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.
Sword of Heroes Legend has it that there is a legendary sword deep within a newly formed catacomb in the common region. Many adventures, traders and warriors have entered this new dungeon. But none have returned now placing a sense of unease throughout the region. Now local town folk are calling for truly strong mages and warriors to venture into this place and find out if the rumours are real or are just all lies.
[attr="class","dungenfloor"]FLOOR #1
NUMBER OF ROOMS: 2
WORD COUNT PER ROOM: 1,500
FLOOR DESCRIPTION:
The first floor is the entrance itself. At least when the first bit of danger makes itself known. Upon reaching the entrance of the catacombs. It is surrounded by trees and wildlife that could be hiding things. The door of the catacombs is very large and easy to see, not only that but it draws attention to itself. Those that see it are often drawn to it and filled with a sense of wanting to go inside and explore.
The first enemies that will make themselves as you approach are the goblins. They have set up camps throughout the woods attacking anyone who tries to enter the catacombs. They have no magic but they do use swords, maces, clubs, shields and axes to try and make up for it. Annoying and greedy little things.
The Lost Knights are mysterious beings that make use of shadow magic. They appear out of thin shadows on the ground and on the wall and will attack any intruder in the catacombs. They can only use shadow magic to attack though and have pretty predictable movements. They each make use of a single long sword in combat. Some have theories that the lost knights were once brave knights and heroes that have fallen. They use the magic specializations of attack creation and physical reinforcement.
The Legion Knights are the true guardians of the catacomb's secrets. Powerful warriors that wield large great swords that are bigger than themselves. What they lack in magic they make up for with pure combat ability. Their blistering speed along with fearsome strength is not to be taken lightly at all. Before facing an enemy they stand nobly and they won't attack until the ones that entered are ready. Knights that are honourable to the end despite their current state.
[attr="class","dungenroom"]Room #1
[attr="class","dungenencounters"]ENCOUNTERS:
x3 Greed Goblins per player
When the ones brave enough to face the catacombs, and find out about the Sword of Heroes. Will be met with a large door fully open but when approaching the door a large group of goblins will attack them from all sides to prevent them from going in and taking whatever treasure may be inside. They will try and ambush you from the forest around the door, but they will start screaming full giving up their element of surprise. They are not the wisest of creatures.
[attr="class","dungenroom"]Room #2
[attr="class","dungenencounters"]ENCOUNTERS:
4 Lost Knights, 2 Legion Knights
After taking out the Greed Goblins and walking into the door, the travellers will be able to venture inside a few meters before spotting a Legion Knight further down the catacombs. But from behind as if they have emerged from the shadows will be the Umbral Knight attacking those who have dared to enter. Only when all the Umbral knights have been defeated will the Legion Knights acknowledge them, and they will attack once they have locked eyes with you.
[attr="class","dungenfloor"]FLOOR #2
NUMBER OF ROOMS: 3
WORD COUNT PER ROOM: 1,500
FLOOR DESCRIPTION:
With the Legion Knights defeated a hidden door located behind them will open up suddenly with a staircase going downstairs. Once down the stairs, the group will enter a very large room with tall statues of armoured warriors, broken-down pillars and intricate wall designs. Light coming from the cracks in the ceilings as well as ghostly blue flames on the candle-lit torches. The group will also hear whispers as if they were coming from ghosts. "Thy art not worthy." followed by "Thy must turn back."
The Blade Stalkers are there looking for the legendary sword or any kind of treasure they can find honestly. They are trespassers and do not respect the sacred ground nor anyone that gets in their way. Any sign of an enemy they attack on sight without warning and without fear. They use fast sword attacks with the mist element to try and hide their movements. They use the magic specializations Attack Creation and Sensory.
The Guardians of the Grave are exactly as their implies they are guardians. Each one wields a massive black sword with extraordinary combat abilities. They have no known element as their pure combat abilities with the massive sword alone more than makes up for it. They are very dangerous foes and will not stop until completely defeated.
Charlemagne Lord of Sword was once a hero that held the legendary sword everyone is after. His power was said to be so great that one swing of his sword could split mountains in half. Sadly though his power is nowhere near this, as this form of Charlemagne is just a walking corpse holding a tattered and broken sword. But he still fights as if he is fighting for something or someone. Charlemagne is a masterful warrior of honour, he will fight to the bitter end with his elegant attacks. His motion is fluid and constant as if every move and strike had been planned ahead. It matches his element of water that he uses to form more blades to attack with and shields to defend. One must do the courtesy of putting Charlemagne out of his misery so he can finally rest. Charlemagne uses the specializations of attack creation, physical reinforcement, defence creation and Sensory.
[attr="class","dungenroom"]Room #1
[attr="class","dungenencounters"]ENCOUNTERS:
x2 Blade Stalkers per player | 1 Blade Stalker hidden at the exit.
The first room has many statues of warriors scattered throughout. But there will be little time to admire the scenery for as soon as the group enters they will be attacked by a number of blade stalkers. They are here to seek out the sword and some treasure and once anyone intrudes on that they will strike without hesitation. A mist will surround the area because of their magic. Once they are defeated the mist will disappear revealing the very elaborate room, and the door forward. But once the group gets close to that door one more Blade Stalker will try and surprise attack whoever is standing closest to the door from up above.
[attr="class","dungenroom"]Room #2
[attr="class","dungenencounters"]ENCOUNTERS:
4 Guardians of the Grave
Once the group passes through the door they will enter a large throne room, with four massive black armours standing in the centre of the room. Each one holding a sword as big as they are in front of them. It is clear they are guarding the way forward, and are pretty good at doing so. As skeletons of people who tried to get past them are littered throughout the room. The odd thing is they will not attack immediately. They will not begin to attack unless one tries to get past them or attacks them first. If one were to unsheathe their weapon, they would begin by bowing first and then attacking. Strange but honourable silent warriors. Protecting their master with everything that they have.
[attr="class","dungenroom"]Room #3
[attr="class","dungenencounters"]ENCOUNTERS:
3+1d4 Monster
With the guardians laid to rest, there is no reason to seek out another room. Cause what they were guarding will begin to show itself. At the end of the room a platform will begin to rise with a shining elaborate sword in a large stone, but once that platform is finished rising an armoured hand in tarnished armour will grab the handle of the shining sword and its real form will be revealed. Just an old rotten tattered sword that is lifted from the stone by Charlemagne who then swings the sword over his shoulder and says.
"I shall defend these lands until the very end. On my honour as a knight until it is either I or my enemy that is laid to rest."
Once he's done he will begin attacking the group with his fluid motions and water spells. Once he is defeated he will take one final breath for now he can finally truly rest.
Those that complete this dungeon gain the NA "Honor of the Sword."
The rumor of a legendary sword hidden within the depths of a newly formed catacomb had spread like wildfire throughout the common region. Tales of its extraordinary power and the wealth it promised had enticed adventurers, traders, and warriors from far and wide to test their luck. Yet, as the days turned into weeks and then months, none who had entered the treacherous labyrinth had returned. Fear settled like a heavy fog, casting a looming unease over the region.
In the heart of the common region, a quiet and tranquil town named Kiten stood as a testament to the resilience of its people. For generations, Kiten had thrived on its fertile lands and its people's craftsmanship. Now, however, a palpable anxiety gripped the town. Local town folk gathered in hushed conversations, their worried eyes reflecting the uncertainty that had descended upon them.
Kiten's town square buzzed with tension as the desperate pleas of families who had lost loved ones echoed through the air. The absence of the adventurers and warriors who had embarked on the perilous journey into the catacomb weighed heavily on everyone's hearts. Fear had given rise to skepticism, with whispers that the legendary sword might be nothing more than a fanciful tale spun by cunning storytellers.
Amid the turmoil, a group of elders, their faces etched with the wisdom of years, emerged as the voices of reason. They had seen the rise and fall of countless rumors and legends, but the catacomb's ominous reputation demanded an investigation. The elders called upon the town's most esteemed mages and warriors, those whose strength and integrity were beyond question, to venture into the catacomb and unravel the truth.
Among those summoned was a mage named Amon, known for her mastery over earth magic. His fiery determination was matched only by his wisdom, making him an ideal candidate to lead the expedition. By his side stood another magic knight named Nix, a tiny figure with a heart of gold beneath her iron exterior. Together, they embodied the courage and resilience Kiten needed to face the unknown.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Amon and Nix gathered at the town's edge, ready to embark on their perilous journey. The townspeople, their faces etched with a mixture of hope and anxiety, watched in silence. It was a moment of profound significance for Kiten, a test of their collective resolve.
With torches in hand and determination in their hearts, Amon and Nix descended into the gaping maw of the catacomb. The air grew colder, and the darkness swallowed them whole. They moved cautiously, their senses heightened, as they navigated the labyrinthine passages, each turn shrouded in uncertainty.
In the depths of the catacomb, mysteries awaited. Would they discover the legendary sword, a relic of unimaginable power, or would they uncover a sinister truth behind the tales that had drawn so many to their doom? Only time would reveal the secrets hidden within the catacomb's ancient chambers, and whether Amon and Nix would return as heroes or bearers of a darker truth. Kiten held its breath, its future hanging in the balance, as the expedition continued deeper into the abyss.
Statistics
POW: 11 DUR: 13 SEN: 00 STA: 20 CON: 10
SPEED: 5m/s HEALTH: senior + senior MANA SKIN: senior MANA POOL: 55 / 55 MANA REGEN: 20 IC / 10 OOC
Spells
List spells here, would recommend using spoilers if you include spell descriptions
Nix, a young witch, emerged from the fortified walls of Sosshi, feeling the cool breeze brush against her skin and the leaves rustle underfoot as she made her way into the surrounding forest. Her companion, a protector of the Kingdom, remained undisturbed by her presence, and she took comfort in their silent company as she ventured further into the woods.
As she approached the Kingdom border, Nix hesitated momentarily, taking stock of her essential possessions. Her dragon bone walking stick, which she had purchased from the black market, felt sturdy and reliable. The Magic Knight mantle she wore, adorned with gold and silver embroidery, proudly displayed her rank and prowess. The pale lemon dress she had chosen for the day's adventure was light and airy, perfect for the warm weather.
Nix's heart raced with excitement as she neared the newly discovered catacomb. The entrance had columns supporting the structure that seemed to teeter on the edge of collapse yet had already lasted a century. She relied on the pillars, hoping they would hold the weight of the entrance for a bit longer.
Upon discovering the entrance, Nix and her companion found its placement solid and stoic. She praised their efforts, giving an affirmative thumbs up. However, the open door suggested they were not alone, and Nix's instincts kicked in, filling her with a sense of unease. She recited an incantation, and as she did, a shimmering flame cloaked her body in an intangible red cloak, increasing her physical strength and providing her with a dim light.
A distinct battle cry echoed through the surrounding corridors as the two magic knights passed through the open door. Nix recognised it immediately as the cry of goblins. Their presence near the entrance suggested the possibility of genuine legends surrounding the catacomb, and her heart pounded with excitement at the thought of the adventure that awaited her.
The goblins' attacks were unrelenting, but Nix's combat expertise enabled her to disarm them easily. She quickly realised that their presence near the entrance indicated the presence of stronger creatures within the catacomb, and if their greed led them there, then abundant treasures must have persuaded them to stay.
Nix's movements were swift and precise as she wielded her club-like staff, striking the goblins with clean blows to the head. The thrill of battle and the sound of clashing weapons filled the air, and Nix felt satisfied as she defeated her attackers. Wielding the dragon bone relic as a spear, she lanced them, swiftly dispatching them.
The battle between the goblins and Amon continued while a fourth goblin wielding a makeshift sword charged towards Nix. However, luck was not on its side as it stumbled. Despite this, the rest of the group continued fighting. With her unwavering focus and remarkable skill, Nix hurled her staff precisely and quickly struck down the prone goblin. The other two goblins stood grimly, looking at the four goblin corpses at their feet.
Word Count: 491 Room Word Count: Floor 1, Room 1: 1026/1500 Mana Math:
Name of Spell: Will O' Wisp Elemental Type: Fire Rank & Spell Type: Junior Physical Reinforcement. Range & Speed: 25 meters | 10 m/s Mana Cost: 10 Initial cost, and +5 sustained Cost Stats Effected: Junior Level Strength BuffApplicable Perks: Adaptive Body. Description: When the caster invokes/evokes this spell, Will O' Wisp, their breath visibly seethes from their mouth as a vibrant flame of various colours. The caster then blows a shimmering gust of flame out of their mouth/nostrils, enveloping themselves in an intangible red cloak of flame. The fiery cloak's warmth invigorates the user and allows them to temporarily bolster their physical prowess for the duration of the spell, to that of half junior damage more. Smells vaguely of strawberries.
Magic Specializations: Attack Creation ¦ Hex and Curse
Appearance & Lore:
At first appearance this 67 inch piece of carved dragon bone bound in swaths of dingy red fabric seems to be either a unique club or spear as the lower end comes to a point and the top looks like a fossilized bone carved to almost look like the mana beast that was killed to make it it's only when the ability within is active will the blade be seen as a translucent red pure aura blade that is 26 inches long.
As we know dragons are mana beasts of incredible power said to be truly one witht he mana and it is thought that someone has found a graveyard of these mana beasts and has decided to make a tidy profit... yeah... never steal from a dragon alive or dead it never works out well for the one who stole.
Due to the magic still left in the bone this item will naturally rank up with the user as they do but the abilities will rank up every second rank unless they are a pure aura user as it will atune to them.
You will have to pay for the increase like a normal weapon but you can upgrade it even if you don't have the element so longs it lays in line with what is stated above. The item stops at grand and the ability caps at senior.
