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Post by Baron Mordock on Dec 15, 2014 3:01:48 GMT
((From The Neutral Zone > Shorr > The Caves of Shorr))
It was called Dahlia's Vale. It was a lush, green expanse of rolling hills nestled comfortably between the mountainous outline of Avalendor's southern coast. It was often said that when springtime sleeps, it keeps its bed in the Vale. It was a land of sunlight and fresh air, a place of peace and of joy.
It was not where the Sorcerer and Master Evocation Specialist would find himself.
Instead, his teleportation spell would rip into the air several miles west of the paradise known throughout the empire as a place of comfort. He would just have to find himself on the rocky coast of the continent, which was infinitely more inhospitable. Here, the clouds always hung overcast and gray. Here, the shore itself was made of sharp, jutting stone which ripped at clothes and tore at feet. Here, the spray of the ocean was cold and harsh and painful, forcing one onto those same rocks which could tear a man to shreds like the teeth of a giant, long-dead shark. And here, the cliffs beyond rose as high as the misty cloud-line would allow, making the whole place seem like the lands of the damned.
This natural outcropping of depressing terrain once proved a vital defense point in wars long past. Now, it was an unpleasant backdrop in an already tiresome series of less than ritzy surroundings.
He stood in this hellish place, his fine silk robes whipping about his form as the winds from the ocean blew across the pebbled beach and the waves crashed all about, sending sea foam and spray flying all about. The Baron scoffed, turning his bald head to look beyond the coastline and out onto the turbulent sea. It was there that it had been spotted and there it would soon be again with a little guidance. The Waterspout.
Quietly, the grand sorcerer questioned the wisdom of involving the Wizardry. He knew little of them, having been lead to believe they were the stuff of myth and legend until very recently. As they say: all tales have at least the seed of truth. However, what they seriously lacked was a plethora of dependable details on what to expect when at last they were confronted with legend itself.
Reaching down, the Baron collected a small pebble and held it in his hand. Instantly, the item exploded into brilliant light, like holding a miniature sun. He cocked his arm back and gave the small item a heavy throw way out into the ocean, its light glowing brightly through the misty haze as it arced over the sea. He'd pick up another and repeat the process. Three stones. Three stones exactly.
Satisfied with what he had done, the sorcerer took a step back on the large rock he stood upon. Without looking, he addressed another nearby. "That should get their attention. I'd imagine they watch as carefully as the council... probably even moreso if they were to escape the sight of so many for so long..." he mused. "The waterspout will come. What do we say to them so they'll let us in?"
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Post by Saint Eleisia on Dec 15, 2014 15:47:01 GMT
Eleisia, unlike her sorcerous friend Jace, was unaccustomed to instantaneous travel and evaded if like the plague whenever possible; for one, she didn't possess any abilities to carry her between space, and so she trusted others to provide safe passage, regardless of their allegiance. When Midnight had first come to her all those years ago, she had offered the Priestess freedom, power and a message so clear all of Creation's edicts slowly melted away like a thin sheet of ice coating her brain.
When she'd dedicated herself to the dark goddess, she was instructed to systematically destroy what was once her former residence, laying waste to all of the Saint's former subjects. She had done so without hesitation or error, but was left in a burning husk of s citadel, with death fresh in the air.
Midnight had offered the woman a means of leaving that sorry place unharmed, in one solid piece. She conjured a doorway, a sort of dark corridor, by which the Priestess would step inside and reappear elsewhere in the world. Though Midnight's word became absolute that day, even Eleisia wouldn't trust taking a portal to another distance at that point. She walked through the burning rubble and outside, and had found her own way to leave her old home. This made her happy.
Over the years of traveling, scheming and living with her companion Jace and his guardian Shadow, however, she eventually had to give in from time to time and take one of their hands as they ushered her off to a clean, swift escape. Always she found the traversal unpleasant but effective. She still disliked it.
Today was no different. She'd bent and warped with Mordock's spell of travel, and by the time they reassembled on the southernmost point of the Eveliegh Empire, she thought she might hurl. Teleportation was much more violent than simply Shadow Walking...
She took in the wasteland by the seas with scrutiny, assuming the idiot had led them not to where the Wizardry made berth, but to the distant plane of Earth, where it was coterminous with the realm of Water. But gazing into the skies she knew better.
