In this world, Magic is Everything. All people, all races, are granted with the power to perform mystical and magical feats via grimories, mystical tomes granted to each and every child on their 15th birthday. Those blessed by the mana can have their names written down in legend.
Shattered Grimoires is the work of the mind(s) of Ardere & Shattered Grimoire's staff. All characters and content are copyright their creators, and may not be replicated without their creators' permission. Black Clover is owned by Yuki Tabata and published by Viz Shonen Jump. All images belong to their original owners. The theme you are currently viewing was made by Eliza of ElizaCodes exclusively for Shattered Grimoires.
Were it not for the fact that two of their own had responded to it by using their spells in an attempt at saving the knights at the forward camp from some sort of volcanic sinkhole that just opened up in an attempt to swallow them alive and whole, Griswold would not have even noticed. Due to the nearly tangible amounts of fear and rage that ran through his body, he really only had one goal in mind, which was to blow through the tower and get rid of the number one threat in this region. Watching how Charles and Cyrus did their best to save those they could reach, a feeling of uselessness and powerlessness came over him, as there was nothing that he could have done about any of this, even if he had noticed sooner. Still remembering the “training session” that had called all of them together for a chat, the elven knight had mentioned to them how he did not see himself as a person with weaknesses, aside from the fact that his magic could only destroy.
And this weakness had just now been given the chance to show itself in the ugliest of ways, as he could not use his solar magic to create shields or form any creatures that would be able to save anyone from their fate. In more ways than one, this only went to further increased the amount of rage he experienced up to a point where it all just felt like his head was drawing blanks.
But soon after, the chance to vent that rage showed itself as the woman ventured into the tower, allowing two others to step outside through what he deemed the front door. Talking to one another as if they had been locked up for years and were allowed to venture out for the first time since, they at the very least seemed like they were familiar with at least half of the royal knights. That said, they also appeared to be having what seemed like both respect and disdain for the elven woman, with one of them claiming that if the two managed to kill the four of them, that they would be restored to life permanently. Personally, Griswold did not believe such things were truly possible, just like how he did not exactly believe in an afterlife or anything fancy like that. The way he saw it, once you died, you were dead, and that was the end of it. When one of the two decided to begin attacking, Charles created walls of silver to hold some of the inky black globs and stop the flow.
As things started kicking off quickly, one of the two men began utilizing his magic, moving around the squad and attacking one of the mages that had been holding off the globs of black goop with what was more than likely spatial magic. Wanting to go after him and kill him first, there was something about what Charles said that rang true in his opinion. If the archdemon wanted, he could have likely just come down and killed most of everything surrounding the tower already, meaning this was all nothing but a game to him. And the longer Aamon had to wait, the longer things would continue to escalate, so something had to be done, and it had to be done now. What with Charles more or less disappearing, based off of his words, it seemed simple enough to imagine that he decided to go into the tower, thus leaving things to the magic knights that remained. Believing that the men here might have been able to take on one of these returned mages, taking on the both of them seemed like it wasn’t going to happen, especially with one of them growing more and more monstrous by the minute.
Without saying a word, he narrowed his eyes a bit as he dashed forward, tensing up his muscles as a thin layer of solar mana formed around him, allowing him to leap forward and run through the air, thus actively circumventing the black goo that had been forming on the ground. And while it would take him a good bit of mana to pull all of this off properly, as he quickly paced himself towards the tower and the monstrous man standing between them, a small glowing dot formed over his finger. Tossing it like one would a baseball, that tiny little ball grew to tremendous sizes, going against all of Griswold’s own beliefs in terms of collateral damage to the landscape. Using his own control to keep the explosion that would soon follow from lashing out at any he considered his allies, the goal was for the blast to not just hit the monstrous individual and have the moving blast make short work of any black goo he might be dishing out, but also to knock the man *Into* the tower. There, the four of them would be able to take care of him without burdening the outside forces any further.
So with the blast of mana being in motion, erupting and hopefully dealing large amounts of damage to weaken him for the ensuing battle and knocking his ass straight through the front door and into the tower itself, so did Griswold use his amplified speed to dash through the air and make his own way into the tower at a pace of 40m/s. Believing Charles to already have moved out ahead of him, he could only hope that they had made the right decision in doing all of this, and that maybe the last remaining demonically influenced mage would also return to the tower. It was after all where the elven woman he seemed to be forced to listen to was, as well as where his compatriot was hopefully going to be if the blast struck him, and if it struck hard enough. Regardless, he wasn’t going to be the reason why Aamon was going to have to come down and kill a whole lot more people if he could help it, so hopefully moving into the place would have made a difference.
With a bit of luck, their gambit would pay off and the fighting might in large parts be contained to the tower and save a few lives in the process.
POWER 175 DURABILITY 3 SENSORY 79 STAMINA 50 CONTROL 150 MANA 220 (-30 -50 +35 = 175) SPEED: 40 m/s
Name of Spell: Celestial Body: Alpha Cygni Elemental Type: Solar Rank & Spell Type: Senior | Physical Reinforcement & Healing Range & Speed: Self | 50 m/s Mana Cost: 30 mp | 15 mp sustain Stats Effected: +20 m/s Applicable Perks: Full Blitz & Quick Shot Description: By making himself glow while focusing his solar mana tightly around and inside himself and keeping it there, rather than allowing it to be released in an explosive manner, the caster can push off of air and water molecules, thus allowing them to essentially run through the air and on water for the duration of the spell. More than that, by channeling their mana in this manner, they also increase the speed at which they move by +10 m/s and enable themselves to use fractions of it to restore their own body or restore their mana skin. Can heal Senior damage, regrow digits in two posts, and regrow limbs and minor/smaller non-vital organs in four posts. For every turn that it is active, it will also aim to remove any debuffs if present following the "cleaning" rules. During the day, the aura around the caster takes on an orange hue, taking on a silver blue hue after dark.
Name of Spell: Galactic Nucleus: Supergiant Elemental Type: Rank & Spell Type: Grand | Attack Creation Range & Speed: 170 meters (80 m AoE) | 85 m/s Mana Cost: 50 mp | 25 mp sustain Stats Effected: +12 Power, Blind Applicable Perks: Overpowered, Quick Shot, Skilled Sniper & Battle Knight (& Area of Triumph) Description: Initialized by either holding up a finger in the air or pointing a weapon straight up into the air to use the tip as a vocal point, this spell forms a small orb of heavily compressed solar mana, which expands into a massive sphere of roughly 75 cubic meters. Moving quickly, the sheer size of this spell make the "single target" aspect rather pointless as it will incinerate the target and anything standing next to it on impact. Either when hitting a solid object, an equally powerful spell or the designated target, it will violently erupt (explosion AoE range can not venture outside the maximum range of 150 meters). The sheer luminosity of this spell is enough to make any who look at it blind for one whole post, as the impact of the spell warps the area beyond repair, destoying the vast majority of buildings hit and causes all those hit by it to be knocked back for 16 meters + 5 meters for every 10 power the user has. By using the "Ammo" rules, Griswold can determine who will and who will not be harmed by the spell.
[attr=class,cyrustext]Cyrus watched as the two figures emerged from the tower's depths, wearing cloaks to conceal their faces. Through their connection he heard Hama's thoughts, wondering if they had some sort of uniform in place or if they just were going for a bunch of dramatic reveals one after the other. He deigned not to comment, not wanting to be distracted by such frivolities in the face of their enemies.
And what faces they were.
In his time with the Golden Dawn, Cyrus had met many great mages; some allies, some enemies. It was the perfect avenue to meet such people. And while his memory was not always the best, he could certainly recognize the faces of those who made some sort of impression on him. With that in mind, he knew for a fact that he had never personally met either of these men.
But he knew, almost immediately, who one of them was.
It was a man whom he had heard about often during his time before joining the Magic Knights. A man who had once been as a mentor to his own mentor, Zaven. A comrade to him at one point, who turned against the Golden Dawn and Clover in the aim of ruling it himself.
The Vice Captain of the Golden Dawn before himself, and before Zaven.
Tetsuya.
The other man beside him had an almost bestial ferocity etched on his twisted grinning face, but the lightning mage who once helped lead his squad remained neutral in expression. They bickered; clearly they weren't working together out of any sort of fondness for one another. Tetsuya referred to the man as Galben, and his words told a story that Cyrus would have liked to unravel were time not such a concern.
