Post/Author/DateTime	Post
EpicEvokerElf 09-09-07, 10:46 AM	http://i157.photobucket.com/albums/t73/Gideon_Gideonson/cooltext46518713.gif http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q36/Ra56/cooltext64886762.gif Due to relatively (un)popular demand, I have decided to create a new IC thread for purposes of holding more matches and keeping things from getting too confusing. Besides, there are 4 on the other site... The structure you're standing in is a large, bowl-shaped, roofless building with a bare dirt floor, then on the peripheral circumference, gradually rising up to the tops of the outer walls are the stands. It immediately strikes you that you are standing in a unbelievably large coliseum. The sky is black with hints of red and the inhabitants of the stands are immediately recognizable as Baatezu (devils); all except for the first row whose inhabitants actually look like civilized normal humanoids (although this may just mean they are higher rank and perhaps diplomats from other planes). A voice calls for silence, and you turn your to face him. He appears as a glowing elven figure, robed in blood red and holding a bone rod. He raises the rod and the entire arena is silent, he speaks again, "Welcome to Hell, or as we prefer to say, Baator. I speak for Sorcen Anenooata, the ruler of this plane, but please do call me Sorcen. I have gathered you all here today to take place in a tournament, at the end of which the winner will get a great prize. I will choose who fights when all of our participants arrive, I hope you enjoy your stay and we will be calling upon our first combatants shortly." He pauses and looks around, "Feel free to ask questions and relax or train or whatever you wish until our tournament commences. That is all, carry on." he bows to the competitors gathered and vanishes. You know the rules. Let the battles begin!
NorthWind 09-11-07, 09:48 PM	Ender Chant strides calmly into the arena through the large, wrought iron gate at the far end, accompanied by a tall fey with silver hair. His companion holds a large tome out to Ender, who takes it carefully from his servant, and begins to leaf through it as he walks, moving around other combatants and spells even as he reads. Coming to an empty stretch of arena, he sits on a dark blue sofa, which would seem as though it'd always been in the arena, just that no one ever noticed it. He begins to read, paying no heed to the disgruntled look on the fairy servant standing at his left.
EpicEvokerElf 09-11-07, 10:33 PM	He strides through the river of Death, the chill water boiling off in clouds of thick, white steam at his feet. The droplets of water splashed up by his boots that make it as far as his bandoleer simply evaporate, shrouding him in impenetrable fog. Shining through the mist is his sword, dripping flames like oil. He strides toward the border, a point of light, and steps out of Death into Hell. He strikes an imposing figure, the stench of Free Magic like the tang of hot metal emanating from him like the fog that followed him out of Death. He draws the sixth bell from his bandoleer, opening its case to reveal that it is cast from some shimmering silver metal in harsh contrast with the ebony handles, both overcast with a haze of dark power and Free Magic. More of this strange power seeps in orange flames from his mouth and eyes, which are little more than holes in his mask of a face. He speaks, voice redolent with dangerous power. http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q36/Ra56/cooltext65337643.jpg He flips the bell, Saraneth, up into his hand and begins to ring the bell, up and down. The voice is low, deep, and tolling, and it resonates into your very bones, compelling you to kneel to the necromancer's will.