The weilder need only speak the phrase "Ndeir Xuz" to activate the lingering mana within what had originally appeared as a worn down bone spear or club. The moment it becomes active a red aura can be seen right through the split of the ancient bone, it even seems like it may be scentient the way the aura appears in the eye making a person unnerved from the mouth a curved semi translucent red aura forms showing that it is truly a scythe and not what a person thought previously.
From the aura blade what appears to be a red misty aura seems to fall. Swinging the scythe with releas a red cresent arc of pure aura in the general area of the target(s) in question. When being hit by this blade or its ranged attack it will deal intermediate damage instantly and leave a red mark almost like a bite on the skin of the person it hit. This will reduce their strength by 1/2 junior rank damage and slow them by 2 m/s though this lowers by one per every addition person it hits due to the ammo rules being in effect allowing more marks to be place. This mark will also actively try to surpress healing and buffs as if the spirit of the long past dragon is blaming the one it hurts for it being woken from its place of eternal slumber.
As the battle raged on, Nix and Amon continued to fend off the relentless goblin attackers. The catacomb entrance, with its imposing pillars and mysterious allure, seemed like a beacon for these creatures. Nix's instincts had proven correct; the catacombs held secrets that attracted not only goblins but possibly more formidable guardians.
Nix's movements were a graceful dance of combat, her dragon bone walking stick extending like a lance as she dispatched goblins with precision and speed. Each strike was calculated, and each parry and block was executed flawlessly. Amon, her steadfast companion, fought alongside her with unwavering determination.
Amid the clanging of weapons and the cries of goblins, Nix's enhanced abilities, thanks to her magic, gave her an edge. The red cloak of magic not only increased her strength but also provided a dim light, illuminating the battle and casting eerie shadows within the catacomb's entrance.
Amon, too, held his ground valiantly. His Purple Orca mantle symbolized his dedication to duty and the protection of the Clover Kingdom's treasures. With his trusty grimoire at his side, he unleashed powerful spells that disarmed and incapacitated goblins with bursts of magical energy.
Despite the goblins' initial ambush, their lack of strategy and unity became evident as Nix and Amon swiftly outmaneuvered and outclassed them. The goblins, with their crude weapons and limited intelligence, were no match for the combat prowess and magical abilities of the two Magic Knights.
As Nix and Amon engaged in this fierce battle, their synchronized movements and unspoken understanding became evident. Two of them would take charge of the Purple Orca while three of the others attacked the lady. Amon with his blade and Nix with her club-like staff fought as a cohesive unit, covering each other's blind spots and anticipating the goblins' every move. It was a testament to their training and experience as Magic Knights.
The battle began a bit rough for Amon but the tide of battle began to turn decisively in their favor once Nix downed the three that were attacking her. This allowed Amon to focus more on his own enemies as it would allow him to dispatch both goblins swiftly with his blade. Goblin bodies lay strewn about, their ambush thwarted, and their determination waning. It was evident that these creatures had been drawn to the catacomb by some allure, likely the promise of treasures or the legends surrounding the Sword of Heroes.
With the last goblin vanquished, a sense of triumph filled the air. Nix and Amon stood at the entrance of the catacomb, their breaths steadying as they surveyed the aftermath of the battle. The goblin threat had been quelled, at least for the time being.
However, as the echoes of battle subsided, a profound silence settled upon the catacomb entrance. The allure of the catacombs and the mysteries that lay within still beckoned. Amon would then glance at Nix in the hope of getting a silent agreement between them. They were here for a reason, and goblins were but the first challenge in a journey that promised to be filled with peril and discovery.
Together, they stepped closer to the entrance, the imposing pillars framing their path. The ancient blade, the Sword of Heroes, awaited them within the catacombs' depths. Its history, its magic, and the legends that had drawn them here pulsed like a heartbeat in the darkness.
The catacombs beckoned, and Nix and Amon were prepared to answer the call. The journey to retrieve the Sword of Heroes had only just begun, and the mysteries of the Forsaken Region's depths were poised to reveal themselves to these intrepid Magic Knights.
Statistics
POW: 11 DUR: 13 SEN: 00 STA: 20 CON: 10
SPEED: 5m/s HEALTH: senior + senior MANA SKIN: senior MANA POOL: 55 / 55 MANA REGEN: 20 IC / 10 OOC
Spells
List spells here, would recommend using spoilers if you include spell descriptions
As someone who prided himself in being somewhat of an explorer, as well as being someone who liked to challenge himself by effectively throwing himself into the deep end of the pool, the talk of there being some kind of strange new dungeon opening up was not something Gawain could willfully ignore. An interesting little tidbit about this whole dungeon was the fact that there seemed to be some kind of legendary sword hidden there, and that was something that had taken a good chunk of his attention. Not being a swordsman himself, he imagined owning a sword with such a legendary status might be able to earn him a good bit of money by selling it to a wealthy collector. They were the kind of people that had money to burn after all, otherwise they wouldn’t be able to afford being collectors of rare artifacts and antiquities.
But that all paled in comparison to the rumor that had been circulating regarding all those that had ventured into the dungeon itself. Renowned warriors seeking to test their skills and claim a powerful weapon, traders looking to brave its halls for a very expensive weapon and adventurers entering solely for the renown and the tales they’d be able to tell in local taverns had all gone in. But none of them had ever come out. That was the thing that had captured his attention and got him motivated more than anything else, even more than earning a massive sum of money for selling some dusty old relic from bygone times. The chance to test his skills against a place so hostile that no other combatants had ever managed to get out was the kind of opportunity that only popped up every so often. And whenever it did, he had eagerly thrown himself towards it. Now would be no different.
By this point in time, Kiten had become a place he had gotten to know relatively well. It had been a place where he had gone about trying to cure a woman who had been assaulted by a monster, aiming to get rid of her vampirism before trying to find the beast that had hidden in the shape of a man. This had all been a difficult undertaking as the person that had been pointed out as the culprit was no less human than Gawain himself, though he had managed to put him on the right track. Still trying to find the vampire by waiting for it to pop up again and make a mistake, the ashen haired youth had asked the higher ups of the town to remain vigilant and send word for him if the creature ever struck again. But to this very day, it had dawned upon himself several times that the vampire itself might have gone into hibernation for an unknown period of time.
Walking through the streets of Kiten, the boy pondered the idea that the beast might just sleep for such a period of time that he himself might have perished of old age, which was something it could very easily do. It was quite honestly the reason why he had decided that it was wise to just move on until he caught wind of it again and just focus his attention on more constructive things that worked out for him as a person. Because at the end of the day, the vampire was Kiten’s problem, not his. He was just there as the guy people were paying to get rid of the problem, and that was just fine by him. There was money in abundance in this world, and plenty of shady jobs where people were willing to pay a great deal of it.
Following what directions he could be given with regards to the dungeon, part of him was somewhat annoyed when he was being told to head out of town again. But still he followed and made his way towards a place where the hills and trees were obscuring a small, run-down catacomb entrance. Immediately there was a part of him that thought about whether or not this was the place where the vampire had run off too. It was remote, but not remote enough to where it could not leave at night in order to feed, as well as being a dark place that didn’t seem overly inviting to people. When he looked upon the doors of the place, it seemed that they had already been pushed open, a thing which seemed to fit with the stories that had been told about the amount of people that had disappeared inside. Believing that he might be the one person to make it through this place without dying or becoming lost, the boy puffed out his chest and made his way in as well.
FLOOR 1 | ROOM 2
Moving closer towards the door, Gawain made his way throughout a bit of an open space between the trees, the shrubbery and the building that had long since fallen into a state of disrepair. Before long however, he came across a girl who didn’t seem to be a whole lot older than he was, which seemed a bit strange. But just as he was prepared to say something to her, she turned away and made her way towards Kiten, looking like she had more or less had enough of this place already. When he looked around, part of him could understand why as the floor had been littered with the corpses of little green men wearing tribal armor and crude weaponry. Some of them had deep lacerations, likely from a bladed weapon or due to someone flinging spells with a high cutting potential.
Others yet seemed like they had had their brains bashed in by something blunt like a mace or something like that, probably something less thick like a billy club or something. Whatever had done it though, the girl was likely part of the group that had done it, as she did not seem strong enough to get rid of all of these odd looking attackers on her own. Looking down at them, it made him wonder whether these creatures had come out of the dungeon, or if they had been drawn towards it from some kind of settlement in the neighborhood. But since he had never seen these creatures before, nor heard tales about them being in this region, his first instincts were pointing towards the former. Expecting to find more, he didn’t hesitate before truly venturing into the catacombs, wanting to fight some of these creatures himself to see what they were capable of in battle.
Moving throughout the catacombs, the place appeared to be very much like what he would have imagined in his head. It wasn’t anything overly special or magical, seemingly just being your average overgrown catacomb, a place of reverence for the dead that had been partially reclaimed by nature. Regardless, he could tell that there was someone up ahead not too far from him. Even with his limited sensory capabilities, he could tell that it was the same Orca he had met when they went through the cursed mansion in order to take on the hat of eldritch terrors. Which they clearly beat, or they wouldn’t have been here. This made him wonder whether or not the girl he had passed on the way in had initially been with him, and if she too had been a magic knight in her own right. Another thing he pondered on was whether or not this place would be as interesting as the mansion.
Approaching the man at a slow pace, Gawain was about to speak up when his Ki notified him of something moving about in the dark. Turning towards the shadows, the boy hopped back as a sword came towards him rather quickly. Evading the initial strike, a strange being followed after the sword, holding it in hand at it fully materialized into the catacombs. From the looks of it, this combatant utilized shadow magic for the sake of traversing distances and attacking from unexpected angles. That much aside, they didn’t seem overly intelligent, which worked in his favor. When he pointed his finger towards it, he felt another tingle in his skull as the hair in his neck stood upright: another presence. Turning while stepping sideways, another part of swords came at him from behind as more of these beings appeared out of nowhere.
“Oh fuck off..”
Already being kind of done with these cowardly antics, the boy wasted no time firing bullets of compressed air back into the shadows while the warriors materialized, killing them before they could fully become a threat. Shooting two of them as they popped up, the warrior that had materialized earlier came at him from the side, still attempting to slice him in half with one overhead swing of his blade. With a quick and nimble barrel roll to the side, he ended up on one knee, the palm of his hand extended towards his target as a concussive blast shot at the shadow warrior at point blank range. Blowing him across the room and into a wall, the body twitched for a few moments before it broke down into a black goo that disappeared entirely as it fell to the floor. But that was not the end of it yet, as another of the shadow warriors appeared to be materializing from the floor near the Orca, moments before two rather imposing knights clad in thick armor whilst wielding a massive zweihander each came at them from the interior of the catacombs.
Approaching the Orca head on, Gawain waited for a moment to see how the man would handle himself against three foes of his own. All the while, he would keep himself on high alert. The shadow warriors weren’t all that difficult to deal with, they were barely an inconvenience. But these bigger knights, they seemed like they were the kind of thing that would make life difficult for both himself and the Orca. But throughout it all, there was but one thought in his mind, that being that it was a shame he didn’t get to fight any of the little green men himself.
Name of Spell: Pierce Used Twice Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Junior | Attack Creation | Sensory (Homing) Range & Speed: 25m | 15 m/s Mana Cost: 10 | 5 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot Description: Extending his index finger, Gawain will point his right hand at his target, using the tip of his finger as a vocal point from which it is fired. This a sphere roughly five centimeters wide for the purpose of puncturing the target. The attack itself is non-lethal, even with direct contact, though capable of causing minor scuffs and cracks on structures and minor bruises on people, dealing Junior rank damage. In addition, the accuracy and chance to hit can be further improved by utilizing Homing rules, including following the target in adherence to those same rules. The bullet follows the target that was initially pointed at until it hits, runs out of space or hits another object. To those without at least 10 sensory, this spell will be invisible, appearing as a wispy green ball to others.
Name of Spell: Shove Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Junior | Attack Creation Range & Speed: 25m | 15 m/s Mana Cost: 10 | 5 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot | Knockback Description: By extending the left hand and pointing an open palm (stop motion), Gawain's eyes flare up with a wispy green hue as a means of initiating the spell and as a vocal point for the release of mana, a blast of wind is released into the chosen direction roughly three meters wide and tall. Aiming to envelop the target and blasting them and everything else caught up in the blast back, the spell uses a fairly powerful knockback effect capable of tossing targets back up to seven meters + an additional 5 meters for every 10 Power. The attack itself is non-lethal, even with direct contact, though capable of causing minor scuffs and cracks on structures and minor bruises on people, dealing Junior rank damage. To those without at least 10 sensory, this spell will be invisible, appearing as a flat wispy green square to others.
Last Edit: Sept 20, 2023 13:16:24 GMT -5 by Gawain
As Gawain faced off against the shadowy warriors, Amon's eyes followed their swift and deadly movements. He marveled at the newcomer's combat prowess, the boy's control over compressed air proving to be a formidable asset. However, Amon knew that the true challenge lay ahead – the Legion Knights.
While Gawain demonstrated his skills in dispatching the shadowy foes, Nix's hesitation grew more pronounced. The ominous presence of the catacomb's guardians seemed to weigh heavily on her, and she made the difficult decision to leave the dungeon, her footsteps echoing faintly as she retreated.
Amon understood Nix's fear, for the Legion Knights were an enigmatic and formidable force. However, his unwavering determination to retrieve the Sword of Heroes and protect the Clover Kingdom pushed him forward. He watched Nix disappear into the shadows and then turned his attention back to the battle at hand.