Tetsua spoke to Ardere, greeting him with all the familiarity of an old drinking buddy while simultaneously offering a deal to the Crimson King. He swore to guide them up to the fiftieth floor of the tower should he agree to the deal, but Galben did not seem to support this trade. Black tar bubbled as the criminal's unsettling grimoire glowed with power, orbs of the substance shooting in all directions. He muttered about a deal they themselves had been offered, which he seemed more keen to entertain even as his face seemed to fall apart from whatever dark power had wrenched him from death. "Ciders, move to intercept!" Cyrus called out immediately as he hopped on one of the golems, his other two rushing at the globs of tar to hopefully either destroy them with their own power or take the hit in place of others.
It was then that Tetsuya's eyes fell on Cyrus, seeming to speak to the group in general but focusing on him specifically. Truth be told, his words held weight; those present knew the risk that would be involved, and what possible fate could befall them. It was even a point Cyrus himself had made, back when the group had been training for this day. Despite the eerie sense of deja vu, however, Cyrus managed the smallest crack of a smilee as Darrel Ludwig of the Green Mantis joined the fray, intercepting two of the three balls of tar sent out with his Spatial Magic, urging the party to keep going so as not to waste time.
Charles seemed to comply, setting off a chain of spells in an effort to rush through their opposition so they could start climbing. Gris also made the move to press onward, but he had the idea to bring along a guest, trying to launch it at Galben in an attempt to knock him into the tower along with him to separate him from the mages outside. It might be a clever idea, but one fraught with risks since they still didn't know what it was like inside the tower itself.
Cyrus returned his attention to Darrell and Tetsuya as the former Vice Captain charged at the man, covered with electricity to enhance his speed and power. Cyrus held up his grimoire and cast a spell of his own, summoning up one of his Grand tier golems; a pair of Gauya Eyes. The two one-eyed creatures emerged and Cyrus moved from his Cider to one of them, ordering it to take him into the tower with Gris and Charles. He looked back at Tetsuya as he flew, any of his golems still remaining following after their master.
"Onlookers... yes, I suppose that is what someone so far removed from what they once were might see them as." He said simply, eyes shifting to the Green Mantis member. "I don't have any interest in fighting you, Tetsuya. Regardless of who you once were, you are no longer that same person. Not just because you were brought back from the dead, but because you chose to leave yourself behind when you turned your back on the Magic Knights. Once, Zaven may have called you brother. But all you are now is an obstacle; a Pawn hoping to be promoted to King."
As he reached the chamber where Gris and Charles had headed, he called back to Darrell. "Cannon fodder are expected to fall! But trusted comrades hold the line!" He shouted, before turning to look around the room with Hama.
The first chamber was almost bare, save for some crude lighting and doors on the opposite side of the room. Cyrus, with his ki training, could sense the presence of enemies beyond the door, but nothing more precise than that. "Enemies past that door. Can't tell how many." He called out to the others, still standing on top of the Gauya Eye he had summoned. Hama looked at the woman who had taunted them earlier, just standing there laughing. "If you're going for the spooky enigmatic minion thing, I'd say you're nailing it so far." She noted, though beneath her usual snark Cyrus could tell she was on guard. Still, he also looked at the woman. They knew the names of the two who had impeded their progress outside... so then, who was she?
"I can't help but notice that you did not introduce yourself. Do you have some sort of name?" He asked the woman; the more they knew about their opposition, the better. Even if it was just so that they had names to put to faces.
Remembering that he was trying to conserve some energy, Cyrus released any Cider golems that were left so that he was only maintaining his Syrup Shrouds and Gauya Eyes.
[attr="class,cyrusstats]Stats & Information
WC: 1091 | TWC: 3167
[attr="class,cyrusstats]
Mana Skin
24/24
Health
18/18
Mana
455/455
Movement Speed
05
Damage Taken
00
Healing Recieved
00
Mana Used
80
Mana Regen
80
[attr="class,cyrusstats] Combat Notes Ordered two Ciders to intercept Galben's tar shots offensively or defensively if possible Summoned two Gauya Eyes and mounted one of them Entered the tower
Items On Hand Magic Knight's Mantle Scorpion's Eclipse Strength of a Nation Puppeteer of the Current
Spells Used Ciders sustained until end Syrup Shroud sustained
Name of Spell: Gauya Eye Spell Element: Sap Spell Rank: Grand Mana Cost: 50 | 25 Type of Golem: Scout Applicable Perks: Puppet Master, Armament, Reinforced Golems Description: Bearing the appearance of a bizarre spherical creature with a single eye and wings larger than itself, the Gauya Eye is a peculiar but versatile Scout type golem. Standing as tall as 4 meters should Cyrus wish, these golems can be summoned two at a time and are capable of traveling at speeds up to 48m/s when unoccupied, or 40m/s when being ridden (able to hold up to 5 passengers total). Though they may seem frail with their odd bodies and disproportionate wings, the Eye is actually extremely hardy in resilience, as well as very sensitive to its surroundings thanks to its high Sensory rating, making it ideal for seeing through Illusions or fulfilling its role as a scout. To attack these creatures will fly into their enemies at high speeds, either shredding them with their wicked teeth or raking them with their talons and horns. The sheer impact of their body is also capable of causing damage.
Thanks to Armament, these creatures can have a single spell of their creator's applied to them for additional support, and Puppet Master and Reinforced Golems make it so that their stats are noticeably higher than the average Scout's.
I don't know where the future[break][break] will take us,[break][break] But we will blaze it together.[break][break]
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[attr="class","ardereescroll"]Ardere scoffed as the familiar faces that exited the Tower, sauntering over towards them. This part of Silas stays with me. Now get the fuck out of my way. You're just a nuisance. As blunt as it may be, the fire mage was not wrong. These were simply tricks to toy them with them. Didn't someone teach you to not play with your food, Aamon? Looking up at the tower, he let out a sigh. Galben however was taking no time in kicking off the action. Fortunately due to the efforts of their sap friend, their syrup shield was still on. The Magic Knights could hold on for a bit, but they were right--the longer they dwelled out here the more danger they posed to them. It was time to go. Alright boys. Let's go! [break][break] It seemed the fire mage did not have to tell them twice. Not only were they making their way into the tower, they made efforts to attack the enemies and aid the other Knights behind them. He only hoped they did not attract an unwanted fight. Perhaps they already had. Nonetheless, Ardere needed to get in there. Crimson King. Ryujin. As scales crawled across his pale skin, they turned a deep crimson red not so different from Salamander's. This was Transformation magic, something he had learned to utilize over the years. As wings sprung from his back and his muscles tightened, the Captain could feel his speed increase. It was now or never. Bursting forth into the air with an intense speed, he twirled around the battlefield for a moment before meeting up with his comrades. They were to enter the Tower now. What they would find there was unpredictable, but they had done all they could to prepare for this. [break][break] Summoning Tetsuya and Galben. What an underhanded trick. They were barely remnants of humans in these forms. Was Aamon testing their will now? If this was representative of what was to come, then he had his suspicions that this was mere child's play compared to his plans. But he was going to have to do a lot better than that if he wanted to rattle Ardere. After his encounters in the Desert and with Sven, he had grown tired of these mind games. He wanted to settle this with his fists and he had the feeling that he would get his wish soon enough. If the tales of Aamon were true, then they were all going to be biting off a bit more than they can chew. This was where they had to surpass their limits--whether they wanted to or not. [break][break] -Ardere has entered the Tower- [break] TLDR: Ardere is protected from the initial attack by the syrup shield, then shoots into the air and towards the tower at 60 m/s.
Speed: 60 m/s[break][break] Name of Spell: Crimson King: Ryujin[break] Elemental Type: Fire[break] Rank & Spell Type: Grand | Transformation (Transfigure - Transport) | Physical Reinforcement (Speed)[break] Range & Speed: Self | 60 m/s[break] Mana Cost: 40 (20)[break] Stats Effected: +20 m/s[break] Applicable Perks: Mana Conservationist, Predator's Mutation.[break] Description: The user quite literally transmutes their own body to grow wings that appear like those of a dragon, and burst into flames. The user's fingers also extend by 4 inches into claws with red scales that go up his arms/legs/torso and across his face, his feet being subject to the same claw growth as his hands. Ardere's eyes will even turn a piercing yellow, with vertical slit eyelids. The wings themselves are 50 inches. This spell's speed is further increased via the use of Physical Reinforcement magic, causes Ard's veins to pulse as magic flows through them. Ardere can transport others if he wishes, with a maximum of 5 people.
