusing the magical energy within it to conjure forth one of the many spells available to it. Each weapon possessed all the spells found within the Red Magister's codex, though the replicas could only cast each spell only once, essentially exhausting their supply of that specific phenomenon. After all, they were only replicas. The spell in question was the Centum Lanceæ Umbræ - the Hundred Shadow Spears. The shadow the sword cast floating over the ground, and all the shadows the canopy cast unto the blades of grass underneath the trees began to quiver for a brief instant. What was once an illusion cast by light turned into a physical object before splitting up into countless shards. Physical shadows, usually a phenomenon possible by calling on low-level demons and spirits to create shadow familiars. In this case, through the magister's modifications, no possession was necessary. The barrage of physical shadow spears soon launched forth toward the katana-wielding boy, aiming to skewer him right where he stood.
As for the other two, the blades found them shortly after this spell had been made manifest upon the material plane. Towards Aquilos, the copy of Liberi Fatali floated thirty feet away before the ruby shimmered in a similar manner, but instead of casting a shadow spell, this replica opted for magic belonging to the ice branch within the magic school Vincent had adopted as his own. Crystallizatio Tellustris - Frozen Earth. A bounded field surfaced beneath Aquilos, roughly five square meters, before a massive icicle with multiple prongs spiking forth from it jut upward from the center. The aim was clear: either to impale the man or to practically fuse him to the surface of the ice.
Lastly, Talutah would find herself the victim of a wind spell. Sagitta Magica Aer Capturae, the wind variant of the Sagitta Magica Series, projected an arbitrary number of projectiles depending on the ability and the magical prowess of the caster. In this case, the replica of Liberi Fatali brought forth five projectiles, each one shaped like an arrow and glowing with an emerald light. They darted toward Talutah in rapid succession, seeking to bind her rather than to pierce through her. The true power of wind spells within this magic school was, after all, binding and defensive usages. Perhaps rendering her useless would aid him in her disposal in due time.
Regardless, all three invitees had their part to play. Would they be able to fulfill their role to perfection?
Ishiro Ichiraku (Spork)
Once the king made its move the jester followed suit in parallel to the Jack and queens arrival to board jester's are considered to be fools and joker's but what people failed to realize is the joker is one of the closest people to king providing him with entertainment but that's besides the point Ishiro continued ambling forward avoiding the branches and brushes with ease with each step he took his power grew leaking out his aura gradually transforming from calm and still to seemingly uncontrollable amplifying his power supplementally in response to this large amount of strength that he emitted the border of this aura was Jasper in hue giving off a luminescent sparkling visual show within the aura flowed in the center of this catastrophic display of power was a garnet hue highlighted by the jasper waves of aura as he inched closer and closer towards Vincent the aura shot upwards in one humongous burst put into orbit & his surroundings flying omnidirectional dispersing 25% of the energy into the sky. The moment he sent out his micromanagers he spotted a foreign magical source of with a Dark and muggy visualization while he noticed the energy he focused on its properties and to his surprise it was comprised of Shadow magic in response to this nice invitation to battle ishiro raised his defenses coating himself with a layer of energy matching the aesthetic of his standard aura this layer expanded outwards quickly appearing in the matter of a nanosecond this field was known as Soul reject is a containment field created to keep spirits spiritual energy or magic at bay this field is built from concentrated protons creating a charged particles field intertwined knitted together like a sweater this field can be in the shape of a orb or a thin layer placed onto skin it can be used to seal and contain Spirit's good or evil this field is composed of protons it functions by colliding high energy positrons to create a proton beam/Field this allows the user to reject non living creatures.
This skill can be used as seals embedded Within attacks the field is effective to enemies spirit's that don't have contracts with the user the user can coat their Spirit companion's with the field and it'll remain ineffective due to its connection with the user this also goes for magic. As the shadow blades/familiars encroached on Ishiro's domain he raised his arm quickly chanting. ”𝘿𝙮𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙨𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚: 𝙇𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙞𝙣 ～ 𝘼𝙗𝙮𝙨𝙨𝙖𝙡 𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙧 - る制限す„
His aura reacted In sync with his words construction a large orb like construct split into two the orb was hallow it boar it's sharp fangs Ishiro quickly channeled a sizable amount of Reverse counter magic into the Dyson sphere as the swords/familiars finally arrived instead of moving Ishro simply point the Dyson sphere toward him the Dyson sphere was 3100 inches in height and weight capturing the projectiles within the sphere the sphere quickly closed it's mouth clamping out being the process of deconstruction with the assistance of the reverse counter dispelling the magic allowing the sphere to devour the what's left funneling the filtered/purified energy to Ishiro returning the power he spent to capture the rain of swords with the new found energy he gained from the spheres feast he utilized a small amount of the energy he gained to place a foreign layer on top of the Dyson sphere this extra layer was a thin coating of Soul reject rendering the familiars useless making it easier for his Dyson sphere to eat
（Stability） （Results:） （100% stability） ▓▓▓▓▓
（Density) （Results:） （50% density） ▓▓▓██
（Status:) （Fully operational） （Storage: 40% per 10 seconds）
Ishiro departed from the sphere giving it time to eat shortly after the sphere vanished with the attacks refilling Shiro's aura reserves Shiro sensed the energy of a man near a large tree enabling him to casting his own counter attack before he casted he focused a the full amount of energy he absorbed from his opponent's attack constructing 100 spears simultaneously he launched each attack on after another aiming directly for Vincent while he launched his attack he took a moment ask for aid from his Spirit beast. (these spears were created from Reverse counter magic a complete counter to magic)
”Hey this is a scatter shot assist me„ ”𝙗𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙘𝙚『!』„
The blades rocked into the air in sync with his command's plummeting from the sky raining upon Vincent as the blades approached Vincent they suddenly vanished inches away from striking him ishiro recited another line
”𝙨𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 ～ 𝙞𝙧𝙤𝙣 𝙢𝙖𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙣『!』„ The moment he spoke the spears reappeared surrounding Vincent in a circular formation allowing the currents of reverse counter magic to connect creating a structure the size of 5 porta pottie. (Before the structure was fully sealed it had a large opening at the top giving him a good amount of time to attempt to escape this took 40 seconds of preparation and 1 seconds to perform)
(Randomized possibility)
This odd looking spirit can manipulate the randomness of anything manipulating anything change from one thing to another depending on what it is with no particular order or being followed as they do this ability can be used to scatter attacks that' already has been sent changing the location randomly
(This ability only work on the user’s attacks)
Aquilos (Draxis)
As time continued to pass, Aquilos closed his eyes- Beginning to focus as he placed his fingers on the orb, Which was known as a Tabula rasa–(Blank slate) or simply blank/black cell. This made it far easier to determine the schematics of the area he was presently in- the Black cells functioned off both their own, and their wielders ability, making it desirable as a skilled tool, or Baethylus. The cell scanned the massive radius, with events and signatures soon passing by telling him everything he needed to know. All black cells had something known as a data wave cognition system, Which applied phrenic data in a neat little codex, such as a mental one or akin to a super computer. This information is now shared in context through Aquilos utilizing his worldly senses to perceive physical and metaphysical information as subtle streams of information, Like being stuck in the smooth summer breeze, But there were abilities even beyond this, that only belonged to him. While it was interesting seeing the party arrive– He now had a single focus, which was the man upfront who gave off a staggeringly high signature, which was unlike anything he'd experienced before with few exceptions. This was the inviter and adversary, So he wasn't one to just relax and have some tea. Something serious was about to happen.
As aforementioned, Aquilos has a steel composure, But this was unlike your traditional will. He wasn't the type to give himself away, regardless of the situation. And when he attacked, he went fast and hard, or stealthy and accurate. The golem like creature would now grow wings and stubby legs and sleep on his shoulder so he can focus on the enemy all by himself. He was of course the type to prepare himself, but the way he did this was slightly different. The ability of stahl gave one mastery over their mental fortitude and the ability to enforce their natural and spiritual energies through it, or by distinction.
Yet, Aquilos had a unique skill set that turned this on its head. The more he concentrated to open up his senses to what was about to happen, The more said energies were in a calm, fluctuating state- Which meant they were only available as frequencies, Before either of them were released He now had a more than good enough idea of this enigmatic mages capabilities from the data and his basic sensory skills, But it was time to think as he moved along. His eyes now opened so he can focus on the situation more clearly, immediately noting some form of weapon was in his path with his companion awakening as he did, To perform a proper counter.
It was simple enough what was about to happen now- This weirdo may be all powerful in his world, But he was about to learn the hard way how things work in the multiverse. Each of these blades' energies appeared distinct on their own, it appeared this was only a mere fragment of the individual's power. Playing recess was something he can do in return as well- Having similar abilities to which the sword produced, it was child's play to render the attack obsolete. So once he detected an immediate shift in the world soul makeup, He swiftly moved away from the center of the sphere, While the golem seemingly just dropped dead on the ground. This however wasn't a random maneuver, as it fell towards the center where the icicle jutted out from. Aquilos then clutched the organism, seemingly with more than enough pressure to prevent the icicle from moving any further, Rejecting the attack with pure physical strength. The possibility of this was questionable in and of itself, But this alone wasn't some random maneuver to make him look badass, even if that was part of it.
Placing his fingers on the golem beforehand wasn't just to allocate the area at hand, and its confines- It was also a way to imbue his energy into the orb undetected. This purpose was now expedited somehow through what he just did, Having the icicle lose all of its pressure and velocity, As what became of it was the golem erecting a cage of a material much akin to carbon wiring and spider silk, Through some type of spinneret mechanism. This would expand for 12 meters after tendrils jutted into the ground before manifesting this webbed barrier, Like a makeshift mycorrhizal network- Which aquilos was capable of enchanting further for any type of defense and offense he saw fit during the situation. What appeared when this first occurred, was some type of mist allocating a region beyond the range of the cage, Soaking a large area of the forest, and obstructing anything from outside view. Further machinations were unclear– But this was utilized to fully overcome the barrier in place, and prevent the use of external spells And trickery without his knowledge. Now; With the fog in play– The webbed constructs of the barrier now became frozen solid, Yet were malleable to some degree. Through this; With a simple exhale of contingency, With further configurations, The barrier broke into Rock like fragments which combined into dozens of large spears and needles, finely tuned to crush bone and painfully drill into one's dermal exterior—...
A group of needles would remain with him- While a number of spheres razed towards vincent, easily far surpassing the acceleration And velocity of a bullet, The long spears were meant to bifurcate him splendidly and to the point– While the needles immediately hid through unexpected and varying locations. With this; Even if the spears ensured a strike through their kinetic impact and extremely low temperatures- The needles were stocked, and prepared to either lunge towards Vincent if the spears somehow missed... Or to dismantle any trick he setup, By being capable of slicing through any tangible mechanism with enough prep time.
While fine concentration was placed on tearing apart this foe– This wasn't at all his main objective. As from using the fog to aid his ability And perception, He now had the chance to ensure an even better countermeasure while he made sure everything else was according to plan. It appeared his breathing and muscles possessed a state of tranquil fury as he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword– The highly realistic tsuba, which implied metaphysical composition was that of a mythical serpent, Who's abyssal eyes glowed an arcanum smooth sky blue, yet gave off a radiating pressure of ghastliness and cold integrity.
Talutah (Fantasia)
𓆩༅𓆪 "The Power of The Golden Archon: Talutah." A gust of wind brushed across the scenery, but for what? To lace the landscape in tranquility? Or to poison the atmosphere with dread? It didnt matter really what its purpose as an aesthetic was; but the fact that it was sent her way with its assets focused on her person — it was not to be disregarded as just but a gust on a sunny day, the female quickly lifting her right arm, following behind its movement poured a purple haze coating around her forearm firmly; leaking its presence vastly as it began to widen, quickly submerging her entire limb in this cloud of power.
