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Enter, The Darkness [RP Thread]

Started by Ravager, October 13, 2011, 02:47:03 AM

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The Man They Call Jayne

"I was nothing if not polite Ranger. I didn't even raise my hand to her guards. I explained the nature of the threat of Ruin and it was Skol who answered, not her. He, she, it did not care one bit for the plight of "mere mortals".
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Scout Sergeant Mkoll

"You didn't raise your hand to her guards, fair enough. What about her?" asked Oan, suspecting that he wasn't being told the whole truth. Suspicion was in his nature, as the party had learned, and it was only increased where the shaman was concerned. "I need to know how likely it is that you've just pissed off a god."
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May the brave be remembered forever. Farewell our friends.

Quote from: Mabbz on June 03, 2011, 10:43:53 AM
Mkoll wins.

Quote from: LordDemon
Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to catch you.

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The Man They Call Jayne

"I never raised a hand to either." The shaman remarked. It was EXACTLY true after all.

"My issue was, and always has been with Anatalya, not Skol. And until now, Skol has never even met me. I was polite, if bluntly to the point, and I even offered to remove the fear trigger in her mind if she chose to help us. As it turned out, Skol had already done so. At which point I was frozen to the wall under several inches of very hard ice that my magick couldn't even touch. You saw what my magick did to that wall and magick door that Emily was behind Ranger. I couldn't even scratch this stuff. The only reason I got out at all is that it melted or vanished after a while. Apparently I wasn't worth keeping around any longer. I suspect that the Eye of Rai-Tane is all that stopped the Ice from killing me outright."

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HectorSmash

Rock took a break from marveling at the others' arguments to quietly ask Atlas,

"You better now, yes? We find more beasts to kill, Atlas? They just talking anyway." He grinned excitedly at the other Dwarf, looking and acting very much like a bored child trapped with his parents at a fancy shoppe.

Narric

"Best we stick with the group today." Atlas responded to the youngling. "Many big plans are in the works, both for our friends and our enemies. Now is not the time to look for monsters and riches."

Scout Sergeant Mkoll

"Woah, back up. WHAT fear trigger?" Oan asked. "What are you playing at Kraytor? You know how powerful she is."
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May the brave be remembered forever. Farewell our friends.

Quote from: Mabbz on June 03, 2011, 10:43:53 AM
Mkoll wins.

Quote from: LordDemon
Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to catch you.

[img]http

The Man They Call Jayne

"It was part of our duel, a tactic that ended up failing in that arena led to a long term benefit. She would fear me above anything else. It is not a thing easily removed unless the person who put it there does so. OR if you become an avatar apparently. Certainly an addition for the books."
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Ravager Zero

They were at the tavern again, and as always breakfast was becoming a lively affair. It wasn't just them though. Kjellson had shown up, three other mages trailing him. A number of the city guard were also in evidence. Apparently everyone was concerned enough to have a stake in the matter of mistress Sanna being sacrificed to summon a Principal Daemon. It made sense considering how much damage had been done to Hygar before Ruin had been banished by Nyrvan the first time. There was also great discussion about the nature of the magicks Kjellson had used the previous night—mostly by Kraytor.

"The magick was all wrong," he took a bite out of his food, swallowing before he continued. "It did not feel like it belonged to any of the canticles."

"The Runes don't belong to any canticle," Tybalt reminded him. "They belong to their own tables."

"This was different. He called upon the skeins like any other mage, but how he used them was wrong. It was like everything just worked for him."

"Ritual magick," Xan shrugged. "Is it really that different?"

"It shouldn't be."

"But it is," Kjellson's voice echoed behind Kraytor. "I'm a Naturomancer, shaman. A blue mage. I could taste the blood lingering on your spirit last night."

"So you know I'm dangerous."

"All red mages are—and there's a reason a lot of you don't make it to your elder years..."

"Just what are you trying to say, 'naturomancer'?"