NorthWind 09-12-07, 09:32 PM	"You're a hasty one," Ender says, rising from the couch and closing his book. He waves distractedly at the fairy, who, with a grateful expression, vanishes. "Well, if you're not waiting, neither am I." Ender looks Dhavid right in the eyes, his gaze unflinching as he ignores the sound of the bell, sheer force of personality overcoming the Free Magic. As the last echoes of the bell's toll fade away, Ender begins to speak, raising his hands to heavens. "Adveho, phasmatis et magi. Io vară Lei della rai. Io dedi meus scientia, io tendo flumen per venire, io vos i streghi quisnam cedo mihi." As he finishes speaking, the sky of the Baator dims to a deep indigo, shot through with flares of white and silver light. The entire arena seems as though it has become the crossroads between an this world and the next, and one can almost feel the vast space of the path at their back. A chill wind blows outwards from Ender, and half-heard snatches of sound can be heard on it, voices both familiar and strange. As the wind grows, Ender pulls from the pocket of his jacket a tiny, silver needle, and, drawing a tiny bead of blood from his finger, allows it to fall to the sandy floor of the Baator. When the red droplet touches the ground, the wind raises in intensity, both music and voices now distinctly audible. And the speakers begin to appear around the magician. Translucent, glowing figures, dressed in all a manner of clothes - some wear robes, others, suits. Men and woman, children and fairies, all begin to appear around Ender. They speak to one another, and look to Ender with curiosity on their faces. Dead magicians all, waiting on the Chant's next command. Alright, whatever Dhavid said came out as a logo for CoolText.com. I dunno if it's something to do with my computer, or browser, but I can't read it, whatever it is. (Which is weird, 'cause I could read all the text samples on the other thread). Sorry! Oh, this was supposed to be Ender's opening move for the tournament...I've had it planned since, like, July.
EpicEvokerElf 09-13-07, 10:49 PM	As the the luminescent figures form, Dhavid looks on them with a curious, unexpected expression. Then, in a flare of heat and with the acrid tang of Free Magic, he laughs. It is a terrible sound, rolling on and on like the tearing asunder of a thousand souls, fiery and chilling all to one. Then, as suddenly as he began, he stops. http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q36/Ra56/cooltext65337945.jpg He draws a second bell, the third smallest, from his bandoleer and holds it in his left hand, sword again sheathed at his side. http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q36/Ra56/cooltext65338260.jpg Those three words are layered with the burning taste of Free Magic, binding the magician's fingers for a split second with the dying echoes of Saraneth. Then he shifts his feet and begins to swing the bells. The deep, tolling tone of Saraneth resounds past Ender's ears, directed not at his formiddable bastion of will but at the minds of the Dead behind him. Above its low ringing dances the high sound of the third bell, Kibeth, the Walker. Its notes ring out clearly, blending with the tones of Saraneth to form a compusion the Dead cannot resist; to walk again beyond the Ninth Gate. The Dead mages' feet turn despite themselves on the spot, pulling them back into Death to be swept beyond the final gate.
NorthWind 09-14-07, 05:58 PM	Dozens of the ghosts are pulled backwards, looks of fear clearly on many of their faces. Ender turns around, his golden eyes momentarily widening. Regaining his composure quickly, he waves his left hand in a wide arc, dismissing nearly half of the ghosts he raised. Many of the ghosts themselves raise their arms and begin casting spells of their own. Ethereal voices raise in a great incantation, speaking in a long forgotten language. Soon, the air in the Baator begins to chill, so cold until the demons in the audience can see puffs of steam before their eyes. With a sudden, tinkling noise and flash of snow-white light, the arena becomes cold and silent. The bells are silenced. But even so, after the light fades, only thirteen of the ghosts remain. Seven fairies, dressed in robes of blue. Four children, dressed in rags. And one couple, a man and woman dressed in fashionable clothes. "So, another magician."
EpicEvokerElf 09-14-07, 08:23 PM	http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q36/Ra56/cooltext65429961.jpg His words seem to flare as he exhales a cloud of orange sparks, calling back the echo of Kibeth's dancing song that calls to mind a jig or reel. He sheathes Binder and Walker in thir respective bone-white cases. His fingers play over the button on the fifth bell before settling on the second. He carefully opens the case of the second-smallest bell, holding it ready as he draws his sword. http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q36/Ra56/cooltext65430249.jpg He begins to ring the bell, Mosrael, in a slow figure eight. The bell's sound is harsh and grating, ringing out dissonantly. As he plays, he traces a diamond around himself in the ground. It lays there, glistening wetly and reflecting the blade's orange radiance, burning inside with Free Magic fire. A crackling rises over the bell's sound. Frost forms on Dhavid's body, shying from the flames on his sword and from his bells. Mosrael stills, but its clamoring tone can still be heard, echoing faintly...