This was only one of the many assets of Gyakusatsu, as being one with the arcane forces, they were able to "soak" themselves in passive energy to prevent foreign spells from piercing their magnificent bodies, although this energy didn't just drain from her spiritual pressence, but it entirely isolated itself from her arm after widening, acting as its own puppeteer, afterwards, it essentially began "Oozing" around the Tecnhique sent by the Assailant: "webbing" itself around the winds, to confine its path and overwhelm its entirety. Only moments following, the winds and the purple "laces" would find themselves garnered into an explosion of a violent overhaul of violet and turquoise. Talutah wasted no time in dispelling this finicky trick, she was not to be bounded by some damned man with spells to accentuate him in combat. As the explosion began to settle, and the colours began to fade into evanescent hues, her hair swayed behind its beautiful force:
But it was time to retaliate and show him what she has, and what she has is everything. After the upset in the wind technique's attempt at binding her; a kiss of black streaks scattered across her cheeks, starting from her eyelids, the weight of the world was surely to tremble at her might soon. It was like death trailed behind her and she used it as her own touch of finesse. In the same arm raised prior to combat the attack, the purple returned to join the fray once more; but this time in the shape of a sword that materialized within the air rather than in her very palm, it was the length of a long sword and slightly average compared to an average variant of the blade. It lacked in solidification other than the construct it took appearance of, this also allowed for Talutah to swing the weapon abit more loosely without weight restraints to hinder her potency. The blade sought the blood of this strange man. Thus briefly after being fetched from its spatial sheathe, it carried itself ovefhead to tumble upon the ground a sharp cut that aimed to split Vincent in half, in quick succession.
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Post by Dirge on Mar 13, 2023 17:21:31 GMT
Second Rotation
Vincent Fiorelli
The actors had taken to the stage as though they'd been born to play their respective parts. Their movements didn't seem forced; naturals, all of them. Grace, however, was something lacking in two out of three of them, though it wasn't for this reason that their approaches yielded no visible reaction from the audience of flora and what little fauna remained surrounding them. Predators would have certainly stared with bated breath and pure anticipation upon picking up the scent of blood. One of the three wouldn't leave these woods alive after the massive blunder they'd committed.
There was nothing to dispel. There was nothing to truly deconstruct. Not when each and every razor-sharp fragment comprised solely of physical shadows tore through the air and around the sphere attempting to swallow them. Some slipped underneath the construct, seemingly attaching themselves to the ground and moving along it akin to a serpent's shadow. Others slipped around the object, and another portion soared high above it. A deep amethyst glow embraced each fragment as the ruby encrusted within the copy of Liberi Fatali shone vibrantly, though it seemed this peculiar light had been present before Ishiro's orb managed to form in the first place. A trick of the sunlight, perhaps? A difference in the angle of each fragment before being fully exposed to the sun's glow?
Nothing quite so fancy.
'To Teichos Dierxastho', a natural spell modifier often embracing spells with penetrative power, was something the faux weapon could apply at will. Often times, it was a far better approach to attempt to dodge a spell of this ilk or, at the very least, to crush and obliterate each and every single physical fragment. Ishiro, however, attempted neither. Even if the sphere had managed to 'eat' the shadows, it would've proven to be quite the unsatisfying meal; none of these constructs actually possessed any magical energy within them. Through the way the Red Magister - and consequently, all of his creations - employed the magic school he'd adopted as his own, spells cast often projected a result. The magical energy, however, remained within him through the casting process, only to be fully consumed once the spell was cast. It was amongst the purest forms of spellcasting, and amongst the few that managed to suppress and outright eliminate methods of counter-attack dealing with absorption or deconstruction.
Of course, this simply meant that Ishiro wouldn't have any recourse to prevent the myriad fragments of shadows from shredding the barrier around his body, and the flesh attempting to hide behind it. After all, the spell modifier enabled the blades to 'drill' weak points within the protective layer, essentially tearing through the bonds each molecule shares with each other. Piercing through the barrier only to pierce through the man underneath it. There was little Ishiro could do against this predicament, with his sphere managing to eat nothing and his little movement affording him no actual escape.
The second individual's approach was a little on the stronger side, and while it likely wouldn't outright kill them, the creature aiming to stop the Crystallizatio Tellustris from manifesting would find itself encased in the massive icicle jutting forth from the center of the bounded field on the ground... Along with the individual clutching the organism. The aim of the spell was clear, after all - either to impale the man or to fuse him to the surface of the ice. The latter included entrapment within the thick icicle's proverbial entrails. It wasn't quite dissimilar to what the almighty dark Evangel had once brought down upon her pupil in an ancient Phantasmagoria. The only difference was the lack of killing intent she possessed at that particular point in time. The replica of Liberi Fatali held the Red Magister's killing intent at this point in time, which simply meant every approach was merciless, every assault relentless, and every window of opportunity fully taken advantage of.
Unfortunately for Aquilos, this meant being stopped quite early in the manifestation of his plan of attack. The floating weapon shimmered with a vibrant golden light before slicing toward the icicle as though Vincent himself was brandishing it.
Shinmeiryuu Kessen Ougi - Shin Raikouken - True Lightning Sword.
The aureate glow gave way to arcing lightning bolts coming from the very base of the handle all the way to the tip of the weapon. The speed with which the sword moved was exactly the same employed by practitioners of the Shinmeiryuu, a style against which bullets were virtually useless. In the blink of an eye, the icicle was struck with enough force to shatter the construct into a myriad fragments whilst the simultaneous lightning strike obliterated each and every single one of them. Naturally, this meant the likely shattered bodies of Aquilos and his golem would end up turned to dust in the wake of the attack.
As for the very last individual, she'd likely embraced the most sensible approach against a weak spell. Instead of putting herself in the line of danger, she'd attempted to employ some of her energy to surround the arrows of wind sent her way. Whether she'd forgotten the blade soaring in her vicinity, or whether she'd thought she could attack him directly, it mattered little. The replica of Liberi Fatali was perfectly capable of executing commands at will, as well. The command in question was called 'Complexio', practically binding a cast spell, and only a cast spell, to the caster regardless of location. Knowing this, the weapon simply had one recourse to prevent a precious usage from being absolutely wasted; it'd simply execute this command to bind the spell back towards it without foreign elements. Each ethereal construct of wind vanished without a trace in midair right before the heightening energy culminated into multiple explosions.
And it was this exact spell applied on top of another that would likely spell doom for Talutah. Through the violet and turquoise filling the spots where each arrow had been a mere moment prior, snow enshrouded in darkness tore through the initially fading radiance. 'Nivis Tempestas Obscurans' - the Snowstorm of Darkness - shone its antithetical colors' splendor upon the battlefield. White snow and sable corruption spiraled into a focused tornado-like attack. Talutah was faced with the gelid embrace of something akin to an avalanche laced with spirals exhibiting the properties of darkness, all-engulfing, all-consuming. It was worth noting this occurred before the explosion had even begun to settle, which gave the woman little room to follow up.
In the event she could still send her peculiar attack towards the relaxing magister, why, there was still a replica of Liberi Fatali that hadn't seen any action just yet. This replica would simply spring into action to deflect the attempt at slicing him, all whilst Vincent's hair exhibited a particular radiance nearly matching the vibrance with which the ruby encrusted into the handguard of the weapon projected.
Ishiro Ichiraku (Spork)
dies and quiet literally explodes
Aquilos (Draxis)
Aquilos indeed underestimated this individual. While his original plan was to subdue in what he can presume this red magisters to harm him with a simple spell, It was seemingly about to backfire. It may have been too late to act, at least for a normal individual. But he was beyond even that, even compared to supernatural standards. He had already memorized the variable distance, and estimated the width and diameter of the icicle, But things will not have gone as originally planned. In reality, The icicle wouldn't have even gone past his epidermis, Creating a less than severe injury. Surely the magister will have figured this out by now, But his exuberant aura wasn't just for show- He had plenty of tricks up his sleeves. One such ability was the affinity known as abstraction– Everyone has the ability and potential to manipulate the chakra and meridians within their body, the former which is of course composed of natural and spiritual energy and manipulated through one's mental fortitude. Experts are able to adjust a barrier constructed from these forces, adjusting its composition however they see fit. As well as using their abilities to influence it, But from what it seemed, there was far more to abstraction than meets the eye.
The caveat to all this was him seemingly vanishing from immediate range of the spell within the blink of an eye– The only thing that can be tangibly known was the mysterious skull earring emitting a ghastly aura and glow, before a serpentine creature encompassed and devoured most if not the entire icicle depending on its height and width. His movements were graceful, Yet furious- With an akin semblance to his aura which appeared abyssal in nature with an eerie, Yet vibrant tone.
What was in play was the Nauren style: Water formation. An archaic martial arts which took advantage of pneuma, meridians, and elements to provide the best possible outcome and adaptability.
A skilled practitioner can use this style to move as gently as a feather, or as fierce as a raindrop. He had used this to cover a wide enough range of about 10-15 meters, but of course- Every one of his moves were calculated with reasoning.
Any skilled or smart enough practitioner would be able to read energy signatures, Aquilos ability to do so was on another level through his usage of the worldly senses and other common or not so much factors. So by some interpretation, It was clear that sword in his path was a remote weapon and spell caster- While his original line of thought was dismantled, If there was a risk of dying here, he might as well respond in kind.
The creature now encircling him and digesting the icicle was a fragment of his spirit beast, the Leviathan. An ethereal class being that housed itself beyond physical space and comprehension. Many attributes came with this creature, especially to those who acquired full acquisition such as him. Any injuries placed on him such as by the previous trap or any other factor would begin healing at a rapid enough pace to become inconsequential.
But the main thing to keep in mind was the immediate shift in Aquilos' aura– The serpent was not only trailing around him, acting as a far more efficient version of his previous tactic- More remote and easy to manipulate. But his aura was a bit different as well. Because his natural ability in conversion magic was to manipulate hydrogen and water molecules in all variations- He coated himself with a direct layer of aura which then protruded his ability and spiritual might- It was capable of freezing anything that entered his direct vicinity either traditionally, or by dampening it's kinetic energy by default, or on a molecular level which was the very logic behind freezing.
In either case– His original idea may have been dismantled, but it didn't change much. With the advent of Vincent's counterattack in play, His variation now was simple.
The lessons aquilos learned during his time was to almost always be in a calm state- This was because pneuma was both the power of the spirit, and the psyche. He placed a firm grip on the Hilt of his katana, and a grander one on the scabbard- He then parried the incoming Liberi Fatali with extreme power, dexterity, and grace- Overpowering it completely in more ways than one. It wasn't just the scabbard that gave the weapon an extra boost in power, But the way he accentuated it. He compressed the current use of his aura, as well as another ability stemming from abstraction–... Which was the power to use your own natural and spiritual fortitude to immediately over power and negate traditional variations of the same ability. This should mostly dismantle the spell in play, But would normally send any other weapon lunging dozens of meters across, But he wasn't willing to give either foe time to retaliate this time.
It was time to prepare his counterattack. The aura that surrounded him now synced, and accentuated it's ability with his nihonto– the eyes of the lavishly created guard in the form of a semi realistic Leviathan enchanted a haunting disarray of an otherworldly nature. His fortitude was ironclad– With a disruption of a chaotic nature as even the serpent surrounding him danced in accordance with his Doxa– One of the almighty principles which enforced one's subjectivity and ability, The power to enforce one's will across all spectrums, Semi regardless of nature. His killing intent was now present, But maintained. It was now expressed in the blade of his sword; Which held a crystalline structure of a seemingly arcane origin. Unbeknownst to those unaware of it's omphalos nature. He now slashed the region ahead of him, Alerting the serpent to travel along with as if it was meant to.
The force of the strike alone was insurmountable, As the trees and grace were disrupted in its wake, but the main attraction was the attack in and of itself.