As the Baron cast his spells on sea pebbles, she grabbed onto the back of his cloak, almost instinctively, as he hurled them into the battering seas. Why she felt the need to keep him from falling off the uneasy terrain was buried deep in her old life. This, too, she cared little for. We're she sane and under no contrary orders, she might push the man in. But alas--
She glanced sidelong to meet the man's face, rarely taking him on squarely, and shrugged her shoulders. "We get creative," she mused with seriousness in her tone. "I trust Midnight's words that this 'Wizardry' exists solely because She says so..."
She knelt down and picked up a small rock, and stared briefly as the man illuminated his third pebble, and raised an eyebrow. "They are an ancient order, one whose legend is known far and wide, a legend even children can recite verbatim. 'They are inhuman'...I take that less literally than I would have in my youth, because I know now the cruelty of Man is far more wicked than magical beasts."
She gave the Master Evoker an appraising look. "Exactly how powerful are you, anyway? If you and your Council are purportedly the most influential Mages on the Continent next to the Namoran High Wizards--how do you know so little of these people? We improvise with what we know, and our speculation, and that is that. We gauge their power and mingle until they trust us. If they haven't already abandoned their humanity, of course. Midnight is relying on our diplomatic mission, so when they do come...I hope you are mentally ready for this. None of that pompous attitude with these people. I only hold back from striking you because my Mistress says so. They are under no obligations. And if legend holds true, they are an entire army of magic. So there's that, too."
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Post by Baron Mordock on Dec 17, 2014 20:26:01 GMT
The Baron's eyes never left the churning, chaotic sea. He had already adjusted to that his face did not incur the wrath of the spraying waves, though his robes whipped about almost majestically. He held his head high, chin lifted and chest out as though DARING the very forces of nature to contest his will. He was the Grand Evoker, master of the primal forces of the world, weaver of energies beyond the mere power of a simple body of water. Few would understand as he did what it was like to manipulate raw, seething power between their fingers like a weaver at the loom. He bore the scars from mishandling it in his youth and respected its strength, but knew now that he was its master, and not the other way around.
In that respect, he was to be taken very seriously. He was a maelstrom, he was a tornado, he was a one-man blight upon the earth should he desire to be and his defiance in the face of the raging ocean was evidence of that. When the woman asked exactly how powerful he was, he merely smirked but never turned his gaze to her. He was determined to keep up the image he had worked so hard to create for himself, that of the mighty sorcerer upon the mountaintop. He would, however, grace her with an answer.
"It is unwise to divulge the extent of your power to anyone..." he mused, eyes upon the storm. "Surely, you would not demonstrate the full force of your own magic to someone whom you do not fully trust, hm? You will, of course, understand why I do not extend that courtesy to someone who has repeatedly threatened to slide a blade into my heart."
He paused, considering the second part of her question. He crossed his arms and stroked his goatee lightly in thought. "As to why we know so little, that is vastly more complicated. There is still dissention amongst the Grand Mages as to if they exist at all, as they have managed to hide themselves quite well. However, unlike them, I saw fit to look deeper into the rumors and hearsay. They respond to threats of Wizardry activity as a matter of mere ceremony, or tradition. I deduced that if we were called upon to quell every threat, then there must be some truth to it. Some would call it paranoia, I would call it prudence."
He took a deep breath, almost a sigh. "I would question any who bore any sign of the Wizardry in word or appearance. I have gone toe-to-toe with creatures the likes of which would reshape the landscape of your very mind. I suspect it is an encounter in my youth with a mind flayer to which I owe my current... uneasiness in usual situations. But every time I got close, it would slip through my fingers. Until recently..."
Here, he turned his head at long last to speak directly to Eleisia, so that she might understand the weight of his words. "I captured a young man in cultist robes and questioned him relentlessly, as part of an assignment I was working on with Lord Aebra, the Abjurist. What I learned when we picked apart his mind was that the fabled Waterspout was more than what it seemed. Myth and legend tells us that it is tied to the Imperial Wizardry, yes, but few suspect just how closely connected it truly is..." He shook his head slightly. "I was able to learn how to call to it, but not how to enter their stronghold. Before I could get that far, the fool took his own life. Apparently, he had transmuted a small bit of poison into a false tooth and during our... er-hem... 'interrogation', he had mumbled the counter-spell and swallowed the concoction. I'll never forget his final words."
He looked out onto the waters once again, spotting a strange anomaly amongst the waves. Instantly, a knowing grin spread across his lips as the whirling, whipping, twirling, twisting waters drew closer.
"Long live the Wizardry..." he finished as the Waterspout churned its way in their direction.