Kjellson smiled. The gods you know are not the only gods of this world. "True magick is not constrained by schools and canticles."

"Ridiculous."

Kjellson shrugged, returning to his table.

Tybalt, Oan, and Marcus were busy discussing plans, covering any contingencies. It transpired from checking various maps the the southern section of the city was not far from the Broken Peak, where the stone circles sat. That 'not far' just happened to be straight up through several hundred yards of mountain. There were a lot of paths through that section, as it crossed the Lesser Kinsman district and the Forge district. Too many paths for all of them to cover. For all the oaths through the mountain however, there were only half a dozen that led out of the mountain proper. They formed a crude ring around the stone circles. It seemed that if they couldn't find Sanna quickly—within the day—then waiting in ambush at the stone circles was likely to be the best plan.

They still needed time to prepare, Thomas had agreed to show them all how to manufacture snapbows, and he himself would be carefully working on more grenades. They would be armed to the teeth for the coming battle—if their foes succeeded, they would need every ounce of firepower they could muster.
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...and whipped cream, a bottle of baileys, seven pairs of non-matching shoes, a combine harvester, a box of matches, and three indie rock bands drunk off their skull is technically acceptable on private property.

The Man They Call Jayne

Kraytor got up from his seat and walked over to Kjellsons table. He sat opposite him and took a bite of his food.

"How do you do it? How do you work outside the canticles? If they are not part of any of the schools then surely anyone can learn them if they are magickally inclined. I felt your power. Your control. I want that, need that. You were not wrong about red mages. We are dangerous. I am a Shaman, as you know. I am also a Chaosigan. I am made of conflict and opposition. I am not trying to be a good person like those others, but I am trying to control the thirst. Do you know what it feels like? The urge to simply take the life out of a mundane? The craving for death and destruction? As a Chaosigan that is what I crave because it feeds my power. While at the same time, my shamanism needs life to function, it draws on the life around me."

The great mage took a drink.

"So while you know red mages, you do not know my problems. I should not even exist, and yet here I am. My power is vast and my canticles combined can do things that should not be possible, but you. . .you have control and finesse. Teach me, guide me, anything. Anything that can draw me away from the thirst. Can you do that?"
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Scout Sergeant Mkoll

"Right, let's get to work then" Oan said to the table at large. "We'll get those snapbows and grenades made then hunt for Sanna, starting here" he declared, slamming a knife into the map to mark the start of their search area.

"If we can't find her by mid-afternoon then we rest up and prepare to hit them at night mid-ritual. I'm still trying to decide whether or not to include the guards in this though. We may need the back up, but they may interfere. Thoughts?"
Mkoll's Awesome Card Counter: +8

May the brave be remembered forever. Farewell our friends.

Quote from: Mabbz on June 03, 2011, 10:43:53 AM
Mkoll wins.

Quote from: LordDemon
Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to catch you.

[img]http

Ravager Zero

Kjellson looked sadly at the shaman in front of him. The truth was a painful instrument, but it was always necessary, in the realms of magick. It simply couldn't be helped. A person was either born a mage—born with Talent—or they were not. How they were raised, how they served in their formative years, that informed the colour of their magick. Canticles were determined based on a practicioner's base proclivities. There were oddities, of course. Naturomancers were one of a special handful. So were runesmiths, although they traded versatility for control. Unknowingly, of course. And then there were the Mystics, those who studied the very nature of magick; the Terramancers from the far east, those who studied the source of magick, bound and learned all there was to know about Essence. And this mage, this red mage, sitting across the table from him, wanted to change. How very difficult he could make things. Kjellson sighed.

"I can see how badly you desire change, shaman, but it is not possible. I cannot teach you finesse and control, because that is not the way my own magick works. I had finesse last night because you and your compatriots were so focused on your task. I had control because that is what all ritual magick is about—control. You know about the thirst, you know how it clouds your mind—but you do not understand that it will ultimately consume you, destroy you, or both. It cannot be stopped, any more than the motion of the moons above us. You can learn restraint, you can hold it at bay... but such restraint must come from within, not without. You must conquer your desires in order to stop them ruling over you."