NorthWind 09-16-07, 02:11 PM	"Call yourself what you will, then. It's not really my concern." Ender begins to speak an incantation, and pulls the silver ring off of his finger, casting it on the ground before him. The ring melts into the ground, and thin lines of bright silver light begin to curl around Ender and the dead magicians, forming a complicated web of curves and arcs. As soon as he stops speaking, there is a swooping sensation in the pit of one's stomach as the ground between most of the curves falls away, Ender and his assembled magicians standing on what appear to be pillars of reddish rock, with silver lines of light tracing an intricate pattern around them. The seven fairies hold hands and chant in deep voices, a rhyme with a dark, rolling undertow. When they release one another, great, wild waves of water burst up from the edges of the silver circle, surging out in all directions. In scratchy voices, the children begin to sing, and as the melody is complete, four fruit trees grow up around the circle, water rushing past their thick trunks. One at each of the cardinal directions around the circle. On their small strip of ground, the couple begins a courtly dance, and ghostly music begins to accompany them. A low cello, a dark piano, and clear piccolo play a waltz, which somehow seems to fit with the rolling of the waves. The music is captivating, calling all of the listeners to join in the dance - indeed, many of the demons in the audience seem to be struggling not to stand and begin to dance to the waltz themselves.
EpicEvokerElf 09-16-07, 08:37 PM	Dhavid's footsteps echo harshly, counterpointing Mosrael's raucous call. His legs are marching him stiffly backwards, towards the waterfall behind him. He makes a sharp, sloshing about-face to look through its curtain of mists, chanting a spell that burns his cheeks and nose with the biting sting, unnoticed by him, of Free Magic. The falls part like drapes, and he continues to march deeper into Death. He stills the bell's clapper with his left hand. His feet cease their steps as the bell's echoes die away, and he draws the sixth bell again. He swings Mosrael again in its vertical figure eight, Saraneth paralelling it in a straight line. The two tones clash in the air, creating an almost tangible net of compulsion. His legs again pull him on a set path, stepping around unseen holes in the riverbed. The Second Gate looms before him. He chants another incantation, the sparks from his mouth flaring in response to the Free Magic in the words. The Gate, a whirlpool, slows to form a thin path spiralling down into the depths of Death. The necromancer strides jerkily down the path, his steps ringing strangely on the solidified water. The tempo of his ringing picks up as he nears the bottom of the stairs, accelerating to an allegro as he breaks into a staccato run, racing a colossal breaker across the relative light of the Third Precinct. He barks out a spell as he nears the edge of the river. An archway, shaped of the mists of the river, materializes in front of his feet as he steps into it. The wave crashes down around him, flattening a stunned load of Dead into the riverbed. A few of them begin to stir, hearing Mosrael's call, but they drop back to the riverbed and are swept back into the Fourth Precinct, awaay from Life. In Life, Dhavid's body is now crusted with ice. Little icicles dangle from his fingers, dripping out of his diamond (now suspended around him in midair) to fall into the abyss below. His bells are wreathed in threads of steam, floating across into the stands...
NorthWind 09-20-07, 07:02 AM	The water from the wave crashes into Dhavid's ice-encrusted form, as Ender begins another spell, pulling from his pocket a pinch of salt. Sorry this isn't as long as the others, but I wanted to reply, but didn't have time to sit down to a proper one.
EpicEvokerElf 09-20-07, 07:29 PM	The waves hiss against Dhavid's diamond of flame, boiling to blinding steam in an instant. The steam coils into a coccoon, shrouding the necromancer in its pale stuff. The Fourth Precinct is like the first. The current tugs at his knees, eddies and whirls threatening to pull him under. He stops several feet back from the edge of a small falls: the Fourth Gate. He spits the Free Magic chant into the air, and from its residual sparks rolls out a ribbon of night-black power. He steps onto it, marching in step with the sound of the bells across the Fifth Precinct. No Dead rush across his ribbon; instead they flee the call of his terrible bells. Their dancing, jarring march crying out across the deepest stretch of the river. He reaches a spot where the water strikes an invisible wall and runs upwards, stopping just short of its flow. He speaks another spell, and a tendril of water reaches out to grab him and hoist him up to the Sixth Precinct.