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Post by Saint Eleisia on Dec 17, 2014 22:23:17 GMT
"Long life to them, indeed. Provided their usefulness to my Mistress goes warranted. I put little stock into them at this point; they could be imposters, perpetuating the legend they are of an ancient order thought to be only myth today. If so, tread lightly. If they prove genuine then we cross that bridge later.
A sudden disturbance below the waves startled her; the dark clouds overhead reacted in turn, followed by a sudden streak of lightning where both spirals met vertically. A few moments passed until the small whirlpool forming below burst off the surface and into the sky, creating a tall, twisting column of air and water. Mist formed about its base until it obscured the surrounding areas.
Eleisia gazed up in awe at the phenomenon, stepping back some more on the uneasy terrain, jostling the man adjacent to her into following.
"How did you learn to call this?" She hollered against the screaming winds, shielding her face as small pebbles, sand and other dangers were strewn about. When she was finally able to look beyond her own sleeve she struck the man's shoulder. "Look there! Beyond the spiral! Is that metal?"
From what she could see, which wasn't much, there seemed to be something hovering just at the center of the waterspout; perhaps an item, or even a vessel, she couldn't be sure, but whatever it was shed light. Many small orbs, symmetrically giving the impression it was a vehicle of great size. Eleisia wondered if this might be the Imperial Fortress of legend.
"We can't very well swim out and knock, can we?"
Then a thought came to her.
"Wait, they are wizards--or at least highly skilled mages...could they expect a display of power? Or if they truly are ancient would they mock us? "
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Post by Baron Mordock on Dec 19, 2014 18:34:54 GMT
For a moment, the grand evoker took in the majesty of the forces of nature tearing at one another in such a display of power. He spread his arms lightly, as though embracing the primal energies of the world as a wide, almost crazed grin crossed his features. His eyes beheld the fabled waterspout and observed what could only be the legendary floating fortress within. He was about to laugh until the woman at his side lost her balance and almost tripped him up as well. He quickly regained composure and reached out a hand to steady the plague-bringer by grasping her left pauldron.
"Clearly, we will need a path!" Baron Mordock roared over the whipping winds and torrential crashing of the waves. He looked toward the waterspout and considered his next move carefully, suddenly VERY aware of the potential for a thousand or more eyes all staring in their direction.
He had not been able to pry the protocol for entry from the mind of the cultist. Hell, he was barely able to delve deeply enough to learn exactly three light spells cast on coastline pebbles and thrown into the ocean would be enough to attract the Wizardry's attention. It was such a simple beacon. It amazed him that no wizard or sorcerer hadn't done it by sheer accident in the past. Perhaps they had. Perhaps that's how they found initiates? Whatever the case, the mystery of what to do next remained.
"A show of power??" he roared, attempting defiance despite his shaking voice. "Then they shall see it!"
Holding up a hand, the Baron called upon the very forces of the universe which was causing the madness around them. Instantly, the air around his palm grew vaporous and his eyes took on the tone of pure white snow. The temperature began to drop rapidly as snowflakes began to form around his hand and a bright, blue light began to glow.
With a loud "BRRAAAWWWWOOOWWWWWWW!!!!!" a massive beam of arctic energy erupted from the sorcerer's palm. It was easily many times larger than a standard Ray of Frost: enlarged, extended, and maximized. The surge of light raced forward, fast as lightning, across the water and aimed directly at the base of the waterspout. It would hit with little effort, instantly freezing a large swath of ocean between them and it, while at the same time freezing the mist and water at the foot of the twisting force of nature. Two twisting lines of ice would curl up along the whirlwind's perimeter, forming by nature a sort of double-helix staircase. The irony of its close resemblance to the grand staircase in the Rainbow Tower was not entirely lost on the Evoker.
Pulling his hand down sharply, the light was cut off. Though his fingers were currently frosted over, the Baron seemed very pleased with himself. "Let us hope that does not go confused as an attack... After you..." he chuckled, gesturing for Eleisia to step onto the bridge of ice he had just created. To his credit, he did not seem even slightly fatigued, even after having shown such a remarkable display of raw power. It would lead one to question exactly what kind of devastation a man like him was capable of inflicting. And how much he was still keeping hidden.
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Post by Saint Eleisia on Dec 21, 2014 15:43:52 GMT
Such a raw display of power!