With Nix's departure, Amon knew he had to face this challenge alone, at least for now. He could feel the weight of his Purple Orca mantle, a symbol of his dedication to duty and the kingdom's safety, draped across his shoulders. The Sword of Heroes was a legendary weapon, and retrieving it was a mission he couldn't abandon.
As Gawain continued to handle the shadowy warriors with ease, Amon couldn't help but admire the boy's combat skills. It was clear that Gawain was a capable fighter, and his assistance in this perilous situation was invaluable.
The last of the shadowy warriors fell before Gawain's might, disintegrating into obsidian goo. With that immediate threat eliminated, Amon turned his attention to the heart of the catacombs. The ancient legends and mysteries that had drawn them here seemed to pulse with anticipation, urging him onward.
Walking further into the catacombs, Amon ventured deeper into the second room. The darkness seemed to wrap around him like a shroud, and the oppressive atmosphere hinted at the secrets that lay hidden in the depths. His steps echoed faintly against the ancient stone floors as he advanced.
As he moved forward, he spotted a single figure in the distance, illuminated by the dim light filtering through from the entrance. It was one of the Legion Knights, standing solemnly and nobly as if awaiting the arrival of intruders. The colossal zweihander in its grasp gleamed ominously, and Amon could feel the weight of the impending battle.
But suddenly, from behind as if emerging from the very shadows themselves, a Lost Knight materialized, its form coalescing into existence with an unsettling grace. Its long sword, imbued with shadow magic, was poised for an attack.
Amon's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword, the blade gleaming with a faint, ethereal light. He had trained for moments like this, facing unknown and formidable adversaries. With a swift motion, he unsheathed his sword and met the Lost Knight's attack head-on.
The battle that followed was a testament to Amon's skill as a Magic Knight. His blade moved with precision and grace, parrying the shadowy strikes of the Lost Knight effortlessly. The creature's movements, while quick and unpredictable, were no match for Amon's years of training and combat experience.
With a final, decisive strike, Amon's sword cut through the Lost Knight's shadowy form, dispersing it into a dissipating mist of darkness. The battle was won, but Amon knew that the true challenge lay ahead – the Legion Knights.
As he turned his gaze toward the remaining Legion Knights, he couldn't help but feel a surge of respect for Gawain, who had proven himself a formidable ally. The two of them stood as the sole intruders in the catacombs, the guardians of the Sword of Heroes now fully aware of their presence.
Gawain, Amon called out, his voice echoing through the chamber. We stand on the precipice of a great battle. These Legion Knights are formidable opponents, but I've seen your skill in combat. Will you join me in this fight?
Amon's eyes met Gawain's, his question laden with the weight of their mission. The Sword of Heroes awaited them, and the Legion Knights were the final barrier they needed to overcome. The integrity of their resolve and their dedication to protecting the Clover Kingdom would be tested in the crucible of this battle.
Amon's attention now back to the imposing figure of the Legion Knight. With Gawain at his side, he felt a surge of confidence. They had come this far, and the Sword of Heroes was tantalizingly close. The Legion Knights, though formidable, were the final challenge they had to overcome.
Without hesitation, Amon lunged forward, closing the distance between himself and the Legion Knight with impressive speed. His sword, gleaming with ethereal light, slashed through the air, aiming for the armored foe's exposed side. The Legion Knight, though heavily clad in armor, moved with surprising agility. It raised its massive zweihander to intercept Amon's strike.
The clash of weapons reverberated through the catacomb, a testament to the power and determination of both combatants. Amon could feel the weight of the Legion Knight's strength pushing against him, but he refused to yield. His grip on the sword tightened, and his muscles strained as they locked in a fierce struggle.
But Amon had a plan. As he continued to engage in the intense sword duel with the Legion Knight, he murmured the incantation for his spell, Earth Creation: Stone Hands.
In response to his command, a massive stone hand, one meter wide both vertically and horizontally, materialized beside him, hovering just a foot away. It was a creation of earth, an extension of his grimoire's elemental magic. This stone hand moved with precision and purpose, ready to strike or defend against the Legion Knight.
With a swift and coordinated effort, Amon disengaged from the sword lock, causing the Legion Knight to momentarily stagger off balance. In that split second, the massive stone hand swung toward the Legion Knight with incredible force, aiming to deliver a crushing blow.
The Legion Knight, caught off guard by this unexpected attack, attempted to raise its zweihander to block the strike. But the stone hand's sheer weight and power proved overwhelming. It crashed into the Legion Knight's armor, denting the metal and causing the knight to stagger backward, its defenses compromised.
Seizing this opportunity, Amon chanted for victory. Crush! With all of his might, Amon with his blade in hand forced the perfectly crafted weapon into the chest of the Legion Knight.
The impact was devastating. The blade with the Legion Knight's chest pierces the armor and kills the Legion Knight in its tracks. The catacomb's silence was shattered by the sound of the Legion Knight's armor breaking apart, and it crumpled to the ground, defeated.
Amon stood victorious, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. The Legion Knight lay in pieces before him, its formidable defenses rendered useless by his spell. He turned to Gawain, a look of gratitude and respect in his eyes.
That should do it, Amon said, his voice filled with a mix of relief and triumph. I'd appreciate your assistance throughout the rest of this, together we can overcome this challenge.
Their path to the Sword of Heroes was now clear, and Amon could feel the ancient blade's presence drawing them deeper into the catacombs. With Gawain at his side, he was ready to face whatever other trials awaited them in their quest to retrieve the legendary weapon.
Statistics
POW: 12 DUR: 16 SEN: 00 STA: 20 CON: 10
SPEED: 5m/s HEALTH: archmage + senior MANA SKIN: senior MANA POOL: 55 / 55 MANA REGEN: 20 IC / 10 OOC
Elemental Type: Earth Rank & Spell Type: Junior | Attack Creation | Defense Creation Range & Speed: 25m | 10m/s Mana Cost: 10 | 5 Stats Effected: N/A Applicable Perks: APEX PREDATOR | AEGIS Description: After saying the name of the spell. Amon creates a 1m hand both vertically and horizontally wide floating stationary along his right side made of stone from the element of his grimoire. These hands are about 1 foot away from Amon's body and will attack or defend against the target within 25m of the user. These hands will swat at the target of the user for attack or block oncoming attacks defending from an attack. More hands can be made as per ammo rules. This spell requires taking an intermediate damage rank in health to break. This deals junior damage.
Notes
WORD COUNT: 1228 TOTAL WC: 2858 Room WC: 2129 Mana: 55-10+15=55 TAG(S):Gawain
“It seems I might as well join in, might save us both some time getting to where we need to be.”
Remarking how a team up would just serve them both as it’d get them to where they wanted to go within a shorter time frame while also sharing the burden of having to go through all of these enemy combatants by one’s lonesome, Gawain began walking in the direction of the legion knight. Watching as Amon began assaulting the one on the other side, it meant that the remaining one was to be his foe to beat. And beat it he would. For since their last encounter in the cursed mansion, Gawain had managed to push the limits of his own magic quite a bit, no longer being limited to just using the weakest of spells in his grimoire. So as it were, one could say that him defeating the foes of the mansion, including the hat of eldritch horrors had allowed him to ascend ever higher and become that much more potent as a mage.
For as much as he enjoyed fighting with his hands or by wielding a weapon of some sort, the fact that his own mana kept increasing and his damage output went up along with it, the need for such things was gradually starting to disappear. Looking at the zweihander that was wielded by the knight, Gawain didn’t bother hiding the fact that he was rather impressed by both it and the armor that it wore, imagining the combination of both the armor and the sword would likely make a good deal of money. Unfortunately, him being able to carry both of these things back with him seemed somewhat unlikely, while the worth of the armor would likely plummet once Gawain was done beating up this man blocking his path forward. Extending his hand towards the knight, he gestured at it to come at him, prompting the knight to raise his sword and begin his approach towards the young mage.
As it began advancing more and more quickly, the knight proved that the armor it wore and the weapon it wielded did not slow it down by much, for it moved at quite the impressive pace. But it wasn’t faster than Gawain, who from his stationary position could do more than enough before it would ever reach him. Changing the gesture of his hands into a pointed finger, two bullets were fired in rapid succession, aiming for the shoulders of the knight. With the weapon being held overhead, it did not have the time to respond as the first bullet collided with the shoulder plate, knocking him off balance right before the second bullet struck him on the opposite side, which completely knocked the knight prone for the third attack that came at it so fast it made the initial two bullets look like they were moving backwards. For as soon as the second bullet went under way, the positioning of his hands changed.
Lowering the one arm as he raised the other, the palm pointed towards the target as his other hand formed a seal, a burst of wind similar to the ones Amon had seen before shot forth from his hand. Raging through the air as it made its way towards the knight, it collided with its chest so hard that it dented it in completely before the knight was lifted up from the ground and shot through the open space. Blasting it into a nearby wall so hard the stonework shattered and came down in several places, the knight’s blade had been warped by the heavily compressed bullet as the being itself and its armor looked like a crushed can of beans. It was unfortunate, as both would have been able to bring up a fair sum of cash on the black market for sure. But a fight was a fight, and there were likely far more valuable trinkets to be found further in, no to mention the sword of heroes itself.
Lowering his hands and putting them back into his pockets, he looked on as Amon struggled against the other knight, going about it with blade in hand and actual hands of stone working in tandem with his strikes. It was a good fight to watch, showing plenty of interesting footwork and strategy being applied for the sake of winning the battle. But at the same time, it showed him how far he himself had come, as foes of this level no longer presented him with any kind of real struggle. The knight he had faced had been reduced to a pile of meat and scrap in what was likely to be a good thirty seconds, requiring little to no prior strategizing or planning. All it took was a solid aim and a gullible foe thinking it could just run at him and get within striking range for a battle between men. But Gawain wasn’t a man, he was still just a boy, and a very powerful one at that.
Waiting patiently for Amon to finish his battle, the orca took a moment to say a few words to him regarding the continuation of his assistance here. Being confident that the two of them would be able to make their way through this place together, Gawain could honestly do the same, though he could do him one better. At this point in time, with the way he was feeling, the youngster felt as though he could blow through this place on his own. Whether that was just pure arrogance or fact remained to be seen, though that did not change the way he was feeling about himself. He had become stronger, and there was no shame in reveling in that growth for a bit. If he wanted to feel bad about feeling good about himself, he would have become a monk and joined the church. Nodding in agreement at Amon’s words, the young mage began moving forward.
FLOOR 2 | ROOM 1
With the death of the legion knights, a loud rumbling could be heard originating from the floor ahead. Aiming his attention towards it, it could be seen how the floor itself descended, revealing a winding staircase that moved further down. Finding it odd that the deaths of the two protectors were followed up directly with this event, it seemed that there was more to this place than met the eye. For the descending staircase could only mean that the protectors were magically linked to the complex itself, their life force disappearing triggering the catacombs to respond in accordance. This made him wonder what else might happen if they killed more foes. Would it prompt the place to send more enemies at them, would it send more powerful foes to take them down, all of these were viable thoughts to have as they all seemed perfectly plausible.
Being the first to begin descending down deeper into the catacombs, his eyes were the first to witness the interior for what it was. And an amazing sight it was, for this new place was for more lavish than the one they had just came out of. Tall pillars connected the floor to the ceiling, with some having fallen into a state of disrepair as the columns had fallen across the stonework floor. The walls themselves were decorated with massive statues of armored warriors almost as tall as the pillars themselves. While he had no idea who any of these people depicted here were, it seemed like there was a fair chance that he might come to know at least some of their names if they progressed deeper inward. For that seemed to be the kind of deal with places such as these, they were erected to hail heroes of their time, entombing their bodies in such a way that they might withstand the ages.
And while nothing truly lasted forever, tombs such as these often did a great job at preserving the corpses of the fallen inside, the tomb itself made in such a way that it would also preserve their legacy. Expecting to find a more in depth description of these people once they got far enough into the place, the details were most likely inscribed upon or next to the actual coffins holding the bodies. While he had no way of knowing that much for certain, it seemed like the most obvious conclusion. Walking further away from the staircase, with Amon likely following closely behind him, it seemed that there was not a whole lot of time left for pondering as there seemed to be yet another entourage of warriors preparing to fend off the invading mages. These guys however seemed like they were more potent than the shadowy figures they faced in the previous room as they carried themselves with a lot more moxy.
Judging by their looks however, they did not seem at all like the kind of people you would implore to protect a place such as this. No, they were different. When he thought about it, there had been plenty of talk regarding people entering this place and never coming back out, which could mean that these individuals were very much like the two of them. People who entered into the building, but had for some reason been unable to leave. Watching as one of the men or women, whatever was hiding underneath that armor and garments formed a seal with their hands, a thick fog started rolling in out of nowhere. Magic. And a rather annoyingly obscuring and more importantly mana concealing mist at that, one that completely blocked out his sensory capabilities by making it seem like the entire fog bank was one massive mana signature without any kind of discrepancies and deviations. As far as his sensory was concerned, those that moved throughout it were entirely invisible.
“Ah shit, well that’s gonna be annoying. Keep your guard up, they are more than likely capable of tracking us while concealing themselves, just like any proper assassin would.”
Making the assumption that all of this was based entirely around assassination, he hoped for the Orca’s sake that he would be able to respond to threats quickly, as these guys seemed to be a whole lot faster and a lot more nimble and silent than the greatsword wielding warriors and shadow fighters from the floor above. If they weren’t careful, these guys could very easily kill them by converging on just one of them without them really being able to tell. When the fog got even thicker, Gawain even lost sight of Amon. Sighing deeply, there seemed to no longer be any point to staying in the same location. These guys they were facing, they more than likely knew where they were, while Gawain and Amon had no way of knowing where they were or where they might strike from. And so, the most obvious thing on his mind was to start moving forward, getting towards the center of the room rather than getting close to one of the walls.
