Post/Author/DateTime	Post
Gideon_Gideonson 11-13-06, 05:10 PM	This is to be a thread of all the characters and battles that have taken place in Sorcen's Battle Royal, located on this thread (http://boards1.wizards.com/showthread.php?t=698203). Hoping Sorcen won't mind, I've taken the initiative of starting this thread to organize the information for those who simply want to read the battles or meet the characters. Hopefully this will also make his life a bit easier. If you see your battle altered slightly, its because I will be re-writing and editing parts to make the battles more readable. If any of my changes bother you, please PM me and I'll correct any changes. Changes will be slight, most likely improving unclear descriptions, adding flavor effects, etc. This is slow work, and I do have a life, so don't expect a rapid progression at first. There are a lot of battles, and I have little time... I would also like any backstories/etc. that anyone may have regarding their characters, so I can post more complete character bios. Please PM them to me. Anyone regarding themselves as a good writer should also contact me, as help would be appreciated, mainly in the primary compiling and editting stages. --------------- The building you enter is large and impressive, with high vaulted ceilings and imposing arches. The dark wood of its construction seems older than time, but still holds firm. Shelves filled with heavy tomes line the walls, crowding the otherwise enormous hall. In front of you sits a old, old man, his white hair tied back and his beard coarse and untrimmed. He stands up when you approach, and greets you formally. "Good day, traveller. I am Bartelemus the Archivist, scribe, assistant, and, I like to think, friend of Lord Sorcen. Welcome to my humble domain...The Library of Baator. What may I...ah...you wish to see the chronicles. I thought as much. Come, follow me." He leads you through the rows of shelves, through small wooden doors, and past halls filled with stacks of parchment, until he finally reaches a thick, strong door studded with steel. Bartelemus waves a hand, and the door swings inward, revealing darkness within. Another wave and a low, ember glow pulses from the walls, illuminating the small room. An ancient grimoure, bound in leather and chains, and covered in line after line of runic script rests alone on the pedestal inside. The runes spin, ripple, and blur before resolving into recognizable words. When they finally settly, the title, Sorcen's Baator: The Chronicles is plainly visible on the cover. Opening the book, you read the first lines: Thys being a chronicle of the exploits of those few destyned for greatness, those few chosen by Lord Sorcen to compete in hys Battle Royale. The happenyngs contained in these pages hath all truely occured, and are here recorded for the prosperity of those to come... As you read, you feel yourself sinking into the pages of the book, history washing over you, until the scene described within engulfs you...
Gideon_Gideonson 11-13-06, 05:10 PM	The endless chatter of devils and other outsiders buzzes throughout the massive arena. One can hardly hear oneself think. But suddenly the cacophony dies away. A figure has appeared on the judge's platform, and it is preparing to speak. The audience waits with baited breath: The arena battles are about to begin. From the judge’s stand comes a powerful and charismatic voice. It captures the audience and leaves them spellbound. The speaker is appears human, but a keen observer would notice that he possesses perfectly white hair and is altogether too flawlessly beautiful to be mortal. And they would be right. For this is Sorcen Anenooata, emperor of hell. "Welcome to Hell, or, as we prefer to say, Baator. I am 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, the winner of which will receive a prize far beyond the imaginings of any being, mortal or no. I will announce who fights whom when the first of our participants arrive. I hope you enjoy your stay: we will be calling upon our first combatants shortly." He pauses and looks around. "Feel free to ask questions, relax in the tavern, train, or do whatever you wish until our tournament commences. That is all, carry on." Sorcen bows to the competitors gathered and then takes his seat on his throne, next to a stunning woman: slightly vampiric, but with the beauty of an angel. She is Aya, Sorcen’s queen, and the second of the judges in the contest. Finally, from above descends a great whirlwind filled with the sounds of grinding and splintering bone, and the screeches of metal under strain. It descends upon the great stand at the forefront of the arena, siphoning down into a space a few feet across before winding down to leave a figure, garbed as though a knight out of a fantasy story. A fantasy story told to frighten children, young and old, for where there should be gleaming plate steel there lies black metal, inlayed with intricate and horrific designs of bone; where should be a cape of pure cloth there falls blackened bone-tipped chain and gut; where would be the folded steel of a knight's gleaming gauntlet there rest spiked gauntlets festooned with spars of bone; and where would be the face of a proud and virtuous knight is a nightmarish mask in the form of a skull, hewn of bone and black metal, with teeth and spars jutting outwards and a pair of intense, spiteful, pin-point-like red glares projecting from the eye sockets of the terror's helm... The horror seats upon a third throne, just apart from the other two taken thrones, the third of the unholy triad in the stands...Khael. The judges are ready…and the contest is about to begin. The roaring in the stands reaches a fever pitch as Sorcen again stands up. Throwing his arms wide, he proclaims the first match: ”Our first combatants are on their way! Chros and Korone, you may take the field!” The arena gates open, and a huge griffin charges through, its muscles rippling with its raw power. As it runs, its body expands and its muscles bulge and stretch, until, almost the size of a titan, it stops, pacing the ground and waiting. Its beak moves, and strange and occult syllables escape it: the very air around it crackles with arcane power. A hideous voice booms out over the arena as the announcer, the arch-devil Belfanor, screams the combatants’ names to the crowd. Demons, Devils, Angels, and mortals…please welcome our first combatants……I give you……CHROS!!!! Aaaaaaaaaaaand…KORONE!!!! A medium sized humanoid wrapped in dark clothes enters the arena through one of the