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Post by Rosencrance Viers on Apr 16, 2015 10:22:34 GMT -5
Unfortunately for him, Rosencrance Viers was focusing much more intently on what was going on inside his body than what was going on outside it for a brief moment – if the Arc had any hope of escape, he needed his body to be in working order as fast as was possible for his Arcanum-fueled power structure, and therefore his mental focus was on multitasking the healing processes that were taking place in numerous locations throughout his physical body. His focus, combined with his lack of energetic presence, which had the benefit of hiding Viers from detection extremely well, but also effectively blinded him to energetic fluctuations around him, meant that Es’s arrival and subsequent leap went unnoticed by the wounded Arc: that was, of course, until she landed feet first on his fucking back.
The sound that came out of the Arc’s mouth when Es’ boots unexpectedly crushed down on his low back, forcing the air he had been holding in his lungs out into the snow his face was currently buried in, likely made the man sound like a constipated hippo, but perceptions were the least of Viers’ worries at the moment. As soon as Es landed, Viers could sense it was her without turning his head to see her. Inwardly, Viers cursed himself for not paying enough attention: with her so close, the Arc could sense his former comrade’s Arcanum with unchecked clarity, making her presence a persistent buzzing in the back of his head: a buzzing he might have noticed earlier if he hadn’t been so single-mindedly focused on healing himself rather than paying attention to his surroundings. The man had miscalculated by taking Dragos’ indisposed state for granted and letting his tactical attention lapse, and now he was paying for it. Luckily, the Arc had managed to accomplish the majority of the healing he had hoped to get done before Es landed on him – that fact would make whatever his next move ended up being substantially easier than it might have been with the back of his skull exposed and his arm lacking a few crucial tendons. Another lucky development was that, while the female Arc’s impact blew the snow clear of his position and effectively buried Viers further into the ground due to its kinetic force, the man’s body was so overrun with Arcanum in its outer structure, due to his healing attempt, that the majority of the concussive force that could have caused even more injuries was automatically dissipated and converted, lessening the impact to what amounted to a hard shove on Viers augmented physical structure. Es was holding him down, just like she intended, but she hadn’t managed to break his back in the process. Viers reminded himself to thank whatever deity might actually exist out there for small favors when he was out of his present predicament.
Viers noticed that Es was following her usual pattern – she exerted enough force to incapacitate her victim, but then gave them a chance to surrender peacefully. The woman was predictable in this way, at least to a point: the female Arc’s temper was legendary, and should it be sparked, the concept of giving her adversary quarter would go completely out the window, which usually resulted in detached limbs and extreme pain. Therefore, Viers knew he had to walk a fine line – he couldn’t beat Es in a straight fight, but he likewise couldn’t surrender just yet. Viers had to play along while he weighed his options, so momentarily the Arc let his body go limp under the force of Es’s magickally-amplified weight and replied to her words.
“I’ve lived this long because I do what I have to in order to survive, Es – considering that your little house-boy attacked me, I don’t really see it as a stupid choice.”
Viers was fairly confident he wouldn’t be able to talk his way back into Es’s good graces, but at the very least he could take the opportunity, while the dragon wasn’t around to defend himself, to cloud the issue somewhat and, perhaps, get the woman to relax her hold a bit.
“You should tell the Mage he needs to teach this new generation of Arcs some discretion – that makes two of them that have attacked me unprovoked. I didn’t even deserve it this time.”
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Post by Dragos Syrkhan on Jun 19, 2015 19:57:20 GMT -5
Pain. It began to crawl over his body like a plague of rapidly multiplying insects, and while he devoted the bulk of his Arcanum's function to healing, he could do little to stave it off. Held far from upright only by his knees and his one functional arm, his back arched and he trembled, fighting the urge to curl into himself. His back rose and fell as his lungs drew in deeper and deeper breaths of cold, biting air, only to spit them out again in growling, hot torrents of steam. Eyes encompassed by golden light glared down at the snow beneath him, but looked at nothing. Instead, more and more of his attention devoted itself to the burning core of molten fury in his chest; his only saving grace from the pain. Achreios. Fureya. Now Viers. Black and bone-revealing fingers clawed into the snow, and the tangible resistance served as sufficient replacement for their throats. It was in tandem with the crescendo of this hateful symbolism that the Arcanum tugged on his dislocated shoulder, pulling it back into place. There was a distinct pop, but he didn't hear it. Instead he only grit his teeth to the point of nearly shattering them, and let out an all too inhuman growl. He'd find a way. He had to. They would---wait.
The Son's gaze lifted at the roaring boom of movement, and only now did he become aware of the area's newest entry's metaphysical presence. An already furrowed brow tightened at the blur of green light and, when paired to what he picked up, immediately recognized the signature. Es. Achreios. It didn't matter; he could make sense of where she or he was going immediately, and what with the hurry, he new why. The snow in the grip of his clenching fist hardened into diamond-like ice beneath the pressure of his anger and Arcanum-enhance grip before he dropped it, making to shakily stand upon legs that protested from various, burnt locations. She was after Viers; he was still around, and if that was the case, this hadn't been a total failure. Before he'd even flexed the muscles and fingers of his left arm, ignoring the broken-yet-healing bones of his clavicle and ribs, the Magi around him rebalanced itself from the dissipating trend it had established in the absence of his intent. The Sphere around him stirred into life in an all too literal way, and the air around him began to whip up snow chaotically.
It took only seconds before, between the mix of kinetic energy and forced air pressure, that the Sphere rose from the surface of the snow in a maelstrom of whipping wind, with the Son at its center. Arm's slightly aloft to either side and his feet hanging beneath him, he pressed forward, slowly at first, accelerating to a mildly rapid movement, at least in comparison to Es's lunge. Leaving the upright, cooling lance of stone as a testament to his redirected fury, he approached the pair in silence, both by sight of the woman's orientation in flight, and tracking her signature. Soon enough he slowed to a stop, hoving in the air directly above them. Much to his pleasure, he found the man beneath the woman's boots. At least the greasy bastard hadn't slipped away. Were they speaking? He didn't care. The digits of either hand cracked anew, ruining the advancement of their healing thus far, as his digits curled and dug into the palms of his fist. The only question now, was if he cared enough to let Es get out of the way before he started in again.