Anything right next to Aquilos would be ripped asunder by the kinetic and obsidian magnitude of a simple strike- But it appeared the Leviathan Carried the true purpose of the attack. His companion was to be what transferred across the spatial distance concerning him and Vincent at an incalculable pace, Beyond what even his previous spell could comprehend. The distance would be closed immediately– But this dragoon carried so much extreme pressure and kinetic energy, it could dismantle cities and their tallest skyscrapers in their wake, Treating the forest like the small region of nature across the map that it really was– With the creature prepared to devour anything in its path like a kinetic wellspring.
Talutah (Fantasia)
The spiral of cold danced, yet its rhythm never soothed her, its tune went unheard to her warmth; really, it was at this moment she knew that this man was far from some measly mage who had nothing but finicky spells to splurge outwards. The amalgam of violet and turquoise that spilt the air, as it was forcefully torn apart for the pasturage of what would appear to be a subset of wintry air colliding with the atmosphere in a perpetual twist, a spin that could very well spell doom for not only Talutah if she proceeded with lack of caution - but the fauna that expanded throughout the verdant scenery. it was beautiful as well as deadly, an odd mixture that contradicted one another.
But she was going to challenge this glacier, this tundra of end.
—Imactys; The World's Tainted Desire; The Heaven's Highest thought.
From the runes upon her flourishing skin - casted cages of gold, imprisoning her body. Kissed in a gilded illumination of its golden rays housed beyond the horizon and aloof the colors amassing the slew of explosion from two spells. But it did not ascertain doom for the Golden Archon — as the gold steadily increased in vibrancy; the runes began to spread, from her irises, down to her ankles. A byproduct of transcendence for the Arcane Humans made in Gyakusatsu No Gundan. They thrived off of combat, emotions oozed into their conduits and granted them greater power and essences — The excitement she felt, the urgency that she could fall in this dispute really formed a thrill in her soul rather than a pinch of consternation. The summit of energy she had garnered began to fade and flicker much like a dimmed light in an empty room.
The energy dispelled for a split second, before erupting into a sigil; "The Hierarchy of Archon." A sigil which gathers the world's 'desire' and the thought of reaching a greater state of being. It weaves and forms an ebbed node that then connects to her soul, allowing her to harvest from the garden of the Arcane-Pool. The tornado would be confined within a large "cube" of sorts by the grandeur of the sigil's power, it started as a blanket or wall that covered it head on, before folding in and forming this "prison" each sphere that rested on the seven shaped edges of the sigil hummed of the brimming potential of what Talutah could do. The cube was like a chasm of an perpetual depth, endless in what could be filled into it, Her eyes were reflecting the beauty before her, the support of her race aiding her in surviving the debut of this mysterious mage. She did not necessarily disregard the blade that swung and sung its song of potency around, which explained why she opted to bring out larger spells, that could overwhelm things within the vicinity on impact. |
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Post by Dirge on Mar 13, 2023 17:23:49 GMT
Third Rotation - End of First Wave
Vincent Fiorelli
The countless bits of blood and gore of the being formerly known as Ishiro decorated the trees, the grass, and the dirt where he'd once stood, painting a clear picture both on the canvas of this world and on the canvas of the other guests' minds. The price for failure was death, at least on this plane of existence. One of them had already experienced it, with Aquilos following shortly after the Crystallizatio Tellustris encased both him and the golem he was so firmly clutching onto. Escaping was a virtual impossibility after 'fusing' to the ice, short of shattering the proverbial prison. Aquilos could've always let go of the golem, sacrificing the creature to the whims of spell and sword, but it was too late to even consider such an approach by now. He, too, joined the first guest in departing from this mortal coil under the slicing prowess and the thunderbolts produced by the replica of Liberi Fatali ordered to assault him.
As for Talutah, she'd quickly find out a hollow cube crafted out of supernatural power could not encase a piercing spell enshrouded in darkness. This element, after all, was quite the particular one within the magic school the Red Magister had adopted as his own. Often times, it was said light was the opposite of darkness; where one stood for all that was right in the world, upheld moral virtues, and rejected evil and demons, the other was a corrupting influence destroying everything it touched. For him, however, according to ancient texts unveiled by Zericho Azerich and himself, 'darkness was an immense, all-encompassing power that devours even that which opposes it', hinting at the draining properties of this form of magic. Within the darkness, differences fade and everything is one and the same - obscure. Supernatural energy is merely fuel to achieve a desired effect, and this element targeted exactly that.
As such, the cube attempting to encase the Nivis Tempestas Obscurans saw itself not only pierced through the singular wall aiming to stop the magister's spell, but also consumed by the darkness before crashing into Talutah. Survival was unlikely beneath the overwhelming mass and sheer destructive force of the spell, though not an impossibility. Regardless of that fact, the magically imbued letters he'd sent to three other persons of interest should have reached their hands by now. Three new guests to welcome to this paradisiacal world, and perhaps to finally force him away from the comfortable tree he'd been resting up against.
Who knows? Maybe one of them will actually prove to be a proper challenge.
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Post by Dirge on Mar 13, 2023 17:26:52 GMT
Second Wave - Introductory Posts
Loelle Dreiga (Prada)
The Black Canary, Loelle Dreiga Calendar: Year ? Month ?, Day ? A Forest clearing, Somewhere Unknown
"A summons?" The woman questions as she reads a mysterious letter that was dispatched to her. It was strange—the letter possessed traces of magical energy. This was easily observable through her use of the Raven's eye, which allowed her to discern the nature of most anything. However, this did not originate from anywhere in Casosia. She furrows her brow while staring at the note, wondering 'What's the meaning of this?' Loelle was no stranger to the supernatural, let alone otherworldly occurrences. Whomever sent this was someone with a great power... a terrifying one to boot.
The stars within the confines of The Magladena glint profusely as Loelle rose from her seat. "raeppa erofeb em, Sovereign." She utters as a massive reliquary manifests a few feet away from her. It bears a likeness akin to that of an elder scholar with a few massive gems embedded in its collar bone. "Don't forget these!" A reserved voice calls out to Loelle. She turns her head to see a crow flying towards her quickly with a wicked, black cane and strange book in its grasp. The familiar drops the items in front of her which she catches quickly, fashioning the book at her side. She then brandishes the cane and steps before the reliquary.
"The note." She says sternly. The statue's eyes erupt with a blinding light that trains across the bounds of the Magladena, targeting a specific mote of light. "There? What is that?" Something didn't sit right with her about this, especially answering the call of some unnamed figure. However, she wouldn't exactly ignore it. If they could reach her with this, who's to say they couldn't reach her themselves without a second thought? These were important things to note. "Take me there." The reliquary generates a gateway that opens up to a clearing disturbed by what seems to be a previous battle. "Let the precursors have mercy this day."
She steps through the gateway and into the clearing. Her ashen eyes scanned the area quickly, noting two other gates. What almost escaped her view was an irreverent male on the opposite side of the clearing. He seems to be very relaxed, albeit they possessed an ominous nature that left her a bit unsettled. The environment told it all as the remains of three other beings were scattered across the way, suggesting this was a one sided fray.
'Could he have done this?' She thinks to herself for the moment. Questions, questions without answers what more could she have wanted? The gateway behind her closes, turning into but a few motes of light that dissipate afterwards. Loelle notices this and grows annoyed at the predicament she was in. "Great... etativel." With her cane in hand and book at her side, she rises into the air but 2 feet off of the ground, idly observing the stranger. If anything, the male should know who she is not by name but by the letters summoning. He'd quickly notice her image was not of this world as she sports a jet black, steel-boned, burlesque corset dress with a black overcoat and a pair of laced up high heel boots.
'Feast, feast, feast!' Ominous whispers clamor in the magus' mind. A stern look overtakes her visage as she continues to monitor the stranger and by way of the Raven's eye—the other gates.
Kintar (Longinus)
Revelation 9:1
The fifth angel sounded his trumpet, and I saw a star that had fallen from the sky to the earth. The star was given the key to the shaft of the Abyss.
It began with the squirming of gore. Each cell of Talutah's shed life slink into dark red arrows and pool together into a macabre rorschach, where only death could be gleaned upon the canvas of the Earth. The crunch of sinew moulding into haphazard form and of bone particulate refashioned into a serviceable skeleton within the scarlet pool, where meat and skin and the vestiges of Talutah's vascular systems form into an eyeless, hairless, toothless homunculus. The entire structure deconstructed from there, for it had served its purpose— the Adversary ripped itself free from the womb of the half-baked creature in a Marred Conception, the summoning complete. The source of his arrival devolved, flesh and all, into a short-lived tornado of gore; vaporized into a fine red mist which dissipated and fell away to the four winds.
All that remains now is a man of roughly muscular build, form hidden beneath the blinding silver-white of his cloak. Upon its innards were 101 blasphemies written in light-consuming Ether sourced from Hell itself. The Prince of the Damned smiles beneath the darkness of his cloak's ritualistic hood, and flourishes the invitation between two fingers; the corresponding arm crossed over his chest. Remarkably enough, neither he, his cloak, nor the letter seem to be drenched in Talutah's remains.
"Greetings." His cheery tone calls out.
Vincent Fiorelli
"Worry not. The precursors are, as a matter of fact, quite merciful."
The Red Magister's nonchalant voice echoed through the battlefield akin to acid eating through flesh. The statement wasn't loud, yet it reached every corner of the clearing nevertheless. Upon the 'Casosian''s arrival, however, something stirred beneath the insurmountable mass of snow that had presumably slammed into Talutah with enough force to break every bone within her body. It was something he'd usually expect from undead hosts, biomechanical and biological weapons, and hemomancers. Corrupted souls, one way or another. From this newly formed... Sack of flesh, for lack of a better visual explanation, burst forth a singular cloaked individual without a single speck of blood staining neither cloth nor visage.
"... That's not a guest of mine. Certainly, none of them would arrive in such an uncouth manner."
It was not a difficult matter to accommodate an uninvited entity, however; after all, he'd just hosted three guests on this secluded paradise. The fact of the matter was, the Prince of the Damned had, indeed, received a missive with an invitation. Vincent merely refused to acknowledge inviting them after witnessing the thorough defilement of another guest's body. Truly nonsensical, given the punishment he'd visited upon the first triad of arrivals, but a little whimsy was necessary from time to time.
"Well, I suppose it's time to start over."
The shrill sound of his whistling pierced the air as each replica of Liberi Fatali was recalled into the depths of his robes, quite literally sinking into the fabric as though it were naught but the surface of a crimson lake. Only the nearby blade remained, and no sooner the weapon approached his left hand and his digits dragged along the comfortable handle, the energy that'd been building up within his body dissipated in an instant. It simply wouldn't do to welcome these two with a clear advantage. Perhaps he could have, if he hadn't been trying to challenge himself. Then again, that course of action would suit his darker counterpart; he was far more honorable than that.
The vibrant blade soon formed its own scabbard, slowly but surely shifting its appearance to embrace characteristics pertaining to an infamous oriental blade. A return to his roots. The clock turned back little by little, allowing him to reminisce on what now appeared to be ancient; his era of elemental mastery and simple swordsmanship. Not that he possessed the former anymore on a biological sense. Ever since he'd split from the rejected heritage his biological father had left him, the demonic part of him had been roaming free throughout the Multiverse, sporting his full array of power whilst he'd only been left with his martial prowess and the magic he'd learned alongside Zericho Azerich.
It was through this magic that he'd mimic the principles of the elemental mastery he'd once sported so freely. It was through the sword in his hand that he'd channel and apply the martial knowledge acquired through the years under the many swordmasters of Isamahii and beyond. It was through conflict that one attained real growth.