other gates. The clothes seem to be made out of shadow: they absorb the surrounding light, and whip about constantly, even if there are absolutely no winds of any sort. Further examination reveals that the humanoid isn't touching the ground, instead it simply levitates. Korone continues his way to the center of the arena, where he examines the griffon: Pathetic…this…bird…is much too arrogant for so frail and slim a mortal. Still, I suppose it will at least amuse me. Some seconds looking at his opponent was enough to judge it. The griffon was big…in fact, he was huge. Surely he’d played with his size multiples times in the past, abusing such tiny creatures as humans…well, now Korone would reverse that game. Korone’s form begins to buckles and twist. Two huge bat-like wings sprouts from his back, punching through his tattered cloak. A long, spiked tail snakes from beneath his robes. His whole body expands to immense proportions. A myriad of sharp onyx spikes erupt from his body, tearing his cloak to pieces. His now-draconic head rises skyward, propelled by a ever growing serpentine neck. Seconds later, a truly regal dragon rears back, rising hundreds of feet above the excited spectators, and roars at the now-small griffon before him. Grey vapors spiral out of its half-open mouth, and its serrated black teeth grind constantly, ready to consume the four legged bird in front of it. Korone stares furiously at this foe, his cold and empty black eyes drilling into his opponent’s mind. He then falls forward onto all fours. The force of the impact shakes the arena violently, shattering the large sculpted rocks that form the arena floor. His booming, guttural voice lashes out across the arena, threatening to deafen everyone within. "Death shall be yours, for you have made the error of challenging ME." His sentence barely finished, Korone attacks, swinging his immense taloned hands at Chros. Chros, however, deftly dodges the attack. The griffin hovers in the air before his foe, and the air around him once more burning with magical power. Chros' beak moves in a strange chant and black and green lightning arcs from his front talons towards the great dragon’s chest. A sense of demonic evil permeates the air in the wake of the spell. The hovering griffon cocks his head sideways and stares at Korone. He speaks in a high pitched and dangerously beautiful voice. "So how do you like my custom lightning? And don’t worry, ‘cause that’s just a taste of what I can do." Chros flies a little bit back and seems to be grinning…he’s obviously waiting for something. "Well, I do hope you are able to do better. Bird." Korone barely glances down at his scorched hide: his demonic heritage renders him all but immune to the effects of the spell. Clawing at the air with his talons, he speaks words of arcane power, and the sky darkens, turning a foreboding red…the color of magma. The air explodes with flame as great chunks of burning rock slam into the arena floor, punching huge craters in the landscape. Chros twists and turns, but to no avail. The flames rip into him, and, as he twists out of the way of a burning projectile, a second meteor catches him a glancing blow, slamming him into the ground with impossible force. Korone laughs at his foes humiliating fall. "I too, can do magic." Chros pushes himself up off the ground slowly and spits blood, his magical barriers fading rapidly as his body consumes their energy. He coughs and looks up at the dragon. "Nice move…but you underestimated that lightning." The griffons grins wickedly and watches as the dragon doubles over in pain. The spot where the lightning hit Korone starts hurting and burning unbelievably and suddenly arcs of lightning burst from the point of contact. A veritable storm of electrical energy rips into Korone, overpowering even his powerful defenses. Chros coughs more blood and flaps his wings to hover a few feet off the ground, allowing his broken back leg to hang limply in the air. But one of his wings is bleeding profusely and he realizes he must continue the battle on the ground. Seeing that his opponent is weakened greatly, Korone swings his spiked wings at the griffon, the long barbs ready to impale the injured creature. Just before they tear into Chros, Korone’s wings hit up against some invisible and powerful barrier. The dragon roars in anger that a simple wall of force could constrain his might. On the other side, Chros grins at Korone’s rage. Gathering his strength, the griffin slowly and unsteadily rises to his feet once again. Chros begins chanting and his wounds begin to heal. The wall of mysterious force holds Korone back and Chros' chants become more pronounced and violent. Chros' voice seems to come from the very the air around him now, his tone wild and powerful. "It was a nice match lizard, but it must come to an end. It was nice meeting you. Goodbye." The griffon's chants get louder and louder, his thunderous tones darkening the sky overhead. Soon Chros glows with a bright green and black aura, and his body crackles with lightning. ---work in progress--- A short and wide figure, swathed in a dark cloak, walked into the arena and stood perfectly still. Sorcen stood up and speaked, "Arik Raum, if you would be so kind as to report to the arena for the sparring match you requested. This is your opponent Butcher." The archfiend sat back down and waited for Arik's entrance. "I'm already here" a remarkably angelic voice responded, "If you can find me." A sweet music filled the arena, though its source was impossible to be located. It was sweet, yet painful to the unholy ears of the fiends in the stands and the undead enemy before him. Though he could not be seen, Arik couldn't help but smile at the expression on the face of his enemy, and the knowledge that Butcher would have to act soon. Then the fun would begin. The dwarf pulled his hood back, picked his head up and stared right into the eyes of Arik. He smiled as the energies of the song splashed harmlessly around him. Butcher spoke in a deep, gruff voice. "Beautiful voice my friend, however my ring here protects against your magic. I got this from Sigil as a gift from the Lady herself. Long story, don’t ask." He flashed his fangs and drew his two shining revolvers, spinning them and pacing back and forth and studying his opponent. The dwarf ceased his pacing and fired a shot at the spot where Arik was. The bullet fired had an unhealthy green glow about it as it sped towards Arik slower than most bullets travel but fast nonetheless. Arik leaped aside with surprising