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Post by Es Kauvrian on Jun 22, 2015 12:23:46 GMT -5
Es Kauvrian ground the heel of her boot into the prostrate Viers’ spine as he professed his innocence, however sarcastically he might have done so. If the female Arc were less of a stoic figure, she might have snorted at the insinuation that Viers had been in no way to blame for his current predicament – Es knew the man far too well to believe his assertion for a second.
”I’ve no doubt you did something to deserve Dragos’ aggression, despite your feelings to the contrary. I should have guessed you’d at least try to provoke him as soon as I wasn’t around to watch – it’s my fault you were able to succeed. Now, are you going to keep trying to run? If so, I’ll make sure that your legs won’t help you travel anywhere, at least temporarily.”
Es was prepared to let Viers up if he decided to display some form of cooperation, but until he did, the female Arc made no move to release any part of the pressure she was putting on his back to keep him face-down in the dirt. Kauvrian knew Viers well enough not to underestimate him, and while she had seemingly dismissed his ‘survival’ argument out-of-hand, the woman knew that something about the interaction between the Dragon and the Arc had set off Viers’ finely-honed fight-or-flight response – he would had to have tried to escape for things to progress as far as they did in such a short time.
The Arc rolled inclined her chin and rolled her eyes toward the sky as she felt Dragos hovering overhead. Es didn’t say anything to Dragos directly, but the man would feel her acknowledgement. When they all got back to the Cache, the Arc had every intention of debriefing Dragos about the situation and what had happened during her absence, but now, in the open, was clearly not the time. He could hover there for the moment and act as a looming threat – all the better to persuade Viers to be less tight-lipped.
Kauvrian ground her heel down again for good measure as she re-fixated on the back of Viers’ head.
”Now, in the briefest terms possible, Viers, tell me what you are doing here and what you know.”
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Post by Callixta Trëguere on Jun 23, 2015 20:54:59 GMT -5
Callixta couldn't quite keep the smirk from twisting at her mouth when Søren volunteered to be their transport. The dizzying sensation of fast-travel was more or less felt from a distance: the mage had long since evolved to defy the sometimes-unpleasant effects of being forced through various channels of reality. Gloved hands clenched into fists when, at the third "waypoint" they burst into the barren winter landscape― far enough away from the Trade City that the haze couldn't protect them from sunlight reflecting off perfect white and utterly blinding for it in comparison to the Atrium's very controlled lighting.
That ground support had completely vanished from under them was not lost on Callixta, but then neither was the sudden output of magickal energy from her companion that enclosed them and acted immediately as a buffer to render them both able to hover safely and in full view of the interloping threesome that were less than thirty yards away.
The jewel-eyed mage crossed both arms across chest, the amber tone of her irises scarcely visible between lashes of jet. The line of her chin dropped and a sidelong glance was flashed to Søren before her full attention refocused on the trio.
"One is missing." Her words were murmured, dropped in tone to prevent them from carrying out across the snowy wasteland.
Callixta sized up the situation probably about as quickly as Søren did, the deep blue of the jewel recessed into the worked collar 'round her neck bleeding into black as she began to tap into a very familiar energy source. She didn’t bother to obscure what she was doing: let them realize they were dealing with high-level magic-users.
"She could still be here, simply not visible."
It went without saying that Søren was probably right about what was happening, but she wasn't close to ruling out the more important threat capitalizing on an attention-grabbing spat to do some damage all on his lonesome.
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Post by Søren Kiirkegré on Jun 25, 2015 16:30:50 GMT -5
The air behind Es Kauvrian blackened and tarred, swishing and swirling in coalesced, shadowy movements so clearly unnatural they would be impossible to miss. The sight might momentarily remind Dragos, who the only one with line of sight to witness it, of the acrid, tarry smoke that came along with a recent explosion: the phenomena would be hard to mistake for anything but an ominous sign, and the floating Dragon-man would only have a second or two to prepare before the silent maelstrom resolved into two floating figures: both female, and both obviously not of the friendly variety.
Søren kept the two women suspended in the air with a moderate flow of magical energy – she had prepared for them to miss the ground, and therefore made it look as if they’d appeared in midair on purpose, despite the truth being quite to the contrary. Floating at a lower height level than Dragos himself, approximately ten feet to Es’s rear, once the two fully resolved Søren would give a significant glance in Callixta’s direction, wait a beat, and then release her hold on the other woman’s midair support – it would be up to the other Counselor to keep herself suspended, because Søren didn’t want to waste the energy trying to look after both of them. Søren herself floated downward with the grace of a falling leaf, her boots touching down at the very top edge of the loose snow from the very recent avalanche: strangely, the woman didn’t sink into the wintery mix like she should, instead she was able to stand on the loose ice crystals like they were solid ground.
Arms hanging loosely at her side, the dark-haired former Guardian made no attempt to keep the smirk off her face when Callixta whispered her way – she was right that the female was missing, but Søren also knew that Callixta’s voicing of that fact meant that she already had a plan in mind to deal with it. The usually double-bodied Counselor, when put together, had incredible foresight, and therefore Søren would leave that part of management of their situation to the silver-haired woman and turn to her own task – doing the talking.
”You know, that’s a great question. Why don’t you all answer it?”
The Counselor’s silky, mocking tone slithered in right on the tail end of Es’s half-barked statement, changing the tone of the situation quite markedly. Søren made no attempt to disguise the threat in her voice, just as she and Callixta both were in no way trying to hide the amount of magickal energy they were tapping in to. Søren, for her part, already had more of the swirling, black, fog-like coalescence that had accompanied the women’s arrival gathering at the tips of her fingers as she forcibly extended her connection to the guardian space, preparing to draw out a force that had, at one point, been hers to freely access, but that now she was barred from using . . . which had been only a minor setback for the former Death Guardian. The woman’s red eyes drifted up to Dragos’s suspended form as her smirk extended in its mocking ferocity, her voice sliding through the air again like a snake.