NorthWind 09-20-07, 07:44 PM	Ender raises the pinch of salt up to eye level, and begins speaking quietly, holding the white crystals in his cupped hands. After a few moments, he casts them down, into the space between the silver lines surrounding him...into the darkness. In the misty depths of death, if possible, the temperature drops. For a moment, the roar of the falls in the First Precinct is drowned out by a dull roll of thunder, and from the dim sky, tiny, razor-sharp slivers of glassy ice hurtle downwards...
EpicEvokerElf 09-20-07, 07:49 PM	Dhavid emerges from his shell of water into a great lake: the Sixth Precinct. The hulking forms of the Dead all around him twitch at the noise of the bells, but their call is not them. His marching steps echo across the lake's expanse, setting the Dead to flight in a clamor. Only three do not flee, Greater Dead abominations who have lingered in Death many centuries. As they lumber towards him, he hoarsely barks out another spell. The water around him vanishes into a hole, sucking him down to the Seventh Precinct.
NorthWind 09-21-07, 07:00 AM	Ender raises his arms, and speaks a few short, rhymed words, as he waves his left hand over the bloody sand of the Baator. Instantly, it becomes a puddle of quicksilver. In it's mirror-like depths, Dhavid can be seen, moving purposefully through death...Ender exchanges a few words with the dead magicians, and in unison, they begin a spell... As Dhavid enters the mysterious Seventh Precinct of Death, words can be heard echoing along the river... a spell, from the Baator, to death - and at it's command, a multitude of familiar magicians rise up from the river, aiming both spells and punches at the necromancer...
EpicEvokerElf 09-21-07, 05:42 PM	The Seventh Precinct is as the First, but the current's deadly undertow is stronger by far. Dhavid marches more quickly now, rushing to the Seventh Gate. The wall of lurid flame looms close, but it is at this moment that Ender's Dead mages choose to manifest. Dhavid chants three Free Magic words, tongues of flame licking the air as he speaks. The first draws apart the flames of the Gate like parting a curtain. The second hangs palpably in the air before sinking into Dhavid's forehead. And the third, the strongest by far, curls into a band of flame mirroring that of the Seventh Gate. The band flashes outward, striking the Dead back and searing their ephemeral bodies. As they stagger, he slips through the Seventh Gate which closes behind him. He continues to rush across the Eighth Precinct, stopping only to ward of the smokeless flames that dance across the water like an oily film. Now he stands before the Eighth Gate, a wall of complete darkness. He strides in, and is engulfed in a feeling of non-feeling. He is cut off from sight, from sound, even from touch. He can no longer feel his arms, but the bells continue to ring in silence. Opening his mouth, he speaks the spell that will open the Eighth Gate. The wall parts, and Dhavid looks down. The river sloshes about his feet, more a lake now with the current gone. It is warm, comforting, so unlike the chill of the first Eight Precincts. Unlike the oppressive blanket that covers the sky of the Eight, the sky here is pitch black and speckled with more stars than sky. Dhavid cannot appreciate their beauty, as he does not wish to view the sky. It is the Ninth Gate.