The bright light caused Eleisia to shield her eyes, and once they'd readjusted she was forced to marvel at the Baron's magical aptitude; it was no wonder he was the Master Evoker, she thought quietly. She lowered her hand so that it rested just on her blade's pommel and eyed the smug man's face. She nodded and took a step forward, slowly at first to test the path Mordock had created.
"If they mistook that for an attack, their retaliation will come slowly," she remarked a moment later, and took a few more cautious steps closer to the Waterspout. Within, she could just barely glimpse the sight of the megalithic structure that served as the Fortess, and it was impressive, at best. "I believe it's a ship of some sort, though...all metal. Gigantic. I've never seen anything like this before. How do you propose we scale your staircase? There are no railings."
Once she reached the aforementioned helix, the woman stomped one heavy foot on the incline, and when it didn't crumble she smirked. "Again, this is impressive." She reared back her foot, nudging it against her other leg, and three spikes shot from the point in her boot. Kicking it into the ramp she began their ascent up the staircase, potentially to their doom.
"I do hope their accommodations are less unpleasant than I fear. With your display they should at least hear us out. What was My Lady thinking..? She must understand them better than I had initially thought. In that case...may the embrace of darkness guide us in our quest."
Grabbing Mordock's hand, she hoisted him up behind her, knowing his slippers would do little justice on his ice stairs. "Loose your pride as I assist you, or you might very well incur their wrath with feeble attempts to scale this thing." Kicking out her other foot another set of spikes appeared, and she climbed, climbed and climbed.
"Prepare yourself, though. We might face other tests beyond whatever doorway presents itself. I imagine at least three sentries. Maybe more? Just prepare."
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Post by The Imperial Wizardry on Dec 27, 2014 17:01:06 GMT
"That makes three..."
"Is that so? Rise, increase speed and activate the Foundation," came a dead-leaf voice from the bridge, the brass pipes used for communication giving it a cold, steely tone. The hooded figure looming over a dimly lit crystal orb nodded, and waved two sleeve-covered hands as a flash of light erupted from the ball's center.
"There are two of them," the figure stated, mostly thinking aloud, but aware the master would wish to know. "From the look of them, nobility and...a bodyguard? There is an aura about them--"
"I can feel it..." boomed the rasping, long-dried voice through the pipes. "It is an overwhelming fog that surrounds them. Move in."
A few moments passed, and at last the confines of the seer began to shake violently, as if they had just landed on a fault line. The ship was rising, slicing through the heavy ocean above and up into their man-made maelstrom. The fortress separated itself from the water with ease, hovering several yards over the surface effortlessly; on all sides wind and water whipped about them in a cyclone, shielding them from the elements, concealing the truth from the world.
The ship's many everbright crystals beamed through the thick, dark twister, allowing it a view of the shrouded surroundings--a tactic that would give them a beret advantage over enemies.
"They are on the shoals."
The robed seer waved his long sleeves over the orb again, and in response the shop and its waterspout cover skated across the waves, inching closer and closer to the shoreline at the base of the cliffs. Above, a thick mist had gathered, allowing both the fortress and land bound conspirators some privacy for their dark meeting.
The ship hovered there, the endless vortex spiraling about as it waited for the two on shore to make their introductions. When the Mage below cast his spell the vessel steeled itself as the fog froze, and a gateway had been created.
They were hoping for a warm welcome.
"The two are climbing the ramp," the seer said dully, speaking now directly into the brass funnel. "Your orders, Master?"
There was a metallic, airy cackle on the other end, barely audible but the fine acoustics made it easier to listen.
"A College Mage," the other breathed wistfully, with irritation rich in its harsh voice. "One of the Grand Wizards. They have managed after all the long years to make contact with us. Quite an effort should be rewarded. I had thought it was hopeless. Open the hangar, allow them passage."
The seer stood motionless for a moment, and then turned back to its crystal ball, which had gone black, though white clouds spun about its surface.
"Send him out to give them a proper welcoming," the ghost of a whisper cooed smugly, unleashing another series of dead laughs. "And an escort of three. The Grand Mage will prove formidable on his own. I can say nothing of the other, but I feel the aura resonates strongly within that one."
The seer glanced back at the microphone and tilted its hooded head.
"Master, I believe he is still preoccupied with the captive priest..."
"He is finished. Send him out. Send the envoy first."