”And while you do, keep in mind that you’re being asked by a representative of the Sigma City Council whose territory you are currently disrupting, so try not to waste my time.”
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Post by Rosencrance Viers on Jun 26, 2015 13:08:32 GMT -5
Rosencrance Viers growled under his breath as best he could, considering the way that Es’ artificially-enhanced weight was crushing the air out of his lungs. The predicament he was, for once, not one that could have been avoided by making different choices, and if Viers hated anything in life, it was the feeling of being railroaded into a bad situation. Normally, Es’ presence would have caused the male Arc to relent and go along with her designs, both because he understood his chances against her and because he understood that, at her core, Es meant Viers no real harm. However, even despite being disadvantaged one-on-one, Viers was also injured and outnumbered: the seemingly hopeless nature of the situation might have made many tactically decide to relent. But Viers, in this case, broke even his own usual mold.
Viers was angry
Not that it mattered, in that moment: enraged or not, Viers had no immediate way of escaping Es or striking back at either her OR the hovering Dragos. So the Arc focused on healing, and when Es made her little quip as to his involvement, Viers struck back at her in the only way he was currently able.
”Go fuck yourself, Kauvrian.”
For the moment, Viers decided to bide his time, and while that decision might have externally looked like he was giving up, the meaning behind it struck a decidedly different chord, at least inside the Arc’s anger-clouded mind. Resistance was resistance.
What looked like a stopgap measure at first quickly became a more realistic strategy, however, when Viers became aware of some new players in the game. Es question didn’t prompt the male Arc under her boots to break a sweat trying to answer quickly, but before Viers could even begin deciding on the most appropriate way to rephrase his earlier statement, another female voice cut in, adding an immediate electric current of tension to the air. In spite of his predicament, with none to witness it, Viers smirked, and kept himself momentarily quiet. Until now, Viers had been buried under a cascade of bad luck.
Maybe the Arc was about to cash in his karma and catch a break.
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Post by Dragos Syrkhan on Jun 26, 2015 13:13:44 GMT -5
Es seemed to have the situation under control in what would be a laughably literal way, were it not for the Son's intentions. There was no time to take pleasure in the apparent suffering of his quarry; no time to bask in pride at the difference of their positions now. The man had almost eluded him once, a situation saved only by the woman's timely arrival. Still. There was no way that Dragos would allow the man to slip between his fingers now, and as the pain and fury centered in his chest began to boil over, he settled on whether or not to simply toss the woman out of the way before he finished this little matter and crushed the life right out of the slippery little bastard.
Just as muscles tensed and he'd descended the smallest amount of millimeters in his levitation, the background of his awareness sprang to life with a foreign signature; twice now in just as many minutes, it seemed. A half-blacked brow furrowed as his chin snapped up in the direction of the anomaly, golden-encompassed eyes gifted with the sight of a growing, swirling mass of black. They'd dallied here too long, and his most immediate suspicions directed themselves at the distant Trade City; they'd come looking for the source of the earlier disturbance. Never mind, of course, the avalanche that had occurred outside its walls. Already taut and stony features didn't shift as the two figures appeared from the inky mass of energy, and digits remained tense. The slightest turn of his head was the only sign that he regarded either in separate observation, but in doing so, he was none too alleviated to find that both were quick to tap into drawing upon energy. Shit.
Now was the moment to decide. What with having been more than removed from his peak condition that he cared to admit almost even to himself, he recognized the disadvantage. These were fresh combatants, and ones that could do more than just talk if the amount of energy they drew on was telling at all. Es, Achreios, whatever the thing was, was currently occupied with keeping Viers pinned, and the Son was sure that given the slightest leeway, he'd throw the pair to the wolves. Immediate, aggressive confrontation was his hope at achieving a positive outcome, given that the two seemed so intent on initiating a dialogue. Yet even he couldn't cast aside that both were already preparing for a very different approach, and every instant they continued increased the urgency with which the situation needed to be addressed. He fought the urge to look down to what could have been Achreios for guidance, and somewhere in the back of his thoughts, cursed himself for having the urge at all.
The moment to decide had come and gone, and after only a moment's lingering, while the serpentine words of the dark-haired woman still hung in the air, Dragos slowly descended toward the snow and ice beneath him. Loose particles whipped up even as he loosened the manipulation of the Sphere in favor of his next, perhaps momentarily disguising his actions. The snow beneath his feet was stirred into life by Magi, and concentrated inward upon itself to form a small plate on which he could comfortably stand, the increased surface area saving him from dropping down for the moment. Without looking to Es, his muscles shifted, and his stance widened as his back arched forward, his knees bending slightly. He was bracing himself, even as partially skeletal digits came to rest in tight fists before him. His chin dipped down, and the muscles of his jaw line went taut. A furrowed brow was his only answer to the woman, and he waited, golden eyes burning furiously as his focus shifted to compensate for the pain in his body. After all, at some point, he'd halted the regeneration of his wounds, and just like the Sphere around him, the Arcanum in his veins sank into an eerie silence of preparedness. He was an animal ready to pounce, without reservation of showing it, no matter whom the pair identified themselves as, but he would give Es one--and only one--chance to take the lead before he settled things his way once again.
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Post by Es Kauvrian on Jun 27, 2015 8:26:37 GMT -5
Es Kauvrian’s head snapped towards the sound of the new voice so quickly that, had she been of ordinary human make, her neck surely would have snapped from the force. Inwardly, the female Arc cursed herself for being lax – she should have sensed the interloper’s arrival the second it occurred, but Es was far too focused on getting what she wanted out of Viers to have been paying close attention to the energy pathways in their immediate vicinity. It was her mistake.
Es’ thoughts raced and her pupils dilated as she tried to process every bit of relevant information about her sudden change in circumstances all at once. While her conscious mind didn’t recognize the women, the Arc’s connection to Achréiøs did: Søren, a former student of the Mage, and the female magister from Risis who, as far as the Mage had been concerned, had been swallowed along with the city. Both of them had a connection to the Mage, and immediately Es realized that knowledge was her best chance of upending the situation. Kauvrian forced her lips into an uncharacteristically wide, mocking smirk, turning her body towards Søren, who was speaking, while still making sure to keep her feet planted firmly on Viers’ back. Es lowered her voice slightly from her normal and added a touch of magical reverberation to it, deepening the sound further as she spoke in response to the dark-haired woman’s question, the Arcanum in her body flashing into her eyes, forcing them to immediately shift color from their usual bright green to a deep, piercing red, not unlike those she was currently looking in to.
