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Post by FC4 on Jun 1, 2009 2:12:00 GMT
Agrabal let out a guttural growl, a rasping rumble, from within his hollow chest, as the woman stormed on to the man who had just raged at her. But he was angry not only at her, but at both of them, for bickering like this at a time when bickering was not a luxury they could afford.
One of his arms began to draw circles in the sand, and the other drew crescents and suns and shapes, while the two remaining arms simply limped behind his first pair of shoulders. As he was drawing, he looked towards the Spriggan woman. "Ignorrr... ance... of... my.... art." He rasped, commenting on her ignorance of what necromancy truly entailed. Yes, she was correct in that human souls got manipulated and twisted, but her ignorance began there. Some spells did not require the use of a human soul; some required only a small part of the soul, leaving the rest intact. And a vast multitude of the spells did not even twist the human soul; it remained intact, but bent to the will of the necromancer. At the spell's dissipation, the soul was freed from its bonds and carried on to the afterlife.
In fact, much of necromancy was surprisingly respectful of the dead and their souls. It was the more fanatical followers of the King of Worms that delved into the stronger, more wicked and dangerous aspects of necromancy. Agrabal's greatest dabble in the dangerous was lichdom.
And that thought made the lich pause in his circlings. He had dabbled in the dangerous by becoming a lich.... and vividly the images of his darker behaviors during lichdom came to him. He seemed to gaze at the sand absently as he recalled the wicked deeds he did while undead he wouldn't have conceived of in life. Disgusted with himself, the necromancer let out a raspy sigh, before forcing continuation of his work.
When finished he had a circle as wide as three men etched in the sand. His palms pressed to the side of this etched circle, the entire formation flashing with white light. When the brief flash dissipated, the sand had become sandstone, and the etching was permanently carved into the stone. Agrabal rose onto his legs and arms, and looked at everyone.
"You... come....... then... staand... here." He rasped, motioning to the arcane circle.
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Post by DarkNova50 on Jun 1, 2009 2:39:09 GMT
As the others argued amongst one another, Alex remained silent, cautiously weighing both sides of the very real dilemma presented before not just her, but their group as a whole. Perhaps this...creature, this horrid abomination of flesh, could offer them sanctuary. Perhaps, as it had mentioned before, it could even offer some form of research, to aid their group and their collective plight. The prospect of once again being Human...to walk the land in her old body once again, and not know the terrible hunger that had driven her to kill not just one, but two men in cold blood, held much sway over her.
But at what price would that assistance come? As the lich began to etch his unholy runes into the ground below, the words of the Spriggan woman, Serana, began to weigh ever more heavily in her mind. Was it worth accepting this creature's assistance, having even the slightest inkling as to the nature of its dark arts? To benefit from its cruel experiments? As the lich completed his symbol in the sand, Alex felt a wave of repulsion wash over the entirety of her being; she couldn't do this. She couldn't trust this Agrabal, no matter how benevolent its current intentions.
"I agree with your position, Serana," Alex informed her publically, her words open to the entire group as the Spriggan walked away from the group. She turned back to Siorra. "I apologize, but I just don't think I can trust this..." She turned to face Agrabal in all his unholy glory. "Thing."
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Jun 1, 2009 3:14:17 GMT
Akhil listened patiently to the lashes of the melodramatic company, having sat down on the ground and folded his hands, turning his head to whoever was speaking presently. It seemed they all had good points, even if some of said points had been over-emotionalized. It was true that liches were brutal. It was also true that Serana didn't take the full view of necromancy into perspective. Not that Akhil thought that the full art of necromancy was much better than what the general public thought of it.
Then again, all things considered, necromancy was no worse than, say, destruction- the only school of magic solely devoted to negative effects. But destruction didn't meddle with the deceased and give people frights, so necromancy took the 'bad magic' card, in the eyes of the people.
Akhil shook his head. "This really isn't the time to debate each others' actions. I don't like the idea of dealing with a necromancer any more than any of you do," he said to the group, "for if I did, I would've split away from the Guild with the rest of the necromancers. But in an hour or so we'll have half the Imperial City's guard breathing down our necks, and the ruins this gentleman has commandeered will get us out of their sight."
He stood up, stretching his arms and looking around at all of them. "Besides, you all saw what the lich did earlier. If he wanted to kill us, he could do it now and save himself the trouble of all this. Your concerns are very well founded, dear lady," he said to Alex, "but we either die by his hand, or the legion's. I can see Siorra being able to slip away, and Serana might blend in around a wayshrine of Arkay, but as a pack, we'll move across the country as undetected as a Sload army. But the choice is for each of us, and as for me," he trudged across the grass and stepped into the circle the lich had made, "I'll take my chances in the lich's lair, for the time being. Which, by the way, would be where?" he suddenly inquired to Agrabal.
In the pit of his stomach, he felt that he might regret what he had just done. In fact, he was already beginning to regret it. But, he supposed, it might be a better choice than getting ripped apart by a badger in the wilderness.
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Jun 15, 2009 4:51:04 GMT
OOC: Apologies for an OOC post, but is this dead, or just stuck?
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Post by Vicorva on Jun 15, 2009 11:25:51 GMT
OOC: Well, I don't really know where to go from here, and its my RP. I meant to post up saying Web can take over; Siorra seems to have been a poor choice of character for this. So yeah, if any folks have any ideas, please, be my guests.