EpicEvokerElf 09-21-07, 09:55 PM	The Ninth Precinct is full of Dead, but none of them are in any position to harm Dhavid. They are succumbing to the call of the Ninth Gate, drifting upwards at various speeds–except for one. A single black speck is slowly floating downwards, inching its way across the sky in erratic jerks, fighting the inexorable pull of the Ninth Gate. Its movements are in rythm with Mosrael and Saraneth's call, though the Dead fights the latter. Its form finally touches down, and Dhavid lifts his burning eyes to see what horror he has unleashed upon the world. Those eyes widen, and he stills Mosrael hastily. Before him stands one of the Great Dead, a being so old even its name is lost to the ages. Dhavid replaces Mosrael one-handed before flourishing Saraneth in one final, two-handed chime. The bell booms out over the silence of Death, a tolling of finality for the Dead he faces. He sheathes the Binder as well, drawing this time Dyrim and Belgaer, Thinker and Speaker. He chimes the former, its musical tone singing out over the resonance of Saraneth. Then he adds Belgaer's curiously tinkling peals to the sound, which washes over the Dead monolith like summer rain. Its eyes open, great pits of black and orange flame, and it twitches its head. Dhavid stills the bells again, drawing Kibeth this time. Walker chimes, forming a series of dancing tones than ring together like steps to a stair. Necromancer and Dead begin to walk rapidly back into like, appearing inside the Free Magic diamond. Ice cracks, leaving Dhavid's form uncovered beside that of his ally, a massive form of black flame. Both speak, their voices layered with Free Magic power. http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q36/Ra56/cooltext66114840.jpg
NorthWind 09-21-07, 10:17 PM	Ender raises an eyebrow, and looks scrutinizingly at the dead behemoth "That's interesting. The Obscura must be missing a few chapters on necromancy." He takes a few steps back, holding his hand out over the pool of mercury, which immediately flies up in a silvery bolt, again a silver ring around his finger. He then begins to speak yet another incantation, and the four fruit trees begin to grow horizontally, their bows and tendrils wrapping around themselves to form a dense, wooden ring around the magicians. Tiny, glistening fruit begins to appear on the outside of the wall, sweet-smelling and vibrant red.
EpicEvokerElf 09-21-07, 10:27 PM	Dhavid waves his hand, calling a harsh syllable that rings and falls heavily upon the Ender's ears. A crackling line of power, compressed into a bolt of blinding white fire, flashes from his hand to strike the wall of branches with a burning whiff of cold iron. The flames spread over its surface, engulfing it in tongues that do not burn it. Then suddenly they all contract, splintering the wall to shards and sending them hurtling down into the black abyss.
NorthWind 09-21-07, 10:37 PM	For a moment, there is a flash of fear in Ender's golden eyes as the defenses of the trees are shattered. But he recovers quickly, moving his arms in a around in a large arc. From the white flames that Dhavid conjured, large, phantom men pull free, dancing towards the necromancer, brought to a searing heat by the magician's command. The four children screech in reedy voices, and soon, bright green tendrils begin to creep up the sides of the abyss, inching towards the Dead monstrosity, vibrant, hungry life. Seven fairy mages beseech the skies of Hell for aid, and a bolt of pure white thunder crashes down on Dhavid. The couple raise their arms, and the space between Dhavid and the magicians increases, as length is stretched by the spirit's magic.
EpicEvokerElf 09-21-07, 10:45 PM	The Great Dead thing laughs, a deep, rolling sound with harsh consonants like the crunching of bone. It stretches its arm out, and black flames leap to the vine. In seconds it is consumed, and the Dead thing's flame burns higher for it. That flame flicks along the side of the void as it stretches its arm to claw at the children brutally, its hand forming out of the amorphous flames of Free Magic. Dhavid raises his sword to the skies just in time, the lighting flashing down the length of the blade in an instant and leaving a film of white lightning to play over the steel. Dhavid points again, and the power of the storm flows out his fingers and into the flaming cavaliers, warping their forms and will into a thing of deadly anger. It flares blindingly white, lashing out at the fairies with blades of lightning. Dhavid's pointing hand chops down, severing the distance again in two and rending the couple's minds with the backlash of their own spell. And the Dead thing laughs...
NorthWind 09-23-07, 09:04 AM	Before the flaming men can so much as move, the fairies flick their arms at them, the flames instantly dissipating. They begin to work another spell, slowly moving themselves in a circle. Ender responds immediately to the Dead's attack on the children, pulling a golden feather from his jacket and warding the magicians from the Dead's Free Magic - the claws pass harmlessly through the diminutive magicians. Unable to move, the couple reels in shock. Ender is about to work another spell - until a thought seems to strike him. He shouts out a few words to the dead magicians, and vanishes.