Some more time passed and the hangar doors propped open somewhere along Mordock's ice ramp, and standing in the portal were three heavily robed figures. Their garb was green with gold trim, and each wore ornate, gilded pauldrons enhancing their shoulders to a more intimidating look. Their faces were shielded by strange masks from antiquity, and their hoods gave them a hollow shade...it wasn't clear if they were living or life-sized dolls.
One raised an arm, signaling for their guests to come this way, and they receded back into the ship, awaiting their arrival.
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Post by Baron Mordock on Dec 28, 2014 22:04:49 GMT
A smug little smirk crossed the Baron's features on the opposite side of his face from the plague-bringer. He didn't want to betray TOO much satisfaction with himself, even if he was rather pleased with the effect his ray of frost had had. He stepped easily onto the ice, unconcerned with losing balance or falling. This was HIS ice, and he was master here. A little confidence can go a long way to make yourself seem more capable, it would seem, as he had very little to no trouble at all crossing the ice bridge.
When they came to the foot of the double-helix spiral, he hesitated a moment. She offered her hand, the disease-witch, as if he needed assistance scaling a flight of his own creation. He had to keep from rolling his eyes or scoffing. However, there was a layer of strategy to what she did, and he understood that. She may be reasoning that it was to make him appear less feeble, but the reality is that it would appear a young woman is assisting an old man up stairs, not two powerful individuals using each other as a balance point where there are no handholds. He gripped her hand with his while the other lifted the hem of his robes lightly, in play of a regal stature even if he looked rather bumbling in his attempts to not trip over his own gown.
As they ascended, he would yell over the howling winds around them to the woman on his arm. "Into the dragon's teeth, then. Whatever 'trials' they have, I am confident in our combined ability to overcome. I do not, however, see great sense in waltzing so calmly into their den. Your mistress makes a great deal of assumptions in her belief that they'll be hospitable... or accepting of our presence..."
He paused just a moment or two before the hangar doors slid open, stopping Eleisia from taking an extra step in the process. They were greeted and signaled to continue, a good sign at the very least. He jerked his chin in their direction, indicating his understanding that they were to follow. Once past the threshold, the sound would abruptly crash into near-silence, save a muffled whistle of winds beyond and the pat-pat-pat of feet on marbled floor.
"And here we are... in the fabled waterspout! If those fools in their prismatic citadels could see this..." he mused, chuckling lightly at the imagined faces of individuals like Lord Aebra, so convinced of his power to keep everyone safe. He was picturing it drawn and stricken with horror at the sheer force demonstrated just in keeping this castle aloft. He also imagined wiping that self-satisfied grin off the Brass Duke's smug little face when he realized that this easily rivaled anything he had "built". Those thoughts made him smile cruelly to himself...
They followed the robed individuals in masks, ever-curious of their final destination...
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Post by Saint Eleisia on Jan 2, 2015 21:08:28 GMT
Eleisia rolled her eyes at the man's piety, his bold arrogance in the presence of Midnight's right hand...
She shrugged it off as something only his colleagues could truly appreciate, and ascended the spiral with apprehension; when the doors opened, she steeled herself for whatever may be waiting for them. She held her breath, but let it out with a heavy sigh of relief when the three robed figures waved them in.
"Amazing," she whispered, shaking her head at the ease of it. Her Mistress was very well-educated, so she felt guilty for having doubted her in any way. She turned as the man to her side spoke, and then nodded.
"It is like you said," she breathed, heaving herself off the ice ramp and onto the iron threshold. "A display of power ought to be enough for at least a humble, if not welcoming greeting. I just wouldn't imbibe in any beverages they offer..."
Once inside she brushed off her armor, fresh frost and water cascading to the floor in shimmering crystals. She spun on her greeters and put one hand on the pommel of her blade, and the other traced a rune over her black heart.
"Hail and well-met," she said firmly, cocking her head to Mordock, hoping he might show some form of propriety, as well. "I am Eleisia, Priestess of the Black Citadel and Head of the House of Shadow. We have traveled far in our pilgrimage in search of allies, and at the behest of my Dark Mistress I come offering you a parlay. The esteemed gentlemen to my left is a Grand Mage, the Evocation Master of the Eight. Please summon your master, as we come bearing a message of utmost urgency."
As undignified as it sounded, Eleisa didn't care. She wasn't as eloquent as a noble, or even a Wizard of the highest order. She simply spoke her orders, as instructed.
"Baron, perhaps you should handle this one. You are, after all, the deal-maker. Midnight's will was for me to accompany you as an ambassador. I will do what I can to forge this alliance, but I feel you might be the one with something of value to offer."