While it would have been the safe bet to get his back up against a wall, as that would limit threats to three directions as opposed to four, it would also corner him like an animal, and that much was out of the question. Besides, he did a lot better in the open as he had no idea as to just how sturdy these pillars and the ceiling were. One wrong spell and he risked bringing part of the ceiling down upon himself, which would not benefit his own cause by a whole lot. With his sensory being dead in the water, the ashen haired youth walked throughout the massive open space of the catacomb, not having any idea how far he had moved from his original position, whether he had moved in a straight line or steered off somewhere, or where his current compatriot might have gone. When he picked up on what he figured were footsteps, he prepared to defend himself against an attack from the side, only to find that they had just been pebbles that crumbled down to the ground from one of the pillars.
At that point, he could almost smack himself in the face. These guys were assassins, people trained to be soundless, invisible murderers, there was no way they would be so sloppy as to leave audible footsteps. And that was when it hit him. They were, most likely at least, living and breathing individuals, just highly trained and annoying ones. But if they were just human beings in the end, that meant that they had muscles, they possessed killing intent, they drew breath. Closing his eyes, Gawain took a deep breath in, temporarily drowning out all excess noise as he focused on what he should have focused on this entire time: His Ki. Using it to effectively pick up on any kind of muscle movement and any kind of being that moved within a specific range of him, he felt nothing at first. But the more he focused, the more he could sense it. People just standing around silently amidst the mist, clearly waiting for the best time to strike.
Aside from being silent and fast, they seemed to be really formidable and intelligent as well, conserving their energy until one of their targets moved into a position closer to them, rather than them moving closer to their targets. It felt almost lazy, though it was the best way for them to limit the amount of sound they made, as well as limiting what energy they needed to utilize throughout this current engagement. Had he been an assassin, he wished he had been this intelligent about his dealings, which was just about the highest amount of praise the youngster could give them right now. But this whole chapter in their story was about to come to an end, as them remaining stationary under the belief that no one could see them was going to be biting them in the ass very soon. For when Gawain suddenly switched his entire body to face one of them before moving his arm forward and flicking both index and middle finger in an upward motion, an invisible blade of wind ripped through the mist.
As it moved forward, traversing a distance of forty meters in under twenty-five seconds, one of the assassins had been bifurcated, his body dropping into two almost equal halves that had been split from the head down to his arsehole. Feeling the portions falling to the ground, he could also feel that a second assassin had been hit, though not fatally. Though he could not be entirely certain, it felt as though one of them had one of their arms cut clean off as the blade had rushed through the initial target while finishing its forty meter run into the distance, likely having come to a full stop against one of the walls. Still, it didn’t matter all that much as the assassins that survived now knew that Gawain could see them. Instantly kicking the remaining combatants into high gear, they moved quickly and quietly, two of the remaining ones heading straight for Amon, including the one-armed fighter.
At the same time, the third and final remaining assassin made its way towards Gawain, its two weapons drawn and preparing to strike him down the moment he got within range. But surely the man knew by now that approaching him in such a fashion would be entirely futile. With their gimmick no longer effective against him as they were now visible to his mind’s eye, hiding was no longer an option, nor was charging at him like a mad yet seemingly weightless bull that made no sound during its approach. But whether the target was silent or screaming its lungs out, at this point, they were just another moving target for the young mage’s spells. From what he could tell, it seemed like the one charging him knew that Gawain was perhaps the only one that could see them, meaning that if he managed to distract him long enough, the other two might be able to kill Amon before converging on the youngster together.
Essentially, this particular guy had thrown his life away to buy his companions the time they needed to maybe kill Gawain’s ally, and that was something he could well and truly respect. Not enough to let the guy kill or injure him obviously, but enough to give him an actual thumbs up. Believing the assassin could see him, he might have been able to see the thumbs up for what it was worth. But once he was done praising the charging fighter, his hand shifted into that of an index and middle finger pointing directly at him. Using the stronger version of his compressed air bullet spell, the bullet this version fired was large enough to blow a ten centimeters wide hole inside of someone’s body. This would put someone in a state of excruciating pain before death would eventually claim them. As such, this was not how Gawain used it. As a final show of respect to the man, Gawain aimed his shot directly at the man’s head, waiting long enough until he got so close that the bullet could not possibly miss.
And so, the shot went out, making contact with the assassin’s head, causing it to not get penetrated, but to quite frankly bust apart like a watermelon being dropped from the fourth story of a building. As the sound of skull fragments and brain matter splattering against the floor filled his ears, the body dropped right next to him as the swords came clattering down across the pavement. Putting his hands together as though he were saying a prayer for the fallen warrior, him not being religious in the slightest meant that it was truly nothing more than an empty gesture. Still though, it was a gesture of respect in Gawain’s point of view. With this warrior felled, he wondered how Amon was faring against the remaining two.
Name of Spell: Pierce Used Twice Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Junior | Attack Creation | Sensory (Homing) Range & Speed: 25m | 15 m/s Mana Cost: 10 | 5 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot Description: Extending his index finger, Gawain will point his right hand at his target, using the tip of his finger as a vocal point from which it is fired. This a sphere roughly five centimeters wide for the purpose of puncturing the target. The attack itself is non-lethal, even with direct contact, though capable of causing minor scuffs and cracks on structures and minor bruises on people, dealing Junior rank damage. In addition, the accuracy and chance to hit can be further improved by utilizing Homing rules, including following the target in adherence to those same rules. The bullet follows the target that was initially pointed at until it hits, runs out of space or hits another object. To those without at least 10 sensory, this spell will be invisible, appearing as a wispy green ball to others.
Name of Spell: Puncture Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Intermediate | Attack Creation | Sensory (Homing) Range & Speed: 40m | 25 m/s Mana Cost: 20 | 10 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot Description: Putting his index and middle finger together, Gawain will point his right hand at his target, using the tips of his fingers as a vocal point from which it is fired. This a sphere roughly ten centimeters wide for the purpose of puncturing the target. The attack itself is non-lethal, unless direct contact with one's vitals is established, as well as causing painful cuts and bruises on people and breaking most unreinforced walls, dealing Intermediate rank damage. In addition, the accuracy and chance to hit can be further improved by utilizing Homing rules, including following the target in adherence to those same rules. The bullet follows the target that was initially pointed at until it hits, runs out of space or hits another object. To those without at least 20 sensory, this spell will be invisible, appearing as a wispy green ball to others.
Name of Spell: Move Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Intermediate | Attack Creation Range & Speed: 40m | 25 m/s Mana Cost: 20 | 10 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot Description: By extending the left hand and pointing an open palm (stop motion) and holding a half-ram sign with the right hand, Gawain's eyes flare up with a wispy green hue as a means of initiating the spell and as a vocal point for the release of mana, a blast of wind is released into the chosen direction roughly three meters wide and tall. Aiming to envelop the target and blasting them and everything else caught up in the blast back, the spell uses a fairly powerful knockback effect capable of tossing targets back up to nine meters + an additional 5 meters for every 10 Power. The attack itself is non-lethal, unless contact is established with one’s vitals, though capable of causing painful bruises and breaking through most unreinforced walls, dealing Intermediate rank damage. To those without at least 20 sensory, this spell will be invisible, appearing as a flat wispy green square to others.
Name of Spell: Slice Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Intermediate | Attack Creation | Sensory (Homing) Range & Speed: 40m | 25 m/s Mana Cost: 20 | 10 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot Description: Extending and pushing his right index and middle finger together before flicking them upward in order to activate the spell, a crescent blade of wind roughly five centimeters thick and three meters long is fired into the desired direction, following directly up on this motion. The attack itself is non-lethal, unless direct contact to one's vitals is established, as well as causing painful cuts and bruises on people and breaking most unreinforced walls, dealing Intermediate rank damage. In addition, the accuracy and chance to hit can be further improved by utilizing Homing rules, including following the target in adherence to those same rules. The crescent blade follows the target that was initially pointed at until it hits, runs out of space or hits another object. To those without at least 20 sensory, this spell will be invisible, appearing as a wispy green crescent blade to others.
80 mana spent 45 mana gained 35 mana total lost
Last Edit: Sept 21, 2023 15:33:32 GMT -5 by Gawain
As Amon followed Gawain deeper into the catacombs, he couldn't help but be impressed by the grandeur of the place. The towering pillars, the intricate statues, and the overall design suggested that this location held great significance in the history of the Clover Kingdom. He made a mental note to investigate further once they had secured the Sword of Heroes. The legends and stories surrounding this weapon must have been captivating.
However, their journey took an unexpected turn as the floor rumbled beneath them, revealing a descending staircase leading further into the catacombs. Amon's curiosity deepened. It seemed that defeating the Legion Knights had triggered a response from the catacombs themselves. What other secrets lay hidden in this mysterious place?
As they descended the staircase, they entered a new chamber that was even more opulent than the previous ones. The statues of armored warriors and the aura of reverence suggested that this room held the remains of knights or heroes of old. Amon couldn't help but wonder about the stories behind these figures.
Their exploration was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a group of warriors who seemed far more formidable than the shadowy foes they had encountered earlier. These warriors were clad in armor and moved with precision and grace. It was clear that they were skilled combatants, and their arrival signaled a new challenge for Amon and Gawain.
Before Amon could react, a thick mist began to roll in, obscuring their vision and senses. Gawain's warning about the assassins' ability to conceal themselves in the mist was well-timed. Amon knew they had to be cautious and rely on their instincts and magic to survive this encounter.
The mist made it nearly impossible to see the stalkers, but Amon relied on his enhanced animal instincts to detect their presence. He focused his heightened senses, honed by his training as a Magic Knight, allowing him to hear, see, and smell in a manner akin to an animal.
As he stood within the thick mist, Amon's ears twitched, picking up on the faintest disturbances in the air. He could hear the subtle rustling of clothing and the soft footsteps of the blade stalkers as they moved. Their breathing, no matter how controlled, couldn't escape his keen sense of smell. With each breath they took, they left behind traces of their presence.
Just as Gawain had demonstrated his magical prowess, Amon decided to rely on his natural abilities. He moved with precision, stepping lightly and silently through the mist, following the sounds and scents of their concealed foes. While he couldn't see them, his senses guided him as he approached one of the assassins.
Amon lunged forward with impeccable timing, his instincts honed to near perfection. He tackled the assassin to the ground, using fineness with a tad bit of combat training to disarm and immobilize the foe. The two struggled in the mist, but Amon's heightened senses gave him the advantage as he wrestled control away from his opponent.
With a swift and efficient maneuver, Amon incapacitated the assassin, rendering them unable to continue the fight. He knew there were more adversaries in the mist, and he would have to use his instincts to deal with them as well. This unique advantage allowed him to level the playing field against the concealed blade stalkers, turning their advantage of invisibility into a weakness.
As the battle raged on in the lingering mist, Amon stood victorious over the incapacitated assassin he had just subdued. His instincts and combat skills had proven superior in this encounter, but the concealment of the mist still presented a formidable challenge.
The last of the blade stalkers had not yet revealed themselves, and the mist remained an effective shroud for their movements. Amon knew that their advantage lay in their invisibility, and he needed to find and defeat the remaining assassin to ensure their safety and continue their journey deeper into the catacombs.
Amon's heightened senses remained on high alert, every nerve in his body attuned to the faintest disturbances in the air. He moved cautiously and silently, trusting in his instincts to guide him toward his hidden adversary.
Time seemed to stretch as he ventured further into the mist, each step bringing him closer to the elusive foe. Amon's breathing was controlled, and his focus was unwavering as he combed through the dense fog.
And then, in a heartbeat, he detected a subtle movement, a faint rustle of clothing. Like a cat, Amon reacted with impressive speed, closing the distance between himself and the blade stalker in the blink of an eye. The assassin attempted to defend itself, but Amon's combat prowess was unmatched by the likes of theirs.
With a series of precise strikes and well-timed maneuvers, Amon subdued the final blade stalker ultimately finishing it off with his favorite spell Earth Creation: Pebble Gun. The misty battlefield remained thick and oppressive, but the concealed foes were no more.
Exhaling deeply, Amon realized that while the immediate threat of the blade stalkers had been dealt with, the catacombs still held many secrets and dangers. The mist clung stubbornly to the air, a reminder that they were not alone in this sacred place. The trials they faced were growing in intensity, but Amon's resolve burned brighter than ever. He was committed to claiming the Sword of Heroes and unlocking the enigmatic truths hidden within these ancient catacombs.
Statistics
POW: 12 DUR: 16 SEN: 00 STA: 20 CON: 10
SPEED: 5m/s HEALTH: senior + senior MANA SKIN: senior MANA POOL: 55 / 55 MANA REGEN: 20 IC / 10 OOC
Name of Spell: Earth Creation: Pebble Gun Elemental Type: Earth Rank & Spell Type: Junior | Attack Creation Range & Speed: 25m | 10m/s Mana Cost: 10 | 5 Stats Effected: N/A Applicable Perks: APEX PREDATOR Description: Upon saying the name of his spell Amon will extend his index finger and thumb and shoot a ping pong size pebble of dirt formed from his grimoire at the tip of his finger. Tapping his thumb to his index finger will trigger the firing of this spell. More can be shot afterward as per ammo rules. This deals junior damage.