EpicEvokerElf 09-23-07, 10:31 AM	Dhavid breathes a siblant syllable of power and slide sideways, slipping into the space between spaces. He steps out a moment later, blade drawn, in thecenter of the dancing fairies. He lashes out rapidly, spitting Free Magic sparks that burn brighter than white phosphorus. His blade glimmers with residual lightning, slicking the blade like a sheen of oil that burns not the flesh but the spirit. The Dead monstrosity looks puzzled for a moment. It simply twitches its claw and begins to slide like dribbling slime along its own arm. It looms over the children and begins to claw at them again, this time using corporeal claws. A seventh claw shoots out, aiming to swipe the couple off of their perch and into the waiting void.
NorthWind 09-23-07, 01:11 PM	The fairies complete their spell just as Dhavid lands amongst them - the seven of them disappear, leaving a dark cage behind them, encircling Dhavid. As the Dead reaches for the other magicians, they too disappear, the look of a job well done evident on all of their faces. The four trees shrink away, going from mature tree to sapling to the reddish sand of Baator in seconds. The abyss Ender conjured also disappears, the silver lines and arcs sliding together and reforming into a silver ring, which sits on the ground, glinting innocently in the light of Hell.
EpicEvokerElf 09-23-07, 01:43 PM	Dhavid draws Mosrael in one smooth motion, twitching it once before stilling the clapper. He replaces it with Saraneth, whose smooth, deep tone binds Ender's servants to a new will: that of the necromancer. The spirits flicker back into view, twisting as though fighting physical bonds. They suddenly shudder, accepting the binding reluctantly with a final twitch. Dhavid again replaces the bell, drawing Kibeth now. He rings it swiftly, the chimes of its musical voice blending together into one marching sound. His foot twitches, but he stills it with an effort of will. The spirits, bound as they are, have no such will to exert. They drift powerlessly over to the Dead hulk and stop, a look of utter foreboding on their faces. It extends its lower jaw, spiked with teeth of orange and silver fire, swallowing the spirits who once served Chant whole. Its essence bubbles for a moment as it digests, flickers of blue fire poking through its body of pitch darkness. Then it swallows again, and the beings are truly gone, never to walk in life or beyond the Ninth Gate.
NorthWind 09-23-07, 02:02 PM	It would seem as though the arena were empty, save for Dhavid and the Dead monstrosity. A cold wind blows through the arena, whistling through the intricate statues and gargoyles that decorate the edges of the arena. The assembled audience begin to cheer the victor, until a voice from behind Dhavid cuts across the roaring of the crowd. The demons cease their applause near instantly as the magician speaks, his voice icy. "That was uncalled for." Ender stands behind the dead, his golden eyes narrowed. A biting wind emanates from his person. He holds out his empty left hand, and with a flourish, conjures his weapon. It is a bell, a bell the size of a jar, made of gleaming silver. It's ebony handle in the gray-gloved hand of the magician. Ender swings it carefully, and, despite it's size, it's tone is surprisingly high and sweet, echoing across the stillness of the arena, creating an inexorable tug towards the far precincts of Death.
EpicEvokerElf 09-23-07, 02:26 PM	Though his Dead slave cringes at the bell's pure tone, Dhavid himself begins to laugh. It is a cold sound, high and chilling, low and malicious; and it goes on and on with out surcease for what seems an eternity. It resounds above the sound of the largest bell, the final one of the Seven. http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q36/Ra56/cooltext66842947.jpg http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q36/Ra56/cooltext66843028.jpg Even as the essence of the Great Dead thing fades to grey, then white, the flames on Dhavid's sword grow less. The sparks from his mouth and eyes are extinguished, and he grows (if possible) even paler. http://i132.photobucket.com/albums/q36/Ra56/cooltext66843118.jpg With those words he vanishes, claimed at last by the Final Gate.