She looked him up and down. His raw power rippled off his body like a raging fire; she had never met a Grand Mage before, and that was impressive. Even she had to admit coming here would be far worse. She could feel the same presence, only much larger. There must be many strong Mages aboard this...vessel.
"Shall we?"
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Post by The Imperial Wizardry on Jan 2, 2015 21:37:04 GMT
Once their guests had safely made it inside with no hassle, the three robed figures stepped--or rather, they glided back--several feet. Their long robes went well below their ankles, though if one looked closely through the din, they would notice the creatures didn't once touch the floor at all.
They said nothing in response to the visitors' words, nor did they exchange any glances. They simply hovered and listened, absorbing everything that had to be said. Once that was over, they finally resumed breathing and continued in their scripted path; they spun around completely and in unison strode down a narrow hallway, lined from floor to ceiling in a rust-colored metal. They traveled for at least a half hour in silence, twisting and turning through several corridors, up a flight of stairs and even across an open walkway somewhere on the ship's exterior.
Eventually they came to a stop in a room the size of a wealthy office, though the area was anything but. the room was circular, with only one tall, arched window with checkered panes looming on the far wall, just above a large table facing outward. On the the surrounding walls tables had been set up; some boasted vast piles of books, while others had dried herbs, vials of varying shapes and sizes, and small opened chests littering the surfaces. But most impressive of all was a large statue at the center of the room, beneath a wrought iron gate built into the floor. The pit was just large enough for the metallic structure, though why it was locked below was anyone's guess.
The three figures loomed over the grate ominously, just staring through black eye holes in their masks towards the two visitors, until a loud click sounded from far off, perhaps in another room. Here they dispersed, taking point in three different areas against the walls. Nearest the office desk, hovered beside a small, barely noticeable doorway, one of the creatures bowed its head low.
A moment later, the door came open.
A new figure strode out of a seemingly black room, and from the entryway only his face had been visible. He stepped into the grey light reflecting off the waterspout just outside the window, revealing himself. He wore a studded black robe, made presumably for utility; it bore many belts along the sleeves to provide some armor, while at the same time concealing any skin but his face. Even there the man had a large collar that obscured his mouth slightly, and his messy hair took some light away from his pale face.
When he reached the desk at the base of the window, he set a hand freshly caked in blood on the back of his apparent chair. For a moment he examined a small leaflet on the desk, as if he may have forgotten a detail or two, and then tapped it once with a sharp, bloody fingernail before lifting his gaze to meet the others.
The door he'd come through slammed upon his mental command and he sat, beckoning the two forward.
"Look not to the skies," the man said dreamily, with a slight, mocking suggestion of a chuckle. "Nor to the depths below...
"You have come far to simply waltz into the lion's den," he finally said directly, removing the packet and setting it inside a drawer. "Has the Rainbow Tower come to finally acknowledge us? Or have their ranks finally been corrupted...you travel with an illness, Grand Mage. What do you want?"
His eyes shifted between the two, and his brow furrowed significantly at the "illness". "It has been many years, Saint Eleisia. You look well for a dead woman."
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Post by Baron Mordock on Jan 3, 2015 23:36:12 GMT
The Grand Mage was nearly shocked when Eleisia simply blurted out everything about themselves and their purpose. To greeters, no less. Clearly, she was meant for the battlefield and not for politics. Of course, if he tried to correct her, he knew she'd probably take great offense to that. Quite the balancing act, this. Offend his travelling companion or offend the mages? He was about to say something when the three hovering creatures slowly turned and began to glide away. He immediately fell into step, his eyes fixed on the backs of their welcoming party. He would, however, listen carefully to the plague-bringer and do his best to conceal his pleased grin when she admitted he was probably the better for this task of negotiation and guile. "Clearly," was all he'd permit himself to say on that matter. Let her take it as she will.
As they strolled along, the Baron's attention would snap from one thing to another. Every corner could hide an enemy or an arrow intended for your back. He kept appearances, yes, but that didn't prevent his eyes from darting this way and that, mentally mapping their progress in case escape became necessary. He had a strong feeling that these mages were no fools and had already put into place a number of magical wards to prevent the use of his powers against them. Hell, even the energy of the rooms felt alien and strange as they walked along. He was beginning to get the sense that they were intentionally attempting to mask their path by the time they reached the outdoor walkway. This place was a maze, and it would not be surprising if they lead them the long way about in case they did try to run - so their hosts could take a shorter path and cut them off later. It was an admirable tactic, the Baron had to admit, but he wasn't going to be so foolish as to follow the same path leaving as they did coming.