Last Edit: Sept 20, 2021 17:50:15 GMT -5 by Ardere✧
Galben was met with a mighty blast as radiant, powerful mana attacked him and the surrounding area with a ferocity that was akin to someone that did not have a care for any that got involved. Galben could only think for a moment as he prepared another spell when the attack hit him. The tar was obliterated and the Solar mage managed to escape with the others, there was nothing physically left behind, but a pool of tar bubbles angrily...nobody knew why.
Tetsuya was quickly surrounded as the mages worked tirelessly to try and apprehend the daemon spawned mage. However, as Ardere passed Tetsuya flashed a smile as he heard that proclamation from his old friend. Cyrus’s words were even ringing in his ears as he gave a hearty laugh while being bombarded with spells that were designed with one thing in mind...destroying any and all threats related to the daemons. All in all the two seemed as if they were not really much of a threat at all.
Once the Royal Knights reached the tower and all entered, the doors started to shut as Cyrus alerted the others to what was ahead along with talking to the elf woman that seemed to be waiting for them. The last thing they would see as the doors shut would be a creature rising from the tar, it looked as if it were some monstrosity as the demonic laughter of some otherworldly being could be heard. A booming sound of thunder was the last thing that the Royal Knights would hear right before the massive doors shut.
THIS SECTION IS FOR PLAYERS THAT ARE PARTICIPATING IN A KIKKA THREAD (Example: Elves that took the bait and went to where they were dragged)
The creature that lumbered from the tar pit was an absolute monstrosity standing at 5 meters tall at full height, the stench it gave off was bad enough that being within 2 meters of it was enough to burn one’s nose and throat. The added heat was something else entirely, being that anything within a meter of the creature instantly would burst into flames...though only ones that had a higher concentration of mana, it was a ghastly sight to behold.
As the demonic laugh subsided and all that was left was a tar beast that logged as if it could swallow the world if left unchecked. Tetsuya looked at his compatriot before flashing a smirk at the Green Mantis mage. ”Very well...seems as though our time out amongst you all is just not meant to be long. Since the Royal Knights have entered the spire already...Quenya’s revival will begin.” He smirked before a flash would blind those around for a few seconds before a thunder boomed...shaking the very earth beneath the feet of the populace of Kikka, the doors of the tower were closing at the same time. Standing where Tetsuya once was...was a powerful creature whose purpose was unknown, but the power emanating from it was...overbearing.
Inside of the first floor, Hama was laughing at the elf woman, taunting her in a way that was at least...laughable in a sense, but the elf woman just laughed for a moment as well before Cyrus asked the woman for her name. With her piercing gaze she looked at the spirit once before giving her a wink. ”You would know what a minion looks like...that much I know, but no...I am just…” The smile fades as the doors open and in walks two robed figures, same build as before with Galben and Tetsuya. However they looked at the Royal Knights in turn before outstretching its arms and with a grand gesture and a deep, regal voice...the room was filled...this presence was like being amongst an archdaemon itself...completely different from the two mages outside or the elf woman before. ”Well, well, well...I was told to come get you all before the Master’s patience wore out...yet you are all here inside of the tower, ha! It seems you have met that woman there.” The voice says with a deep humor as the figure points to the elf woman behind the party now. ”I would be careful of what she says...she is a deceiver...and an escape artist, but for now as Aamon has EXPLICITLY informed me...I will not be harming you all or the deceiver...she will do enough damage on her own. Step past me and my friend here, and enter the tower proper...one at a time if you don’t mind...or all of you at once if you do not trust me...it won’t matter.” The doors, left open behind the two figures were still open, inside looked like a grand staircase big enough for a troop of knights to ascend all at once. ”It is best if you don’t ask questions...besides I am not here to answer them. Leave the deceiver here with us though...we will dispose of her...again.” The robed man took off his hood, the grotesque figure underneath made the elf woman whimper...there was an obvious problem there.
With the reveal of the man underneath the hood...it was easy to see why anyone would flinch at this sight. The elven man had half of his face removed, replaced with an amalgamation of both wood and steel inlets...the eyes shone with an amber hue and the teeth looked like they were filed down to a point. The other robed figure did not speak, nor did it move as it stood beside the disfigured elven man in silence, the aura spreading from the revealed elven man was hard to be around, it would even begin to seep into the minds of those around...almost as if trying to incite a frenzy.
Once each player or everyone at once crosses the threshold...they will be transported to a new place.
The memory of stepping into the room will fade, gradually at first...then suddenly nothing. Around each of you are identical rooms. You feel as if the mana density is stronger than you have ever experienced and your bodies feel fresh and clean...as if at the peak of your strength and life. Around you is a spartan room; a bed made of pine with white and grey linen blankets and a medium-soft pillow for your own comfort. A nightstand beside the bed houses a long extinguished candle and a picture. Once the picture is grasped, memories flood your head.
Running along a field of flowers, training and sparring with your friends, learning combat tactics and finally spending time with a woman that you consider the love of your life. At first it feels wrong, these memories are not yours...they are foreign and it does not feel right, but soon your mind goes numb to these things...tears of anger or of sadness fill your vision for a moment before the sound of a great explosion rattles each of your rooms.
Each of you have been transported to a forward base of Quenya and you are all members of the Elven army, your longtime enemy...daemons from the southern border have attacked and are trying their damn hardest to push through...they have been unsuccessful so far...but today is different, something has happened and now you must find out why...and you must find a way to get word to the King quickly so that he can send for aid from the nation of Atlantis.
At the foot of your bed is a chest, inside of it is armor made of elven gold and Orichalculm. A sword laid over the top of the armor, and a helmet made of both human mana enriched steel and magic wood from the world tree itself. You are each a different commanding officer in different branches...but none of you know this….shared dream state, Nor do any of you know who the others are...the only thing you have beside you are your grimoires, not even your spirits are able to help you here.
Ardere - Field Commander of the Heavy Infantry (Combat) Cyrus - Field Commander of the Frontline Infantry (Combat) Charles - Field Commander of the Medical Division (Non Combative) Griswold - Field Commander of the Support Division (Non Combative)
The daemon threat is pouring in and time is not on your side, it is very apparent that today is the day that Quenya begins the downward descent into Aamon’s grasp. The spirits of Salamander and Hama know of their partners being transported, and they are already waiting along with the mysterious robed figure on the sixth floor. Once the players each experience death on their floor they will awaken to their senses in the room they have ascended to. Inside of the room is the same room they “woke” up in, and when the battle is over, the player will have the same scent of the battlefield in their nose and the adrenaline of battle coursing through their veins. The door out of the room will allow the player to climb the stairs to the sixth floor, if the player owns a spirit they will be reunited with them and the mysterious figure will make themselves known once there.
If players choose not to enter the room and instead start a fight on this floor. We will begin a combat round.
To Cyrus and Griswold: The two of you, having elven heritage, see this man as an affront to your ancestors as well as the natural order of both life & death and the cycle of magic. The stench of death hangs around this person, as well as an aura of an experienced fighter. However, there is one human experience that you feel...a very humbling one...this creature is FAR more powerful than the two of you could think of. Yet you feel compelled to destroy this person.
To Ardere and Charles: The two of you notice the whimpers of the female elf behind you at the entrance doors. There is an obvious fear, yet also a notice to the elven man that just revealed himself. The “monstrosity” that is before you is quite the abomination, and the strength he emanates feels familiar. Both of you recognise and further theorize that THIS elf...and not the female whom you all first met...is the Avatar of Aamon.
Alright, after some revision here we are. Thankfully everyone entered as instructed, and stats and such are locked. From this point on we begin the really fun part of this ride. A 100 Floor climb to the prize...A fight with Aamon.
I hope to see you all at the top.
DM Note
This round does not only have to last as single posts. This round is set up for your discretion...so if it takes a long time to get the job asked done then so be it. I will leave most of this round as free form and only interject if needed until all four players exit the dream state. Each round If asked I can give a small post of lore or memory flash to push things along. If you have questions please do not hesitate to ask.