Light gradually began to shine with less intensity in his immediate vicinity as his stance subtly shifted. It was a gradual, peaceful movement. The sole of his right foot dragged along the ground until the bulk of his body's weight was easily supported by that specific leg. Conversely, his left foot remained behind, with the heel breaking contact with the ground and remaining elevated due to the efforts of the frontal part of said foot. His left hand hovered over the replica of Liberi Fatali's hilt, all whilst the right hand gently grasped the scabbard. His right thumb rested against the guard, applying enough pressure to unveil the scintillating blade past the point of friction.
This was a classic stance when employing these types of weapons. The embodiment of Isamahii's iaijutsu, iaido, and battoujutsu's essence, the knowledge flowed through his mind, body, and soul. His piercing gaze betrayed no emotion, yet his voice remained as cheery and as nonchalant as ever.
"The note should have elaborated plenty on what you're doing here, Loelle. As for you... I don't think you'd be opposed to aiding in this endeavor, hm? Just don't hold anything back if you wish to leave this place alive."
The precursors may have had their fair share of mercy, but it had long since left his eyes as he recalled his days as a hired blade.
All he saw before him were two targets. Nothing more. |
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Post by Dirge on Mar 13, 2023 17:31:34 GMT
First Rotation
Loelle Dreiga (Prada)
'Feast, feast!' The acrimonious cries of the nightless creatures continue to fill her head. They were almost overbearing but Loelle knew what she needed to do here in order to quell the nightmare; the feasting. "The note should have elaborated plenty on what you're doing here, Loelle..." The magister steadied himself, armed with the blade she suspected he slain the former with. However, she was no stranger to the sword. She was a stranger to how he would use the sword in particular and that was key. Discerning what is, what was and what can be.
Loelle hadn't acknowledged the newest arrival but she was totally aware of their presence. Their motive here was not of her concern but they could prove useful in the meantime. '...dleish em, Arcine.' She casts furtively, causing a layer of ether to settle across her frame. The sorceresses eyes flash vehemently as something stirs in the background. A sinister power is drawn out of the cane in her hands that's seemingly draining the life force of everything around. The trees slowly began to wither, the grass fading and citizens dropping from afar due to asphyxiation. Loelle's long dark hair whips in the wind as the elements ramp up in response to her presence alone.
Perhaps the Magister would think she was posturing? The theatrics propose the notion, however, this was not the case. By sacrificing this worlds life force and the souls that came alongside it, she'd supplement the feasting with enough power to come bursting through rifts; nightless creatures flowing like waves of rushing water composed of darkness, consuming everything that'd happen to encounter it. The swordsman would be met with one of these 3 waves of nightless creatures, chittering and whispering grotesque mockeries that would drive any regular man mad. They'd come rushing like a raging river, preparing to consume his very being had he not acted quickly. Although, Loelle knew this wasn't enough to stop him but everything is not as it seems.
Kintar (Longinus)
"Mmmn," Kintar mulls over the question in what seemed to be an instant, but in truth he had already made his mind up. A conflagration of impure Karma melts the letter into hot mush as he submits it to the breeze, manifesting in arcing bands of scathing green light that phases through it and then fades back into obscurity.
Draconically slitted eyes flit to and fro the ambience, observing briefly how Loelle had drawn in the world's essence and even from every creature of the biosphere miles away. He couldn't help but smile, licking his lips in pleasure as Gaia's presence withered away and reduced the air to little better than smog. The water to a bitter tincture which would pollute the blood, and the land to rotten soil that would miscarriage all of its children. Its disharmony preached only good tidings to the Vampire King. But, he did not dally while she did this, instead filling the gap in the middle of his parlance with the Magister. There was nary a flicker of motion or energy to provide forwarning to what the Magister would percieve through his extrasensory abilities.
At the unholy one's feet a ringed symbol in the shape of an eye manifested, and from it came a long, golden sword in the shape of a Zweihander. It shot at an upwards angle to meet the Magister in its skybound path, and pulled the snow into a mass-collection of dancing snowflakes in the midst of its travel path. This was on account of its metallic density, which was on par with that of neutron star matter with only a quarter of the weight. These two qualities combined produced an innate gravitational field, which was visibly suppressed via occasional flashes of that same Karmic field which enshrouds Kintar invisibly. Ultimately, the path of the sword was hidden in a middling blizzard from the moment of its conception as it made to collide head on with the center of Fiorelli's dome, surely pulling him into its path as well unless stopped.
In the meantime, something much more discernable happened, both on an energetic and physical spectrum. Kintar took a step back as the attack Loelle brought forth came to fruition following this, the first two dermic layers of skin molting away into a black haze that merged with the air and sought to spread— not joining with the endless horde of Uncreated that spewed from the spatial-temporal cracks of his would-be ally, but seeking to enshroud the space where they they did not yet deign to plunge into their vast ocean of nothingness. Harmless, for now.
Vincent Fiorelli
No sound, no motion, and no additional energy would've thrown anyone capable of sensing the tiniest changes within the environment through a number of esoteric variables. For anything to occupy a space within the material plane, empty space must be displaced, as arrays of molecules and atoms must make way for greater, tighter arrangements of other molecules and other atoms. This was the most simplistic way of explaining the manifestation, summoning or otherwise, of Kintar's weapon within the material plane in this little remote corner of the Multiverse. That was to say, the manifestation of the symbol and every inch of that golden sword was drawn within the Red Magister's mental map as easily as any other minuscule change within the environment, supernatural or otherwise.
The sunlight reflected off of his silhouette for the briefest of instants, much like the moment before Talutah's ship had blotted out the sun. Starting over came with a few caveats, but the thin bounded field so intimately embracing him never faded away. The Inner and Outer World Paradox was, after all, part of him by now. And just as quickly as he'd adopted his stance, the moment that particular weapon shot toward his head, based on its trajectory at the very least, his entire frame practically disappeared from the spot he'd been standing upon. Naturally, this meant at least one tree would suffer an inevitable demise beneath the weight and force of Kintar's golden sword as it barreled into its trunk, splintering the sturdy wood into a million pieces. Forgoing the need to rely on his spells this time around, Vincent simply opted to hearken back to his roots and traverse the path of the sword yet once again.
The combination of the Shinmeiryuu, a style developed primarily around the exorcising of great demons, and the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu, the very first swordsmanship school taught to him by the swordmasters of the Isamahii Gardens, was nothing if not comfortable to him. The unparalleled speeds at which he traversed the battlefield were common for the first style, given the speed its practitioners often employ. Thus, as Kintar's weapon destroyed the tree behind the location the Red Magister had once stood, and as Loelle's rifts split the empty space 'underneath' them asunder, he'd make his move. The edge of the replica of Liberi Fatali shimmered with the selfsame glow each lancet of physical shadow possessed before tearing Ishiro apart moments before the arrival of these two.
Hyakuretsu Oukazan.
Hundred Raging Cherry Blossoms Slash.
Whether his sword arm moved at all was up for debate. As Kintar's epidermis begun to molt into the first specks of pitch black haze, both he and Loelle would be subject to a rain of horizontal, diagonal, and vertical slashes seemingly executed in rapid succession. The area of effect encompassed roughly ten feet atop and around them, with each slash leaving behind a large yet deep gash within the surface of the rotting land. Normally employed to deal with a massive number of demons and evil spirits alike, the sweeping motion of each slash ensured at least one would find a vital spot within the enemy's body. Aside from this particular Ougi within the Shinmeiryuu, a shallow, thin gash in the form of a crescent was left behind in the wake of the Red Magister's swift movements. The final location was roughly fifteen meters behind Loelle, thus it was clear the unleashing of the Hyakuretsu Oukazan happened somewhere between the first step off of the ground to kickstart his movement, and the last contact of the soles of his feet with the grass and dirt.
One thing was for certain, however; Kintar and Loelle would be subject to the knowledge of ancient swordmasters and its deadly consequences wrought on the world, guided by Vincent's blade and hand both. |
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Post by Dirge on Mar 13, 2023 17:34:02 GMT
Second Rotation
Loelle Dreiga (Prada)
The threat posed by the magister was nothing to take lightly, all things considered. An unknown enemy is far more frightening than one that's understood. This would be the first display of power from this unknown threat and Loelle would commit it to memory. As Kintars blade made contact with the tree, the magister would be upon them in an instant. While Loelle's preternatural senses were powerful in their own right, they weren't enough to track the magisters movements. However, she had taken notice of his sudden displacement. She was more than prepared to deal with the brunt of the magisters attack as she had cast a shielding spell prior to Kintar making his move on the swordsman. Through the initial rain of slashes, her shielding spell would prove useful and hold up until a point that the spell gave way as it could not withstand the continuous strikes in rapid succession. While this may have been the case, the nightless were still at her disposal - hers to command. From beneath, the creatures came barreling through, shrouding Loelle in their forms and absorbing each part of the attack with their bodies. For one nightless that was lost, another two would quickly take their place, effectively allowing her to stave off what would've been imminent death. Albeit, that did not mean she'd come out unscathed from this.
Loelle felt a bit lighter... too light in fact. She glances over at her left to take notice of a missing limb - her left arm. The sorceress winces in excruciating pain but this wasn't enough to throw her completely off of her game. "Sistas!" She exclaims as a cube appears around the wound, sealing it and slowing fatal blood loss. This wasn't a way to heal but to stifle any other trauma.
The nightless that were left standing suddenly circle around Loelle and from their core vitality surges into their body. What they harvest by way of the Renunciation of convention pours into her being, entering a restorative state. '...dleish em, Arcine.'
Kintar (Longinus)
The Sword of Hekate tore through the withered and brittle bark in a shower of rotten detritus, tearing through the upper half of the tree and continuing onwards of its path towards the heavens. Kintar's familiar continued to direct itself, but somewhere amongst its path, shortly after it breaches past a shower of avain creatures native to this fallen paradise, the zweihander wiggles and writhes. It reproduces itself asexually in a concert of twisted tendrils; sentient metal tumors bending away from the main mass, before collecting into a scimitar, the feat being accomplished by borrowing a minute amount of its master's energy. This process continues in disgusting ecstacy as both it, and its offspring, continue to split into more of themselves.
Kintar breathed deep the fragrance of dying cherry blossoms and Loelle's living agony, a hint of nostalgia expanding throughout his consciousness. He was reminded of the precious few days he ripped panacea from the lives of Mt. Hua's disciples when they tried to face what they did not understand. What they could not understand with their "martial path". There were two facts about Kintar that few knew of. Firstly, was the fact that although Kintar is inherently demonic, he bore no vulnerabilities against the anti-demonic. They simply harm him like anything else, as it was his authority of evil's classification to subvert and decieve others. And secondly? From the micro to the macro, Kintar's flesh is suffused with his will. Countless identical replicas of his consciousness, like an endless whirlpool of mirror reflections of the whole of his psyche. It was essentially the cause of why Kintar could seemingly split his focus indefinitely— the truth was, he did not. Hence, it was why when Vincent rushed in to engage in a blur of motion from across that endless flicker of white, before it could be stained black, he did not seem perturbed. Rather, Kintar invited each blow which rained upon him, his gaze reading the path.
Not merely the path of Vincent's sword, but the geometric path that laid credence to his anti-demonic swordsmanship and the flow of energy which chains into it— mechanical or metaphysical. A shower of blows would be too shallow against enemies capable of standing against Vincent. The majority of the blows which rained down on all but the front of Kintar were absorbed by his cloak, as it was specially treated to withstand physical force with the bodily fluids of a particular breed of Hellhound. This was especially true as, unless Vincent had the means to resist it, his Liberi Fatali— or whatever sword he chose to make use of would surely be softened by the negative karmic field corroding away at his sword. However, for the front of him.. Kintar's flesh split shallowly, fertilizing the soil with his ichor. His cellular density is akin to metal, after all. However, when the decisive blow amidst the haze of distractive ones came to be, Kintar reached out to meet the blade, and capture it amidst his right arm as it cleaved through until it reached the center. Difficulty in slicing only seemed to increase as it ventured further, his flesh reconfiguring itself ahead of time to become more dense, but his blood had long since become liquid Anathame— a normally solid material which disperses arcane energy on contact. In this case, it would dismiss the enchantment of anything that Kintar did not deem "attuned" to him. Finally, in the exchange of blows, there was a forced exchange of energy as well, with his Karmic Field conducting along the energetic path of the Magister to meet him at the center. Such was the current nature of Kintar's evil acts that it had manifested as a falsehood of lightning, which did not take the path of least resistance. It creates that. It would claw directly through the structure of anything it comes into contact with, and continue onwards until reaching its target.