”Søren: Didn’t I teach you that it’s a waste of time to ask questions you already know the answer to?”
Es Kauvrian clenched her teeth together in a grin, but behind her carefully- rafted features, the woman was tapping into her own Arcanum connection and rerouting it, searching for a point connection that would allow her the ability to coordinate what she was about to do. Reaching carefully behind her back, Es grasped the handle of her weapon loosely in her right hand, letting it rest lightly against the side of her thigh as she stared down Søren.
”You also should know where your locational advantage runs out: you and the Risis mage there have authority in the city because of your master’s power, but out here, you’re all alone. And, while you may have gotten some new tricks since I left you all those years ago, your friend is looking diminished since I saw her last. Do you really think you are in a position to make demands here, little shifter?”
Somewhere in the middle of Es’s little speech, she managed to grab the Arcanum connection she was looking for, and so, even before she was done speaking, Dragos would suddenly hear the woman’s voice echo wordlessly in his mind, her notions and sensations translated by the Arcanum that they, in many respects, shared.
Get ready to hit them from behind if you can, then focus on the dark-haired one: I’ll handle the mage. Don’t move before I tell you.
Es tightened her grip on her weapon, causing crackling lines of emerald energy to run across the hilt-like tube’s outer surface as she stared Søren down.
”Since you remember how these little disagreements I have with my students usually end, I would recommend you take your floating bitch there and go: I would prefer not to take the time to deal with you now, but if you force me to, I’ll be happy to give you a repeat of last time.”
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Post by Callixta Trëguere on Jul 1, 2015 8:34:53 GMT -5
At Søren's significant glance the petite mage immediately replaced the lift withdrawn from the former Guardian with her own boost: one that not only kept her waif-like form aloft, but actually saw her drifting upward to claim the highest vantage point in the vicinity. At about the time Søren touched down on loose snow Callixta's arms uncrossed from her chest and both gloved hands turned palm-up at her side. Slender fingers bent delicately― until the first two of each hand seemed to gesture lightly to something below all of them. No one would have the time to wonder what the hell was going on: the mage moved very quickly.
What seemed like steam began to rise from the snow beneath all of them and, maybe for a second, some of them would be led to believe Callixta was actually vaporizing the icy crystals to her own ends. The haze permeated the area rather quickly and reduced visibility: the dense 'fog' Callixta wielded coalescing and blanketing all five of them cozily. The mage's hands had risen level with her waist by the time she was overtaken by the cloud herself. Tiny bolts of electricity jumped short distances at random. This was no natural phenomena orchestrated by magic: the obscuring fog was pure, compressed energy that was steadily decompressing over the area.
If the silver-haired bitch and her pet energy-eater were present Callixta would know about it instantly. Really, anything that affected her area-wide sensory-fog was under intense scrutiny.
When their quarry began to respond verbally, Callixta's mouth twitched. The woman wanted them to think she was the Mage himself, and the Councilor indeed left room for that to be the case. It was simply difficult to believe the Mage would go to such elaborate lengths to disguise himself when he'd, thus far, had no apparent issue trampling around Vascxious Sigma blood-colored hair and manic grin on full display. When she made reference to Callixta herself as the 'Risis mage' and her 'diminished' state those amber eyes narrowed further. If this woman wasn't the Mage disguised then she was incredibly well-informed.
She and Søren would be able to sort out the truth of her status if she attacked: the Mage was not a being that behaved indecisively or pulled punches.
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Post by Søren Kiirkegré on Jul 2, 2015 11:33:09 GMT -5
Søren’s teeth clenched together involuntarily as the only outwardly-visible sign of the sudden tension that took over her body. The smirk, the eyes, the vocal mannerisms – while the Counselor hadn’t jumped into the situation expecting the Mage to be absent, the possibility that he had taken a trick out of her own book and hidden himself was a possibility the woman hadn’t prepared herself for. The former Guardian knew she might have found herself face-to-face with her old teacher sooner or later, but she knew that, in this second, she wasn’t fully prepared for that meeting. However, whatever the ‘mage’ opposite her might have intended through the revelation of his real identity notwithstanding, Søren’s reaction was immediate.
All the hatred Søren felt towards the Mage seemed to crystalize in her mind in that moment, congealing into a smooth, focused, burning desire to inflict that, unlike her usual form of anger, in no way seemed to infringe on her judgement capacities. The former Guardian’s mind was clear as her red eyes stared down the ‘mage’, and as he finished the condescending speech he was intent on using to dissuade Søren and Callixta from causing trouble, the earth-bound Counselor relaxed her shoulders and took one quick breath to erase the locking tension from her body, and then struck.
The woman’s intent and action were in no way telegraphed – Søren’s physical body didn’t move a muscle. Yet, as the Vascxious Counselor finished exhaling her breath, the smoky, shadowy substance that had been collecting around her hands had already spread to shroud her entire body in dark, swirling mist as Søren metaphysically wrenched the connection between her body and the Guardian Space open, forcing her old source of power to flow through her body in a sudden, indeterminate way. What she was doing was potentially risky, and Søren knew it: the Guardian power source came from Mithrian enchantments in the Temple of Balance, which had been, quite recently, more or less absorbed by Arktouros, the Guardian leader. That power had previously been funneled into a very specific magical framework that had indicated Søren herself as a Guardian, causing the energy that flowed from the Temple to give her specific abilities and a predetermined scope of magical power set down by her Guardianship position. However, this time no framework existed: Søren had been stripped of her Guardianship, and therefore had no legitimate channels through which to focus the fairly-immense energy of the Guardian space: that meant Søren’s ‘break in’ to the Guardian space was unfocused, and though she was only tapping into the section of the power that had once been allocated to her as Death Guardian, the power was flowing out of the space and into her body all at once in an uncontrolled manner that the Counselor knew was more than somewhat dangerous. However, Søren was prepared for the consequences: she knew her body would immediately begin to break down under the energetic strain of housing so much power all at once, and therefore she had to find a way to release as much of the energy as possible in as short a time as could be managed, while trusting her body’s rapid-healing to cover the rest of the potential damage. It was a risky maneuver, but Achréiøs wasn’t one to give you time to build up to full power.