WC:1,886/5,621
Last Edit: Sept 20, 2021 13:41:29 GMT -5 by Daemon
I don't know where the future[break][break] will take us,[break][break] But we will blaze it together.[break][break]
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[attr="class","ardereescroll"]A tingle ran across Ardere's spine as the group entered the domain of the Champion. Aamon? No. It was something else entirely--a different entity of immense power among them. It reminded the Crimson King of a battle he engaged in so long ago. At least it felt like an eternity ago. He was responsible for defeating Aamon's original Lieutenant, Astaroth. How far they had come since then. There was no doubt in the Knight's mind he had been replaced. Was the being standing before them this Daemon? It couldn't be. Not this early. [break][break] Fear shot through the Captain's veins for a moment. This was a trap, wasn't it? A temptation for all of them. Sliding back against the ground his hand trailed to the grip of his Grandfather's sword. Shit. He whispered to himself. His instincts were acting without regard to their situation. Taking his hand off the blade and inhaling sharply, the fire mage calmed himself. Now was not the time to act rashly. Don't. Ardere could feel the emotions in the room now so he spoke as he grabbed the person closest to him by the shoulder; Griswold. He then held his arm out in front of the group. Narrowing amber eyes onto the monstrosity before them, his blazing aura began to pour out of his body like an ocean. This was not a sign of impending attack but rather a warning for this possible Avatar of what was to come. This was the Crimson King after all. He may have felt a sense of danger and fear in the pit of his stomach but letting the Team sense that from him was not an option. If he succumbed to the fear, then they all would. So instead he chose to face his comrades. Keep your eyes on me until you hit the staircase. Do you understand? He then turned to face the abomination again. Even Salamander was ready to explode out of his body and fight, but they knew they couldn't. The crimson hot flame flickered inside his chest as their aura seeped into the room. [break][break] Two conflicting auras now began to clash in this room like tidal waves breaking on the seas. (Intimidating Aura perk active) The Elven man was not the only monster in the room. Standing before him was the monster of the Crimson Lions. I'm sure we'll meet again further up the Tower. Motioning for the others among the Team to move along towards the staircase, he kept an eye on the monstrosity. What was Aamon playing at with such a threat this early on? Was he really attempting to rattle them this badly? As long as Ardere kept it together, it would not succeed. Unfortunately this plan hinged on the others following his orders now. If they moved up the staircase, he would follow behind them but only if they all chose to go. What lie in wait for them he did not know but he was sure every floor of this Tower would have its own surprise. [break][break] Assuming we all ascend the stairs:[break] How many floors were there? How long would they be able to go without rest? These were questions he did not have the answer to but he did have faith in the group. He had to. But what was waiting for him when they crossed the threshold into the true Tower was not a simple answer; it was a dream. Worse yet it was a dream that Ardere would not even know he was in. Salamander had gone completely dormant now as his Master drifted into a memory. He was helpless to stop this. The crimson dragon could only hope that his partner made it through whatever this test was.
Post by Charles Constantine✾ on Sept 20, 2021 19:18:29 GMT -5
[NOSPACES]
"I'm no g e n i u s, I'm just a fool who keeps going forward."
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word count 648
total word count 4016
[attr="class","glentext"] Charles looked back, noticing now that the rest of the team had managed to catch up with him and arrive at the tower safe and sound. He was worried for a moment that the two mages at the entrance would've been an issue for them, but things went smoothly. Now that everyone was inside the tower, the silver mage had figured out that the true battle was about to get started. Two additional figures stepped into the room they were in, the doors were now closed and the only option was to keep moving forward. "...A deceiver, huh?" He said, with a bit curious as to why they said she was a deceiver. In terms of appearance, she could very well deceive any man. However, her personality was something else, and it has already been shown. Something seemed off about that woman and he could sense it, he couldn't quite grasp the reason behind it. If the robed man was the one supposed to come to pick them up, then what was the purpose of the female elf doing here. The silver mage had initially believed that was her purpose, but it seems like he got it all wrong. [break][break] Briefly looking at Ardere, he could tell that he was holding back a lot of things. Charles could tell that the man in front of them was powerful, his energy was different from the rest of the people they've encountered so far. This robed figure, was Aamon's Avatar, not the elf woman as he had initially thought. It was clear that Aamon's right-hand man would be someone powerful, so he quickly managed to jump to the conclusion. Captain Ardere seemed to sense it too, but both Griswold and Cyrus seemed different, he could sense that as well. "I'm sure there's a reason behind it, let's keep going." He said, just as Ardere grabbed Griswold. Charles kept a close eye on Cyrus, as he may be agitated for whatever reason. Although, he could tell that the Vice-Captain of the Golden Dawn probably wouldn't be as rash as Griswold. The silver mage remained relatively calm, but he could tell some things seemed off. If the elf woman wasn't the Avatar, then what role did she play in all of this? Why was she that first showed up instead of the Avatar that was supposedly called in to take them into the first room? [break][break] For whatever reason, they were going to dispose of the woman. The one they called a deceiver and escape artist, there was something about her. Charles took a deep breath, this was the first time he attempted something like this, but it was worth giving it a shot. He had only attempted to use Ki on himself to sense his own emotions and magical energy, but never like this on someone else. It was risky because he didn't know what exactly would happen. The silver mage close his eyes after taking a deep breath and decided to focus out of all the energy inside the room on the female elf. By doing this, then he would probably be the last person to walk into the room before they disposed of this woman. If Ki worked, then maybe he could gather information about the female elf for future reference. The only clue he had so far was that she was probably a spirit like the two former Magic Knights they encountered in the entrance. Charles had entered a state of concentration, in a time like this. Was it the right thing to do? There had to be a reason behind all of this, his inability to figure things out against Sven costed the lives of others and resulted in his failure. [break]
[break]
POW 090
DUR 141
SEN 010
STA 080
CON 080
[break]
MANA SKIN
HEALTH
MANA REGEN
MANA POOL
archmage
grand
55 IC // 60 OOC
198/220
[break][break]
Combat Summary
[break]TL;DR Magic Knight Mantle, Seer's Fate, Forgotten Heirloom [break][break] Charles arrived with the rest of the group at the entrance of the dungeon. However, instead of moving forward into the first floor, the silver mage remained back and used Ki to try and sense the female elf's energy before she is disposed of. Ki Tier 2 is active.
Making his way into tower along with the rest, things developed themselves rather quickly. For what it was worth, the man he had attempted to drag into the tower along with them had been reduced to a pool of bubbling tar, which by itself seemed rather ominous. The first thing that occupied his mind was how this could possibly be the case, as he was sure that that pool had been a man once. Not just that, but a man that had managed to speak and attacked all of them with magical attacks of a similar nature to this pool. He knew for a fact that if they were golems, that they would have been controlled by someone from nearby, which could have been the woman that ventured into the tower just before they did. But for them to be this lifelike, there had to be something to it, something other than them being some kind of golems with an illusion slapped on top.
Once in the tower, he could feel how the mana he had used against one of the men was gradually being replenished, likely due to his elven heritage. Once he looked up to see the woman, it filled him with a rather strange sensation. Putting things together in his head, it made sense for her to have been the one responsible for killing the men and women outside, as well as being the one controlling the two returned knights. At least, it made sense to believe that much, given how they both spoke about the elven woman before going on the offensive. To this end, it made sense that they should get rid of her as soon as possible if they were to do themselves a big favor. But that was before his eyes were drawn to the other figures, one of them in particular becoming the main point of his focus. While he did not know him, he felt like he did, and he felt like he wanted to kill him.
There was something about him that radiated a vibe that matched incredibly well with the thing he had been feeling up until now, as if a large portion of it was specifically aimed towards him. It was very hard to put into words, as this whole experience so far had been, though one thing was clear, this guy spelled trouble with a capital T. As clear as it was to see that this guy was not going to succumb as easily as the other guy just by having a small sun colliding with his face, that did not seem to matter as this overwhelming urge to kill the guy was building up within Griswold’s body. For as much restraint as he possessed, so did that wall begin to eb away like a wall of loose sand holding back the sea with each word the guy spoke. From the sound of things, it seemed that if they had chosen to stay outside, that these guys would have come out to fetch them, which made him reconsider whether they had really done the best thing by heading inside when they did.