But by this point, Vincent either figured something out and completes his dash, or is rooted to the spot. In either case, the black haze completes itself, and individually takes two forms. The first is an inheritance of Kintar's regenerative factor for Loelle via an infusion of his cells through the air she breathes, and the second is a horde of botflys full to the brim of pestilence to harass Vincent from head to toe.
Vincent Fiorelli
Loelle would find little respite behind the shielding spell she'd woven for herself. True enough, the barrier provided a hefty amount of defense against rudimentary attacks, yet the magister's assault was anything but. The glow surrounding the replica of Liberi Fatali's blade was the mark of 'To Teichos Dierxastho', a spell modifier and an enchantment. As there was no spell to be cast this time around, the subsequent effect embraced the magister's blade and, subsequently, the Shinmeiryuu Ougi executed with it. Barriers, shields, and supernatural 'walls' were cut through with ease, the cleaving of the constructs reminiscent of a hot knife slicing through butter. Layers of defense of this sort were purely ineffective, as Ishiro had unfortunately discovered. The nightless, on the other hand, provided better defense as each slash tore through their bodies as easily as he would, but nothing would prevent Loelle from losing her arm to the onslaught. At least the enchantment did not inflict an anti-regenerative effect on the wounds the weapon caused, allowing the woman some actual respite after the fact.
Kintar, on the other hand, would probably come out worse for wear than she had. Not by virtue of the Shinmeiryuu being a style employed to fight against spirits and demons, as the style by itself possessed no holy elemental properties, no crosses, stakes, amulets, and what have you. No, Kintar's mistake was assuming the sword looking to tear through his ensemble, flesh, and bones somehow wouldn't be sturdy enough, sharp enough, dense enough, or strong enough to slice through the particular defenses he'd wreathed himself in. That somehow, this sword wouldn't be able to fully tear through the karmic field surrounding him, the material corroding itself as it descended, until no sword remained. That somehow, his very flesh would be able to hold this weapon in place by virtue of sheer, shifting material density.
Now, true, this replica of Liberi Fatali was certainly not the actual weapon, redundantly enough. It was, for all intents and purposes, possessed of far less magical energy within, being only capable of executing every spell in the Red Magister's repertoire only once, as opposed to the infinite casts the original weapon had access to. This weapon was a sacrificial lamb; fire, fuse, and dynamite all the same, all at once. Useful if he'd decided to detonate the massive amount of raw power concealed within the blade, much like he'd done against The White Swordsman, Einst, but it was not a course of action he'd opted for this time around.
No, all he'd opted for this time was a simple technique involving innumerable, swift slashes and a fair amount of force coming solely from him and his sword arm. There was no real distraction. There was no bait, no feint, and no switch. There was no 'decisive blow', as they all were. Thus, when Kintar decided to remain on the spot, practically without any form of feasible defenses against the onslaught of sheer swordsmanship and speed, he did not simply receive a single, deep wound capable of entrapping the magister's blade; he received fifty. Fifty cuts for Loelle and her Nightless.
Fifty cuts for Kintar. Hence, the 'Hundred Raging Cherry Blossoms Slash'.
Loelle's left arm. Kintar's right arm... And more.
The karmic field surrounding Kintar was torn right through as easily as the blade had torn through Loelle's shielding spell, and just as easily as the field that had aimed to protect Ishiro. Attempting to dismiss the enchantment instilled upon the blade, even after the first wound, would've also required Kintar to somehow dispel the Inner and Outer Paradox surrounding the Red Magister's body. As the sword is an extension of oneself, so too, does the paradox extend to the weapon in his hand. Truthfully, it could've been anything, even the branch of one of the trees surrounding the clearing, so long as he'd picked it up. The 'forced exchange of energy', thus, remained purely kinetic. Moreover, if the karmic field attempted to pass through to his body via Liberi Fatali's replica, the bounded field surrounding him - and the blade itself - simply redirected those efforts toward the environment around them. Actual measures would be taken if the bounded field was pierced through, though no enemy he'd faced had been able to tamper with it thus far. Similar to the Kaiser Effect he'd once studied... But that was neither here nor there.
By the time the Red Magister had finished his dash, Kintar's body would practically be left unrecognizable to the naked eye... But that hardly meant the individual was dead, now did it? No, even if this particular attack had been successful, purely physical blows wouldn't put this sort of enemy six feet under. Offensive spells wouldn't be cast this time around, as that was a self-imposed limitation he'd opted for this round, so to speak. Silver locks shone with an iridescent glow reflected around him, the technique passed down to him by the ancient Shiki, former master of the Isamahii Gardens scintillating in its full splendor.
Suishourin. The body is the vessel. Motion is the 'water' to fill said vessel. Energy is both spent and produced while moving, and this technique embraces the excess, storing it within.
A subtle sigh escapes him before his sword arm rises in a singular slash. The amalgamation of all his swordsmanship styles shines through yet once more, as the currents swept up by the attack and the sheer amount of kinetic energy coursing down his arm and through his blade whip up a veritable whirlwind before him. Each and every single botfly is caught in the currents as they advance toward Loelle's location. Within the whirlwind, dirt, dust, grass, and flies could be seen getting shredded many times over until they were nothing more than mere particles being moved around by the wind. The treeline surrounding the clearing trembled beneath the currents' force, all whilst the faux Liberi Fatali's ruby shimmered with the selfsame glow Vincent's locks did. |
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Post by Dirge on Mar 13, 2023 17:36:17 GMT
Third Rotation Loelle Dreiga (Prada)
" For the moment, Loelle was given enough time to recover and restore the lost vitality within her body. However, this wasn't enough time to repair her missing arm. She was aware that the extent of the magisters power hadn't been drawn out much and that was an immediate problem that'd require some more experimentation. The nightless that granted her this newfound vitality vanished without a trace as their purpose was fulfilled - for now.
Loelle dispels the stasis magic over her wound as it had healed itself in the process. 'What now?' She thinks to herself for a moment, rationalizing the situation. His technique was beyond the likes of anything she had encountered in Casosia and that was a jarring thing. As aforementioned, dealing with the unknown can have major consequences if not handled with extreme caution. [You humans and your right to trifle with every threat.] A shrill, demonic voice calls out in her mind. [If you continue, you'll surely die here. Oftentimes, cowards survive.] It was the nightless and this time with an actual sound reason? All things considered, they weren't wrong. That didn't mean she was a coward but understanding when she was outmatched.
A rift pulls open behind the magus, drawing her in quickly from whence she came. The nightless tugged at her dress and snatched her inside. Suddenly, another swarm came barrelling out of the aperture to aid Kintar in his endeavor; should he survive, these creatures would be his to command moving forward into the battle and if not, they'd return to their pit of darkness. "Another day Magister," She utters as the rift shuts, returning her to The Magladena.
Kintar (Longinus)
7 days pass. Skipped in the rotation.
Vincent Fiorelli
Well, that was anticlimactic.
A tactical retreat, he figured. Flee to live another day, and all that. He couldn't be upset at this particular outcome, all things considered, and given that Loelle herself understood she wasn't going to be able to do much in this particular situation, he wouldn't even attempt to bar her escape. And so, even as the whirlwind of slicing currents approached her location, they'd only manage to snatch up the newly arrived nightless before the rift fully closed up. With the botflies neutralized and Loelle's last attempt at helping the other combatant finding itself rendered useless, this left Vincent turning his attention solely toward Kintar.
There was naught but the subtle tilting of his head, as though posing a wordless question to the man. Truly, he wouldn't fault them for following the 'sorceress'' plan, if they wished to retreat. The luminescence settling within his hair, reflected on his very silhouette and on the surface of his weapon, merely continued to grow. Aided by the Suishourin, his every movement would provide him with additional support on a physical aspect, though this all hinged on his next move.
But the question posed toward Kintar was one of curiosity as well. What would he do? Would he continue to unravel his arsenal before the magister's eyes, providing him with additional information toward his downfall? Or would he switch up his strategy and attempt to rain enfeeblements along the terrain? Vincent couldn't answer any of it at this point in time. What he could do, however, was place three circular shapes in remote yet equidistant locations within the enormous clearing. Tracing a straight line between the center of these circles yielded a perfect equilateral triangle. Slowly but surely, they'd begin to expand. Just what exactly was he planning with these...? |
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Post by Dirge on Mar 13, 2023 17:38:26 GMT
Fourth Rotation Kintar (Longinus)
Ah, that's a shame. Oh well. Shall we begin our solo act, then?
Sing for me.
The wounds inflicted on Kintar cleaved flesh and bone in twain, leaving pallid sections of meat and skin to flourish in scarlet blossoms like the petals of some carnivorous flower. However, this small victory was short lived; the wounds seeming to bleed back in on themselves into unblemished, depraved beauty. From the brief period in which Kintar had pieced himself back together, numerous other things had happened. Perhaps the most unfortunate thing was Loelle's withdrawl, not that the Antichrist minded having Vincent all to himself. The rending of Nightless from cohesive form pulled a mirthful smile from his lips, as he ingested their vitae as it was loosed from their corpses. The strangeness of this action was complete when considering he had not digested them by sucking their essence into his 'main body', but that the stagnant smog he produced had remained affixed to their spatial coordinates, unwavering in positioning. The devoured essence greedily became part of Kintar, processed and refined into an interpretation of the diabolic which suited his schema. Consequently, the weight of his own spiritual presence increased thusly, and expressed itself through each individual molecule to enable its resistance against forced relocation.
"We continue the dance." The botflies were rendered unto as a red mist of plague that remunerated itself back into the smog that occupies the space around Vincent, though merely rested itself among the ambience as a subtle threat.
Kintar stepped into the radius of the alchemical equilibrium that was soon to be imposed upon by Vincent. The black began to flash with inscriptions, invoking inverted tetragrammaton, and the temprance of Baphomet. So above, as below. As below, so above.
The smog flashes with red, casting a crimson shadow across the wintery purity. "Nahwah elonum bor'nem uli-ntam." Kintar chants with a sick smile, the symbology of a purest disrespect against God resonating with his swindling tongue. Heaven's grand court rings with the call of apocalypse, for the orchestrated movements of each atmospheric body had been drawn into the shape of a supermassive bowl that held the countless glittering swords of Kintar's domain. Slowly, but surely, each sword began to fall one by one; crackling with the fetid green of Kintar's ill repute which scantilates across the cloudmass that descends with each supersonic blade. A terrible curse that the melted remains of Vincent's Liberali Fatali replica knew too well.
ETA: 1 Minute.
Vincent Fiorelli
"No.
We do not."
Out of mere courtesy, the Red Magister had allowed Kintar's wounds to knit together until he was fully whole yet once more. It would've been an easy matter to slow the process down, or to outright cauterize the exposed flesh and prevent regeneration, were it not for the current skillset he was showcasing. Individuals of this sort didn't sit well with him, however. They reminded him of the horrors his biological father had inflicted on countless civilizations, and on the plagues each of his generals let loose throughout the Multiverse. Planets razed to the ground, solar systems brought to heel, entire galaxies conquered in the name of a sect the Magisterium sought to bring to its inevitable end. Kintar disgusted him, but nowhere near as much as the half-demons brought forth by his own progenitor.