Finally, the silent things lead them to what could potentially be an office space. It bore none of the lavish refinements that the Baron enjoyed, nor any of the particular specialties of the other grand mages, but it had the basics - tables lined with one's work, a desk for the beaurocratic nonsense, and the overall sense of someone trying to make you feel small. While the chests and vials certainly drew his attention, it was the grated section of the floor that locked away some kind of unmoving form. The Baron would have liked to have taken a step or two closer to get a peek at what they felt needed to be kept under lock-and-key, but just as soon as the notion took him, so too did the door open and they were greeted.
He listened to the man's introduction of sorts, even noted his interesting greeting to the warrior-priestess beside him. He'd note that away for himself to look into later.
Before Eleisia could speak, the Baron would side-step in front of her to take center-stage as it were. He bowed graciously, his robes making him appear more impressive that he might have been otherwise. "News travels fast, it would seem..." Baron said with an air of grandeur, attempting to appease the man to whom they spoke. "...You have us at a distinct disadvantage, as we have yet to be properly introduced. In the interest of good courtesy, I shall present myself first. I am the Baron Mordock Baal Azmodan, Master of the College of Evocation, Keeper of the Queen's Seal, Lord of the Fortress of Infinite Energy. You seem to know my companion already..."
The Baron slowly stood, his chin held high and his chest lifted in attempt to hold a more regal pose. With his clothing, he could almost pull it off. "Before we discuss what business we have here, might we know with whom we are speaking, and what influence he holds? In the interest of civility, you understand."
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Post by Saint Eleisia on Jan 5, 2015 19:58:10 GMT
Eleisia filed in behind Mordock as they dove deeper into the bowels of an ancient fortress only an hour ago she had thought was simply legend. She marveled at everything but maintained a sharp eye; like the Baron she steeled herself in unfamiliar territory, and had to ensure a safe exit were their welcome worn out in the near future.
Passing sealed doorways the woman pondered what strange and amazing things could be found beyond, but their mission currently was to speak with someone in authority. It took some time navigating the winding corridors, but eventually they arrived somewhere with culture, unlike the cold antiseptic metal hallways, and she noticed she let a sigh pass through her lips.
As Mordock moved in to briefly examine the colossal structure beneath a grate in the floor, Eleisia watched as an obscured doorway at the room's far end had opened and someone came to greet them. She stiffened in place with a hand on her hilt as the man moved to his desk, and she opened her mouth to soak when at first he addressed her...
The Baron had cut off that opportunity and instead waited for them to speak. Again, he was the politician, after all. But once they had gone silent, she went for it.
"How do I know you?"
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Post by Lord Biru on Jan 5, 2015 20:20:21 GMT
"I seem to have lost myself in my work far longer than I'd thought," the man said, running a blood-soaked hand through his messy hair; he glanced upward to Eleisia and smiled. "My appearance had changed much since we last met, I know. Take that as a sign our craft is the only true art any aboard this vessel truly possess. Even when the likeness stares you directly in the face,"
He trailed off for a moment, passing a sidelong glance out the window before remembering he wasn't alone in his study anymore. From their look, he wrinkled his nose and bounded around his desk to inspect the two more closely.
"I am Lord Biru," he said at last, with a cold tone enunciated as the word was formed. "At least partially. I am a Simulacrum, created in his image and fueled by both the original's blood and memories. I was designed as part of an experiment by my masters in an effort to recreate the conditions in which Lord Biru created the first Blood Elemental. Since the original was mum on account of being unable to speak to them, I was born. As you can probably guess, I wasn't created perfectly. Side by side, we look nothing alike. I have no memory of the man's life, or his methods either. A failure. But I possess his power, and so my role here is Inquisitor.
"So you came for a purpose?"
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Post by Baron Mordock on Jan 7, 2015 4:35:46 GMT
The Baron watched carefully. He didn't know this man, or what manner of darkness he kept within his soul. All he knew was that his hand was coated in blood, a blood which did not seem to dry at any point while they spoke. That alone was a bad sign, not to mention this was a person of some influence within the Wizardry. Despite his concerns and his lack of knowledge, Mordock kept his head held high so that he might at the very least exude an air of confidence.