When he called the woman out as being a deceiver among other things, it started to dawn upon him that there might be those within this tower that had goals of a conflicting nature. The two knights of instance only did battle because of the fact that they wanted to be alive and free again, though that did not exactly mean they were on the side of the demons. But seeing as how they claimed to have been in the service of the woman who was now being made out as a deceiver, followed by the robed individual claiming they were sent to fetch them by Aamon, it was hard to figure out what was going on. Aamon could clearly destroy the town if he wanted to, yet he had chosen to sit back and play games like this, wanting them to fight their way through the tower until they made their way over to the top for their ultimate showdown. Beginning to sink away in thoughts of what was going on and what they needed to do now, he almost did not even notice that his hand had already been placed around the handle of his blade.
And with his spell still active, he could have crossed the distance between himself and the figure in less than a second, which was arguably faster than anyone could have responded to. Running through a plethora of possible scenarios and outcomes like what would happened if they had chosen to stay outside and fight, what might happen if they were to try and kill the woman, what would happen if they should attack one of the robed individuals or what could come to pass if they just did as they were told and headed up the stairs, he felt a nearly overwhelming amount of rage when the man lowered his hood to show his face, claiming that they would dispose of the woman again. Gritting his teeth as his eyes widened, he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, as well as a surge of emotion washing over him that seemed to even out the rage he felt just long enough to not draw his weapon and lash out, thus throwing them all into a fight.
Hearing how Ardere brought up the matter of keeping his eyes on him until they made their way to the staircase, Griswold could see the wisdom in this. If they were to be thrown into an all-out fight here, they might be too tired and drained to ascend to the top, though that still did not increase their chances as it would be an encounter that would present itself at a later point. Still, he did as the captain of their rag-tag party instructed, keeping his eyes off of the strange and aggravating appearance, which meant leaving the woman to her fate. While it did not sit right with him, the internal and external emotions he was experiencing made it too hard for him to figure out what to do. But as they passed through the doorway and began ascending the stairs, it was a thought and feeling that quickly disappeared along with his own sense of self. Blinking a few times as he kept moving, by the last time he blinked, the stairs were gone.
--------------------
What happened next all came and went in flashes, what with him waking up in a fairly comfortable bed. Looking around, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, the room being as he remembered it having always been. Rising from the sheets and getting dressed, he wandered around the room as if trying to remember something he had forgotten without even realizing what or why. Letting his eyes land upon a picture, Griswold could vividly remember the times spent training with a bunch of other soldiers, remembering everything from the moment he first picked up a sword to the point where he managed to disarm one of the instructors some years later. He remembered a woman he seemed to love with all of his heart, yet at the same time felt like he had no idea who she was. Trying to make sense out of the whole situation, the sound of an explosion come from outside of his room, causing the very ground upon which he stood to shake beneath him.
As if knowing exactly what was going on before he even went outside, he opened up the chest standing at the foot of his bed while calling a man waiting outside of his room to come in and help put on his armor. A few minutes later, he had been lifted into his suit, his sword hanging from his hip and his grimoire located on the opposite side. It was quite weird, as he remembered usually wielding his swords on his back and his dagger on his hip, though the thought quickly made way for an immense sadness, pain and anger as he made his way outside and witnessed the scene in front of him. Watching as demons were making their way onto a large battlefield, held at bay by an army of his own people, the elves of Quenya. Feeling like he was needed on the battlefield, he made his way over to his men as commander of the support division. Soon, they would need to do their best to get out there to aid the men and women on the front lines, a thought he dreaded, knowing many would not make it back alive.
For unlike past skirmishes, there was something different about it all this time around, something that made the demons far bolder than they had been in the past, as if they knew something he didn’t. Something that could turn the tide of the war in a manner drastic enough for them to turn up in such large numbers. Right now, he could only hope that this would not be the case.
[attr=class,cyrustext]Hama scowled a little bit as the woman made her little quip about recognizing a minion, but both her and Cyrus' attention shifted toward the newcomers as two more cloaked figures entered the chamber. One of the strangers opened his arms as if welcoming them, but the sensation the Vice Captain of the Golden Dawn felt was anything but welcoming. His voice... no, his very presence itself, absolutely radiated with power. If he had to describe it, Cyrus might liken it to attempting to stay on your feet as a massive tidal wave washed over you.
The figure noted that he had been sent to help "usher" the party along if they had been slow to enter the tower. He spoke disdainfully of the elven woman, warning them against trusting her words and urging them to proceed onward, also referring to her as an escape artist. He advised against asking questions as he discarded his hood, revealing the monster that its shadow had hidden.
The sight of it seemed to upset the woman, who he promised would be dealt with... again?
While the comment got Cyrus' thoughts buzzing, the mere sight of the man before them seemed to almost... ignite something within him. Back before today, Cyrus had felt apprehension and uncertainty. As he stood at the base of the tower, it had felt as if a lure was trying to drag him up the building. But this was different. This was something Cyrus was largely unfamiliar with.
Hatred.
Burning, vicious, murderous hatred.
Cyrus was no stranger to the sensation of anger; he experienced it quite often, in fact. Most people would likely not know that, however. He was generally good at keeping a lid on his emotions thanks to his upbringing, ever the diligent child not wanting to incur the wrath of the other nobles by saying or doing something that would disgrace the Elwood family. It was rare that he was outwardly furious, and even rarer still now that he had Hama by his side; through their connection and bond the two often came to similar conclusions and opinions, and the sap spirit's complete lack of inhibition when it came to speaking her mind often provided Cyrus with a sort of vicarious catharsis.
But as far as he could remember, Cyrus had never felt such focused, directed, and pure hatred for something in his life. He had disliked people, certainly. And he held disdain for anyone whose actions meant trouble and pain for innocent people. But it was never really that personal for him.
But this person... he couldn't tell exactly what it was, but the mere sight of him had the Rising Dawn on a razor's edge. Never before had he wanted so badly to inflict some sort of pain or suffering onto another... at the very least, not nearly to this extent.
A glance at his compatriots to see their own reactions told him that Gris seemed to be experiencing the same sort of feelings. Charles and Ardere definitely could tell the man before them was powerful, but didn't seem as incensed as the two of them. What was it? What was different?
In response to the oppressive aura given off by the man who had spoken, Ardere flared up his own mana. He spoke, urging he and the others to focus their eyes on him as they left the room. It was a smart decision; this whole situation felt wrong. They should continue, and try to meet Aamon as soon as possible.
And yet...
And yet, Cyrus felt something else, as well. Something... familiar. He couldn't explain what it was if you asked him, but it almost reminded him of what he still remembered as his greatest adventure since he joined the Magic Knights; Atlantis. The undersea kingdom. This oppressive force reminded him of The Calamity that had struck the beautiful city, but even more intense than that of the dark entity clad in yellow.
Atlantis.
Cyrus' hands felt an intense sensation, as did the place on his hip where his dagger had been stowed. His gauntlet and bracer. All three, treasures gifted to him by the new rulers of Atlantis after they had slain the Calamity. And a forth such feeling, as well... almost pulsing from his pocket, where he kept another piece of the forgotten kingdom. A piece of orichalcum, retrieved from a man back when Raque had been flooded by the daemon Serena. She had desperately attempted to take it from him, but what purpose it served was something he had never figured out. It had seemed far too important to simply dispose of, and so the Rising Dawn opted to keep it on his person at all times.
He looked away from Ardere at the staircase, as Charles attempted to do... something, that had stayed his feet. His eyes fell again on the elven woman, and he bit his lip so hard that it nearly drew blood.
The last time he had attempted to save a woman during a daemon attack, she had turned out to be the one leading the operation all along. He knew that, and together with the total unease he felt made it difficult to even consider trusting this woman; after all, at least Serena had posed as a civilian. This woman, though... he just didn't know.
And yet.
He looked at the Crimson King again. And to Charles. Gris had already proceeded onward.
"Cyrus?" Hama spoke, having grown uncomfortable with her friend's prolonged silence. The familiar, friendlier voice shook him from his thoughts for a moment, realizing just how long he had gone on reflecting. He looked at her, the spirit offering a worried but comforting smile. A heavy sigh he hadn't realized he was holding left his lips, and his eyes went back to Ardere. "I'm coming." He assured the Captain, making his way to the stairs as well. As much as he wanted to reach out and help this woman, he didn't want to take the risk. He needed to focus on the mission. A single life was priceless, so too were the thousands that would be at risk if they didn't continue.