The magister's mental map was constantly updated with new information based on the perpetual analysis of his surroundings. Quite interesting they'd chosen to scatter some sort of noxious gas toward someone virtually immune to poisons and toxins. While his analysis could've ended there, Vincent never proceeded without considering every single possibility. It was, after all, a trivial matter for his mental processing power. All it took was the consideration of all the current variables in play matched with his own experiences and knowledge. As such, being surrounded didn't mean a single thing to him other than the fact he'd have to move away from the impending threat, something he did easily enough by sinking into his own shadow.
After all, within the magic school he'd adopted as his own, shadows could be manipulated and turned physical to attack, or they could serve as a gateway to another dimension in both defensive and support related matters. When Kintar stepped into the radius of alchemical equilibrium, the Red Magister was already gone. Naturally, if the slicing wind currents he'd conjured forth with a swing of his blade hadn't swept up the smog away from his location, it simply meant this noxious substance operated outside the widely accepted principles regarding gasses. Regardless, in the split second it took Vincent to disappear within his shadow and reappear in the center of the northwest's expanding circle, out of one of the many shadows projected upon it by the massive treeline surrounding the clearing, several things happened in rapid succession as the energy he'd amassed was put to actual use.
"Κρατιστη Αιγις." Kratiste Aigis.
The moment these words were uttered within the magister's mind, it was as though a chain reaction started within the very clearing itself. Each and every cut he'd left upon the surface of the dirt became irradiated with a luminescent glow, including the crescent left behind through his movements. The edges of each circle interconnected through the light, fully manifesting the Triangulus Captionem. The areas of the circles inverted on each other, seizing Kintar within the remaining spot in the center, confined by an extremely potent defensive spell offering anti-physical and anti-magical wide-area protection through multiple layers of bounded fields, wards, and ritual circles. Virtually speaking, Kintar was in a far better position than the Red Magister, defensively speaking, seeing as how he was surrounded by at least nine protective barriers whilst Vincent remained in the protection of the singular, very outermost one...
"Κοσμικη Κρυσταλλοπηγια."
Kosmike Krustallopegia. ... until the second part of the trap sprung within the space confined by the Kratiste Aigis' protection. Much like Vincent could use the bounded field surrounding his body at all times as a target for his spells, so could he employ other bounded fields as a target. What better way of showcasing this than casting within a defensive spell of his own creation? Not that Kintar would have much time to decide what to do in this case, given the temperature within the nine barriers dropped drastically from one moment to the next. Originally a spell capable of enacting its effect within a space of a hundred and fifty feet in all directions, the Kosmike Krustallopegia encases the target area in a prison of eternal ice with a temperature of -273,15 degrees Celsius. For all intents and purposes, perpetual, true absolute zero, a feat unable to be accomplished by modern science due to the thermodynamic systems disallowing it both numerically and entropically. This magically-induced phenomenon goes against the second law of thermodynamics, reaching the realm of superfluidity and quantum hydrodynamics. Such a feat was only easy for him to accomplish through this particular High-Ancient spell.
His silver hair no longer shimmered with the iridescent glow present just a few moments ago, and it looked like the copy of Liberi Fatali in his hand, partially corroded though by no means melted, had exhausted the energy supply within the ruby encrusted in the guard. Seems like the shielding spell was executed with the energy gathered in the sword whilst the High-Ancient spell with the energy he'd been building up throughout his every movement, which the Suishourin had ultimately helped shore up.
With the Triangulus Captionem's combined success, however, there was little Kintar could do. Of course, his chanting wouldn't be interrupted, allowing the man to get out every last word before the gelid prison claimed him, and while the clearing outside of the Kratiste Aigis would see itself a victim of each supersonic blade, it seemed the outermost layer of the barrier held fast against the onslaught. Regardless of the efficiency of the defensive spell, there was a reason it was seldom employed; the sword in his hand was nothing more than an empty husk, and he merely tossed it into his shadow to dispose of it. The last glimmer of this replica's light reflected off of the magister's silhouette in a melancholic note. It was the end of the road for this blade, though never for its sisters...
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Post by Dirge on Mar 13, 2023 17:41:04 GMT
Fifth Rotation Kintar (Longinus)
"Oh?" Kintar's neck swivels in full 360° in a morbid display of ecstacy, drinking in the Magister's animosity toward him. Was this.. righteous fury? No, it didn't taste right. Far too personal. Lived experience and the pain that came with it. A resolve to ensure that nothing to the effect would ever come about. He sipped upon the Magister's disdain like it were a fine wine, licking his own twisted lips with a serpent's tongue.
Kintar had not just surrounded Vincent with pitch, but with his own flesh and blood. This means, that aside from the Magister being physically observed by the vampire's obvious gaze, he is under constant, direct scrutiny from the smoke that had surrounded him. The Magister had not hidden his spellcraft, hence his activation and purpose of it was fully visible to Kintar— the immediate response of which was simple.
A portion of the smog which had enveloped him castigated his attempt to retreat with a bombardment of light which could pass through solid objects via an incorporation of the etheric element into its composition, granting it ghostly properties by that measure. The focal point was erasure of Vincent's shadow either at the start or mid-point of Vincent's casting, and preventing him escape by way of the shade within his red cloak as well. But, with his senses spread out with the mental map? He was also likely to suffer the consequences of a flashbang, with the intensity of said light increasing as the quantity steadily grew from Kintar's regenerative factor.
"Ah, ah, ah~. You said it'll end here." Kintar's voice echoed within the light, though not spoken by his own lips as he had used them to chant his verbal bile. "End it, won't you?" Whether or not Vincent continued with his spell or changed its parameters was irrelevant. Kintar still insisted on playing his hand; casting his malice upon the full radius of their mutual casting grounds.
Kintar had condemned all that came into contact with the scarlet of his blood with a curse of fatal contradiction. His Bloodward Curse. Anything that would come into contact with it, save for Kintar himself and his various artefacts, would suffer a flaw contrary to their nature, as by his sheer act of disrespect against YHWH had contorted and violated Creation by using himself as a gateway for the violent mutation of it. Hence, the Bounded Fields, antimagic and antiphysical barriers seemed to pull in more of existence rather than cordoning off a section of it; providing a compression of space, time and energy within the boundaries of Vincent's dimensional barriers.
A threat to which Kintar suffered none, as from the moment he was swallowed up in the Bounded Fields, Kintar's cloak triggered; engulfing him in a spiritual buffer zone that annulled manipulation or alterations of space-time in his immediate vicinity. Consequently, if he was still somehow frozen, the eternal gelid kiss of Vincent's frost would instead be incredibly finite, and revert back to room temperature just as quickly, especially as his negative Karma would merely act as a stand-in for thermic and kinetic energy and keep the atomic motion of his body perpetuated.
Kintar made to transfigure the light to soul-searing Hellfire following the clash between their magic; his blood rushing to fill in the gap left behind by the shift to light and subsume Vincent in his corruption, while Kintar himself continued to walk in the Magister's direction. If he still somehow escaped? Then, well. Kintar just had to walk a bit further.
ETA 'TIL IMPACT: 2 Minutes.
.. What? A cursory glance toward the sword's decent with either Vincent's eyes or the mental map would show that the swords had actually started to fall slower, though their actual speeds hadn't changed. There were more of them too, now. What was going on?
Vincent Fiorelli
There was little need to hide anything for the Red Magister.
The gathering of energy had been present throughout the entirety of the encounter, even before Kintar and Loelle had arrived to Elysium, with the magister's hair glowing to signify accumulated power. Liberi Fatali's ruby oft symbolized the sword's own application of energy amassing within it, though the weapon had no need to pull energy from anywhere else but from within itself. But the shadows themselves encompassed no real spellcraft, as no spell was necessary to accomplish the traverse into the realm on the other side and back. More to the point, any and all actual spellcraft was executed within Vincent himself, and while it was quite easy to understand when mana or any other form of 'fuel' was being gathered, the weaving of said fuel into a proper spell was all but invisible unless he chose to incant his magic in full.
Suffice it to say, most of the spells he was able to conjure and make manifest within the material plane could be brought to life through unincanted casting by this point in his travels. And given there was no casting, Kintar's attempt at stopping him would be rendered all but worthless, as there was no prior sign, no prior tell, and no prior indication of what the magister was planning. The shadows at the soles of his feet would remain nevertheless, but this attempt only told him one thing; Kintar had fallen for the greatest red herring. Namely, because he needn't shift away from this particular point. The assault of light wouldn't even afflict his senses, either, considering the kind of luminous intensity he handled on the daily. Simply put, hypersensitivity was not an issue he'd ever suffered throughout his years traveling the Multiverse, and it certainly wouldn't prove an issue on this particular moment.
All this meant was that his plan would follow unimpeded, except that instead of remaining within the outermost layer of the barrier, he'd be right in the middle, where the protection was the strongest. The Triangulus Captionem sprung and the Kratiste Aigis followed, with each and every bounded field and barrier claiming their spot within Elysium. Kintar would be wholly unaffected by the protective boons of the bounded fields and multilayered barrier, however - another obvious fact regarding spellcasting and the choosing of targets. Alas, he would be confined within the Triangulus Captionem, and within the gelid prison that the Kosmike Krustallopegia encased him in. The cloak could attempt to fight the effect, but it wouldn't prove all too effective, given the accumulation of energy that was poured into the spell. Add onto that the lack of entropy that the perpetual effect of the absolute zero temperatures yielded by the spell instilled upon the system, and the overwhelming of Kintar's defenses was the only logical conclusion.
Ultimately, the layering of effects through the magister's plan would win out, trapping the shapeshifter within the perpetual ice. Certainly, Kintar's Bloodward Curse could attempt to distort and modify the effect of the spells... Only the internal method of casting the Red Magister employed automatically threw forced modifications out the window. Spells had power of their own, brought forth by the words employed to enact them. That was the only manipulation allowed to them, modification through the casting. Neither had been impeded, and the energy within him was fully untainted. As such, the effects that were made manifest within the material plane were wholly unaltered.
Vincent simply shifted through the ice as though the construct wasn't even there, weaving through the spell with the utmost ease. Kintar's hubris symbolized his eventual downfall. The man simply hadn't gathered enough power to withstand the magister's assault, especially given he'd spaced out for a shortlived moment, and for that, he'd end up sealed in a perpetual prison of ice, with each and every bounded field surrounding him perpetuating the imprisonment. The more Kintar struggled, the worse it would be for him. More energy spent against a perpetual effect meant that even the strongest barriers were eventually overwhelmed; none of them possessed infinite energy, after all. It wasn't the classiest way to finish an engagement, but it certainly worked out to allow the next batch of combatants to be summoned to Elysium.
Relying on a High-Ancient spell to finish a battle meant that Kintar was a worthy opponent, and it was for that reason that he'd still be allowed to live. |
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Post by Dirge on Apr 16, 2023 23:22:10 GMT
Third Wave - Introductory Posts
Myra
Quiet contemplation stilled the crackling whispers of chaos’ desires. Their musings etched within her fabric being, staining essence Jade. High above the planet Elysium resided the unfathomably large entity Leviathan that stayed locked in fixed geophysical position to the planet’s rotational orbit. Within the ship Myra would watch through holographic visuals the destruction that Vincent, an old mentor of hers had laid waste too. Combatant after combatant fell with all but one so far being effortlessly dispatched. Myra’s expression was stoic, but her eyes belied her true excitement, her true yearning for battle. The woman once known as Eden had called forth to Vincent to seek tutorage and in response received the coordinates to Elysium and it was here, she would test her mettle against the fabled red magister.
“Hmm.”
The sound left painted dark blue lips as her arms crossed over her chest. The magister’s collection of spells having caught and overwhelmed his last opponent in a manner that was inescapable. Clicking her tongue briefly Myra would step free from the holograms as she spoke to nothing or no one in particular.
“It is time we made our appearance.”