He remained silent as Eleisia asked her question, though an eyebrow did lift in curiosity. This woman did not recognize the man, but he certainly knew her. It occurred to Mordock at that point just how little he actually knew of the Goddess' lackey and made it a point to do a thorough background check of her once he was again situated in his favorite tower back at the Fortress of Infinite Energy.
The evoker listened as the man spun poetic about how his organization's magic was the only true art (complete rubbish in the Baron's eyes, since he could probably reduce this place to rubble single-handedly). He did his best not to roll his eyes or scoff, since he was playing the politician right now. Instead, he would merely nod appreciatively, attentively, to give the impression that he was enraptured by whatever nonsense the blood-coated man had to say. Always play to your host's hubris, Mordock believed. When their heads become swollen, they drop their guard.
The man approached, causing Mordock to tense slightly. He stood his ground, of course, but he kept one wary eye on Eleisia. If she made a move to strike, it might jeopardize their purpose here. He knew she was a capable warrior, else the Dark One would not likely keep her employ, so he was counting on her not to leap unless a genuine threat was present. But as stated... he hardly knew her.
The man outlined WHAT he was, as opposed to WHO he was. A mere experiment, a shadow of a dead man. While that did little to put the Baron's mind at ease, even he would have to admit himself impressed. This was some extremely high level necromancy, to create something which could take on a fallen warrior's mind and method and retain some semblance of humanity and intelligence for as long as this one had apparently been around. Of course, this thing before them was a FAILED experiment, as it did not have the memory of the man, but that did not remove the impressive nature of the thing. Add to that the role it was assigned, that of inquisitor, and one could not ignore the weight it carried.
When it finally stopped prattling on, the Baron cleared his throat to speak, attempting to distract the focus of the creation away from "Saint" Eleisia. It was clear he had some manner of grudge against her, from the way he looked at her and his posture. Best to keep the matter away from hostile history and narrowed to current events.
"It is wise of your masters to have you meet with us then," the Baron said, gesturing airily with his hands as he spoke in order to enhance the power of his words through simple body language. "Surely a man of your rank and responsibility will be able to see quite plainly when we speak the truth. See that we are sincere."
The Baron turned slightly, gesturing to the room around them. "Am I to take it this is your office of sorts? I see no instruments of torture or other means of persuasion, so that is a good sign at least!" he said with a smile, carefully making sure that the man saw that he did. They were all friends here.
"I'm especially impressed by your collection of herbs. Rare potions are a hobby of mine... BUT time for that later. You've asked a direct question and it is time I answered. Yes, he have indeed come with a purpose in mind."
He looked to Eleisia, to gauge her thoughts and feelings about his method before focusing again on "Lord Biru", if that was indeed the appropriate thing to call this imperfect copy.
"My colleague and I are here to arrange a meeting with the leaders of the Imperial Wizardry... on behalf of the Dark One..." he said in a low tone, slowly, that the words might come across not as a threat but still hold the seriousness of one. "She, and that is She with a capital S, is very interested in your organization. Why? She did not say. As to what this meeting is to entail... again, She did not say. She has merely promised to meet us here once the meeting has begun..."
Here, he paused and lowered his head slightly. The next two words he put special emphasis upon so that the man might understand how important they were and what they meant. He said them strongly, purposefully, and without wavering.
"... in person," he finished. Here, he fell silent, watching what the man did next.
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Post by Saint Eleisia on Jan 8, 2015 0:20:09 GMT
Several thoughts raced through the woman's mind all at once, so much so she lost herself in the conversation coming to life between the politician and...
"Lord Biru..?" she stammered, and for a moment lost her voice. Having such a long life, she had many encounters over time, but only few stood out as truly spectacular, or significant in any way. She tried to pinpoint just where the name came from, as it was familiar--biting at her. And once she took a closer glance, blurred her eyes, it came to her. All else seemed redundant.
"They made--made a Simulacrum? You...are a product of high necromancy, forbidden to the Natural Order. Why of all people would they replicate him? You...he was a monster..."
She stepped back some, not truly ready to make what else she knew a public spectacle. Instead, she gritted her teeth and straightened herself, and followed their original path back to a more pleasant direction. "Ahem. Forgive me. I was simply saying, time would be better suited researching his books, not trying to achieve the impossible. Biru is dead." That was right, dead. She knew it, as she made sure in her time to be present, as it were. Their mockery stood before her now, not a man, but as an insult. She despised the Wizardry that hadn't existed only hours ago, and wished her Mistress would destroy them all.
"She will be here in due time, I promise you."
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