Notes
WORD COUNT: 900 TOTAL WC: 3758 Room WC: 2916 Mana: 55-10+15=55 TAG(S):Gawain
With the mist itself remaining in the room, Gawain began making his way forward while Amon was fighting those that remained alive. At the end of the day, he was a firm believer in honor in battle, especially when it came to picking and choosing opponents. Him picking off the foes that had been decided upon by themselves and Amon would be doing a disservice to all of them. Only when the man verbally requested his aid would he come in and offer his assistance so as to not step on his pride. Because if someone were to do the same with him, he too would feel as though his pride had been trampled upon, which was not something he would take lightly or forget about any time soon. This was perhaps one of the things he had picked up during his time abroad in Skjaergard, where honor was a way of life.
While your average assassin likely did not care a whole lot for such concepts as putting their targets to death was more or less the one thing they focused their minds on, the boy did not wish to stoop to such a level if it could be avoided.
And so, he began progressing onward, scouting ahead for a bit if possible, only to be set upon by two additional assassins that had been hiding themselves up in the pillars. Awaiting the two invaders as they would have moved underneath them to get closer to the prize at the end of the road, just so they could pounce them with their blades and put an end to them as quickly, quietly and effectively as possible. It was somewhat admirable in its sensibility, though that did not mean it was an honorable thing to do. Assassins would be assassins it seemed. Turning to face the direction of one of them, he wondered if maybe he could get them to drop the whole act and just get down to business. If it was at all possible, he’d very much just like to get to the prize that awaited him at the end of the figurative tunnel so that he could buy some quality food.
“Yoooo! The gig is up, your friends are dead. So instead of dragging things on, just put an end to these mist shenanigans and come face me. You know I can see you anyway right?”
Proving to the both of them that he could in fact figure out their location through the use of his ki, Gawain picked up a pebble and tossed it at one of them, bouncing off of the pillar right next to one of them. For a moment, everything fell silent. Then, the mist started clearing out as the men had likely figured out that what Gawain had told them was no bluff. Their compatriots were dead, their fog wasn’t concealing them anymore and the gig was up. Now it was time to face the music. So as the fog disappeared, the two remaining assassins had already made it down to ground floor, staring him down with their weapons drawn. With the mist no longer making it difficult to actually see ahead of him, a quick glance back proved that Amon was still very much alive and his attackers, well, not so much. That was good at least.
Rushing towards him from both sides at once, there was no denying the fact that these guys were fast, not to mention coordinated. They had undoubtedly done quite a bit of training together as a unit, and might have had a bunch of notches on their belts for the kills they had tallied up until the point of entering this cursed catacomb. But all that mattered right now was that for all of their training and past successes, they had finally hit a dead end, as a child such as Gawain was faster than they were. Seeing them coming without any kind of trouble, he brought his hands together while waiting the moment just before they would collide with him to release a burst of compressed air. As it moved outward, it broke their arms, sent their blades flying through the air and broke various bones in their faces and chest. And that was before they were both knocked back almost fifty meters into the walls.
Dispatching both of them as there was no way they’d survive having almost every bone in their body broken the moment they got slammed into the walls at roughly twenty five meters per second, the teenage boy just moved onward towards where he figured the “sword of heroes” might be located.
FLOOR 2 | ROOM 2
Assassins, shadow warriors, knights wielding swords taller than they were while clad in steel plate, this place seemed to be filled with all sorts of combatants, just as the stories claimed. Watching as the blue flames in the torches and sconces cast an eerie light across the internal chamber that was the tomb housing the blade and most likely the one that once owned it, he thought about how these stories usually were nothing more than just that. But of all of the warriors they had encountered so far, he could not help but wonder how many of them had gone in here with the same goal as the two of them had. How many of them had come here to claim a sword, only to get stuck here without a way out and having to fight for survival against the next batch of unlucky interlopers coming in for the very same reasons.
How many people had died in this place against the warriors they faced, and how many warriors had been stuck in this place before they too eventually got felled by the blades of the warriors that ended up replacing them. And obviously, this finally led up to the final most important thought: Was whatever bound them all here going to bind the two of them too?
Deciding that that was not going to happen, Gawain decided to maintain a constant flow of Ki, never shutting it down even once, even at the cost of slowing him down a fair deal when it came to physical maneuverability. It was the price he paid for such extreme focus, as everything that one did came at a cost. When someone cast a powerful spell, it came at the cost of mana. When someone wanted to get a great cooked meal, it cost them money. Nothing was ever truly free, as even breathing air came at the cost of it slowly deteriorating the body over the duration of one’s life. Nothing was free, not really. Continuing to march on steadily through the catacombs as his mind mulled over all of these things, both his eyes and his ki picked up on the same presences at the exact same time.
More warriors, four of them.
But something about them was different from all of the others they had faced so far.
Though they looked similar in a way to the ironclad knights they had faced down in the room above the catacombs, the aura that radiated off of them was different. They had not come from outside like they had, no. These guys were warriors that had at some point been entombed here, along with whoever had wielded the sword of heroes. And whatever magic that had cursed this place was now inside of them, turning into a phalanx of warriors that seemed tasked with the sole purpose of protecting that sword. Just from sniffing the air, Gawain could tell that none of these warriors were alive in the sense that he was alive. They weren’t dead either, they were undead. Walking corpses inhabited by either magic or by vengeful souls keeping them from staying dead. And from the looks of them, they weren’t your averages zombies either.
Though they stank like one, they seemed a lot more like the Draugr of Skjaergard, vengeful undead that had come back from the dead to take their revenge on the living, getting smarter as the years passed and their bodies ripened. Just by looking at their massive blades and sturdy forms, he could tell that this was going to be quite the fight. No trick like with the assassins, but a fight of pure brawn and wits, just the way Gawain liked it.
As Amon took a moment to catch his breath amid the lingering mist, a palpable sense of anticipation hung heavy in the air. The trials they had faced thus far within the catacombs were undeniably grueling, but there was an unshakable feeling that they were merely scratching the surface of the challenges this cryptic realm held.
The mist itself seemed like a spectral guardian, its ethereal presence refusing to dissipate entirely, serving as a constant reminder that they were not the sole occupants of this sacred and perilous domain. The arcane secrets of this place continued to elude them, hiding in the shadows of ancient stone and forgotten history.
In the face of mounting dangers and uncertainties, Amon's determination burned brightly, an unwavering flame within him. His resolve was as resolute as the unyielding stone that surrounded them. The desire to lay claim to the Sword of Heroes and unveil the cryptic truths shrouded within these hallowed halls was an unquenchable fire, consuming his thoughts and driving him forward.
With Gawain forging ahead, their previous adversaries vanquished, Amon fortified himself for the trials yet to unfold. The catacombs held their secrets close, guarding them with an air of enigmatic anticipation, but Amon was undaunted. He was prepared to confront these mysteries head-on, to unearth the concealed truths that lay beneath the surface, and to emerge victorious in their quest for the legendary blade.
In the wake of their encounter with the blade stalkers and the dissipating mist, Amon moved onward, his steps echoing softly through the cryptic passages. The air grew denser with each stride as if it carried the weight of centuries-old secrets and portentous prophecies. The trials they had surmounted so far had been grueling, but the enigmatic chamber that awaited promised a challenge of a wholly distinct nature.
Floor 2 | Rm 2
As they passed through the towering door, Amon found himself standing in a vast and unsettling throne room, the likes of which he had never seen. The scene before him was simultaneously awe-inspiring and disconcerting. Four colossal black-armored figures stood at the heart of the chamber, each wielding a colossal sword that matched their imposing stature. It was evident that these guardians were positioned here with the sole purpose of safeguarding the path forward, a duty they had executed with ruthless efficiency, as the skeletal remnants of previous trespassers lay strewn about the room.
What set these armored sentinels apart was not solely their formidable appearance but their adherence to a peculiar code of silence and honor. They remained motionless and unthreatening until provoked. Amon's acute instincts discerned that these were not mere automatons but warriors bound by an unyielding sense of duty and loyalty, safeguarding their master's dominion with unwavering resolve.
A meaningful exchange of glances between Amon and Gawain conveyed their mutual recognition of the need for vigilance and caution. This catacomb had proven itself to be a realm of unpredictable surprises, and the enigmatic silent guardians were no exception. The two companions maintained their preparedness, their weapons holstered, a silent declaration of their peaceful intentions.
As Amon and Gawain stood resolute before the enigmatic Guardians of the Grave, they upheld their peaceful stance, yearning to evade unnecessary confrontation. Nevertheless, it became increasingly evident that these silent warriors were resolute in their commitment to safeguard the throne room. Despite Amon and Gawain's non-aggressive demeanor, the guardians displayed no inclination to yield or permit passage.
As Amon's patience waned and the realization that a peaceful approach would be in vain against the formidable Guardians of the Grave, he knew it was time to take a different course of action. With a determined glint in his eyes, he began to channel his magic, drawing upon the elemental power within him.
With deliberate focus, Amon invoked the spell he had honed over many battles—Earth Creation: Spiked Armor. The magic surged through him, and the stone floor beneath him responded to his call. Rugged stone spikes began to materialize, enveloping his body like a protective cocoon. Each spike was a testament to his resolve, their jagged edges glinting with latent power.
As the transformation was completed, Amon stood encased in a formidable suit of spiked armor. The spikes jutted outward like natural weaponry, a testament to his readiness for battle. He could feel the weight of the earth's power coursing through him, enhancing his strength and resilience.
Giving a signal to Gawain, Amon conveyed that he was prepared to face the silent guardians head-on. His spiked armor was not just a symbol of defiance but a declaration that he would not be deterred by the enigmatic protectors of this sacred chamber. The catacombs may hold their secrets close, but Amon was determined to unlock them, even if it meant confronting the formidable Guardians of the Grave.
Statistics
POW: 12 DUR: 16 SEN: 00 STA: 20 CON: 10
SPEED: 5m/s HEALTH: senior + senior MANA SKIN: senior MANA POOL: 55 / 55 MANA REGEN: 20 IC / 10 OOC
Name of Spell: Earth Creation: Spiked Armor Elemental Type: Earth Rank & Spell Type: Junior | Attack Creation | Defense Creation Range & Speed: 25m | 10m/s Mana Cost: 10 | 5 Stats Effected: +4 durability Applicable Perks: APEX PREDATOR | AEGIS Description: Upon saying the name of his spell, from his grimoire, rocks will come forth, wrapping themselves around him in the form of armor-spiked rocks held together by clay that looks like shoulder pads, a helmet, gloves, and thigh and knee pads. By doing this, he not only covers himself in durable armor but can also use the armored parts of the spell as an offensive weapon to deal junior-rank damage. This spell requires taking an intermediate damage rank in health to break.
Notes
WORD COUNT: 800 TOTAL WC: 4558 TAG(S):Gawain Mana: 55-10+20= 55 [
Compared to some of the other locations he had seen in the past weeks that had been classified as “magic dungeons”, this one was by far one of the most formidable ones in nature. Where other places had been laden with golems and other threats that felt relatively non-threatening, this place had been filled up with actually dangerous warriors that seemed overly capable of taking the lives of those less equipped than they were. Unfortunately, they had met someone who was set to become the greatest mage in the entire known world. This was still very much a heavy boast right now, though it wouldn’t be for a whole lot longer, not if he had anything to say about it. What had started out to day with warriors wielding heavy armor and oversized blades had run down into shadow-hopping swordsmen and actual assassins from some foreign land.
And now, they had seemingly come full circle again as this final wave of combatants standing between himself and the tomb ahead was comprised of yet more warriors with heavy armor and swords that seemed so big and heavy that they might double as dining tables. Though impressive, it seemed like a very unfortunate choice of weaponry.
Once Amon proved himself ready of the fight ahead, Gawain had more or less finished analyzing the enemies ahead of them. Judging by the sheer weight of the gear they had to haul around, there was no chance that they would be faster than he was. However, having already made the mistake of assuming something would not be as fast as him, he wasn’t going to suffer the same idiocy a second time. So as the nod came from his temporary compatriot, the young mage decided to go ahead and cut a swath throughout the area that would also allow him to get closer while remaining decently obscured. With a flick of his fingers, a large path was carved out of the stonework beneath them as a thick blade of air ripped towards the knight that stood in the center. In this case however, it being the one in the center was relative as there were four of them, though the exact parameters didn’t matter.
Running in as closely behind the wind blade as his feet could take him, the amount of dust and rubble that was being torn up by the initial blade made it easier for him to move up while obscuring himself with the former. By the time the blade made contact with the central knight, Gawain himself still had a ways to go before he arrived, though he could sense through the use of his Ki that a connection had been established. Having used his massive blade as a sort of shield, the knight had assumed that it would be able to shoulder most of the blast in this manner while remaining mostly unscathed. And had his gear not been as old as it were, there was a good chance that it might have done just that. However all of the years of wear and tear caused by remaining inside of this moldy old dungeon had not been good to the knights nor their equipment, as became evident when the blade of wind eventually tore through and ripped the knight itself apart.
With a very audible tear, the knights ancient flesh was torn asunder as the bits and pieces of armor fell to the floor, the wind blade itself continuing to move onward until it could not get any further. Caught off guard by the force of this attack, the knights turned their attention to where their comrade had still been standing a few moments ago, finding only that which remained along the floor and a trail of dust and debris. No sooner than after they had turned to face their fallen brother, Gawain appeared leaping out of the cloud of dust, holding both of his hands in front of his chest as he formed the appropriate seals tied to the use of one of his currently more powerful spells. A moment later, a burst of compressed air burst forth into all directions, enveloping the knights that stood between him and all of the loot that awaited beyond their vigil in the blast radius.