In the split second it took for the haze to overtake Søren’s body, her eyes shrouded black beneath the obscuring force, changing the mechanics of her vision and allowing her to gain a very clear, targeted view of the ‘woman’ opposite her. Picking a point along the center of Es’ chest, the Death Guardian unleashed a torrent of energy from her very suddenly outstretched left hand, the darkness leaping forward with explosive force to sweep a column of smoky, insubstantial blackness that extended from the top of the snow to nearly ten feet in the air with a three-foot width directly at the ‘mage’. Visually, it would look like a storm of black smoke rushed forward with the speed of a runaway train – energetically, the effect was more unpredictable. The nature of the energy played into its Guardianship function: like radiation, the force was rapidly corrosive, and therefore the wash of energy would use its energetic base to pierce, degrade, and scatter whatever physical or energetic resistance it met into its most base components, seeking to create a natural state of chaotic entropy so quickly that a thunderclap would accompany the wave’s procession, a side effect of air rushing in to fill a space that had suddenly become a void. While the matter and energy that the wave touched was broken down and scattered at an alarming rate, the matter broken down was also caught up in the force of the wave, causing it to become substantially thicker and ‘heavier’ with every foot it progressed, meaning that, by the time it struck Es, she would not only be awash in corrosive energy, but also in hurling individual particles, causing compounded kinetic damage. The fact that Viers was on the ground under her target’s feet made no difference to Søren, and she by no means intended to rest on her laurels after one strike: already, the darkness around her was being forced to solidify into coherent structure as her mind vividly recalled a basic enchantment framework from her Guardian days and Søren’s own magickal power was used to force the Guardian energy into more specific channels. Callixta, she knew, would handle the others as need be, so while Søren tried to keep the hovering Dragos within her line of sight, the Counselor didn’t pay him a lot of mind: the ‘mage’ was by far her biggest concern.
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Post by Rosencrance Viers on Jul 9, 2015 19:13:17 GMT -5
It didn’t take Viers long to catch on to what Es was trying to accomplish: the female Arc wasn’t exactly being subtle with her impersonation, signaling to Viers that she was stalling, likely to give her floating friend more time to get set up . . . or healed. It occurred to Viers for only a split second that the woman might actually be Achréiøs, but he dismissed the thought immediately on the grounds that their interaction up until this point would have gone much, much differently if it had been the Mage hiding behind Es’, starting with how intact his internal organs were. The fact that Es felt the need to stall, combined with the information she was giving away with her tactics, presented Viers with an important opportunity . . . if he could put himself in the position to be able to use it.
Crushed though he was, Viers opened his mouth to speak at the tail end of Es’ line delivery, only to realize he wasn’t going to be given the chance to elaborate on her farce – ‘Søren’ wasn’t reacting quite like the female Arc had likely hoped, and even with Viers’ Arcanum primarily in a physical state in order to finish healing his body, the man could catch wind that something awful was about to be unleashed in Es’ – and therefore his- direction. Considering his severely-compromised position, there wasn’t a hell of a lot that Viers was able to do to prepare himself for whatever imminent death-magic might be coming his way, but what he could do was make sure that Es was well in the way of whatever might be ready to hit him.
Bracing his hands firmly against the ground, Viers super-concentrated his Arcanum into his physical structure and filtered almost all of it to his periphery: in a split second, the man’s skin crusted over black and his muscles tensed and rippled as they surged with ‘blood’. As the energy from Søren leapt through the air toward he and Es, changing the density of the air around them both in sudden, perceptible ways as it rushed ahead, Viers would rapidly press down with his hands as forcefully as his supercharged muscles would allow, surging his body upwards in a sudden burst against the crushing force of Es’ gravity-multiplied weight. To add an extra kick to overcome the negative resistance instilled by Es, Viers converted a small amount of his Arcanum into raw, explosive energy and pushed it through his hands, adding concussive force to his sudden movement. Since his feet were also planted, the force of Viers’ out-of-nowhere repositioning attempt should have worked to throw Es off his back – and since he was facing directly away from where Søren’s energy was coming from, the physics of the situation should have sent Es tumbling in the direction of the Councilor’s blast, putting the female Arc directly between Viers and the attack that was inadvertently aimed in his direction.
Assuming everything went to plan, as Viers was hurled suddenly to his feet he would very quickly rotate his torso, attempting to spin his momentum towards his backside, which rotated clockwise before the Arc’s body would tuck backwards into a falling roll, sending him tumbling rather ungracefully sideways, and hopefully out of the fucking way. Assuming his roll was uninterrupted, Viers would catapult to his feet at the end of it and crouch down, making his body as low-profile as possible while his blacked-over eyes took stock of the situation. He cared that Es might be injured thanks to his maneuvering, but not enough that he spared more thought for her safety than whether she was alive or not: Viers knew the woman could take care of herself. Now, it was his job to make sure he go out of the situation intact . . . and, right now, that meant that Viers had to very quickly judge the situation and, somehow, pick the winning side.
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Post by Dragos Syrkhan on Jul 21, 2015 16:05:45 GMT -5
Dragos couldn't see her face as the characteristic signs of the Mage's typical expression overtook Es's features, nor was there a great deal of energetic change with which he could characterize as the infernal bastard's. He, then, might have been the only one whose attention, albeit however brief, focused solely in on the woman when Achreios's voice crept out of her throat. Quickly refocusing his mind on the matter at hand, his continued observation couldn't quite quell an uneasiness brought about the sudden change. He'd suspected all along that the woman was, in actuality, the Mage, yet while the voice and—unbeknownst to him—the expression altered to match what was as close a resemblance to Achrieos as the female could muster, he couldn't overcome a sudden discomfort creeping into the back of his mind. It wasn't the possible presence of the terror-inspiring male, but the inconsistencies with how the following seconds unfolded that bothered him; put simply, the Mage wouldn't stall. If that were the case, and this were, in fact, a different entity altogether, not only did he not have the direct support of the Mage in this upcoming engagement, but he'd wasted the precious opportunity of a preemptive strike on the word of someone he didn't know.