speed. It was, however, too late to avoid the shot entirely. The bullet sunk in somewhere near his left shoulder. He should have been injured by this, but he showed no signs of having been hurt, and his mask was as cold and expressionless as ever as he faded from view. Butcher could only feel a sharp pull as the legendary Punjab Lasso tightened around his throat. "Aye, so you be the quick type," Butcher said in his gruff deep voice, being careful not to move much as the lasso would have likely cut him deeper than it already had. The dwarf whistled briefly and a blue and white striped blob crawled from his pocket and quickly encased his entire body, as if it were a second skin. A bracelet on his arm glowed with black and purple energy. He slowly and cautiously reached under his cloak for the handle of one of his two wakizashi blades. However, Arik's eyes were too keen to miss the dwarf's attempt at stealth. From the moment the blue glob appeared, he knew something was up. His hand flashed forward to grab the wakizashi first. The dwarf was caught off-guard as his sword was snatched away. His eyes went wide and he knew that it would be imperative to get out of the situation as quickly as possible. Butcher reached his left hand back and grabbed the lasso around his neck in an attempt to pull it off while drawing his other wakizashi with his right hand. He swung his sword at Arik's hand, trying to loosen his grip on the lasso. The dwarf stumbled a little due to the enfeebling effect of the Punjab Lasso and his blade skimmed of Arik’s knuckles, jarring his hand slightly, but not dislodging it. A triumphant smile flashed across Arik's masked face. With a sharp, quick tug on his Punjab Lasso, he pulled the dwarven vampire towards him, burying the wakizashi into his foe's heart. "Have fun in the grave," said Arik. He loosened his weapon's hold on the Dwarf's neck and walked casually from the arena, rubbing his injured shoulder. Suddenly the dwarf sat upright, his blood red eyes shining. The magical skin about him bulged and erupted outward, flinging his weapon from his chest. He managed to catch his wakizashi on its descent back to the earth. Standing up, Butcher stared at Arik’s back for a moment, apparently contemplating another attack. Finally, he shook his head in resignation. "Ya beat me fair and square my friend; I'll admit to you winning that one but don’t count on doing it the next time we meet." Butcher sheathed his blade gracefully. He then walked over to Arik and extended his hand to "The Ghost." "Good match, I hope to fight ye again one of these days." Balfanor stands up from his podium, his wingtips still burning slightly from the force of the recent explosion. His booming voice again echoes about the arena. What a dramatic conclusion! Don’t fear, the arena will recover! While Lord Sorcen takes care of that, let me introduce our next combatants! Entering from the left we have the red dragon KYR!!! And from the right……Please put your hands, claws, tentacles, or other appendages together for……TURLUS AND THOR!!! As Turlus walks his dragon into the arena, a colossal red dragon steps forth to answer his request. The red bows to the saiyan's obsidian dragon and speaks in a soft voice. "My name is Kyr and I shall be your opponent for this round." He glances at the saiyan and calms himself to prepare for the match ahead. Turlus cracks his knuckles. "You can choose who goes first….be ready, Thor" Kyr appears behind Turlus and his dragon right after the saiyan's last word. The great wyrm conjures five fireballs, which fly towards Turlus in a burning star formation. As the fireballs close in on the saiyan, Kyr’s massive maw opens, and brilliant red flames leap out at Turlus. However, Turlus and his dragon managed to easily dodge the attack. Turlus quickly turns towards Kyr and shoots out a powerful blast of Ki energy. The red dragon sees the blast coming and promptly flies up and back slightly to avoid the blast and throws a clear ball of energy from his claw. Slowly the ball turns in the air, warping the space around it as it flies straight toward the saiyan’s mount. Turlus sends few bolts of lightning and a chain-like black-colored energy beam. Thor sees this and uses his magical powers to send surges of electric energy at Kyr. After making his onslaught, the obsidian dragon burrows underground, evading the energy ball. Turlus, now dismounted, throws a storm of lightning and chain-like black energy towards his foe. The clear ball implodes and sends a shockwave out. It causes a slow time-effect which allows the red dragon to move faster. The wave of energy hits Turlus’s attack, scattering the bolts across the arena. The deadly chain spell and lightning flying off randomly, harmlessly slamming against an invisible force just before reaching any of the 'people' in the stands. Kyr’s enhanced speed allows him to easily evade the few stray lightning bolts not thrown off course by the shockwave. The red dragon then moves backwards, getting away from the duo before his spell's effect wears off. Kyr just makes it away before his spell fades, and his reactions slow once again. Turlus calls for the power of Ki, and a ball of white energy appears in his hand. He throws it high above the arena and a moon-like orb of light appears. Fur grows all over the saiyan's body and his armor expands as his form grows and stretches to colossal size. Turlus' eyes become red as he enters his Oozaru form. He wraps his tail around his chest, turns to face his foe and opens his mouth in a terrible battlecry. Some force moving so fast it is invisible erupts from his mouth and streaks toward the red dragon. Luckily for Kyr, he anticipated the attack. The dragon casts a wall of force to buy himself some time, and the blast smashes against the wall with immense force. It breaks the barrier to splinters but strikes only air on the other side. Seconds before he is ripped apart by shard of force, Kyr pulls off a series of occult gestures and the world freezes. He moves to the side of the saiyan and proceeds to tackle Turlus as he slashes through the saiyan’s tail. "You'll have to do better than that. Remember, monkey, I have time on my side." Turlus struggles out of his foe’s grip, eats a senzu bean and disappears. Invisible, he flies two hundred feet in the air and charge-attacks with a powerful blast of Ki energy. Turlus collides with Kyr in an explosion of smoke, dust, and raw power. Flying up again, the saiyan surveys the smoldering crater that is the result of his attack… The smokes clears, and there is no sign Kyr. Balfanor begins counting. one... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight... Turlus points his hands towards the crater, unleashing his energies as another black, magical chain-shaped ray, which burns deeply into the earth. The arena floor begins repairing itself, but there is still no sign of Kyr. Balfanor continues counting. …nine... ten... eleven... twelve... thirteen... fourteen... fifteen... sixteen… Suddenly, the fabric of reality behind Turlus rips and tears in two, as a swirling portal opens behind Turlus. Through the portal steps a burned and weakened dragon. Its skin oozes charred blood, but still it prepares to fight. When it speaks, its voice is soft, yet rough, but lacks the force it once had. "I had hoped I could withstand the heat from that blast but the pressure was too much and it was hot enough to still scorch me." Kyr has barely finished his sentence when he attacks with blinding speed, slashing at the saiyan with his claws wreathed in flames. Turlus teleports and quickly swallows another senzu bean. He then yells a command word and his personal time frame accelerates rapidly. Turlus’s dragon, Thor, also benefits from the time spell. In the space of a mere second, Thor, digs its way up from below the arena floor. Its monstrous form shrinks rapidly, until it is no larger than a common gnat. The miniscule dragon flies toward Kyr’s head and flies through the red dragon’s ear to the inside of Kyr’s skull. Kyr feels the twinge of a headache and feels his head starting to split. He freezes time but cannot move because Thor is still frozen in place inside of his head. He tries teleporting but that only manages to drag the frozen dragon with him. Casting anything that can come to mind, he realizes nothing he knows will save him. Finally he admits defeat and unfreezes time. Thor immediately regains him normal size, and Kyr's head explodes outward in a gory mess, spraying brains, bone shards and other various bodily fluids all over the arena. The headless red dragon falls to the ground with a crash and lands in the still reforming crater, which soon closes over his lifeless corpse. Thanks to Larz Fang for his assistance with these.
Gideon_Gideonson 11-13-06, 05:11 PM	--this one as well--
Gideon_Gideonson 11-13-06, 05:12 PM	--and this one--
Gideon_Gideonson 11-13-06, 05:12 PM	------
Lord_Gareth 11-16-06, 09:28 PM	((This will save much, much bookeeping. Maybe we should put the rules for good roleplaying here too. ))
Gideon_Gideonson 11-24-06, 10:23 AM	Bartelemus and Syra enter the library, and Bartelemus leads her through door after door, down twisting halls and spiraling staircases before opening a small wooden door set deeply into the stone. The room they enter is small, but gives the impression of being endless...rows upon rows of ancient tomes seem to occupy the same space as other shelves of books. The effect is mindboggling...or would be, for any normal person. "Here we are. If you have any luck finding it here...well...I should hire you instantly. Oh...be careful around the far right corner. The books of the elemental planes are there, and their effects tend to spread. Also beware the necromancy tomes, especially at this time of night. Now normally I would search alongside you, but I have recieved my summons to battle. Mayhap we can meet in Cycine's Tavern when I am done? I don't trust this cloning magic of Lord Sorcen's, not that I would say that to his face, of course. I just wouldn't feel comfortable not knowing which was really me." Anyway, good luck. And be careful."
Lord_Gareth 11-24-06, 10:52 AM	"Aye, Great Father, this will take a while. However, I have a way with books. Shadows of deception are as susceptible to my power as shadows of the physical. All I need is one author to be telling the right lie." Syra flits into a shadow and vanishes.
Larz_Fang 11-24-06, 12:31 PM	After Bartelemus leaves, Darshg appears to the library, but in a human form. He has dressed in blue robes of a scribe and he can sense Syra's presence. Greetings, shadowmancer. I felt that my presence is required here, so here I am. Darshg starts to scribe words to a book. "I may be an evil devil, but I am still a wizard in my heart." Thanks to Larz Fang for his assistance with these. OOC: Thank you, Gideon. I am honored to be able to help in such valuable work.
Larz_Fang 11-25-06, 02:45 AM	Announcer arch-devil Belfanor stands up and screams with his hideous voice once again. "The next match-up is between... TYRION aaand SEPTIMUS!!!" Tyrion walks out into the arena, looking at the crowd with a smile on his face. The air seems to be a little whiter around him then anywhere else, and his quarterstaff pulses steadily a golden-white radiance. He fishes out two rings from his belt, and puts one on one hand, and one on another. His fists insatantly blaze to life with a green flame, but the air around them is cold, as if landing a nasty blow would chill the target to the core instead of burning him. He says something softly under his breath, and then the bracers on his forearms glow softly red once, then the glow subsides. the air around him seems even more warped than usual now, almost as if he was standing behind a wall of water. "Septimus," he shouts in a cheery voice, "come out so we can entertain our hosts! We should not keep them waiting." As he says this, he turns and bows to the judges. He slips his quaterstaff into it's holder and stands with his arms crossed, a smile playing about his lips. He looks just a little dangerous as the green light from the flames on his fists illuminates his face, flickering and dancing across his weathered features. A wizard rushes onto the arena. It is obvious to everyone that he is Septimus. "Sorry I'm late, everyone! But the master magician is here at last, so let's get this party started!" Tyrion smiles as the mage comes rushing into the arena, apologizes, and begins to use his magical abilities. Septimus grabs his proceeds into his incantations, hoping to make himself more effective for the fight. Tyrion gives Septimus no time. Rushing forward almost too fast for the eye to follow, he leaps through the air at Septimus, chuckling as the mage raises an eyebrow just before the impact. However, what appears to be Septimus raising an eyebrow, is actually Septimus's eyebrow elongating and changing position. As he is knocked to the ground, his body has become swallowed up in massive layers of fat which cushioned the fall. Septimus swiftly got up, layers of fat fading but his skin changing into chitinous