Besides, he didn't know what he would do if he stayed in the room with that... thing, masquerading as a natural creature. And he needed to figure out why his thoughts of Atlantis were resurfacing so intensely now. "I'm sorry..." He apologized to the elven woman in his mind. Sorry for not saving her? For not trusting her? For not falling into a trap? He couldn't even figure it out himself.
As he stepped up the stairs, Cyrus decided to tell Ardere about the Atlantean artifact he had in his pocket; about how he had a strange sensation from it and the weapons he carried that also originated from the underwater kingdom. Hama also spoke to him, but he could only barely hear her. In fact, everything seemed to be becoming more distant. Fading slowly. It was almost as if he were falling asleep.
And what a dream he would awaken to, if it could even be called that.
[attr="class,cyrusstats]Stats & Information
WC: 1188 | TWC: 4355
[attr="class,cyrusstats]
Mana Skin
24/24
Health
18/18
Mana
455/455
Movement Speed
05
Damage Taken
00
Healing Recieved
00
Mana Used
00
Mana Regen
00
[attr="class,cyrusstats] Combat Notes All spells faded as Cyrus ascends the stairs...
Items On Hand Magic Knight's Mantle Scorpion's Eclipse Strength of a Nation Puppeteer of the Current
Seeing the anger on the Crimson Lion captain’s face was almost exhilarating...if it was not for the other people there...he would have happily lashed out to fight the big man himself, but as he tried to be the voice of reason the elven avatar was immediately put off from him. ”That’s no fun...I am happy to oblige in fighting you all, I would even do it with my hands tied behind my back and my eyes closed. Yet you try to bring them down and to keep their emotions in check. Oh well, the only thing I can do is really just goad you but even that does not work...or rather, may not work. Oh well, while you all ascend I will just go find a new toy...any of your existing family will make just as good a fighter as you right?” The mutated elf spoke to Ardere, the point was to push the limits of the Royal Knight after all...he was SORELY mistaken if he thought that he would be living it up on his way to go see Aamon. The others seemed to have their own little thoughts, the young one...or the perceived young one in human years seemed to be pondering something while the one that looked like some sort of hunter just remained quiet and followed his captain’s orders...the other one looked like he...was going to be the weakest link of all...feeling the hatred coming off of him was overshadowed by something else...He was having trouble figuring it out at the moment, but as the others ascended the staircase Charles said he was going to stay behind. The mutated elf smiled and snapped his head back to the young man and the still hooded figure closed the next room's doors. Separating the two teams, not giving them a moment to fix the implicated issues at hand.
To Charles: The avatar of Aamon looked at Charles as the young man was using his ki to try to get a sense of what the elf woman was feeling or if he could discern anything from her. One thing he was able to pick up on was the very blatant fact that she gave off an aura of someone alive...not like the mages the Royal Knights met before, not like the Avatar of Aamon and the hooded figure present now. The Avatar politely came up, even with his oppressive presence he tapped on Charles Shoulder but once, enough strength to cause his bones to ache instantly. ”Since you insist on staying behind with this woman whether it is because of some obligation or some other means...you are not needed, but since the trial has started for the others...you can accompany me to a rest area above this area here while my associate wates for the others to come out of the trial rooms. We will bring the deceiver with us if you like, it doesn’t make any difference.” The invitation seemed like Charles could refuse, but the piercing gaze of the elf made it clear that if he declined...he would have to fight.
Charles would be shown to the room above via a hidden staircase in the wall. As they ascended it was as if they climbed well over fifty floors before exiting into a living space that was already set up with a small table in the middle, a chessboard sat on the table with two chairs on one side, a single chair on the other. The room smelled of freshly butchered meat and steel, and was lit by stone torches. ”Take a seat, both of you...we have plenty of time. I hope chess is a game you enjoy...I sure don’t but it allows me to make a point.” He said as he took his seat, waiting for the two to sit. As Charles moved though, the elf woman no longer held that confident aura, that fearful aura never left her now and she seemed to be shivering while keeping her head down. She spoke in a language that was indiscernible and there now seemed to be a droning noise from the outside area as if they were in some box in the middle of a busy festival. There was something definitely at work here, but one thing was made known really quick...there was something that was connecting the two elves together.
To Ardere: The dream starts as laid out above in the previous post...
To Griswold: The explosion rocked the fort, and there was little that could be done about it. Screams of the injured and dead filled the air, as did spells from both sides and the metallic scent of blood hung in the air. As you come outside a small elf dressed in hide armor, looking scared and covered in blood that was not their own was repeatedly saying as they ran into you. ”Oh, gods...they actually did it...that crazy bastard actually summoned them...I have to find the King’s son... he can reque…” Seeing who was run into, the elf fell to a knee instantly in shock. ”Commander Faline the attack...it came from fome filthy Ulwarth...one of our own did this, I don’t know why but the sergeant of the gate suddenly pulled his grimoire out, cast a spell and disemboweled himself, inside of him was a...sir it was a relic bomb...a sinister aura was attached to it...we have to get word to your father. We need reinforcements!!!”
To Cyrus: The dream starts as laid out above in the previous post...
Still somewhat reeling from the explosion, the elven man took a look into the distance, seeing a fair deal of destruction as a large cloud of smoke and debris took to the sky. For all of the training he had done and the years he had been alive for, he had never seen such a thing before in his life, especially not one that was being used against his own people. Walking down a flight of stairs, he made his way over to the front gate of the fort, leaving his troops behind for a bit as they had no clear orders to charge yet. While he was a commander himself, it felt odd to charge into trouble without getting any clear information as to what they were dealing with. For that very reason, he had ordered his men to stand down until they either got the intel they needed, or he heard from his father on how to act.
Upon reaching the front gate, someone ran right into him, covered in blood and dust, leading him to believe this small framed elf had ran all the way here from the blast site. And from the sound of it, they’d come to find Him. Calling him by name, the claim was made that all of this had been caused by one of their own people, which was not something he wished to believe straight away. But upon hearing that it was the sergeant himself that had set off the explosion, it brought about a lot more reason for doubt. To hear that he had used a spell to disembowel himself and set off some kind of relic bomb, it made no sense to him, none whatsoever. When at war, it was not unheard of to have some people who turned their back on their own because they believed they’d stand a better chance when siding with the opposition.
But to go as far as turning oneself into a living bomb, that was not the kind of thing one did for their own personal gain, as there was nothing to be gained when one died. But what bothered him more than the actual bombing being caused by their own people was the fact that it had a “sinister aura” to it, as that was the kind of thing that could have a hundred different meanings. However, knowing the kind of thing they were dealing with, and how they were not mortal like them, Faline reached for the nearest person to walk past him, grabbing them by the shoulder and pulling them in. Speaking in a somewhat hushed tone so as to not strike fear into the surrounding soldiers and guards, he could not risk causing a panic among his own men. They were after all still needed to support the main force once it all went down.
“Soldier, send word for my father. We are beset by external and internal threats, our own people using themselves as living bombs to cause mayhem as well as spreading some foul miasma. Tell him he needs to show himself, and to bring reinforcements, or we might not hold here. Now go, make haste.”
With that, he sent the man on his way, hoping that he would make his way over to his father before this fort became under siege from all sides. For the time being at least, it seemed like most of the fighting was being contained to the front lines, but if there were to be any more of these suicidal bombers destabilizing their ranks, he feared reinforcements might not arrive in time. That his father would be too late.