Kraytor sat there, frowning. His voice had a dangerous edge. "So you will not help me?"

"I cannot help you, even if I wished to do so. The powers of a red mage are highly individualistic, and thus it falls to the individual to learn. I could teach you until the end of time, but if you did not accept and learn what I had taught, it would make no difference. The thirst is your curse. Your powers come with the greatest price—though you may well have more raw power than me, it is unrestrained, wild, savage. To tame your powers, first you must tame yourself."

"Enough riddles—speak plainly before I demonstrate my powers."

"Exactly," Kjellson sighed, giving the shaman a pointed stare.




"The guards here have not always been helpful," Tybalt supplied. "On the few occasions I've had to travel to Hygar, the guards seemed to have little presence. They don't get involved in anything that doesn't threaten the city proper. Violence happens, and if it gets reported to the guards, they'll investigate. Sometimes. Ruin—if our enemies are attempting to summon him—is a big enough threat they should respond in force."

"Should," Oan echoed.

"If they think it's a credible threat. I have no doubt Kjellson could help us convince them."

"Fine, we can leave that to Kjellson then; he has some pull with the mages guild too, so they might help us as well. If there's nothing else to go over, I think we should start searching. We could cover more ground if we split up, but we don;t want to stray too far in case we actually find mistress Sanna and her captors. Ideas on that?"
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Quote from: Kane
...and whipped cream, a bottle of baileys, seven pairs of non-matching shoes, a combine harvester, a box of matches, and three indie rock bands drunk off their skull is technically acceptable on private property.

The Man They Call Jayne

#986
"I cannot help you, even if I wished to do so". . .

Even if I wished to. . .the phrase rung over and over the Kraytors mind. Kjellson didn't WANT to help. He could see that Kraytor had a problem, could see that he desired change, something rare enough for a red mage, but he didn't WANT to help. Very well then. . .he would do it himself.  Why should he accept the limits that other people placed on him or said he was constrained to?
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Ravager Zero

Rolls

Tybalt was in the southern reach of Hygar, currently pacing the halls with Marcus and Kahlan. They were hot on the tail of something—something magickal in nature—but they couldn't be sure it was mistress Sanna, or somebody else. What they sorely needed was better information than what Kjellson had left them with last night, but her was now busy rallying support from mages guild. If it came to a fight the magick would be flying thick and fast. It might even prove to be the only way to take down Ruin if these madmen succeeded in their plan.

The trio rounded the next corner, Marcus in the lead, and crashed into someone they didn't recognize. Someone they couldn't recognize. An older man, very nervous looking, who had just dropped a music box with a discordant crash. Music whispered from the box, dark and sibilant, no lullaby this. But that wasn't what drew the attention of Kahlan and Tybalt. It was the way the music seemed to reverberate through the skeins around them. Somehow, someway, not the box, but the music it played had been enmeshed. Enmeshed with dark magicks.

Already the shadows were starting to grow, shifting despite the even light, twisting and turning into unnatural shapes, slowly rising out from the floor and walls. Tybalt drew against the Essence as swiftly as he could, attempting the invocation of Sanktu, intending to form circle that any minor daemons would be unable to enter. Something went wrong, very, very wrong, and the skeins burst away from him before wrapping around the slowly forming daemons. Except now they were fully formed, sleek fur, burning eyes, glittering teeth. Lupine shadows.

Marcus was quick enough to see the source of the problem, and brought his hammer crashing down on the music box. Sunlight burst from the strike, and thunder echoed down the corridor, temporarily stunning the daemons. But the music box remained, centered in a crater two feet wide, the floor of the corridor cracked in a crazed spiderweb around it. Something dark surged within it, and the lid snapped shut. Nothing dark or evil had yet survived a strike that powerful from the massive warrior's hammer.