armor and his proportions shifting. Septimus quickly creates a ball of magical fire which he then hurls at hi opponent. After a few seconds, the fiery orb is followed by a big, green surging bolt of energy. Tyrion rolls off of Septimus, a little surprised by the mage's swift transformation. As the bead of sound zips toward him, Tyrion lashes out with his fist, sending the fireball back at Septimus. Tyrion feels how the magic of the wizard tries to rob him of his powers, but he calls on a tiny portion of his draconic gifts and takes the energy into himself, refreshing his own body with his opponent's magic. Tyrion takes a turn to cast a spell of his own. He quickly flings an icy cone at the wizard, then dissapears from sight. Tyrion's spell rolls off Septimus without appearing to harm him. "I can see that this will be no ordinary battle. I must find a way to deal with your speed. Ah, this will do nicely." Septimus strikes the ground with his staff. The ground trembles slightly. Tyrion takes advantage of Septimus's actions and while the mage is striking the ground, he enables the power of one of his tatoos. Reappearing as if from nowhere, with his foot seeming to be now made of iron and his toenails enlargeing to form long claws, he kicks Septimus and rakes through the mage's robes against his chest. Tyrion makes sure not to strike too hard, and while he knocks the mage off his feet, his blow only left a large bruise. He vanishes again, the speed of his attack and his retreat faster than greased lightning. He prepares another move, while Septimus gets off the ground. Septimus laughs, as Tyrion's foot is caught by an adamantine chain that came from the ground. Other chains rise up like tentacles of some deranged demonic squid and grab Tyrion's other limbs. "I'm getting knocked down all over today. Well, no problem." Septimus performs a few quick movements with his fingers. As he does this, his form changes once again, so that his legs disappear under a wide base, while his face is slightly transformed. Tyrion uses another of his spells, and his entire body turns to whitish blue energy as he slips from the chains and dissapears from sight. The chains wave about, searching for their prey, and Tyrion thinks that the deranged demonic squid must be angry... Septimus looks around. "Hm, monks with spells are annoying. Well, I'll soon put a stop to that." Septimus starts to chant as mysterious glowing runes rise up. As Septimus begins chanting again, Tyrion activates the power of another of his tattoos. Even though nobody can see him, the stylized tattoo of a crab on his shoulder begins to glow a soft orange. The runes Septimus has raised up disappear. They reappear a second later, covering Tyrion's tattoos. A new batch of runes appears in front of Septimus. The tattoos latch onto Tyrion, and he frowns at them thoughtfully. They seem to quiver like jelly, then dissolve into goop and evaporate. As the runes disappear, they suddenly flare up, burning away their host. The new batch latches on to Tyrion's tattoos. "Fool. Do you really believe that your magic can defeat me?" Septimus yells out a single word and is covered in a shimmering globe. "No, I do not think my spells can defeat you. But do think this can." Tyrion becomes visible, then begins to twitch. His skin takes on a silver sheen, and he starts growing in size. He falls down on all fours, and wings burst from his back. A tail snakes into being, and his fingers and toes elongate into sharp, black claws. A dragon bigger than almost any that has lived now stands before Septimus, towering almost eighty feet above him. His silver scales reflect the red sky, and he booms out, "I am Tyrionalithxanus, and I have received the blessing of Ishtalnomaaz, eldest of the silver dragons!" He fires off a meteor swarm, making his somatic and verbal gestures quicker than ever before. The arena turns all around Septimus into a fountains of earth, lava and fire. Tyrion then charges into the smoke, claws dancing with eerie green flames. The effects of the meteor swarm bounce off from the globe. "Hm. For this, I may require something more powerful. Wait for a second. Or less." Septimus makes a fleeting gesture with his hand, and time itself is stopped, as Septimus escapes in between the ticks of the clock. He reappears no time at all later, wrapped in layers upon layers of magic. "I think I may change form as well." Septimus begins to grow and lean forward, his teeth elongating. Tyrion blinks for a moment, seeing Septimus in one spot one second, and another even before that second as passed. He chukcles. "A mighty spell, Septimus. But, may I introduce to you one that you may find interesting?" The colossal dragon dissapears from sight in a flash of blue light again, and a moment later Septmus feels his layers of magic peel off and lash back at him. Tyrion's voice booms out of nowhere, "I invented this spell. It is made to combat the most powerful foes I fight. Many a great red wyrm has met his doom when this spell stripped him of his magic protection, spells and abilities." Tyrion feels his own magic strip away, as the spell is turned back on him. "What's good for the wildboar is good for the sow, Tyrion!" "I call for an early ruling! I do not wish to kill Tyrion, for he is my fellow in the service of Good!" The judges have a long conversation to decide the winner, but then Khael, who is one of them whispers their decicion to Belfanor. "The judges have declared... TYRION as the winner!!!" Septimus bow gracefully. "I accept the judges' ruling with good grace. Please, inform me when I am next needed on the field of battle. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the bar." Both combatants leave the arena at the same time and talk on their way to Cycine's Tavern.
Lord_Gareth 11-29-06, 08:37 PM	A shadow sweeps over a table, and Syra is there, gazing worriedly at the still form of the aged sage lying on the table. "Crap. Crap crap CRAP! I need deeper shadows for this...I hope he doesn't mind me doing this." Syra gathers the shadows in the room into a circular portal, which flashes with a sort of nonlight. You can feel the unholy blight radiating from the portal, and realize with a chill that she's opened a gate to the Negative Energy Plane. "I am SOOOOOOO going to Hell when I die for this." The darkness begins to flow from the gate into the elf. She places her hands on Bartlemaeus's forehead, and the energy flows into him. "This'll have to due until I can get you real healing. Until then, welcome to the ranks of the walking undead."