I don't know where the future[break][break] will take us,[break][break] But we will blaze it together.[break][break]
wc: ###
twc: ###
@tagme
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[attr="class","ardereescroll"]There was a Tower. A Tower high enough to pierce the Heavens, the Elf thought. He wondered what kind of dream this was? The Humans standing around him were...his friends? [break][break] What a strange dream... [break][break] Awakening in his coarse bed in the Barracks, the young Elven man slid to the end of his bunk. Groaning in pain, he felt this throbbing sensation coming from his head. What a strange dream. Pouring himself a glass of water, his hands were shaking. Odd. That was very unlike the hardened Heavy Infantry Commander. Nonetheless he sipped from his glass and inhaled sharply. There was no sense in being rattled like this as today was a new day. [break][break] And then he heard the explosions--the calls to battle. Shouting and screaming went across the Base as men leaped to their feet to adorn their armor. This was the Barracks of the Heavy Infantry after all. No doubt they would be called to backup the Frontline Infantry. Get set and line up men! Shouting at his soldiers, he had not even dressed himself yet. They all scrambled to put on their armor and muster their strength. Turning back to his room, the Field Commander stared in the mirror. Pale skin and light hair with pointed ears. He felt unlike himself today. Shaking off this strange feeling he grabbed the large armor set at the foot of his bed and began to don it. The thick armor reinforced with Orichalcum they wore was heavier and stronger than what the regular Frontline men wore. The swords they bore were two handed, shining and powerful. Move out. Get to your Deployment areas! [break][break] Running out onto the balcony, he saw...flames. Fires raged across the countryside as Daemon began to pour in from the South. Frontline Infantrymen had been sent to stop their forward assault but they would only last so long. So this is it...isn't it? Clutching his sword, a sense of sorrow washed over his heart only to be overwhelmed by duty and honor. Word must be sent to the King. They had to hold out as long as possible and get reinforcements from Atlantis. Scaling down the wall and leaping down into the courtyard as shadow and flame began to pour across their base, he spotted his squadrons. Let the Infantry who can make it back in. Get to the Main Gate. Barricade it and hold that line! Prepare yourselves for whatever comes through. We are all that remains until we can get reinforcements from Atlantis....if we can. [break][break] Hold that line until I can get word to the King! He felt the stone shake beneath his feet. Doom was impending. He only hoped he could get word in time. Destruction and ruin was knocking on their door. How would they answer? The Field Commander honestly did not know. This attack was so swift and relentless, it was almost as if they had gotten in right under their noses somehow. Regardless they could not afford to lose this base or their people were in grave danger. This was their duty. [break][break] Everyone was scrambling to get to battle stations or run. Shit. He couldn't spot any of the other Officers near by. Looking to one of the Scouting Officers, he pulled the man to the side. I need you to open a line of communication to the King. The man nodded and attempted to open up a window of sorts, but the magic began to spark and fizzle. I can't sir! Something is blocking me! Clutching his sword tightly, the Commander turned to look towards the Gate. Then get his damn secretary. I don't care. Just tell him we need reinforcements from Atlantis! Running down the stairs, he could feel the entire base began to shake as the massive doors to the courtyard were rocked back and forth. Boom. Boom. Boom! There was almost a rhythm to it. Hold your ground men! [break][break] The legion of Heavy Infantryman stood tall with their titanic swords as the Gate was torn into pieces. What leaped through was their worst nightmare; a Horde of Daemon. Massive and covered in tentacles and spikes, they engaged. The two forced clashed with the strength of Titans as magic erupted across the courtyard. The Field Commander himself leaped off the steps to bring his massive sword down through the head of a Daemon. Slicing them to pieces, he was covered in black blood. This was a bloody onslaught, all out war between the two forces. The guards up top fired their bows down below as the magical ballista were launched into the larger Daemon. This force was bigger than anything the Commander had ever seen. They were bottle necking them into the courtyard for now, but that would only last so long. Pull back into the Main Hall! Use the ballista to take out the Main Gate and collapse it! Pulling his men back, magical bolts were fired until the Main Gate collapsed in on itself and crushed several Daemon. It was hold them for a bit longer, hopefully enough for them to reinforce the Main Hall. Everyone who used solid magic, reinforce that god damn door now! He shouted as they all pulled into the hall. Wood, steel, stone and plants grew across the doors, reinforcing them as much as they could. They were running out of time.
Post by Charles Constantine✾ on Sept 24, 2021 13:00:30 GMT -5
[NOSPACES]
"I'm no g e n i u s, I'm just a fool who keeps going forward."
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@tagme
word count 734
total word count 4750
[attr="class","glentext"] Charles briefly had his eyes closed, using Ki to figure out her true identity. It was something he had never done before, but he believed it was worth giving it a try. One thing he was able to pick up was that the woman was indeed alive, her presence was quite different from Aamon's avatar and the other person that accompanied him. This woman was not like the daemon, she was different. This meant she was not under Aamon's control and was a third party entirely. The female elf was clearly afraid of Aamon's Avatar, for a reason he was not able to know. However, she seemed special, there was something special about the woman, a connection to the Archdaemon himself. She was different from them, despite that connection. The silver mage knew that he would have to stick around and find out more. If this woman held some importance, then it could an effective way to defeat the daemon. [break][break] His concentration was disrupted with the approach of Aamon's Avatar. He opened his eyes and stared at the Avatar, his touch made his muscles ache for some straight reason. It was proof of his strength, he could probably break all of his bones with a single punch if he really wanted if that's the case. "Seems like I remained behind too much... Sounds like I don't have much of an option, alright then." Charles nodded, he knew that if he declined he would have to fight the man and he recognized the fact that he was no match for him. Engaging in battle was a stupid idea, especially with him alone and the state of his teammates was unknown. For now, he had to play their game, not the first time he was forced to do something like that. The silver mage followed Aamon's Avatar, ensuring that the female elf was fine. Her fear was obvious, although she had quite a twisted personality not too long ago. Was the reason they called her "deceiver," the plan was to stick together, but for now, he would have to do his part for the team. [break][break] After taking the staircase that was hidden in the wall, he believed he climbed around fifty floors, maybe more. Taking into consideration the amount of time it took them to get there. Charles's facial expression was of the one of a bored man, monotonous. If what the Avatar said earlier was true, he held no intentions of hurting him. At least, not yet, but he can't lower his guard. Of course, he can just pretend to a lazy idiot. "...Chess? I guess so, I play it from time to time." He replied, taking a seat behind the small table with a chessboard on it. The silver mage believed that the daemon had something up his sleeve and it would seem a bit odd for the Aamon's right-hand man to play chess with a Royal Knight. There was something else, but what exactly he had planned was not something he could tell, at least not yet. Chess was a game he was familiar with, he played a lot when he was a child and occasionally as a Magic Knight. Strategy games were one of the few things he enjoyed playing. "This was one of the last few places in the world I expected to have such a vivid atmosphere." It seemed strange, he never expected the place to be so vivid. It was possible it was just some sort of illusion. There was something that connected the two elves, but he was unable to understand what they were saying. His best guess was probably an ancient language that only elves knew of. [break][break] His Ki remained active, partially focused on the female elf that was accompanying him and the two other men. Although, he looked quite relaxed and taking things easy. Charles was actually using Ki to remain alert for any sort of unusual movements. [break][break] Argenti, his silver spirit remained to him at all times but decided to say anything. It seemed like Charles found himself in a hard spot, but held her faith in him. There was nothing to say and she wasn't much of a social person anyway. She preferred to remain quiet. The small spirit sat down on the silver mage's shoulder and watched everything go down. Similar to him, she held no excitement or emotion.
[break]
POW 090
DUR 141
SEN 010
STA 080
CON 080
[break]
MANA SKIN
HEALTH
MANA REGEN
MANA POOL
archmage
grand
55 IC // 60 OOC
220/220
[break][break]
Combat Summary
[break]TL;DR Magic Knight Mantle, Seer's Fate, Forgotten Heirloom [break][break] Charles followed Aamon's Avatar and took a seat behind the small table with the chessboard. Now he's just pretending to be a slacker, the thing he's the best at. Ki Tier 2 is active.
[attr=class,cyrustext]A faint voice from the distance, too unclear to really recognize. Warm rays of sunlight beating down on his face as he stirred from his sleep. A cozy bed that he was lying on. All these things greeted the young elven man as he sat up, yawning and stretching. A pretty typical awakening... it seemed, anyway. Something felt a bit off, but what it was he couldn't exactly tell. Had he fallen asleep in this room? He had to have.
A glance at the nightstand to his right saw the man pick up a framed picture, which he gazed at fondly. He, his friends, and his wife all together, smiling on the day of their wedding. Just the sight of this picture was enough to spur him onward while fighting on the field; a piece of the lives he was protecting, and an anchor to keep him from drifting too far away from home. That manor in the middle of the Forsaken Region... wait, no. That wasn't right. What did that even mean?