The feint sound of chuckling would permeate the silence of the central command of the ship briefly before falling away. Every step Myra took was light against the metal flooring of the Leviathan. A ship she had commandeered with her compatriot Delta for the explicit use of Eclipse. The Dreadnaught destroyer class ship built by the megacorporation she previously owed her existence too was now a part of a greater fleet that scoured the omniverse. Myra’s destination was that of the transportation anchor of the ship, deep within the confines of the belly of the mechanical beast she would walk. Stepping through doors as they hiss open and shut behind her with fluidity, Myra’s mercurial hues would close in thought.
Vincent had not seen or heard from Myra up until she sent that communication. He was not aware of the transformations she had undergone at the hands of Bjorn, Edward and the Jade Horizon. Her presence significantly different, the gait in which she walked was far more confident in stride. Aesthetically Myra had undergone the biggest of changes as she was no longer the pink haired sarcastic weapon of babel. She was no longer bound to the foundations in which they had created for her. She was far beyond that now. Finally reaching the transportation room she would speak once again.
“Set designation Delta Five Four Seven, Elysium.”
After a moment of silent calibration, a feminine voice would respond as a spatial anomaly would begin to open. ‘Location set; transportation stable.’. Etched within the walls, ceiling and floor were symbols activated to open a space-time rift anchored by aethereal latticework to the planet. Stepping through the forced asunder void that would act as the vessel in which she would transport herself within, Myra would wave her hand back towards the empty vessel.
One hundred meters from Vincent’s current position, facing him from his north western point the fabric of reality and space would be torn asunder. The ground would shake, ice would shatter and ancient trees would fall in cascade as their positions were torn apart by her arrival. The void in its truest penumbral state would peel itself back away from Myra’s physique as she stepped toward the light. For Vincent he would feel a slight resemblance to Eden’s aether signature even if it had been overwritten, modified by the cosmic forces of creation to be the purest and truest form of itself.
What Vincent would see is a five foot ten inch tall woman of muscular but lithe physique. Broader in shoulder and hips, straight of back and electric blue hair that cascaded down her right side and stopping just below her shoulder in length. The left was shaven short and etched with four straight lines from her temple. Myra’s mercury silver eyes would focus upon Vincent, her left eye illuminating a soft pink taint to the silver. Her lips were painted dark blue. Myra was dressed for the occasion as her upper half was dressed in a black button down long sleeve blouse with the top button open to reveal the inky black skin tight suit she wore underneath that covered her whole body. It moved as she did, looking almost liquid. Over her blouse Myra wore a charcoal black double breasted jacket with golden buttons which were left open. Her lower appendages were covered in dark grey combat cargo pants cinched tight with a pure white belt with a golden buckle that glimmered in the light. At her hips sides connected to the buckle were the familiar curved hilts of her lightsabers. Weapons she had forged herself on her journey with Bjorn. Covering her feet were her usual black combat boots.
As Myra stepped completely free from the spatial maw it would snap close with a thunderous crack before giving way to the silence once again. Myra would watch the magister with intensity as her hands shifted to cross over and rest against her chest.
“You know, after all this time we still haven’t ever had the chance to fight.”
There was a confidence in her voice, not cockiness or a form of self-inflated ego. Edward had beat that out of her in the early days of her training. No, she was confident. A battle tested confidence in her abilities.
“It’s good to see you again Vincent.”
Niu Daiyu
Most of Niu’s activities were unknown, both to the courts and to her best and only friend, Liena. This included her primary work, entering the cursed domain of Rasa, an area of undetermined coverage that clutched the planet she grew up on. Uninhabitable to all life, she was most concerned with its spread, the rate by which it assumed to take hold over the world she’d known as home. Her decision to work alone had more to do with the fact that she wouldn’t wish that kind of job on anyone.
The other thing she did on occasion was underground fighting. Set in an area that heavily frowned upon magic, she wanted to see how well she could fare without it, but more importantly, the people she fought were far from below petty trickery. That was the one thing they had in common with fiends. For her the justification was simple, but there was another part deep within her that craved it. As much as she hated to admit it, she was naturally suited to battle.
It was at one of these events that she received a letter. It effervesced the moment she drew near, immediately drawing her to pick it up off the table where it rested. The seal on the envelope betrayed a certain magical quality to it; the writing within was simple, but carried a strange atmosphere, one that seemed to latch onto her will directly. It was an invitation for a fight, that much was obvious, but it was also a key, or a ticket rather, one that granted access to the domain where the fight would be taking place. Niu had no trouble deciphering this, though she could tell it wasn’t meant for just anyone.
Taking several jade coins in hand, she summoned various weapons, her bow to her right hand, her mace to her side, and her shield, which surrounded her left wrist seamlessly, its small shape doing little to betray its actual capabilities. She wore little with regard to body armor, wearing relatively casual clothes consisting of a T-shirt and shorts for simple ease of movement, and fibers that provided mild piercing resistance. It was the same getup she used in her fights, which had a minimal dress code to begin with. She also maintained her most basic maintenance spell, her weight cancellation spell. This belonged in the Feng school of magic, and had a natural green shimmer. However, the cloaking mechanism built into the spell, transformed this sheen into something truly transparent, something invisible even in terms of its outline.
As she did so, she held the letter in the air, waiting for the magic within to activate, transporting her to a separate plane of existence altogether, betraying an inherent advanced aspect to the spell itself. Colors saturated and desaturated as she traveled along, nothing she wasn’t used to. She would arrive at the edge of a clearing in what appeared to be an endless forest. Her pale white hair and pink eyes actually stuck out as her most obvious traits, at least viewed from a distance. She spotted a silver haired individual off in the distance, in some proximity with what appeared to be a fiend, encased in a spell. The power of that spell was fairly obvious to her. Then there was the other one, a blue haired fighter wearing a blouse over a onesie. Despite their moderate distance from her, Niu could make out the colors of their eyes, and through no enhancement.
She was curious about the fiend-like individual ensnared. Now doubt he must have been a separate challenger, his current state and the mass of bodies and flesh scattered about the field indicated that the silver haired man was clearly powerful, and also likely the man she was to be fighting. The other woman must then be another challenger, not that she was about to act on such an assumption, but it did help her streamline her focus a touch.
Vincent Fiorelli
"Well, now... That's a face I haven't seen in a while."
With naught but a single sweeping motion of his left hand, the icy prison enshrouding Kintar was swallowed by a spatial anomaly, sending the entity back whence it'd come from. No doubt, the spell would cease to exist in a few hours, away from the one that had made it manifest within the material plane, but that was a tale that'd continue elsewhere. While the Red Magister expected three new combatants, these two proved more than enough of a challenge. Especially the one who'd addressed him.
"You've changed plenty since I last laid eyes on you. Even your name's different. Seems the VII scattered to the winds after releasing everybody relevant from that test tube of a universe..."
He hadn't been alone in the creation that contained the Babel Corporation. Given the circumstances and the sudden disappearance of the other individual, sole ownership remained in his hands, which is why the entirety of that universe had been condensed into a physical object. Said object was still being used as a paperweight back within his study, likely resting atop several documents of varied importance.
"The Magnus Archives would've been completely obliterated if our bout had occurred there. Figured I'd give you more freedom to spread your wings."
The countless gashes upon the grass and dirt and the several trees that had been reduced to splinters near the northern region of the clearing wouldn't see themselves returning to normal anytime soon, however. As much of a paradise Elysium was, the parameters for its growth were not unlike one of the many versions of planet Earth. Depending on the destruction raining down on this place, the ecosystem's recovery would span a few months or several decades. Not that they cared too much about it; the place was of little importance in the grand scheme of things, besides serving as a comfortable resort to Multiversal travelers who wished to get away from urban environments from time to time. This clearing was merely one of many within the lush forests of the planet.
Liberi Fatali dissipated nigh-immediately once he tossed it up into the air. He wasn't familiar with Niu, but Myra had been extremely easy to recognize due to her energy signature. No matter how much her physical appearance changed or how much her power grew, that was the one constant that separated her from the rest of the entities within the Multiverse. It was also the sole reason why he acted with such familiarity when addressing her.
"I really wanted to save this for an actual enemy, but there's no harm in letting an ally witness one of my very first creations. Let's say it'll take things up a notch from everything I've been displaying up until now."
What little accumulated energy remained to be spent was put invested in calling this particular object from within his personal storage space. A sphere laden with bounded fields, geometric patterns, and sigils of protection pushed against the fabric of reality in front of Vincent. This sphere shattered the veil separating it from the material plane, drawing particles in the surroundings towards its center, though matter practically disintegrated on contact with the outer layer. Most mundane objects and entities would've crumbled in a matter of seconds due to the protective enchantments surrounding the artifact within, but the Red Magister had little issues with opening up each and every single layer one by one. Like solving a puzzle, he manipulated certain symbols within each layer, and the sphere's width grew thinner and thinner as these were 'solved' and removed.
Translucent as it was, the last protective seal finally crumbled beneath the magister's expert touch, only to reveal an ornate dagger encrusted with shimmering jewels. A wave of comfort washed over his psyche once his crimson-clad left hand grasped its runed handle. Currently, the weapon was attuned solely to him and his counterpart. There was no need to fight the intense presence of the dagger's inner will, though lesser minds and those not chosen would have a difficult time remaining in control of themselves. Similar to an Eikon or a Primal, those who could not resist its pull would become entranced and enthralled by it for eternity.
"You may have heard about this weapon before," he began, giving it a couple shortlived swings. "The Jeweled Azoth, my most prized creation. A weapon that was deemed too dangerous to wield in a different era. Seems to be the right time to pull it out of the Vault and see if it's still as useful as it was before."
Each and every single rune within the blade lit up with an iridescent glow, as though priming the weapon for combat. Conversely, each and every precious stone embedded within various parts of the dagger seemed to awaken to the magister's very influence, displaying their own runic symbol in front of a lemniscate.
"Niu. Myra. Hold nothing back." The magister's left arm was lifted until the dagger was directly in front of him, practically driving a wedge between the two women from afar. "Show me if you're capable of withstanding the Azoth." |
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Post by Dirge on Apr 16, 2023 23:25:11 GMT
First Rotation
Myra
Myra’s mercurial hues drifted from the visage of the Magister towards the newcomer that arrived via a transportation spell affixed to the letter she held in her hand. There was a moment of curiosity about the other woman before her attention was drawn back towards the Magister as he spoke to her as mutuals, equals upon a battlefield. Raising her right hand to her face Myra allowed the vibrant strands of electric blue to weave between her fingertips before being pushed back behind her ear.
“Once I left the multiverse I spent time locked in battle with some of the strongest beasts in the multiverse. However it is through my death and rebirth that I stand today. Carved from the perfectionist strands of the multiverse bent to no whims of a corporation or egocentric.”
Lowering her right hand, painted fingertips brush the smooth cold pommel of her right lightsaber. The touch of metal between her fingertips provides a sense of comfort to Myra. Her eyes would drift towards the expanse between them before she responded.
“The Magnus Archives, I remember fondly that place. You are correct, it would be nothing but rubble and ruin if we had crossed there. It simply was not the right place or the right time. However, I know that you are the sole keeper of the babelverse. Am I right to understand that the rumors are true and you hold it like a snow globe?”
Myra’s lips would twitch into a small smile, eyes focused intently on the magister. The other woman Myra would be aware of even if she wasn’t in direct focus. Myra’s natural instinct for battle was broken and built up repeatedly through constant applied pressures by the lord-knight of the all stone, Bjorn and another. A man from U-tic with hair as pristine white as the purest of snow.
“I want that snow globe. I think it’ll look great as a little ornament on my desk.”
Myra’s words drifted through the expanse between the trio before falling silent to the summoning of a bounded orb. The aetherial knowledge needed to unlock each ‘layer’ as it were was a unique puzzle in its own right. Step by step Myra watched as Magister would remove each seal one by one until he withdrew from the confines of his own vault a dagger riddled with jewels. Its presence was not lost to Myra as her focus hardened. This fight just got a whole lot more interesting.