Sorcen_Anenooata 11-29-06, 08:47 PM	An erinyes appears atop one of the many bookcases and watches Syra, "Sorcen sent me to heal his scribe, but I have to wait to make sure he is done with his match before I interfere too much." She leaps down to his side and begins chanting with her hands emanating a white aura. "Bartelemus, are you done fighting or should I refrain from healing you for now?"
Gideon_Gideonson 11-29-06, 09:29 PM	Bartelemus does not, cannot answer, so the erinyes begins her spell, white light mixing with shadow. As the energies weave within each other, the books on the shelves grow restless. The books contain strong magic...and yearn to be free. The magic, magic long since bound in place, forcibly trapped in the shelves by Bartelemus, is wild. And as his body fails, so do the wards that hold it in place. Raw word magic, the magic of the written page, fountains out of the shelves and into Bartelemus's frail figure, sustaining his dying body. The library defends its own. Syra's spell complete, Bartelemus rises as an undead, skin drawn out and pale, his eyes burning with black fire. And then he is engulfed in the library's magic. Ribbons of paper and glowing letters swirl around Bartelemus's body, basking him in light. Voices of long dead scribes and authors ring throughout the building, quoting fragements of prose and spells of great and terrible power. A cacophony of sound drowns out everything. Every word ever spoken is heard in a single second, and, in that same second, they unite. Every syllable, every noise merges into one sound: The Word, the first spoken thing, the syllable that started the universe moving, reverberates throughout the universe, echoing across the planes, altering the fabric of reality itself. And then the noise fades away. Bartelemus walks out of the rain of falling pages, whole and renewed. His stride is stronger; his face more alive. Still old and haggard, yet somehow...different. He turns to Syra. "Syra Kavon, you have my eternal gratitude. I am afraid I have made a fool of myself. I should have heeded your advice. I should not have competed." "Thank you for your swift aid. I could feel my life slipping away from me, but your spells allowed me to hold onto my soul for just long enough. If there is ever anything I can do to repay you, you need but ask. I am at your service" Bartelemus bows deeply, a smooth movement that he could never have accomplished before. Then it all fades, and he is once again the ragged, ancient, venerable figure he always was. But his face is set, and his will is stronger. And Syra alone, close as she is, can barely make out the reflection of unwritten words reflected in his eyes. The man is old and frail, but something lurks within...the magic has bound itself to him. Bartelemus and his library are now one.
Lord_Gareth 11-30-06, 08:49 PM	"Wow. Well, for starters, can you tell me why you're not groaning and screaming for brains? That influx of negative energy should have made you, well, dead. Or, deadish. Undeadlike. Er...not quite as dead as you should be, but definitively not alive." Syra slaps herself, and visibly calms down. "What the hell just happened? There, I said it."
Gideon_Gideonson 11-30-06, 09:49 PM	"Me? Scream for brains? Never...I hate the taste. He smiles, and then becomes somber once more. "And I could never have lived like that. I could never live as a walking corpse." "But that is no answer... You see, when I convinced Sorcen to build this library, I discovered something I had never expected: Books of magic are, in themselves, magical. And magic does not like to be bound to one place. That much magic, in one place, threatened to tear a hole in the plane itself. I was at the height of my power, and so I was able, at great expense, to hold the library together, to keep it from destroying itself. And thus I exhausted most of my power. Now, today, you did the one thing that could have saved my life...you brought me here. And your spell, for a time, brought me enough sentience to draw my power back to me. And through that power, I gained enough strength to push back the undeath...for how long, I do not know. However, in calling my power back, and thier power with it, I appear to have unwilling bound myself to my tomes..."
Lord_Gareth 12-16-06, 09:54 PM	Syra looks puzzled, and then her face dawns with comprehension. "Great Father, does this mean...does this mean that you know every word in those books? If their knowledge yours? If it is, it simplifies matters. A lot. And the possibilites, the excitement! If your records have all they say you do, you can tell me about my family, my mortal family! To know them! At last!" Her face is excited, eager, and profoundly happy. For once in her life, her smile isn't mocking or bitter. Syra Kavon smiles from the sheer joy reverberating in her soul.
Gideon_Gideonson 12-16-06, 10:00 PM	Bartelemus smiles, his face radiating a amused bliss. Seeing Syra happy for once lights up his face, and he seems longer than his years would indicate. "I should think it possible, if not likely. If you desire it, I will try, for I owe you a great debt." "What is it you wish to know?"
Lord_Gareth 12-16-06, 10:04 PM	Syra's excitement mounts, and she begins speaking very fast, her words mashing together whenever she can't spare the breath for two seperate one. "Well, for starters, there's the whole matteroffinding that weakness of that thinginyour daughter, and that's simplenow, 'cause I can just shadowmeldwithyouandget the information direct, and then I canfindout about my family! My momwouldn't tell me anything at all about them, wouldn't let me find out orlook or nothin', and this is soexciting, and..." She goes on enthusiastically, likely unaware that anyone is in the room any longer.