For all of their weight, the pressurized blast was heavier as their bodies went throughout the air. Though there was no wind to knock out of them, their armor was dented in so hard that organs, flesh and bone alike were pulverized inside of their bodies, done in by the very thing that was made to protect them from damage. One of the knights got slammed into one of the statues, blowing out a good chunk of the stonework as both it and the body fell down into a limp state on the ground. The second got flung straight into the third, impaled by their sword as both got blown straight into the nearest wall with enough force to crush a being twice their size. But even as they hit the wall, Gawain could tell that they might have very well survived it. Not willing to take the chance of having one of them get back up and eventually stab them in the back, he extended his arm towards them.
Blasting a pressurized pulse towards the both of them, Gawain figured the totality of this damage would be more than enough to blow them to bite-sized chunks for any of the scavenging rats one might encounter within a place such as this. And with that, all of the combatants that remained within this room had been neutralized, taken down in what felt like only a couple of seconds. Imagining Amon would remain within his stone encasing, they both knew that there was still something they needed to fight as none of them had seen the fabled sword of heroes yet. Though he could not speak for the older magic knight, it felt to the younger man like the hostility in the air had in no sense decreased since the death of the four protectors that had stood between them and the sword. And that was clearly not a good sign.
FLOOR 2 | BOSS ROOM
Deciding not to dwell on the overall vibe of hostility that lingered within the air, Gawain slowly pressed on, making sure nothing would appear out of the blue to smack him across the face with some extremely powerful sword of myth and legend. With every step they took forward, it was as if the blue flames existing within the sconces and torches burned with greater intensity, urging them to go back the way they came or prepare for the kind of fight they might not be ready for. But still they pressed on, as no one ever forced themselves to come this far only to turn tail and run before even catching a glimpse of the foe that awaited them. Moving further and further forward, they approached a large statue looming over them in the distance, though the writing on the monumental piece of architecture was quite clear. “Charlemagne, Lord of the Sword”.
The name itself did not mean a whole lot to Gawain, as he was not all that well versed in history, especially not the history of the land of Clover. The title however seemed like the kind of thing one would not earn easily. To be a lord of the sword, they must have bested dozens if not hundreds of other combatants that were skilled with their blades, proving themselves to be the most skilled in their field. At the thought of this, Gawain could only think of the black knight and how much he might have enjoyed fighting this Charlemagne head on in a fight of skill and sheer force. Unfortunately, he was no longer here, leaving it to fall upon the shoulders of Amon and Gawain to put this man down.
And that was when he saw him standing up ahead, a knight wielding a rather imposing blade, encased in an imposing armor that somehow seemed a lot lighter than that of the previous combatants. Around it swirled whips of water, creating shapes of fairly elaborate nature before reverting back to being just a mass of water. It proved on the spot that the knight was not just a simple brawler like the enemies they had disposed of oh so easily before, this man was also a very powerful mage. It did not take a skilled sensor to tell that this man carried a very dense amount of pressure behind him just by standing there. It was enough to make Gawain’s own shoes feel twice as heavy, and they hadn’t even done anything yet. The man just stood there, his magic already in full effect and his sword facing downwards, showing that he could just cut loose at any moment. At that point, Gawain turned his focus towards the magic knight.
“Alright, since you’ve already got your armor up, I’ll let you go first. It wouldn’t be right to gang up on this guy, so let there be some honor in this battle. If and when you tap out, I’ll be sure to step in and take over… if you get the chance to that is.”
When he thought about it, he wondered just how good of an idea it was to show a sign of respect to this once great warrior in the way they were about to. Judging from the sheer size of the man, the way in which he carried himself and by how he just waited for either of them to make a move against him, it was clear that this warrior was incredibly confident. The kind of confidence that came with being one of the most powerful sword wielding combatants this side of the planet had ever seen. And while he had physically deteriorated over time, as often was the case with these kinds of undead, Gawain feared for the fact that he himself was more than likely inferior in more ways than one. But all of that would come to light once Amon fought the once great swordsman. And once it did, Gawain would be sure to record it all in his mind and construct a battle plan for dealing with everything he saw.
So while it would be too awful to say that the ashen haired youth was using Amon as a means of gathering intel on the enemy they faced, it was not entirely untrue. He would very much use this moment to learn everything he could so that they could fight this monster of a man as effectively as possible, preferably without one of them dying in the attempt. And if it were within his capabilities to do so, Gawain would very much intervene if the magic knight was on the verge of getting himself killed, which was the kind of thing that separated him from the sociopaths and the psychopaths. But for now, he would just wait and watch, doing what was in the best interests of the both of them. That was, unless the goal was for them to become the next installment of protectors of the grave, which Gawain could honestly say was not on his bucketlist.
Name of Spell: Slice Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Intermediate | Attack Creation | Sensory (Homing) Range & Speed: 40m | 25 m/s Mana Cost: 20 | 10 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot Description: Extending and pushing his right index and middle finger together before flicking them upward in order to activate the spell, a crescent blade of wind roughly five centimeters thick and three meters long is fired into the desired direction, following directly up on this motion. The attack itself is non-lethal, unless direct contact to one's vitals is established, as well as causing painful cuts and bruises on people and breaking most unreinforced walls, dealing Intermediate rank damage. In addition, the accuracy and chance to hit can be further improved by utilizing Homing rules, including following the target in adherence to those same rules. The crescent blade follows the target that was initially pointed at until it hits, runs out of space or hits another object. To those without at least 20 sensory, this spell will be invisible, appearing as a wispy green crescent blade to others.
Name of Spell: Thrust Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Intermediate | Attack Creation Range & Speed: 20m AoE | 25 m/s Mana Cost: 20 | 10 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot Description: Releasing a burst of air pressure to aggressively push away threats, this spell moves into all directions with Gawain at the epicenter. Activated by holding the hand horizontally, the back of the hand facing downward while pushing the tips of his index finger, middle finger and thumb against one another, the burst follows up straight after. The attack itself is non-lethal, unless direct contact with one’s vitals is established, though capable of causing painful bruises and breaking through most unreinforced walls, dealing Intermediate rank damage. Utilizing a fairly powerful knockback effect to blow back the aforementioned by up to nine meters + an additional 5 meters for every 10 Power, those who do not possess at least 20 sensory will be unable to see the spell itself. Those that do will see a wispy green dome coming into their direction before forcefully shoving them back.
Name of Spell: Move Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Intermediate | Attack Creation Range & Speed: 40m | 25 m/s Mana Cost: 20 | 10 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot Description: By extending the left hand and pointing an open palm (stop motion) and holding a half-ram sign with the right hand, Gawain's eyes flare up with a wispy green hue as a means of initiating the spell and as a vocal point for the release of mana, a blast of wind is released into the chosen direction roughly three meters wide and tall. Aiming to envelop the target and blasting them and everything else caught up in the blast back, the spell uses a fairly powerful knockback effect capable of tossing targets back up to nine meters + an additional 5 meters for every 10 Power. The attack itself is non-lethal, unless contact is established with one’s vitals, though capable of causing painful bruises and breaking through most unreinforced walls, dealing Intermediate rank damage. To those without at least 20 sensory, this spell will be invisible, appearing as a flat wispy green square to others.
As the resounding echoes of Gawain's cataclysmic assault reverberated through the chamber, Amon found himself enclosed within his formidable Earth Creation: Spiked Armor. The aftereffects of the magical and physical onslaught lingered in the air, transforming the once-peaceful throne room into a scene of chaotic destruction. The room's towering stone walls, once untouched by time, now bore cracks and chipped fragments, evidence of the immense force unleashed.
The colossal knights, guardians of the cryptic path forward, lay strewn across the chamber, their once-imposing armor now battered and shattered. Dust and stone debris hung suspended in the atmosphere, a chilling testament to the raw power that had surged through the room.
Despite the devastating assault, a haunting silence persisted, and the tension in the air refused to wane. Amon's heart raced within the protective embrace of his stone-carved armor, his senses attuned to the lingering enigma that shrouded the room.
The Sword of Heroes, their ultimate objective, remained tantalizingly out of reach. Amon and Gawain had vanquished these formidable adversaries, but their true challenge had yet to be revealed. The catacombs concealed their secrets well, and the atmosphere remained thick with unresolved hostility.
While Gawain's determination radiated through his actions, directing a final burst of energy to ensure the lifelessness of our adversaries, Amon focused on a different aspect of the quest. His eyes, trained through the study and battle, scanned every nook and cranny of the throne room. Amon sought any hint of concealed passages or hidden chambers that might hold the coveted Sword of Heroes, our ultimate goal in this cryptic catacomb.
The guardians, formidable as they had been, were but a prelude to the true challenges that still lay ahead. The catacombs held their enigmatic secrets tightly, and the lingering tension in the air warned them that greater trials awaited.
A silent yet resolute nod from Amon signaled to Gawain that their pursuit was far from over. The two were prepared to venture deeper into the heart of the throne room, ready to face whatever mysteries and obstacles this sacred chamber had in store. The legendary sword they sought remained elusive, but they were undeterred in our quest.
The catacombs had thrown formidable adversaries and enigmatic guardians in their path, but their unwavering determination remained unshaken. They were two mages, united by a relentless pursuit of the ultimate prize, and they were ready to confront whatever trials and revelations awaited them in the depths of this cryptic realm.
Floor 2 | Room 3
As Amon donned his formidable spiked armor, his gaze remained fixed on the imposing figure before them, the enigmatic guardian known as Charlemagne, Lord of the Sword. The knight's presence was nothing short of intimidating, and the aura of power emanating from him sent shivers down Amon's spine, despite his best efforts to maintain composure.
Gawain's words of honor resonated with Amon, affirming the unspoken understanding they shared. This battle would be a test of skill and resolve, a confrontation with a legendary foe who had stood guard in this eerie throne room for untold ages. Amon nodded in acknowledgment, appreciating Gawain's respect for the battlefield's code of ethics.
With measured steps, Amon advanced toward Charlemagne, his spiked armor clinking softly with each movement. The guardian watched Amon's approach with an unblinking intensity, his imposing blade at the ready. The atmosphere grew tense, the air thick with anticipation.
As the two warriors closed the distance, Amon could feel the gravity of the moment settling upon him. He had faced formidable opponents before, but this was different. This was a clash with history, a battle against a relic of a bygone era. Charlemagne's eyes bore into Amon's soul, and for a brief moment, their gazes locked in a silent exchange of determination.
Then, without warning, Charlemagne moved. With startling speed and precision, he swung his colossal sword downward, the blade slicing through the air like a comet. Amon's instincts kicked in, and he reacted with lightning reflexes. He leaned back just in time, the blade passing so close to his face that he could feel the rush of air and the faintest graze of the blade against his spiked armor.
The throne room trembled with the force of Charlemagne's strike, the stone floor cracking beneath the impact. Amon's heart raced as he realized how close he had come to disaster. Beads of sweat formed on his brow as he swiftly regained his footing, his mind racing to assess the situation.
Charlemagne, undeterred by the initial dodge, pressed on with a relentless assault. Each swing of his colossal sword was a masterclass in precision and power. Amon found himself in a deadly dance, parrying and dodging with all the skill he could muster. Charlemagne's blade was like a relentless storm, a whirlwind of deadly intent.
The throne room echoed with the symphony of clashing steel, the sparks of their clash illuminating the chamber like a fiery spectacle. Amon's spiked armor held, but it was clear that Charlemagne was no ordinary opponent. His mastery of the sword was unparalleled, and his movements were a symphony of lethal grace.
The battle raged on in the eerie throne room, the clash of steel and the shimmering sparks of magic painting a vivid picture of the struggle between Amon and Charlemagne, Lord of the Sword. Amon's senses were on high alert as he engaged in this deadly dance with the guardian. Charlemagne's relentless onslaught showed no signs of abating, his massive sword cleaving the air with each devastating swing.
As Amon parried Charlemagne's strikes with his blade, he calculated his every move. He knew that to gain the upper hand, he needed to create some breathing space and gather his magical energies. The catacomb's oppressive atmosphere weighed on him, but he remained focused on the task at hand.
In a moment of split-second decision-making, Amon executed a lightning-fast sidestep, narrowly evading Charlemagne's blade. The guardian's colossal sword whizzed past him, leaving a trail of displaced air in its wake. Amon seized this brief opening, his instincts guiding him.
With the grace of a seasoned warrior, Amon leaped backward, putting several paces of distance between himself and Charlemagne. It was a calculated retreat, a maneuver to gain the precious moments he needed.
With the much-needed space created, Amon's hands began to glow with the faint, earthy light of his magic. He drew upon the elemental power within him, channeling it into a spell he had honed over countless battles—Earth Creation: Pebble Gun.
From the very ground beneath him, small stones and pebbles began to lift into the air, forming a swirling vortex of earthy projectiles around Amon. His concentration was unwavering as he gathered and meticulously shaped the ammunition for his spell, each pebble a testament to his mastery of earth magic.
Charlemagne, ever perceptive, realized that Amon was preparing something significant. With a thunderous charge, the guardian closed the gap between them, his colossal sword poised for a deadly strike.
But Amon was ready, his determination unwavering. With a focused gesture, he unleashed the barrage of pebbles, each one propelled with precision and force. The projectiles flew toward Charlemagne in a rapid, almost hypnotic cadence, forming a mesmerizing pattern of earthy death.
Caught off guard by the unexpected assault, Charlemagne attempted to block and deflect the incoming pebbles with his colossal sword. While he managed to intercept one, another found a gap in his defenses. The lone pebble struck true, hitting Charlemagne's armored form and creating a minor but noticeable injury.