Whether it was fortunate or not, Dragos couldn't remove himself from the situation enough to consider the implication fully; the still-floating of their opposing pair had enacted an energetic pull on a tangibly massive level, surrounding all present in a thick haze of, for the moment, primarily passive energy. He didn't put it out of mind that his most immediate reaction was to recall the Sphere of Control that now surrounded him, and as such, kept as much of his attention on the nature of the energy as he did the opposing pair themselves. Waiting for the moment that was to be Es's signal, however, only further put him at a disadvantage when, not undetected by his sensory capabilities, the darker-haired of the pair had a very sudden, and equally violent, reaction to the apparent presence of the Mage.
It wasn't something he could fault the woman for; if given the time to adequately judge the effectiveness of her tactics, he would have commended her. Not only was she seizing the opportunity for the first strike, but she was doing so at a level which few but the Mage warranted. Unfortunately for any sense of respect among enemies, the Son didn't bother to stop and admire as such. As swift as the woman's energetic pull had manifested, it wasn't instantaneous, and while the exact nature of her manipulation was incredibly swift and difficult to react to, Dragos didn't have to; it wasn't directed at him. Instead, his path was chosen just as instantly by the woman's actions, and his already coiled, Arcanum enriched muscular structure put itself into full effect. With the plate of concentrated ice beneath his fate providing a stable surface area on which he could exert his full strength for at least an instant, his legs uncoiled, pushing themselves to their full might and launching the Son both up and forward like a missile, kicking up and shattering the plate beneath his feet like shrapnel-filled exhaust.
His direction by Es had been to attack both of their opponents, likely to catch them off guard, and he was blatantly disregarding it. First and foremost, the initial strike had already been taken, and both opponents would be fully on guard by now if they hadn't been before. Secondly, the woman, whom Dragos now believed not to be the Mage, had enacted a plan that backfired, and he wouldn't stay aboard a sinking ship. No, if she were of any relation to the Mage, she should know by now that she was on her own in her engagement, no matter what catastrophe she'd brought upon herself. That Viers played a hand in putting her at a further disadvantage, however, escaped the Son's notice. Instead, his furiously burning, golden gaze was locked upon the haze-encompassed form of the 'Risis Mage.'
Surging forth with what should be impossible speed when created by physical exertion alone, Dragos closed the relatively short distance with the woman in what should have been a fraction of a second. His arms wide, his legs bent but behind him, it was apparent that he meant to physically strike her with his comparatively massive form. Instead, however, he put something else into effect. While he had maintained a constant state of preparedness in the event that their exchange might have unfolded differently, the Son had readied as much Active Magi as he possibly could at his core. Now, flying toward the woman as he was, his core spiked in temperature like an explosion, and rather than try to shift his physical structure with Magi to try to compensate for this, he projected it forward in a sudden, throttling burst. The blast, a super-heated mass of air with enough density and kinetic force to not only seize but launch the woman with its impact, also served him but acting as a counter to his otherwise unguided forward momentum. The distance between them should have been no more than approximately five feet, had the woman not taken evasive action, and was well within the Sphere that, alongside her own, mysterious fog of energy, surrounded them both. Gauging for only an instant to check for the woman's counter, the Son advanced through the air by means of manipulating the Sphere, aiming a seemingly ironclad fist with enough muscular strength behind it to completely rip through the woman's chest at which it was aimed, should her physical structure be at all based on an unaugmented human. Given that the impact should occur only a second at most after his initial, thermal strike, it seemed as if he were seeking to make up for lost time, after losing the opportunity for the first strike in the engagement.
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Post by Es Kauvrian on Jul 22, 2015 9:23:13 GMT -5
Es Kauvrian suddenly found herself attacked from all sides. Not only had Søren not taken the bait and balked long enough for Dragos to effectively muddle the situation further, but the woman had instead decided very clearly to start off openly aggressive, an overreaction that, while appropriate to the gravity of staring down the Mage in open terrain, didn’t make Es’ next few moments particularly easy to weather. On top of that were the actions of the Risis Mage, whose concealing tactics were clearly devised to do far more than just make sight difficult. It was a great deal to take in all at once, but Es had no issue noting and cataloguing everything that was happening at once – the female Arc’s major advantage in combat came from her speed, and speed came not just from the ability to move the body quickly, but more importantly, it came from the quick motion of the mind.
Yet, even with all her speed and mental focus, Kauvrian was still caught off-guard by the problem beneath her feet. Foolishly, Es had momentarily discounted Viers, assuming that the force of her downward weight was more than enough to keep him pliable – the woman should have known better. The sudden burst upwards of the male Arc’s body was enough to overcome Es’ downward force, and the resulting change in position would happen just as Viers had assumed: Es would stumble forward onto the snowy ground, putting herself effectively between the rushing onslaught of dark energy coming from Søren and Viers himself. Yet, as she stumbled off of the man, Es also reacted, quickly swinging her right arm upwards and adducting it across her body, putting the cylindrical handle of her weapon directly between her and Søren’s attack. The energy would hit before Es could even plant both of her feet, but that hardly mattered: one was enough for what Es had planned. Extending her energy into the weapon and using it as a focus, emerald light would leap from either end of the organic-metal weapon handle and swirl forward and out like a sped-up water spill covering a kitchen floor. As Søren’s energy came into contact with Es’ personal space, the first thing it would hit would be a body-sized tower shield of opaque green energy, Es’ own Arcanum solidified into a semi-physical state – Kauvrian dug her shoulder in and braced her one solid foot against the ground, the second leg, her left, swinging quickly around to brace her stance from behind as she sought to lean into her shield arm. The result would be an effective bracing maneuver that would halt not only the force of the blasting energy, but create a shadow in tis travel path that would shelter Es from the energy’s effects.