Gideon_Gideonson 12-16-06, 10:14 PM	Bartelemus fights to keep a straight face at the antics of the girl before him, one second a somber, brooding individual, the next seemingly a young, excited girl again. "Then by all means let us proceed." He stands still, his eyes shut, and the sound of turning pages fills the room. Bartelemus's mouth moves, although the words that come out are not his own, nor in his voice. The ideas and voices of long dead authors pour from the scribe. And it brought a great plague o'er the land, which......advanced slowly, claws outstretched......take one pint of unicorn blood and add it to the......Pelor descended from above, and said unto Rynce......the child, barely five......Of all the monsters, the Kraken......said "I hope that..."......and he struck......Caben Duur was banished into the dark......the sun shone on our heroes......and all was black...
Gideon_Gideonson 12-17-06, 08:09 PM	Suddenly Bartelemus's eyes light up, and his voice strengthens. ...seven times Bilance struck out, and seven times...the nightmare sank back into the...three men, swathed in black robes, rode into...and the tree bloomed, more beautifully than ever........And on this day, in the year of the Noble Swan, Grili Kavon was married to Jaiyla Ilaisuis, daughter of the Long Wood... His voice dies out, returning to its normal speech pattern. "I think I've found it. Check the third door we past. Second row from the back. Up seven shelves. A large volume, bound in red leather. A town council's minutes book. It might be what we're looking for. With that, he sags back against the wall, unused to this new power.
Lord_Gareth 12-17-06, 08:20 PM	Syra slides into the shadows, reappearing only seconds later with the book in question. She sets it down on the table and looks at Bartlemaeus seriously. "Great Father, this might hurt. I'm going to meld with your shadow and access your knowledge directly. You may experience extreme cold. Are you ready?"
Gideon_Gideonson 12-17-06, 08:51 PM	"Do whatever you feel necessary. I am ready."
Lord_Gareth 12-17-06, 09:07 PM	Syra steps into Bartlemaeus's shadow, and the aged scribe can feel the shadowtaint merge with his mind and soul. He has the decidedly uncomfortable sensation of Syra sifting through every thought and memory at a mile a second, blitzing through thousands of years of catalogued information. He can feel her reaching beyond him as well, using the words from the books to access the minds of long-dead authors, and from there the minds of their sources. In the space of nearly an instant, Syra is in the mind of everyone that has ever existed. "Interesting. This being that has your daughter...well, I'd best explain out of you." With a horrific sensation, Syra emerges in black droplets from Bartlemaeus's skin, forming in front of the aged sage. "You'll need a drink while I tell you this. To the tavern, then?"
Gideon_Gideonson 12-19-06, 07:05 PM	"Of course."
Gideon_Gideonson 01-23-07, 09:25 PM	Consider this a bump. I should be working on this more now. As always, any help is greatly appreciated. PM me about it.
NorthWind 06-25-07, 06:29 PM	Ender Chant sweeps into the library, and it isn't long before he finds the spell he is searching for...under a glass case. The folded piece of parchment is naught but four inches from his hand, yet it sits on a shelf, locked. "Well, would you look at that? It's even labeled," Ender says, examining the wooden frame of the glass. Indeed, on a small, platinum plate the words "Evire Scopus, being a spell of scrying without fail" are visible in dark gold. "I'm sure Lord Anenooata won't mind my borrowing this. I'll return it when I'm through." Ender withdraws a piece of parchment from within his coat, and places it up against the glass. Soon, pale green lines of text begin to form on the sheet, and within seconds, the writings have been switched, one blank, the other containing the information the magician seeks. Ender tucks the spell into his pocket and leaves the library, smiling.
pbs 07-23-07, 10:40 PM	at the front desks of the library and small blue portal opens.Raziel the demilich hovers out."Hello is there any body home"Raziel chuckles to himself knowing full well that the proprietor has departed.Razeil floats over to a card catalog and scans the contains. Finding what he was looking for, the Masked Skull levitates quickly down the aisles to the corresponding location.he spots the bound volumes."all in one place too ,amazing, the Tomes of Creation Magic the complete set.the pieces are coming together nicely"Raziel open a portal and telekineticly removes the books from the shelf and sends them through Raziel then follows and the portal closes,simultaneously a smaller portal open over the front, and a note with a small pcionic crystal drops to the desk.the note reads, to whom it may concern: I Raziel Korben,have taken it upon my self to liberate a few texts from your stock. If you should have need of them to be returned use the crystal and they shall be transported back forthwith.i shall have made many copies by then.
EpicEvokerElf 09-11-07, 09:23 PM	Derek walks into the great library, his paperback once again notably absent. "Hmm..." he mutters, running his finger along the spines. "Hm- Aha! The Bynding of the Elymentale Spyrits, Volumme Two. I've been looking all over for this!" He slides the book off the shelf and immediately staggers under its immense ironbound weight. He limps to a table and drops the tome onto it, collapsing into an overstuffed grey armchair you could swear wasn't there before. He lights a candle stub from his pocket and begins to read.
NorthWind 09-23-07, 09:56 AM	With a cool breeze, Ender steps from behind a shelf in the cavernous library of the Baator, as though he'd been there for hours, unnoticed. He begins to swiftly walk along the stacks - clearly, he knows just what he's looking for. The magician eventually comes to a small, dimly lit corner of the library, and begins to run his finger along the spines of the tomes - with his opponent still fighting in the arena, there isn't much time. Eventually, he finds the book he's looking for, a slim, paper pamphlet - On the Bellf of Death, a Tome concerning the Powerf of another VVorld'f Necromancy Slipping the book into his pocket, he walks away, seemingly getting smaller with the distance, until he simply disappears.