Amon continued to control the onslaught, his magical aim unerring. Charlemagne staggered under the relentless assault, his once-imposing confidence beginning to waver. The guardian's movements became more sluggish as he struggled to deflect the relentless barrage of pebbles.
Seizing the opportunity, Amon, encased in his formidable spiked armor, stepped forward with determination. The spikes on his gauntleted fists glinted with latent power as he delivered a powerful punch. His spiked gauntlet connected with Charlemagne's chest, the force of the blow sending a shockwave through the room.
To Amon's surprise, Charlemagne did not buckle under the impact as he had expected. Instead, the guardian withstood the punch with an unwavering resolve. He stared directly into Amon's eyes, a defiant glint in his own.
Before Amon could react, Charlemagne's response was swift and unexpected. With a lightning-fast backswing, he used the hilt of his colossal sword to deliver a powerful backhand slap, sending Amon tumbling backward through the air. Amon crashed into the stone floor with a resounding thud, his spiked armor absorbing some of the impact.
The catacomb's eerie silence enveloped Amon as he lay on the cold stone floor, the aftermath of Charlemagne's backhand slap leaving him momentarily stunned. His senses slowly began to return, and he could feel the dull ache spreading across his body. His vision, once blurred, sharpened, and the dimly lit throne room came back into focus.
But it wasn't just Amon's senses that were returning to him. Something extraordinary was stirring within him, a deep well of power that he hadn't tapped into before. The pain from the impact, combined with his unyielding determination, acted as a catalyst for this transformation. It was as if the very earth itself responded to his resilience, recognizing a kindred spirit.
As Amon lay on the cold stone floor, his vision clearing, he realized that something fundamental had changed. The battle had taken a toll on his spiked armor, and cracks had formed along the surface. But more significantly, his trusty sword, the weapon he had relied on for countless battles, showed visible signs of stress. A deep crack marred the blade, a testament to the immense force of Charlemagne's strikes.
The realization hit Amon like a lightning bolt. His sword, his most cherished companion, was on the verge of breaking. With a heavy heart, he knew he couldn't rely on it any longer. Pushing himself up from the ground, he cast a glance at Charlemagne, who still stood resolute.
With newfound determination and a deep sense of resolve, Amon made a daring decision. He began to unclasp the spiked armor that had served him faithfully, piece by piece. It fell to the stone floor with a series of soft thuds, revealing the clothing beneath.
Amon's eyes met Charlemagne's, a silent declaration that he would not be deterred. The catacombs may hold their secrets close, but Amon was determined to unlock them, even if it meant confronting the formidable guardian with all his might.
Statistics
POW: 12 DUR: 16 SEN: 00 STA: 20 CON: 10
SPEED: 5m/s HEALTH: Senior + Senior MANA SKIN: senior MANA POOL: 55 / 55 MANA REGEN: 20 IC / 10 OOC
Name of Spell: Earth Creation: Pebble Gun Elemental Type: Earth Rank & Spell Type: Junior | Attack Creation Range & Speed: 25m | 10m/s Mana Cost: 10 | 5 Stats Effected: N/A Applicable Perks: APEX PREDATOR Description: Upon saying the name of his spell Amon will extend his index finger and thumb and shoot a ping pong size pebble of dirt formed from his grimoire at the tip of his finger. Tapping his thumb to his index finger will trigger the firing of this spell. More can be shot afterward as per ammo rules. This deals junior damage.
Notes
WORD COUNT: 1745 TOTAL WC: 6303 ROOM WC: 2181 TAG(S):Gawain
What transpired in front of him was more or less how he imagined it would be going, what with the entity being referred to as the lord of the sword firmly wiping the floor with the magic knight. There was no denying that the man was fighting admirably, putting up quite a fight against a foe who seemed to clearly be several leagues ahead of him, though that would not change the facts. If this fight were to be drawn out a whole lot longer, the magic knight would die, and there was nothing he could do about it. His armor cracked, his blade shattered, one could tell that Charlemagne was just testing the waters to see the level of resistance the man could put up, a resistance that was gradually being drained like water from a tub. All things considered, there were quite a bit of details Gawain could take out of this fight, things that would allow him to fight better.
Things that would allow him to win.
One of the most notable factors in this whole undertaking was the fact that the lord of the sword had clearly just been testing the magic knights defenses and offensive capabilities, gradually cranking up the volume of his attacks as he whittled down his opponent. One could say that this was the manner in which the strong fought, keeping their own guard up and their offensive output low, lulling their enemies into a false sense of security while they were scoping out what to expect. It was clever, very clever, though not at all unheard of. It was essentially the same thing Gawain was doing right now, with the added benefit of not having to dirty his own hands as Amon was the one doing the fighting here. In a way, it almost felt cowardly, though it would have been more cowardly to gang up on a man of Charlemagne’s status together, especially when doing so without a plan.
Because if the things he had seen right now were in any way correct, them attacking the man together would have resulted in them both dying rather quickly. Even now, the man was clearly holding back his speed, his strength and most notably, the water magic he had demonstrated having before the fight itself broke out and he just dropped it. The only reason why Gawain could imagine him doing that was because the man had determined that he wouldn’t be needing it against a foe of Amon’s magnitude. It was an arrogant move to some, though it was also a very cold and calculated one that made him assume the use of magic would just be wasted effort and energy. Energy he could in turn use to fight and kill Gawain once he was through killing Amon. That was the mindset of a skilled and capable warrior, someone who’s methods were tried and true. Someone from whom Gawain could learn a lot when it came to improving himself.
“Oi, Lord of the Sword! You guys are finished, you’re fighting me next.”
Calling out to Charlemagne in a manner so loud it could wake the dead, his voice echoed throughout the halls as the wielder of the sword of heroes halted his assault. Realizing that Amon at this point would more than likely not last through a single hit of his blade, the man stood upright as he faced the direction of the younger male. At first, all the man saw was what he was, a teenage boy who had barely been old enough to have had his grimoire for more than a month or two. But apparently, the knight saw something else as well, as became apparent when he turned away from Amon and decided to take Gawain up on his challenge. Lowering himself into a fighting stance, Charlemagne stopped in his tracks when he was about five meters away from the young mage, simply standing there with his blade resting on top of his shoulder. The man wanted something, that much was clear, though he could not tell what it was.
Whether it had been in response to him yelling as loud as he did or because of some unknown trigger occurring within the tomb, it seemed that where there had once been none, now a total of seven warriors appeared around Amon. Keeping him from interfering in the fight between Gawain and Charlemagne, no longer having to fight the big man himself in no way made him safe from harm. Though he wouldn’t focus his attention on them for more than a second, the ashen haired teen could tell that each of the warriors that had arrived on the scene were by themselves more than capable enough to take the life of someone that had already been injured. More than that, they had the advantage of numbers, meaning they could just circle and strike at the magic knight until he bled out and died, becoming yet another part of this dungeon of misery and death.
"I shall defend these lands until the very end. On my honor as a knight, until it is either I or my enemy that is laid to rest."
Much to his own surprise, it appeared as though this undead version of Charlemagne still possessed the ability to speak. It reminded him of the Draugr that had been around for over a hundred years, as that seemed to be the cutoff point before their intellect and memories started to return to them, reminding them of who they had been in life. Perhaps this meant that the warrior could be reasoned with, to be coerced to lay down his weapon and return to the grave willingly.
“Though I don’t doubt your intentions, the vow you took to defend your lands ended with your death. And judging by the state of this place, as well as the state of your blade, you’ve been dead for a very long time. This is the kingdom of Clover, meaning whatever dynasty you served must have been long gone.”
Visibly shaken by this knowledge, it seemed as though the warrior was struggling to accept the fact that he had died, or perhaps he was struggling with the idea that all he was now was a husk of a once great warrior, and that the people he had protected and served had died a very long time ago. At this moment, Gawain could have taken it upon himself to strike the man down while he was distracted, perhaps he might even kill him. On the other hand, there was a chance the man would call upon his magic to protect himself, after which point the short distance between the two of them would be closed so fast that his own death seemed likelier. No, he needed to continue the narrative option if they were to have any chance at coming out alive. Gawain just hoped Amon would be able to hold out against the seven warriors.
“You lie… My dynasty would not fall so easily, nor would my country be taken by the likes of you, villain. Draw your weapon, or I shall fell you where you stand.”
“Again, I must press the point that this is in fact no longer your kingdom. See this? This is the symbol of the current kingdom sitting on top of these lands. Whether your people have fought and lost a war, or if Clover rose from your descendants is something I’m afraid I can’t tell you. What I can tell you is that I am not your enemy, and that something foul has befallen you. If you would humor me, take a look at your reflection.”
Showing the grimoire he kept tucked away inside of his clothes, the golden four-leaf clover shone with a faint hue as the man looked upon it. Only capable of seeing his unliving eyes through his visor, it was clear that this knowledge was starting to resonate with whatever remnants of personality the man still held within him. This became ever more apparent when he looked down at the water by his feet, seeing the state his body had been left in. By now, Charlemagne realized the truth of the situation, and that he had somehow been turned into some kind of tool for whatever dark forces that had brought him back. Knowing not what their purpose might have been or what goal his resurrection served, him realizing something was wrong would be instrumental for what came next.
“Whatever fate has befallen these catacombs, it seems to originate from you. I’ve seen powerful curses bring mighty warriors back from the rest of death before, though never have I seen it transpire in a way as powerful as the one that brought you back. Regardless, one way or another, you need to be returned to your grave if this place is to be cleansed. Do you understand this?”
While harsher words might have been chosen, the same could have been said for softer ones, as Gawain could only imagine what it might have felt like to be told that you were just a corpse puppet being controlled by some dark force. That you had no real autonomy and the country and its people you had spent your life defending had vanished so a new kingdom might take its place in its wake. To see your own body reduced to some decaying bag of flesh encased in a moldering, half-rusted suit of armor holding on to what remained of his legendary blade of heroes. If he had felt things the way most people felt things, Gawain’s heart might have been broken at the sight of it. But at the end of the day, his own experiences had rendered him a cold, emotionless little bastard that only ever did things for his own benefit, or simply because he felt like it was something he wanted to do. But right now, what he wanted to do was help this man be put back to death so he might rest again.
“Then let it be so. Try your best to slay me, as I can only contain myself for so long. Whatever this curse may be, it eats away at my sanity. Even now, there is this gnawing sensation in the back of my skull telling me to slay you where you stand. Waste no more time, and let it be finished.”
Holding his blade to the side, the man closed his eyes, almost as if holding back the darkness within himself and making himself into a target dummy with no chance of defending against a blow from this close a distance. Deciding not to let this chance go to waste since he still needed to keep Amon from dying after this was done, he extended his left arm towards him, the palm of his hand aimed right at his chest as his right hand formed a seal over his chest. Building up easily as much mana as he had expended when dealing with the four guardians of the grave, this spell would utilize all of it in a single go. It was a spell he had only recently learned, and was therefore something he had never been able to utilize in an actual fight. Once the buildup was complete, Gawain nodded at the rotting remains of Charlemagne, who tried his best to return the gesture, but found it too difficult to do so while still holding back the destructive urges of his cursed being from rising to the surface.
And that was when he released it, a blast of immensely pressurized air rushing forward at a speed of over forty miles per second, tearing up the ground and stonework between them as it rushed forth. If this spell hit, he was confident that it would destroy Charlemagne in a single hit, not to mention destroying everything in a direct line behind him, as that was the kind of pressure this spell contained. Hopefully Amon would be clever enough not to maneuver too far from where he was standing, or he too might very well end up getting caught up in the crossfire. One way or the other, this attack was going to be the beginning of the end.
WC: 2046 Room WC: More than enough at this point Total WC: 10062
Rolled a 4, +3 from the room itself, causing 7 additional combatants to appear in the room
Name of Spell: Force Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Senior | Attack Creation Range & Speed: 80m | 45 m/s Mana Cost: 30 | 15 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot Description: By extending the left hand and pointing an open palm (stop motion) and holding a half-ox sign with the right hand, Gawain's eyes flare up with a wispy green hue as a means of initiating the spell and as a vocal point for the release of mana, a blast of wind is released into the chosen direction roughly nine meters wide and tall. Aiming to envelop the target and blasting them and everything else caught up in the blast back, the spell uses a fairly powerful knockback effect capable of tossing targets back up to thirteen meters + an additional 5 meters for every 10 Power. The attack itself is potentially lethal upon direct hits, capable of breaking bones and can easily tear through non-magical structures, dealing Senior rank damage. To those without at least 30 sensory, this spell will be invisible, appearing as a flat wispy green square to others.
15 mana lost in previous post 30 mana lost in current post 45 mana restored Mana fully replenished
Amon stood resolute amidst the ancient catacomb, a profound sense of gravity pressing upon him, akin to the weight of a massive stone slab. The seven Blade Stalkers, their predatory elegance on full display, circled him with blades gleaming malevolently. This was an affront to the sanctity of this hallowed place, and Amon's resolve only burned brighter with each passing second. Such sacrilege could not go unanswered.
His breath steadied, becoming a lifeline as he delved deep into the dwindling reservoir of his magical power. Despite the battered state of his trusty blade, he knew he possessed one final card to play. With a forceful cry that resonated through the catacomb's ancient stones, Amon invoked his magic, shouting, Earth Creation: Spiked Armor! The words reverberated, and jagged stone slabs erupted from the ground, weaving together to form an imposing barrier of earthen armor enveloping him. The Blade Stalkers hesitated briefly, their misty forms betraying uncertainty as they saw their prey encased within the protective embrace of the earth.