Kahlan sprang towards the daemons, a dagger in each hand, whirling like a dervish. From what the others had told her of their battles, lupine shadows were the weakest of all the daemons they had encountered. That fact held true as the shadowy forms seemed to dissolve as soon as her blades touched them. It was over in seconds, Marcus's hammer obliterating the one daemon that tried to escape past them. Kahlan grabbed the old man who had dropped the music box by his collar and slammed him against the wall.

"What the hell was that?"

"S–Sanna gave it to me. I can't get rid of it. It's cursed."

"Clearly," Marcus picked up the box in his free hand, inspecting it carefully. After a moment he returned it to the older man. "What's your name?"

"Reithon. Aerys Reithon."

"Didn't Oan mention something about a Reithon when we got here?" Tybalt asked the others.

"He did," Kahlan confirmed, not quite sure when Oan had told them that tale—and about Emily, and... "You led them straight into an ambush!"

"Th–they told me to. I couldn't help it. They wanted the girl—just the girl—for something big. I don't know what. Just don't hurt me."

"I should," Kahlan quirked an eyebrow at Reithon, loosening her grip on the dagger in her right hand so he could see the missing little finger. "Because those people cost me one of my favourite fingers. There's all sorts of fun magicks you can do with ten fingers..."

"Kahlan," Marcus rumbled next to her.

"Fine. But we can't just let him go."

"Actually, maybe we should," Tybalt spoke softly, touching the music box under Reithon's arm. He was also carefully invoking Kiisari on both the box and his own dagger. Better to let him run and keep tabs on him. He might even lead them straight to where they wanted to go. when Kahlan didn't let Reithon down Tybalt gave her a pointed a look, nudging the skeins around them. She frowned at him, but let Reithon escape into the distance.

"Mind telling me what you're up to, runesmith?"

"I invoked Kiisari, the rune of binding sets on his music box—and on my dagger. We can find him again."

Marcus clapped the runesmith on the back, nearly causing him to stumble. "And you think he might lead us where we need to go. Brilliant."




Oan was not having an easy time with his search. Mostly because he was busy interposing himself between Kraytor and Emily. He'd chosen to bring Kraytor with them so he could keep an eye on the massive shaman. The short discussion he'd seen the man have with Kjellson over breakfast seemed to have changed something in the man. Hardened him somehow. Oan wasn't sure what it was, but he was going to keep tabs on it. Emily was with them because she'd insisted on following Oan—and she had proven herself able to handle critical situations the previous day. Quite handily too.

She was also with them because she was a mage—to some degree—and might be able to back up any magickal insights Kraytor had during their search. Or she might see danger before it was coming, something she said she'd been able to do in the past, just thinking it was good instincts. But it was more, she was a Blue Seer, and going over all he knew, Oan hadn't met one before, or read of one in at least ten years. She was perhaps the most unique person he'd ever met, and her sister was somehow the architect of everything that was happening right now, which was another reason for bringing her along on this entire quest.

But there was more going on now, trails to be followed, signs to be investigated. Kraytor's magickal talents had led them to the upper levels of the southern reach of Hygar—all three teams were exploring that realm now. But apparently the shaman was sensing other things as well, saying he could almost feel the heart of the world beating in the air above them. Something about the Stone Circles and the Broken Peak. Oan had done a little research. There were ten circles in all, arranged around a central dais. Each circle was carved from a different kind of stone, different forms and structures of pillars or claws surrounding their edges—some broken and aged, some looking freshly hewn. Each Stone Circle was dedicated to a God or Goddess. Each had a split surface, showing the duality of their respective canticles.