At first glance, Es’ defensive maneuver looked almost perfect, but the split second of hesitation caused by Viers action caused it to be anything but: as fast as her shield had been erected, the energy was not able to spread to cover a large enough area fast enough, meaning that, as the energy struck the barrier, eating and decomposing its outer layer in the seconds it took to fully pass, a part of the smoke column that rushed by Es on either side caught her left arm outside of the safe shadow of her Shield, letting the decomposition force flow over the anterior side of her left deltoid, ripping and tearing her dark skin quickly to expose muscle and the vascular network that supported it. It was only a split second graze that was quickly interrupted by Es’ shield reaching its full protective size, but it was a strike. Es, momentarily, paid it no mind: she would have time to heal it up later. As the wave fully passed, with no thought given to what ended up becoming of Viers, Es rapidly continued the shift of her weight into her front leg, digging her boot deep into the ground ad collective, coiled, muscular and magical force compressed like a spring, ready to fly forward.
Time momentarily seemed to freeze within Es’ perception as the wave finally passed, and the female Arc made several immediate decisions as her body began the blindingly-quick process of pushing off with her right foot and bounding toward Søren: first, the woman’s body became immediately bathed in an almost blinding green glow, removing individual human feature from the view of the assembled mages. Kauvrian’s own Arcanum energetically pushed outward around her body and created a several inch wide buffer between Es’s body and the surrounding environment. To Callixta perception, as read through her obscuring smoke, the Arc would seem to be a vaguely human-shaped blob as the smoke was suddenly not allowed to form around her body directly. The shimmering, blinding emerald covering over her body also shielded Es from visual view, making her appear to be nothing more than an avatar made of green light – an avatar that rushed forward with speed that was in keeping with her light-like appearance.
Es took exactly one step after she lifted off, her left foot picked up from the ground as her right hurled her in an arcing bound. Her left foot impacted the ground halfway between herself and Søren in less than the time it took anyone with human physiology to blink, and as her foot landed, Es sharply thrust forward with her shield arm, causing the energetic barrier to detach from her weapon and fly forward like a shard of shrapnel, travelling with speed reminiscent of exactly what it looked like. The barrier would rush forward and mean to impact Søren head-on, though as soon as the green light would strike the woman’s periphery, the structure of the shield would seem to ‘pop’ like a balloon, drenching Søren’s exterior in a shower of emerald light that, momentarily, would surround the woman entirely, keeping her energy constrained around her physical form until it was able to eat through the barrier, which should have taken at least a pair of seconds, assuming nothing changed from the initial attack concentrations.
Es herself was only fractionally slower than her shield in arriving at Søren’s doorstep, and as the barrier erected itself around the female Counselor, Kauvrian’s right arm, which had continued its upward abductive movement as Es had closed the remaining distance between the woman, was reversing its course, causing the woman’s weapon-bearing arm to cross downward again in a diagonal slashing motion, the head of her weapon leading the arc. As her arm swung down, more emerald energy leapt from the weapon’s end, this time extending straight out in a rough, jagged amalgam of a blade. The energy-sword would mean to cross down past Søren’s left clavicle and cut straight into her torso and lungs, the white-hot energy and added kinetic cutting edge sliding through Es’ created barrier around the woman to enact its strike on the enclosed Søren. Assuming the Counselor did nothing, the blade arc would cause the woman to be diagonally cleaved in two, but the light-avatar Es hardly anticipated her strike to be so effective, so even before it was over, the woman would already be bringing up her left arm to strike, aiming a punch at the center of Søren’s mass with enough force to crush bone and send the woman flying back away from the Arc.
Es, momentarily, didn’t have time to further check her surroundings: the woman was operating on a tunnel-vision principle, and with her teeth clenched, she was determined to handle Søren completely in the next several seconds, trusting that Drago would be able to fend off the Risis mage at least that long. The Arc’s speed was her asset, and while Dragos might have been sure that the woman had miscalculated by allowing Søren to have the first strike, he also had no concept of Kauvrian’s true strengths – she had no problem making up for lost time.
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Post by Callixta Trëguere on Jul 23, 2015 9:39:58 GMT -5
By this time Callixta's eyes were closed. No one could see more than a few feet in either direction anyway and shutting out the metaphysical white noise and visually confusing fractured light show the 'fog' was creating would allow her to more keenly judge what was happening.
She'd thinned the entire perimeter beneath their feet― not to the point where anyone was in danger of slipping through the boundary that held this reality together, but it was the most efficient method of unleashing the titanic amount of ether that was still decompressing and flooding the area with massive amounts of energy. Callixta's focus was divided between all three hostiles, with the bulk of her attention parceled out to observe the interaction between Søren and the woman who claimed herself to be the Mage. Both of her hands began to flex before the conclusion of the other Counselor's energetic attack: she perceived the blast of energy to wash around Søren's target. Of course, that was the precise moment Marru'Khyr's royal terrorist drew her focus.
Callixta's right hand snapped out to her side, palm unerringly open to face what was going to be― very shortly if she did nothing― a princely projectile.
The white-haired hostile would have had just enough time to get about halfway to Callixta's position― it was an indication of both his speed and her reaction time, and perhaps also due to the mage's judgement on what would make for a most effective counter― before whatever projection of mind or will that surrounded him would be met with a counter of force containing enough kinetic energy to vaporize him.
Using the massive amount of energy at her disposal, in basic terms, what Callixta did was ignite the pressurized energy in the space between into an enveloping counter force to her target's upward movement. To be clear, this was sheer force and not a barrier― an unmitigated explosion of a counter that was as quick and powerful as a lightning strike: the energetic equivalent of which, interestingly enough, also possessed the potential to vaporize a person.
At the very least the Mage's disciple would find his progress severely hampered and his momentum stopped, and that was in the initial impact. The longer the time passed― in seconds and fractions of seconds― the greater the force accumulated until his momentum was reversed or, at the very extreme, he'd find himself no longer in existence. Certainly there was a middle ground of possible results and surely whatever bubble it was that propelled him would protect him enough for survival. . .
The woman's mistake in attempting to pass herself off as the Mage if that were not actually the case was that it would not deter either Counselor from using force. Rather, it set the standard for how much force they should be using in order to be any measure of effective against a looming threat like the Mage.