“So that's the Jeweled Azeroth.”
She would ask before Vince would confirm her statement to be true and ended his speech with a term for the fight. Hold nothing back. Myra had no intentions of withholding anything in this fight for the betterment or not of her newly formed companion in this bout. Myra’s right hand would extend to her side as if preparing to grasp at something.
“You want us to hold nothing back? As you say so. This fight just got a whole lot more interesting.”
Turning her attention towards the other female Myra would speak to her for the first time.
“Look after yourself and make sure every shot you take towards Vincent is a kill shot. Play stupid games and you’ll win stupid prizes.”
As she was speaking arcs of lightning would begin to crackle and arc across her physique. The ethereal prominence noted by the dull jade colouration of the lightning manifestations of aether. Forged within the fabric of her creation Myra was connected to the cosmic immaterial known as the Jade Horizon. An unfathomable chasm of chaotic energy. It’s presence coiled about her form, dancing upon her flesh but leaving no mark or blemish. Myra was still coming to understand what the Jade Horizon was and how to control its chaotic nature for her whims. Such is the nature of constant education and evolution.
However, such as the appearance of the Jade aether would manifest it was not a singular interaction. No, it’s appearance was just a flare, a reveal of her intrinsic connection to the aethereal. Myra up until now had not selected her weapon of choice. Her right hand as it was previously extended clamped around the black shaft of a weapon that suddenly manifested. Myra’s access to her vault had not diminished since her rebirth and she had called to her the weapon of choice.
A black gloved hand encircles the seven foot long shaft of her desired weapon; Ouroboros. The mighty dual headed chain-ax glimmering in the light of Elysium.The pommel is that of a multi-splined [12] spike ending in a pin-point tip, the edges of which are polished to hold an eternal mirror finish. Moving up from the base of the pommel is the seven foot long haft made entirely of a gunmetal matte color, exactly one and a half inches in diameter. Coiled about the haft is what appears to be the namesake of the weapon, that being a dreadful black serpent. Its form wraps about the haft every six inches, adding considerable grip all throughout, with the head of the serpent seemingly vanishing into the haft upon the final coil, only to resurface on the top of the large block resting atop its form. The serpent’s jaws are perpetually held open, fangs as sharp as the pommel on the opposite end exposed just enough to bring the threat of a rather nasty impalement should the need arise. Mysteriously, the depth of the serpent’s maw cannot be determined, as if some terrible secret lies just beyond the darkness. Finally, the serpent’s eyes are fashioned with vibrant pink diamonds of the finest purity.
The head of the Ouroboros measures two and a half feet long from edge to edge, and nine inches tall, of the same gunmetal finish as the remainder of the weapon. Across either broadside of the head are seven identical runes which glow a rich neon pink that gradually pulse every seven standard solar seconds. Interlaced between the runes are several embossed symbols of some ancient, forgotten language whose meaning has been forever lost.
Extending from either end of the head is a secondary block of chrome finish, which measures a mere three inches in length. This is connected to the main focal point of the weapon: its terrifying chain-blades, which are affixed to twin crescent-shaped multilayered housings. These crescents are exactly three feet long from one sweeping point to the other, the ends being complimented with three reverse angled spikes. Along what would normally be the cutting edge of the crescents are dual-track, opposed-teeth chains. The teeth are possessed of an eternally mirrored finish exactly like the pommel’s spike, and feature a monomolecular edge three inches long, curved to clear the housing’s opening. On the broadside of each crescent housing are bronzed embossed emblems, that of the Babel Corporation. Should one have the wherewithal to gaze a moment longer, they would see the hundreds of half-millimeter wide, quarter-millimeter deep indentations smothering the housings.
The monstrous weapon would be turned within her grasp deftly to allow the axe’s front blade to embed effortlessly within the planetary crust of Elysium. Simultaneously to such a reveal it was paired with the glowing of aetheral latticework and traceways through Myra’s blouse to a sphere of vibrant blue located on a bracelet around her left wrist. The small circular orb of vibrant blue was encased with a chain of smaller inactive beads. These were gifts given to her during her travels. The materia reacted to the influx of aether as it began to pulsate dimly but no spell or effect was activated.
Myra’s posture would change as left foot would slide back and shoulder width apart from her right, her hips loosened and her body turned to the side bringing her into a posture best suited for fast paced dueling. Beneath her attire the skin suit would continue to move as if she were coated in a glistening oil.
“Let’s hope that the wait was worth it.”
Niu Daiyu
Niu was able to catch the tail end of the conversation between Myra and Vincent, though she couldn’t fully make heads or tails of it. Babelverse? The Magnus Archives? No doubt these individuals must have known each other, meaning if anyone was the odd one out, it was her. Still, as Vincent unveiled the Azoth from its many seals, betraying a magic well outside her current knowledge and understanding, he called out to her by name, telling her to not hold back.
Azoth, upon reveal, was certainly no weapon Niu was familiar with. She hadn’t even heard of it until the magister spoke its name, yet something about the weapon provoked a visceral response within her body. Its presence was immense, but her response was not one of fear but rather intrigue, and she knew exactly where that feeling emerged from. The feeling was of odd familiarity, indicative of some corruptive presence. It was within her nature to be drawn to such presences, whether they were ultimately demonic or not. Like Vincent, she also had a counterpart, buried and trapped within a series of seals that doubled as powerful barriers against the netheric influences, a side effect far from mere coincidence. The fact that he knew her name was certainly interesting to her.
Of course she wasn’t spending her time gawking at the weapon. In fact, she had activated the Yili spell immediately. Spirals of jade and hazel brown shimmered before enclosing over her limbs, torso, head, and importantly, her weapons. The spiraling shapes enclosed as if tightening over her body before disappearing within the muscles themselves. Her bow, Kafu, as well as her body received a substantial boost to both strength and fortitude, increasing the overall draw weight of her weapon and providing her with the matched strength to use it effectively. Strength invariably bolstered the speed and potency of her attacks, as it would for any archer. That said, it wasn’t merely the bow that received this buff. Her shield, and mace received it as well, bolstering defensive resources. The process occurring during and after Myra turned to speak to her, almost commanding her to take this fight seriously.
Niu simply nodded in response, both to Vincent and Myra, who seemed to repeat what he had said initially, perhaps with further emphasis. She would retrieve an arrow from her quiver, composed of a hefty body of Andapa, indifferent from her other arrows in terms of weight, with an almost bolt-like appearance. It was composed of this metal as opposed to the more common chthonic steel in part because it was the only metal compatible with the spell written into it. The arrowhead possessed Kalashan lettering and calligraphy, indicative of the Kuo curse, a form of magic belonging to the class of rending ether, with an unparalleled capacity to split apart the material and immaterial alike.
With the debut of Azoth, Niu became tempted to reveal a weapon of her own, transformed from the serrated corrupt holy blade Uhrma had slammed into her chest not too long ago, where it remained, further corrupted by the essence within her only to be consumed entirely. Originally a weapon of an angel of the shadow, its wielder's soul was ensnared and trapped within the blade, before Uhrma gifted her with it. It became trapped within her body in part to save her own life, as the holy ether within remained potent. However, in merging with her body entirely, like all corrupted weapons, its fate was to be totally consumed by the will and dominion of her counterpart, transfiguring entirely into a more crude shape. The endless suffering and agony of the soul within, therefore strengthened its overall presence.
This remained buried within her body, and yet roared to life all the same, likely with similar motivation to her initial strange reaction upon observing the immense presence of the Azoth. Myra, an unlikely ally of sorts, expressed that this fight was about to get interesting. Niu was inclined to agree.
Vincent Fiorelli
Conversation with Myra was a given. Their past within the Babelverse connected them on some superficial level, even if he'd only been an advisor and someone who observed his little pet project from within. Shame Virginia was nowhere to be seen after being let go from that universe, but he was certain the little Squall was doing just fine in whatever corner she'd claimed for herself as a mercenary. If anything, it was a nice thought as he was readying himself to go up against these two.
"I suppose I should take you two seriously from the start, but old habits die hard."
Personal limiters were hardly ever shaken off. Contrary to his demonic counterpart, the elusive yet deadly V, the Red Magister couldn't bring himself to employ his full power at the very beginning of a battle. There was nothing actually preventing him from doing so; he simply forced himself to take things slow, step by step. Likely something to do with his personality, or perhaps it was the fact battles often ended too quickly in the event every ounce of his strength was brought to bear against an enemy. As with everybody else, Myra and Niu would have to earn the right to draw the magister's full potential throughout the course of their encounter.
His initial tactic unfurled in stoic similarity to his previous bouts. A cocoon of translucent light embraces his frame, seemingly adhering to his silhouette and over the Inner and Outer World Paradox, the bounded field perpetually present around him. In sheer simultaneity, one of the seven jewels encrusted within the Jeweled Azoth stirs awake, the iridescent glow within this partiuclar stone shifting into a vibrant violet light. Divergence from the usual strategy, the dagger being the additional variable. The last time this weapon had seen the light of day was roughly a decade and some change ago, according to the flow of time in planet Earth. For Vincent, however, more than thirty years had passed from that moment, due to the different universes he'd visited.
The the orb-shaped gem at the base of the blade, right above the guard, projected a thunderous roar as a myriad arcs of razor-sharp lightning radiated forth from it. Each of these orbited Vincent's crimson robes in a variety of different colors and hues. Blazing yellows, shimmering blues, and opulent amethyst hues all surrounded him in a dangerous display of the dagger's elemental prowess. Some of these arcs sunk back within the precious stone they'd originated from, the Levinlight. The application of Endless Magic, divined from an ancient being by the name of Beatrice, the Golden Witch, ensured the Jeweled Azoth would perpetually renew its own limitless energy.
"If neither of you are going to make the first move...~"
The Azoth was flipped in his hand, transitioning from a slashing-focused grip into one specialized in piercing. However, instead of advancing toward the pair, Vincent sunk the very tip of the blade into the ground in front of him. This would've been extremely stupid when one was employing the lightning element, given the static would end up grounded and ultimately dissipating. The Levinlight, however, allowed the Azoth to control these arcing bolts to perfection; instead of dissipating upon contact with the land, these bolts of lightning became veritable streams of pure heat, negatively charged static, and light. In order to direct where these bolts are headed, positive streamers propagate in the opposite direction to 'lead' or 'guide' the destructive streams.
In this case, a lattice of mystic lightning expanded outward from the point of contact, fanning outward at an alarming rate. Smaller boulders found within the clearing as the lattice advanced were diced up, shredded, and charred by the concentrated nature of the attack. Were one to look closer, agglomerations of negatively charged particles remained upon the stone, not dissimilar to stars upon the night sky. Blades of grass touched by it practically turned to dust in its wake. The more it advanced toward Myra and Niu, the wider the area of effect. Each point of contact within the massive lattice further reinforced the concentrated nature of each and every bolt, and yet, it couldn't continue to expand forever, could it...?
Perhaps it could.
The Azoth itself bent and defied a fair amount of extant laws.
But there was always a way to get around these things when it came down to Vincent; he liked to think he was nothing if not fair. Perhaps there was a weakness somewhere along the lattice. Its height seemed to reach a maximum of thirty meters, though its width continued to grow. It likely wouldn't be larger than the clearing, though it'd be some time before it could reach that absolute width.
That should suffice for a starting blow, wouldn't it? The momentary thought crossed his mind, wondering whether he should've picked a weaker element to fully showcase the capabilities of the weapon. Ah, well... At least he'd refrain himself from using the secondary capability of the Levinlight for the time being. After all, the Raiten Taisou could be achieved normally through the magic school he'd adopted as his own. The Azoth merely allowed him to skip the process. For now, he'd toy with the dagger and see whether Myra and Niu could survive its elemental onslaught. |
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