Before he could put any more thought into the matter, a violent explosion shook the entire room, and he leapt out of bed with an instinctual ease. His eyes fell on an unfamiliar chest at the foot of the bed, but somehow he knew what was waiting for him inside it. He put on the armor and examined his sword for a moment, sheathing it just as a man threw open the door to inform him of an attack by the demons to the south.
The infantry commander nodded as he stepped past the man, grabbing his grimoire off of the dresser beside the door.
How much time passed between him leaving his chambers and arriving at the front of the battlefield, the commander couldn't say; it had passed like a blur... no, as if it hadn't even existed in the first place. But such thoughts were common on the field of battle, and he couldn't let himself be confused or distracted by such inconsequential matters.
An elven soldier ran up to him, carrying a dented shield in one hand and supporting an injured ally with the other. "Sir, the daemons are hitting us on both sides! We need orders!" He reported briskly as he gently but quickly sat his friend on the ground against a tree.
The infantry commander looked out over the scene as his troops fought the daemons to the best of their ability, before looking back at the scout. "Find Imeska and tell her that her squad is to focus on fencing the daemons into the dried up lakebed! After that, tell Ponzo and the other trappers to set off their traps as soon as they think they can maximize the damage! And make sure that Belden hasn't run out of potions; you know how much he and his people like to let loose with their spells as much as possible. Go. NOW!" He ordered concisely. It all came to him naturally, though how he knew who all he was commanding and what was in play was still... no, he already decided he wouldn't be distracted.
After the scout left, the infantry commander charged into the fray himself. A pair of winged daemons flew at him, one rushing with fangs and claws at the ready. He met it mid-flight, slicing through the creature from shoulder to the opposite hip in a single stroke like a hot knife through butter. After bisecting the beast he kicked its upper half towards the other flying daemon, their wings getting tangled up and the two both falling to the ground where the commander skewered them with his blade to finish the job.
The familiar sounds of explosions in the distance told him that Ponzo's team was getting to work, even as he focused on the approaching hordes of enemies. Still, something was very off. Though the deamons' attack had indeed been relentless, they had managed to hold them off perfectly well. So why, now, were they starting to break through? There were countless possible reasons why, and the infantry leader wasn't too fond of any of them or the implications thereof. But regardless, he could tell that they were losing ground every minute. This wasn't good. He needed to get word sent to the king.
"Damned Atlanteans. You just couldn't live right on the mainland, could you?" He muttered in a mixture of frustration and tired amusement. Their reinforcements would get here much sooner if they didn't need to cross the damn ocean.
Another large daemon approached, spitting some sort of solid projectile at the commander. He sliced through the object with his blade, catching half of it on the flat and flinging it back at the beast to pierce through its head. Several men cheered at the display, encouraged by his performance. "Need to get to the king!" He decided, now starting to run.
[attr="class,cyrusstats]Stats & Information
WC: 0818 | TWC: 5173
[attr="class,cyrusstats]
Mana Skin
24/24
Health
18/18
Mana
455/455
Movement Speed
05
Damage Taken
00
Healing Recieved
00
Mana Used
00
Mana Regen
00
[attr="class,cyrusstats] Combat Notes N/A
Items On Hand Magic Knight's Mantle Scorpion's Eclipse Strength of a Nation Puppeteer of the Current
As Charles and the elf woman sat down in front of Aamon’s Avatar, there was a moment of awkward silence, the Avatar then produced a simple gaming set, each piece looked as if carved intricately. However as he passed over a gaming set to Charles he would feel something with his latent ki, as if the pieces were alive in a way. Each piece touched gave off a different energy; the King gave off a strong, fiery energy, while the Knights each gave off vastly differing strands of energy. One was solid, warm...almost as if it was too hot to handle, while the other felt more composed...cooler, almost soothing as it was handled. The pawns gave off various energies, mostly those of fear and others of hatred. Some however were fierce and still seemed as if they had energy like that of a warrior. The Bishops both seemed as if they were caught in a maelstrom and would give off an energy that would put Charles on edge. The Rooks; one was level headed...somewhat careful yet standoffish. The other was scared and tired, yet at the same time confident and bold. The Queen seemed scared, yet full of a hate that would chill Charles to the bone once he touched it, as if it was going to freeze him as he handled it. The Avatar of Aamon set his pieces up, all the while watching Charles set the board. ”I hope you like these pieces Charles...they were specifically crafted for this game after all.” The Avatar spoke as if he knew exactly what was happening...as if it was all planned out from the start...a warning for Charles if he ever did need one. His spirit would not go unnoticed as well as the Avatar stuck out its hand, the spirit would reluctantly come forth to him. ”This spirit of yours...loyal and brave for following you here. Did you know...Aamon’s son also wielded a magic akin to silver...for a time anyway, elves are a very odd race. For example, did you know when a spirit is first brought into the world in physical form it is almost ALWAYS an elf that it will first make its way to. This one, must see that I am cut from the same cloth as you Charles. Yet…” The Avatar of Aamon took his hand and moved it to the board and moved a pawn towards Charles’ side of the board. ”I have traded that in, for the abilities I now carry. Go ahead and make your move, Charles, we will be here for a while after all.” The Avatar of Aamon spoke, he would move pawns as Charles would move, not yet moving the larger pieces, but something did feel off about the opponents pieces...they almost felt like they held the same ki as the ones from outside the tower.
The elf woman, The Deceiver, looked at Charles and then to the Avatar of Aamon she was afraid...afraid of what this “little game” would bring, she knew a little about the pieces on the board but dared not to speak for now as there was a chance she might be struck if she did so. Yet as the Queen piece was placed down on Charles side, she felt that fear grow...but also that her life was no longer in her own hands Even as she turned to speak to Charles and warn him her vocal cords would not work.
The game had begun...
To Griswold:
The scout looked at his commanding officer with fear, but then stood straight and looked resolute and saluted him before running off for the nearest communication mage. His military company stood behind their leader...the daemons had made their way into the barracks as men were still trying to get ready for battle. Suddenly several other explosions would rattle the area as screams turned to horrified, tone deaf pleas for help. The daemon horde was advancing far too quickly, the battlements were overrun...they were not a combat unit and most of his men looked as if they were going to cry or wet themselves. There was the commander of the medical troops running towards the unit, carrying the body of another elf. Brought to the stables that Griswold was standing near at the time he fell to his knees carrying a lifeless body… ”Commander Ashford...my son...he was a medical mage...he was due to be shipped to Atlantis tomorrow...please...please help him…” The commander was doing the best he could, trying to seal wounds, but nothing was working...the body was already too far gone and the commander was overcome with grief…
A sinister aura was starting to grow inside of the lifeless body.
To Ardere:
Quick on the orders, commander Ashford commanded the troops to engage the enemy and to barricade the fort. They were going all in for this fight, even Ashford would be able to see that this was not a winning battle. His silver mana was starting to grow as the communication soldier said that nothing was getting through. The commander of the medical units brought his son over, the kid looked to be no older than one that was first issued their sword and grimoire. Commander Ashford, my son...he is to be shipped to Atlantis tomorrow...he knows a route. He can get to a nearby station to get word out...all of our communications have been blocked too. Let him go, he can get the word out...we do not have much time.” Commander Ashford was to make a decision here and now, but as the battlements were overrun he commanded his troops to fall back to the main hall...If they were to make it out, they NEEDED that support. A thunderous sound could be heard outside the doors of the main hall...something big was coming and the soldiers were busy setting up and preparing for a breach.
To Cyrus:
The commander’s performance bolstered the soldiers to fight back harder, they rallied around their leaders and as Ashford decided that he was going to get word to the king himself he raced to the communication mages near the back of the fort. There was not much that could be done because as he arrived...the carnage could be assessed in full. The entire unit was dead...standing among the men was a singular humanoid demon. Ashford’s silver aura sprang to life as he approached...this was not a good scene. The monster soon turned and looked at Ashford and began to trudge through the bodies towards its next target.
DM Notes:
This is not the start of a new round...instead something fishy is going on, all of you, except Charles now have the memory of your name being Ashford Quenya. The son of the first Elven king of Quenya. Your magic abilities all work exactly the same, except they are now using the Silver element.
Charles, you can sense something is wrong, but you are not sure what...yet.
Requirements are NOT yet met to progress to the next round or clear the trial. Continue on.