By the time Callixta was able to divert her focus back to Søren and the other target, that other target was on top of her. Her left hand clenched into a fist for a second ignition, this time it was the pressurized rush of energy filling the void created by Søren directly between the very close combatants. It was messy, rushed, and worst of all― not perfectly calculated in terms of what wouldn't severely damage Søren. It was simply an explosion of kinetic energy meant to separate the two of them. It didn't require genius to recognize the target's speed was a huge problem, and Søren's best chance was breathing room. As far as timing went, the explosion happened when the two women were very close together. Callixta couldn't read the target's movement very well: her form wasn't clear due to whatever interference she employed. . .
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Post by Søren Kiirkegré on Jul 23, 2015 21:14:47 GMT -5
Søren could remember the feeling of the Guardian enchantments far more than their actual structure, but her hazy memory didn’t stop her from coming up with a basic framework that could act as a facsimile for her old method of magical evocation. As the wave of decomposition energy struck out at the Mage, Søren focused inwardly enough to generate a dumbed-down version of the Death Guardian armor, and as she slowed down her pull of energy from the Guardian space, the Counselor funneled the energy into creating a framework and then filling it with real structure. The result was that the former Guardian’s slight body quickly became wrapped in what looked to be plate armor made specifically of shifting shadows, a smoky, burning set of shapes that covered every part but her head in thick, obscuring metallic structures. Originally, Søren’s armor as the Death Guardian had been shimmering, jet obsidian gilded with silver – a pristine, terrifying suit that gave her enough protection and unique, offensive power to take on most tasks the Guardianship required of her. What Søren made now was a poor imitation of Arktouros’ genius artifice; given the circumstances, though, Søren was happy to take what she could get.
The whole process of armor creation only took the amount of time necessary for her first attack to fully resolve, but even that tiny deviation of focus was enough to cost Søren. The Counselor was used to Achréiøs’ fighting style – his attacks were large, precise, and fast, but he was also a preservationist when it came to his own energy, and therefore the Counselor had counted on at least a few seconds of setup before the mage would strike – efficiency always took time. What Søren got instead was an immediate assault in the form of a shield-sized wave of green energy rushing at her in the speed of a flash, and therefore, before she even knew what was happening, the former Guardian was already enveloped in emerald light. The woman could feel the meeting point between her corrosive Death Guardian force and the energy encapsulating her suddenly: the attack was thin, and Søren quickly redoubled the amount of energy she was pulling from the Guardian space to hasten the deterioration of the shield around her, but the energy kept her power enclosed, and therefore kept her from seeing what was going on beyond the veil, meaning that when Es’ energy blade was suddenly slicing through the space around her to cut her in half, the former Guardian literally had no recourse: she was a sitting duck.
The Counselor could barely shift her neck away from the blade before it struck one of the semi-substantial shoulder plates of her armor. As the energy bore down through the space around Søren , the Blade was being naturally deteriorated at an alarming rate, considering that every bit of its surface area was surrounded by corrosive energy, but that didn’t stop the blade, with the intense strength of the strike behind it carrying it along, from quickly bearing down and through Søren ’s armor. However, the shadow-plate gave the former Guardian enough of a protective time buffer that, due to the initial resistance met by striking magickal metal instead of flesh, not only was the overall energy of the blade quickly ripped down, but Søren was able to shift her body posture drastically just as the blade got through the plate and cut deeply into her shoulder: by spinning her right side toward her attacker and crossing her body with her right arm, her open palm coming into contact with the weapon hilt and sharply jerking it away from her center mass, the blade path cut the majority of the way through her shoulder, but then exited below her armpit and missed her center mass, with the blade only skimming along the outer surface of her abdominal armor enough to shave part of the plate off.
As the blade arced way from her body, Søren grimaced and opened her connection to the Guardian space completely, causing energy to rush from her center and permeate out around her armor like black smoke, filling and pressurizing the contained space around her that her opponent had created enough that the energetic ‘net’ thrown over her was rapidly ripped apart, the energy that comprised it scattered to mix and flow into the surrounding energetic mass of Callixta’s ‘smoke’. Had her vision only then cleared, Søren would have had no way to prepare for the punch that was headed her way from the light-cloaked figure attacking her, but the black film coating Søren ’s eyes gave her enough visual variability that, as she tuned it prior to breaking through the net, she was able to catch the mage’s outline as she rapidly rushed forward, meaning that, while Es’ blow still struck her body with all its intended force, Søren was prepared for it.
Suddenly, the two women were forcibly separated, just a split second before Es’ fist would have impacted the former Guardian’s abdomen; Søren, prepared for the blow, was seeking to dart her right hand out to wrap around Es’ wrist, though not with the intention to negate the force of the strike in any way. However, though Callixta’s force would undoubtedly halt Es’ forward progress and separate her from Søren, even as she was being pushed back, Søren‘s hand reached out as though still to intercept her opponents blow. What seemed to be a futile gesture quickly changed shape, however, as a pair of thick, black, smoking chains leapt from the woman’s gauntlet to dart across the space between them and coil up Es’ arm, the links attempting to wrap around tightly and densely, constricting and writhing like two fighting snakes before splitting into more lines of links on contact, with the new links attempting to snake around Es’ abdomen and shoulder.
Normal chains couldn’t have bridged the gap in the time Søren had before her opponent could react, much less stuck to Es’ energetic covering, but these seemed to simply appear, materialized out of the smoky, degenerative energy surrounding Søren’s entire body and physical space, and since they were energetic in nature, they didn’t feel the slowing effects of gravity or kinetic force. Made of the same deconstructive force as the rest of Søren’s energy, just given solid shape, every micron of space where the chains touched Es’ extremal barrier would be a point of degenerative breakdown, meaning that the chains would seek to cut through Es’ energy and gain purchase on the flesh underneath. Bound to Es or not, Søren would go flying backwards: however, assuming the chains grabbed in any way, Es would also find her momentum reversed and be suddenly yanked along behind the female Guardian, pulling her off-balance and, hopefully, interrupting any further immediate plan of attack.
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