NorthWind 09-23-07, 07:06 PM	The pure tones fades, and as it does so, Ender too begins to disappear. For a moment, he seems surprised, but his expression becomes resigned - peaceful. "I suppose...the one place I haven't searched for her...is death." The magician disappears completely, the trace he had ever come to the Baator being the gleaming silver ring on the arena floor.
NorthWind 09-29-07, 04:33 PM	Alright, ready for a ruling.
Gideon_Gideonson 10-03-07, 03:35 PM	"A wonderful battle, fiends and fiendesses. Let's give both of them a hand...maybe, with enough support, we'll be lenient on their spirits." The announcer grins at his little joke as the stands erupt into applause. "Wonderful. Truly an inspiring battle." "But now we've got something new for you to feast your eyes on. Introducing Baator's first official Arena-combat team...THE MAGNIFICANT SEVEN!" The great gates burst open, and seven figures stride out to thunderous applause. Dorian Edward Rike front and center, flanked on each side by three of his teammates in a giant wedge, which makes its way to the center of the arena. There they stop, and Dorian turns around. "Testing." One at a time, each of the other six nod once, and then, as one, they turn to face the opposite gate. Charles Henry Anstron, better known as Coin, smiles. "Time to kick some ass, everyone."
NorthWind 10-03-07, 07:52 PM	A few yards away from the team, there is a flash of white light, revealing a young man. He wears a white button shirt, and a loosely woven green sash around his waist. His eyes are a dark brown, and his wavy auburn. He bows once to the Seven "Are you all my opponents, then?" He looks over his shoulder, to survey a stretch of arena farther back, where several robed figures can be seen arguing animatedly amongst themselves. He quickly turns away, however, when they seem to spot him. "Excellent. My name is Alexander, and if you'll give me a moment to prepare, I'll be your opponent...all...seven of you."
Gideon_Gideonson 10-04-07, 04:55 PM	Reginald leans nonchalantly on his strange staff. "Take all the time you need, friend. We can wait." His words don't seem to apply to everyone though, since behind him Nicole Seeming is literally bouncing on the balls of her feet, apparently eager to get moving. Reg glances sideways at her, and the energetic girl stops, shuffling about in mild embarassment at being caught. "Sorry..."
NorthWind 10-05-07, 07:00 PM	He smiles, although it doesn't reach his eyes. Without any more adieu, he begins to make his preparations. With a flick of his wrist, a long, thin stick of incense appears in his hand. Pinching the tip between his fingers, it glows cherry-red and begins to give off a fragrant smoke. Kneeling on the sandy floor of the arena, he begins to draw a circle, deftly adding triangles and arcs of delicate writing. Within a few seconds, the diagram is complete. He stands, and casts another glance over his shoulder - the men are drawing closer - in another minute or two, the trio will be upon him. Alexander holds both hands over the circle, and it flares with a distant light, as if from deep within it's lines. The circle expands, widening outwards from Alexander, who utters a single word. "Zoharial." The name (for it is one) echoes and echoes, as if the glowing circle were a deep well, it's bottom shrouded in mystery. For a moment, nothing happens - however, Alexander seems unperturbed, despite his earlier angst. And then, quite suddenly, a pillar of blue-white light shines forth from the circle, piercing the inky black sky of hell. Tiny flecks of light, like tiny stars, flow and swirl around Alexander, and soon, they are the only things that remain of the blazing light. Standing in the center of the circle is a tall, slender knight, wearing dark blue chain mail under a fitted breastplate of the same mysterious metal. A cape swirls about him, studded with tiny white flecks of silver, as though with dozens of stars. He looks to Alexander, and for a few seconds, a silent exchange seems to be taking place. But shortly after, the knight bows low, eyes glinting behind his visor. In a low, rich voice, he speaks "So these are your enemies. Very well - prepare yourselves." But even as he speaks, Alexander is calling more aid - a swirl of strange letters of light fountain up from the circle, leaving in their wake a thickly built, well muscled man made from clay. A rainbow-colored robe is flung round his wide shoulders, and silver script spirals around his limbs and face. Set under a forehead inscribed with a single word are dark, intelligent eyes. Alexander claps once, and the circle itself rises up - the innermost circle of the design uncoils, a sinuous, golden dragon flying up from the ground, elegantly moving to Alexander, who easily mounts the creature. It rears up, growling. The golem strides gracefully to Alexander's left, and the knight fades into view at his right. "Let's roll."