Beyond that there was nothing solid, but each circle seemed to form a focus, a crux of power for mages dedicated to a particular God. It might even have been the reason mistress Anatalya managed to overpower Kraytor in their duel; playing on his ignorance of local custom. But she'd been honourable, played the part well, perhaps she hadn't used Skol's circle, but another's. Perhaps even that of Kyron or Deaze. Something to investigate when Kraytor wasn't around. But for now, they had to follow the massive shaman's lead. He'd just picked up on something powerfully magickal ahead of them.

She was a mystic alright, but it wasn't Élise Sanna. She was far too young for that. She was just sitting in a small, circular room, legs crossed, eyes closed. Breathing. Meditating. Kraytor reached out to shake her awake, but drew his hand back as if stung. The air glowed and shimmered around the young woman. Oan was expecting a violent response, but instead, the massive shaman smiled. Emily leveled her gaze at him, silently asking what had changed.

"She is a shaman," came the simple reply.

"I am also a mystic, Kraytor, of the line Faeyon. I know why you are here. I felt your mind brush against mine this last night. She is my mother."

"But you're only..." Emily got a good look at the girl's face.

"Fourteen," the young woman replied. "My mother, the mistress Sanna, tells everyone she was lucky she could still bear a child at her age. I think the Gods may have interceded. I suppose you wish to know my name? Yes; I am mistress Ekatrina Sanna. I should like to help you on your quest. The men who took her are not nice people. I have been able to see through her eyes briefly—she is still within the city, not too far from here, I should think. I do not know exactly where, because I am not often in the southern heights."




Xan led his band of four through the upper portions of the southern reach, Rock and Atlas serving as a vanguard, Maggs covering the rear. They were expecting a fight—the dwarves were almost spoiling for one, in fact. But so far all they'd found was frustration, and a complete lack of Élise Sanna—or pretty much anyone, for that matter. It was enough to make Maggs suspicious at any rate. Even with the low traffic generally spoken of, they still should have encountered someone by now. That they had not spoke volumes about how much power their foes must have had over Hygar.

They spent the rest of the morning in a fruitless search through the upper levels, returning reluctantly to meet the others for a midday meal and exchange information in order to narrow down the search. Atlas made sure they passed the bounty board on the way back, taking down the notice about the imps, grumbling something about getting properly paid. Then he and Rock were off, paper in hand, with a promise to return within the hour—the poster of the notice did not live far from where they intended to meet the others.
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Quote from: Kane
...and whipped cream, a bottle of baileys, seven pairs of non-matching shoes, a combine harvester, a box of matches, and three indie rock bands drunk off their skull is technically acceptable on private property.

The Man They Call Jayne

"It would be a pleasure to have you along with us young miss."

Kraytor had almost instantly warmed to the young magess. Shamans were not the most common people, and meeting another person who could feel the heartbeat of the world was a joy he could not explain.

Still, such a fortuitous happenstance was not one to be taken at face value.

"Ekatrina, I trust you understand the nature of our quest, and its importance. For our safety, and yours, may I see your mind? I must know that there is no deception, even unintentionally. What lies ahead of us is dangerous and we have learned not to take chances."

Kraytor was for a moment concerned about what the girl might see in his mind, he had seen, and done things that would break her mentally if she saw them, or worse, felt them. He could protect her from it though, shield those thoughts and memories and feeling. He just needed to know that she was what she seemed to be. If so, he would enjoy her company, as a like minded soul.

This city was an odd place for him. All the people for him to feast upon if he so chose, yet all this power from the mountains, the earth. Maybe it was throwing him off. Out in the wilds he rarely felt so conflicted. People were bad for him in the long run. Still, he had had some ideas on his problems with the Thirst. He was trying to hold it back, restrain it. Maybe he needed to use it, control it and let it be free, embrace what it was without. . not fear, hesitation. Maybe then he would find balance.
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Mabbz

"We ran into Aerys Reithon," Kahlan informed everyone when they met up for lunch. "Tybalt put a tracking rune on that music box of his, so we should be able to find him later. How'd your hunting go?"