NorthWind 12-23-07, 11:17 AM	Behind a neatly arranged stack of scrolls, a fox flits out into the library, padding down one of the central corridors towards the front desk. The little animal moves with purpose through the shadowy, eerily silent building. The fox seems to draw itself up, and standing in its place is Ender Chant, dressed in a dark red robe, trimmed with fur and with a crown of holly on his brow. The magician looks tired, his cloak frayed with travel, an unshaved beard on his chin. He looks around, and examines the dusty plaque on the desk. For a moment, he squints at the letters, then calls out "Archivist!" At the sound of his voice, the many shadows surrounding the desk's small pool of lamplight shudder and creak, and the magician's shadow leaves its place at Ender's feet and slides into the depths of the library to search.
Gideon_Gideonson 12-23-07, 11:24 AM	Ender's call echoes through the vaulted halls, slowly fading away to nothingness. Minutes later a small wooden door swings open, and Bartelemus the Archivist hobbles out. He walks over to his desk and picks up a pair of square-rimmed glasses, which he places on his nose before squinting over at the magician. "May I assist you?"
NorthWind 12-23-07, 11:40 AM	"I wouldn't term it as assistance. Consultation? Consolation...?" Ender mumbles words to himself indisticntly for a breif moment, then seems to notice Bartelmus for the first time. "I need to research spells of scrying. This," Ender pulls out the spell he stole earlier, written on a battered piece of paper, and holds it before the librarian "Is of no use at all. I had to redraft it seven...nine...eleven times before it worked. Direct me to your section on proper spells of scrying, if you would." Clearly, the magician is the worse for ware, as his wild eyes focus and refocus on Bartelmus.
Gideon_Gideonson 12-23-07, 11:59 AM	"Certainly, sir. Come this way please." Bartelemus takes down a rusty keyring and a lantern and leads Ender to a sturdy oaken door, which he unlocks and opens. The passageway beyond is dark and musty, but the lantern provides just enough light to see the stairs plunging downward into the depths of the library. "We keep the tomes of Sight in darkness, as otherwise the air would be full of scenes of past, present, and future. Darkness and the wardings on the lower levels keep the spells from going off, as most require at least some source of light to function." Here he pauses, turning abruptly down a side corridor. "A few, however, do not, and I beg you to avoid anything and everything of an otherworldly nature. Spells without casters can be hazardous, and I would prefer not to have to clean you up." Finally, Bartelemus stops before a small, rickety door. He fumbles with the keys momentarily and the door swings open, revealing row after row of leather-bound books and yellowing scrolls. "Here you are, sir. I hope you find this sufficient."
NorthWind 12-23-07, 12:11 PM	Ender follows the librarian, his expression inscrutable - there's no way of telling if he heard the librarian's warning, but perhaps his own experience in the strange study of magic will stay his attempts at anything that could be destructive. As they reach the door, Ender turns to the archivist, and seems to be searching for a word. "...Thank you. This will do." The magician nods and pulls a small quartz crystal from a pocket of his robes, entering the room and running his finger along the spines of books, muttering titles to himself as he walks down the corridor, until he pulls a book down from its resting place. Small, and bound in blue leather, Ender begins to leaf through it, reading in the half-light of latern outside the hall. "Could this...Lythe's Seeking?" The magician begins to read off the spell recorded in the book, mumbling the words. It is a short incantation - as he finishes, Ender raises the tiny crystal in his other hand, and in a ringing voice, calls out a single sylable: "Light!" Instantly, the quartz floods the sloping corridor with light, blue-white light that almost seems to search out darkness and shadow. As suddenly as it had come, it is gone, leaving in its wake a low, rumbling voice. "On the ninth day of Winter, should the moon be waxing..." Another joins it, high and keening "Seven times seven fiends hide there, biding their time..." Slowly but surely, a cacaphony of divining voices fills the narrow hall. At first, it would seem like it's naught but chaos, but Ender's spell has taken effect, binding the noise in a strange way... in the same sense of being able to see something out of the corner of one's eye, by straining to hear something other than the wild voices, another, clearer speech can be heard, made of the words of the hundreds of misfiring spells...
NorthWind 12-27-07, 04:44 PM	To make matters worse, Ender's fairy servant brushes past Bartelmus "Master Chant, you've a battle to see to - ah, bad time?" Ender picks his head up from the book, and marches past the fairy. His eyes are wild and bright, and as he strides past the librarian and the Sidhe, he mumbles "Moth. Help this man clean up the spells." "Good Lord! Chant's really made a mess here. Just a hunch, but - an Otherlander would probably cause more problems, hmm?"
Gideon_Gideonson 12-29-07, 08:27 PM	"ATTENTION BAATOR! APPARENTLY WE'RE ABOUT TO SUFFER SOME SORT OF CATACLYSMIC DISASTER. THE NEXUS OF THE WORLDS IS OVERLOADING, AND KAYLEE'S DUMPING SOME EXCESS HERE. EVERYONE MOVE TO THE SAFEST PLACE WITHIN EASY TRAVEL AND FORTIFY IT IN WHATEVER WAY YOU CAN. NOW." Coin's voice dies away, leaving the entire plane of Baator ringing.
Gideon_Gideonson 12-30-07, 12:14 PM	A second or so later, Bartelemus's quite voice resounds throughout the library. "My apologies to anyone currently doing research, but all non-essential spells and magic containment areas are being shut down to provide power to the abjuration sector. There will be no exiting the library until the threat is gone, as I cannot risk a weakening of the protective magicks. Do not be alarmed...we have sufficient resources within to weather almost any sort of assault." "Again, my apologies for interrupting any research that may be underway." With that, all non-essential magic fades away, leaving almost every room swathed in darkness, and the air dry and empty of background magic.
NorthWind 12-30-07, 01:58 PM	"Of course. I'm set to clean up and end up locked in a library. Is there anything I can do to help with the abjurations?"