Gideon_Gideonson 10-06-07, 11:49 AM	The seven watch the summoning in a myriad of manners. Dorian Rike watches intently, as if memorizing every step of the process, but there are many who seem restless. Nevertheless, when the summoning is complete the seven move quickly and with great coordination into formation. Dorian Rike raises his arms and rises slowly into the air, ghostly sand pouring from his open hands to spiral down upon his comrades. His eyes fade to spheres of violet, seemingly unseeing, yet obviously aware. "......" He says nothing, but is apparently understood, for the formation begins to split apart without a second thought. Tamora and Reginald Scott begin to circle to the right, while Travis and Jacki head left, leaving Coin and Nicole to handle the dragon. For a brief moment they move slowly, in silence...and then, as if at some unspoken command, they strike. Reginald slams his staff into the dusty floor, and the ground erupts in a towering wave of splintered rock, grinding inexorably toward the golem. As it does so, Tamora spins gracefully around and throws out a hand, and the rock is engulfed by an inferno of flame. The stone begins to glow and smoke, and then the wall of rock cascades downward in a tsunami of burning lava. Reginald stands impassively watching the aftereffects, but Tamora's wicked grin shines demoniacally in the fiery light. "Burn baby burn!" ***** The Knight turns to find two figures racing toward him...and then the scene changes, and not to his benefit. To one such as Jacki, intervening space is but words. With but a thought the distance changes, and her fist slams into the Knight when she is still more than thirty feet away. The blow is incredible, as if her hand contained far more mass than should be physically possible. The Knight is thrown backwards by the jackhammer blow...and Travis moves to intercept him. The youth's limbs stretch and twist, and he leaps forward on frog-like limbs. Tentacles burst from his back, grabbing onto the airborne Knight and flinging him mercilessly back to earth. And now the last pair begins to move. Coin raises an arm and begins to shout out unintelligible sayings, and from his hand a thing line of white light erupts, striking the dragon in the center of its chest. All that happens, however, is that the creature begins to grow fur at an incredible rate, until the beast is covered with hair at least three feet long. Nicole's attack is simpler. Crouching low, she springs skyward to a tremendous height, bringing Daisy around in a sweeping arc at her adversary's neck. "Hello, little dragon."
NorthWind 10-06-07, 12:13 PM	The three mages that had been approaching Alexander hold back, looks of pure terror on their faces. However, Alexander looses no time in checking to see if his plan had worked - several more pressing matters present themselves. In the center of the four-man team, the dragon on which Alexander is mounted flicks it's great length, the thick hair sheding as easily as if they were scales. Alexander calls out a quick command, and the dragon twists easily, moving itself just a hair's-breadth (no pun intended) away from Daisy. Another word from Alexander, and the dragon lunges towards Coin, while Alexander turns around to deal with Nicole. Clapping his hands, the circle he etched into the ground releases an intense blast of water, trained on the girl. Meanwhile... The wave of liquid rock engulfs the golem, burying it in the scalding, viscous depths. For a few moments, naught can be heard but the hissing of the liquid rock as it cools...until a figure emerges, sloshing aside the lava as if it were nothing more than thick honey. As soon as it's free from the waist up, it begins to plow determinedly towards Reginald, forcing it's way through the lava with ease. With a bell-like crash, the knight's armor hits the ground with a crash. It lays on the ground, unmoving...and from behind the pair, a dry chuckling can be heard. "Well, isn't that interesting. Miss Roswell, despite the fact that space is your ... plaything, you seem to have missed." The armor on the ground vanishes, nothing left of it but a few glowing blue embers. Behind the pair is Zoharial, a pair of dark blue daggers in both hands. Barely moving, he launches the blades, the weapons swirling and swerving through the distance between them.