Amon's focus remained unwavering as he channeled his magical strength, fortifying the stone armor to be even more resilient than before. Two of the Blade Stalkers, their blades swathed in swirling mist, initiated a relentless assault. Their swords pounded the stone armor with relentless force, creating spiderweb cracks across its surface. It held, for now, but Amon understood this defense was but a temporary respite. Time was not on his side, and a desperate escape plan was essential.
Desperation fueled Amon's thoughts as he remained encased in his makeshift spiked armor. The Blade Stalkers' ceaseless pounding intensified, and the groaning of the stone barrier echoed throughout the catacomb, bearing witness to the dire circumstances he faced. In the crucible of combat, inspiration ignited within him.
The Blade Stalkers, known for their speed and agility, possessed a recklessness that was their Achilles' heel. Although Amon could not match their swiftness, his strategic thinking became his greatest asset.
With renewed determination, Amon resolved to turn their aggression against them. He permitted the two Blade Stalkers to continue their assault while subtly weakening certain sections of the spiked armor. The mist-cloaked intruders, sensing an opportunity, intensified their attacks on the perceived weak points.
Then, like a tempest born of desperation and cunning, Amon struck. He shifted his body with the grace of a seasoned acrobat, nimbly evading their strikes with hair's breadth precision. The two Blade Stalkers, caught amidst their furious attacks, collided with each other instead of their intended quarry.
The impact was substantial, causing the Blade Stalkers to stagger back, disoriented by their unexpected collision. It was the opening Amon had been waiting for. With lightning speed, he closed the distance between them and unleashed a rapid flurry of decisive strikes. His blows struck true, rending the misty forms of the Blade Stalkers asunder, dispersing their dark essence.
Amon, victorious over the colliding Blade Stalkers, stood amidst the dissipating mist, his spiked armor remaining resolute. Yet, the catacomb's eerie silence shattered as two more Blade Stalkers stepped forward, their dark mist swirling with increased malevolence as they locked onto Amon with predatory intent.
Unyielding, Amon braced himself for their renewed assault. The five remaining Blade Stalkers encircled him once more, their gleaming swords poised to deal the killing blow. The weight of this dire situation bore down upon him like an impending tempest, but Amon's indomitable determination remained unwavering.
Drawing a deep breath, Amon once again focused his magical reserves. The earth beneath him answered his call, and this time, he summoned forth a different enchantment. Earth Creation: Stone Hands, he uttered, and thin air birthed a towering stone construct—a colossal hand structure levitating at his side. The Stone Hand, a manifestation of Amon's earth magic, hung poised beside him, reminiscent of an ancient guardian. The Blade Stalkers, understandably wary of this mystical development, cast uncertain glances at the construct. Amon seized this moment of uncertainty, his mind already formulating a plan to utilize the Stone Hand in harmony with his combat prowess.
With a calculated gesture, Amon directed the Stone Hand to lunge forward, its massive fingers primed to strike. The Blade Stalkers, taken aback by this sudden assault, were momentarily thrown off balance. The construct's stone fingers collided with one of the misty intruders, sending it sprawling backward with a haunting wail that echoed through the catacomb.
As the Stone Hand meted out a punishing blow to one of the Blade Stalkers, Amon's strategic acumen swiftly calculated his next move. Rather than focusing on the looming threat posed by the fourth Blade Stalker, he turned his attention to the other three assailants who approached with heightened determination.
As Amon confronted the encircling Blade Stalkers, his thoughts flashed with memories that surged through his mind. Time seemed to warp, transporting him back to a sunlit courtyard from his youth, where he stood as an eager apprentice beside his grandfather—an esteemed warrior and a master of combat.
Flashback
Amon's grandfather, a figure of wisdom and strength, gazed down at the eager young boy, his eyes harboring a twinkle that hinted at the depths of his experience. Remember, Amon, he imparted in a voice etched with the weight of countless years, in the heat of battle, opportunities appear as fleetingly as a gust of wind. To emerge victorious, you must seize them without hesitation.
Amon absorbed every word, his wide eyes fixed on his grandfather. He watched as the old warrior, with an effortless grace born of experience, swiftly executed a precise counterattack against a sparring partner who had faltered for a fraction of a second. It was a lesson that would remain etched in Amon's memory.
Opportunities, my boy, his grandfather continued, are the gaps in your opponent's defenses, the moments when their focus wavers. You must be patient, observant, and prepared to strike when the time is right.
The flashback ebbed away, returning Amon to the present, the catacomb's shadowy embrace once again enveloping him. His heart raced, his thoughts driven by the memory of his grandfather's teachings. In this dire moment, those lessons felt more poignant and pertinent than ever. With renewed determination, Amon locked his gaze onto the four remaining Blade Stalkers, who continued their eerie dance around him.
Amon's eyes blazed with the fire of unwavering resolve as he summoned the wisdom of his grandfather. He watched the Blade Stalkers' movements with patience, knowing that the key to survival lay in the moments when their guard faltered, when opportunity emerged. Every fiber of his being resonated with his training, reminding him to seize the chances that materialized, just as his grandfather had instilled in him during his formative years.
Statistics
POW: 12 DUR: 16 SEN: 00 STA: 20 CON: 10
SPEED: 5m/s HEALTH: Senior + Senior MANA SKIN: senior MANA POOL: 55 / 55 MANA REGEN: 20 IC / 10 OOC
Name of Spell: Earth Creation: Spiked Armor Elemental Type: Earth Rank & Spell Type: Junior | Attack Creation | Defense Creation Range & Speed: 25m | 10m/s Mana Cost: 10 | 5 Stats Effected: +4 durability Applicable Perks: APEX PREDATOR | AEGIS Description: Upon saying the name of his spell, from his grimoire, rocks will come forth, wrapping themselves around him in the form of armor-spiked rocks held together by clay that looks like shoulder pads, a helmet, gloves, and thigh and knee pads. By doing this, he not only covers himself in durable armor but can also use the armored parts of the spell as an offensive weapon to deal junior-rank damage. This spell requires taking an intermediate damage rank in health to break.
Name of Spell: Earth Creation: Stone Hands Elemental Type: Earth Rank & Spell Type: Junior | Attack Creation | Defense Creation Range & Speed: 25m | 10m/s Mana Cost: 10 | 5 Stats Effected: N/A Applicable Perks: APEX PREDATOR | AEGIS Description: After saying the name of the spell. Amon creates a 1m hand both vertically and horizontally wide floating stationary along his right side made of stone from the element of his grimoire. These hands are about 1 foot away from Amon's body and will attack or defend against the target within 25m of the user. These hands will swat at the target of the user for attack or block oncoming attacks defending from an attack. More hands can be made as per ammo rules. This spell requires taking an intermediate damage rank in health to break. This deals junior damage.
By the time the raging blast had settled down, the dust still needed to settle before Gawain could see what his spell had inflicted. For him, using one of this magnitude was still quite impressive, as it had only been a few days since he learned how to use spells of a level beneath it. Standing as a testament to his own growth as a mage, a warrior and as a person, his eyes picked up on something he had not expected to see. Charlemagne yet stood upright, though something was different. Once the dust had fully settled, Gawain could see just how far his spell had raged beyond his target, having killed an unsuspecting blade stalker and reducing him to nothing more than a wet smear across the paved floor. While that was in and of itself a minor victory, their main adversary had not gone down, but had lost some weight.
As it turned out, based entirely on speculation as he had been unable to see it with his own eyes, Charlemagne had managed to protect himself from the majority of the blast by swinging his blade against it from the side, redirecting it away from his core and keeping it from dismantling him completely on impact. Instead, the blast had destroyed his sword entirely while taking away part of his rib cage, his shoulder and his arm, causing black goo to leak out of his body and pool along the ground beneath him. Whatever blood and organs had actually been inside him had long since congealed into an unholy mess, showing just how little of the once great hero was left. Looking through the visor of his helmet, Gawain could tell that there was no longer anybody home behind those eyes. Those dark, lifeless eyes, so very different from how they had been when they had just spoken.
It was without question that whatever curse had brought him back had taken over completely when it registered how Charlemagne was preparing to let himself die. Reduced to just being a puppet to some darker force, the only solace to be taken from this fact was that he did not need to hurt a former hero. This was just a ghoul, especially now that his fabled weapon had been destroyed and much of his torso had been blown apart. Possessing but a single arm, Gawain was confident that he would be able to take the man out before things could escalate any further, as there was still the magic knight that needed his aid. Hopefully, the one he had killed mostly by accident would take some of the weight off of his shoulders and increase his odds at survival. For as it stood now, the boy could tell that the earthen armor he had encased himself in would not hold out for another strike.
It was honestly a miracle that it had been up for as long as it had, as his magic wasn’t exactly on a very high level, especially so when compared against the combat capabilities of the assassins. If his luck would hold up, Gawain might reach him soon, though he would first need to get rid of what remained of Charlemagne. And so, the battle continued yet again as the now mindless creature lunged at him with great speed, closing the already short distance between them in an attempt to bite into his arm. With a quick gesture, the air itself pressurized together to form a field that would stop his advance, all the while beginning to push him back with great force and a speed above the rate at which he could move. Normally, a strike such as this would send someone flying, though this was no lesser opponent. Even in his weakened state, even after being robbed of his mind, the body that was left was still more powerful than either of theirs.
Leaving a major dent in the undead warriors chest piece, this did not seem to hinder him much at all, as he already started coming back for seconds. This time, he had his fist ready to last out as he began to rush towards the boy again, though he was not going to just let the man run up and punch him. Holding out his hand and preparing a seal over his chest, Gawain fired a blast of compressed air at the man, which shockingly got absorbed entirely into a screen of water that temporarily formed in front of him and then dropped to the floor in a puddle. This showed that whatever was controlling Charlemagne could also make his magic come out to some degree, which was bad news for him. It meant that the longer this fight got dragged out, the more this entity would come to take control over the body and its tricks. Changing up the hand seal over his chest, the next blast he fired was at least twice as powerful as the one that had just been stopped.
Moving so fast that the physical speed of the warriors was by no means a match, Gawain watched as the blast itself disintegrated the beaten and battered body of the former hero, flying onward and crashing into the far wall. Though some structural damage was inflicted, it was luckily not enough to bring the whole ceiling down on top of them. What had also taken some structural damage was Gawain himself, who was not used to using spells of this magnitude back to back yet. Sinking through his knees for a bit as he dropped down on his ass, he took several deep breaths in order to maintain his bearings. There were still several assassins in the area, and the other mage still needed his help if he was to survive the ongoing attacks. But for now, this was all that he could do without overexerting himself and ending up as yet another victim of these damned pesky sneaks.
All he needed now was a bit of time to fully regain his composure before he could get rid of the final remnants of this dungeon’s accursed warriors, after which the looting could begin. A shame it was however that both the sword of heroes and the armor worn by Charlemagne were no longer in a position where they could be “liberated” from this place. They’d have made a nice bit of pocket money for sure. Too bad.
WC: 1072 Room WC: Long since surpassed Total WC: 11134
The boss died, as did 1 out of the remaining 5 warriors
Name of Spell: Thrust Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Intermediate | Attack Creation Range & Speed: 20m AoE | 25 m/s Mana Cost: 20 | 10 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot Description: Releasing a burst of air pressure to aggressively push away threats, this spell moves into all directions with Gawain at the epicenter. Activated by holding the hand horizontally, the back of the hand facing downward while pushing the tips of his index finger, middle finger and thumb against one another, the burst follows up straight after. The attack itself is non-lethal, unless direct contact with one’s vitals is established, though capable of causing painful bruises and breaking through most unreinforced walls, dealing Intermediate rank damage. Utilizing a fairly powerful knockback effect to blow back the aforementioned by up to nine meters + an additional 5 meters for every 10 Power, those who do not possess at least 20 sensory will be unable to see the spell itself. Those that do will see a wispy green dome coming into their direction before forcefully shoving them back.
Name of Spell: Move Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Intermediate | Attack Creation Range & Speed: 40m | 25 m/s Mana Cost: 20 | 10 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot Description: By extending the left hand and pointing an open palm (stop motion) and holding a half-ram sign with the right hand, Gawain's eyes flare up with a wispy green hue as a means of initiating the spell and as a vocal point for the release of mana, a blast of wind is released into the chosen direction roughly three meters wide and tall. Aiming to envelop the target and blasting them and everything else caught up in the blast back, the spell uses a fairly powerful knockback effect capable of tossing targets back up to nine meters + an additional 5 meters for every 10 Power. The attack itself is non-lethal, unless contact is established with one’s vitals, though capable of causing painful bruises and breaking through most unreinforced walls, dealing Intermediate rank damage. To those without at least 20 sensory, this spell will be invisible, appearing as a flat wispy green square to others.
Name of Spell: Force Elemental Type: Air Pressure Rank & Spell Type: Senior | Attack Creation Range & Speed: 80m | 45 m/s Mana Cost: 30 | 15 Stats Effected: - Applicable Perks: Overpowered | Quick Shot Description: By extending the left hand and pointing an open palm (stop motion) and holding a half-ox sign with the right hand, Gawain's eyes flare up with a wispy green hue as a means of initiating the spell and as a vocal point for the release of mana, a blast of wind is released into the chosen direction roughly nine meters wide and tall. Aiming to envelop the target and blasting them and everything else caught up in the blast back, the spell uses a fairly powerful knockback effect capable of tossing targets back up to thirteen meters + an additional 5 meters for every 10 Power. The attack itself is potentially lethal upon direct hits, capable of breaking bones and can easily tear through non-magical structures, dealing Senior rank damage. To those without at least 30 sensory, this spell will be invisible, appearing as a flat wispy green square to others.