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Post by Dark Consequences on Jul 4, 2009 16:10:50 GMT
OOC: Well, you guys are aleady headed for your lich lair, so I don't see why you can't continue with it that way, then finish off all the other stuff as the story moves on. It is a really good RP, and so far it's been really interesting. There's not much reason to leave it hanging, and any new characters (like Simmo) could either join up once they get to the supposedly abandoned sanctuary, or if some/all of the group choose to go other paths rather than to the lich's place, you could just introduce them on their way, as roaming mutants or something. Also, Siorra seems like a fine character for this, she's just another of the mutants with more of a plan than some, so she doesn't necessarily have to lead the entire thing herself, everyone else's characters seem to be coming up with good arguements and such for taking other paths in their journey. I think it's be really cool if this got going again, it's a geat RP, and you can just pick up where it was left.
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Post by webster52402 on Jul 5, 2009 0:36:55 GMT
OOC: I agree with DC here. I can't exactly take the lead, since my character is the one that's stirring up pretty much every abrasive moment thus far. If I was the one to try and continue it, then I would have to do so by either descending into villainy to give people direction, or to come around and try to pick the group back up, neither of which my character would be liable to do...
And Siorra seems to be doing just fine here. She seems to be taking charge rather efficiently (Even if I am fighting her every step of the way), and far more willing to actually try and research the condition they suffer than simply live with it like Serana wishes.
If you're truly hard pressed for a storyline, then simply let everyone split into their separate groups, as they appear to be doing now, and then let the plot develop between interaction with the two 'factions' if you will. It should take some of the strain off of you having to come up with everything yourself, and provide some interesting development between our characters at the same time.
If, at a later date, you can come up with a 'mainline' if you will, undoubtedly connected to the mages, then it should still let you gather everyone up for it, and make it all the better because of the splintered group nature they would have to endure.
Just my two cents. Sorry for the length of the OOC post though. xD
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Jul 5, 2009 3:14:35 GMT
OOC: Splitting off individually, at least temporarily, sounds like a very attractive idea for the moment. And Illusionary, when you get online, you now have a PM related to this thread.
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Post by Vicorva on Jul 5, 2009 10:21:05 GMT
OOC:... Meh. I'll do my best, but at this point, when everyone has turned against her, Siorra is likely to be hurt and offended, appear angry and cold, and then just be like 'to hell with them' and go and do her own thing... permanently. Forgiveness isn't in an assassin's nature. And none of the characters will gather to Siorra, because they have all rallied around Serana. You've made an excellent leader character, Web, everyone's following her plan. Hence why I feel like they should just follow her; plus, I've totally run out of inspiration for this. I'm really, truly running on empty.
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Post by webster52402 on Jul 5, 2009 12:27:29 GMT
OOC: Actually the only one to support Serana at this point is Alex. Though quite ironically the one that admonishes Agrabal for messing around with death and for being a murderer gets the support of the one that is the most suited for killing of all, everyone else, namely Akhil, undoubtedly Vincent since he pleged support to Akhil earlier, Agrabal, and probably Zinguzi since he absolutely hates Serana, will all support Siorra. Though my character is by far the most vocal of the dissenters, and has rounded up a single person against her, that's still more of a minor setback and not really a revolution. The only thing that may happen here is the pair of Serana and Alex break off from the group while the others adjourn to the Ayleid Ruin that Agrabal called his sanctuary. Though, on the same token, if Siorra is hurt and offended by dissension and disagreeing with her leadership, this may well cause the two to be considered nigh enemies of the assassin girl. But, it's up to you, of course. It's your roleplay.
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Post by Vrek on Jul 5, 2009 18:08:54 GMT
OOC:...Oh sh(oo)t. I don't remember anything from this. Damn. I'm gonna have to read this whole thing over now.
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Jul 6, 2009 18:40:44 GMT
So...do we have a definite word of continuation or termination for this one? Or are things still kind of 'in the air'? A temporary period of freeform-ity at least can break us free of the need-to-move-plot-forward standstill a lot of RPs die of. Akhil isn't going to stay with Agrabal long after he gets to his residence. And as for 'factions' among the group, I don't see it as much as others, apparently. As Webster said, Serana is a vocal opposition, but that doesn't make her a leader figure. They just tend to agree with her more.
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Post by FC4 on Jul 7, 2009 0:23:06 GMT
OOC: Alright, to just get on with it, I see Agrabal must get on with it. So, he has revealed the general whereabout of his sanctuary, those who still might desire to seek him can go there.
IC: Agrabal looked to the little crystal man, with what might have been a hint of appreciation. "On the... Abecean... coassst." Agrabal wheezed, stepping into the circle himself. His two 'feet' hands and his feet were carefully placed in the bare spots of sand where no pattern was present, not disturbing the lines that were delicately etched.
The lich was tired of waiting. No one else showed him any inclination of coming, and it was slowly dragging him down. With such a complex spell, and the situation he now found himself in, he did not appreciate having to contemplate his current state further than necessary.
And he always hated being judged for his scholarly pursuits. So, with two arms lax at his sides and the other arms bent at chest level, he pressed together his palms. His left hand separated from the right as three fingers bent into the palm.
"Onllly... littllle man... thennn?" He inquired, but did not wait long for the answer, the cavities of his rotting body alighting with magic. "Verrryy..... wellll." The two hands pulsated with violet light, that shifted through the colors of the visible spectrum before they were separated, both aglow with deep fuchsia. One hand went up and to the side, the other opposite, before both joined again at Agrabal's chest, leaving an infinite double loop in the air.
For the onlookers, it was a crackle of burning logs and a crimson flash of fire consuming the two figures. The fire burned briefly throughout the circle, only to twist in on itself, as if blown by a wind, and flicker out. That same twister of wind caressed the sand, twirling it like pasta until the symbol etchings were gone.
For the two in the spell, if felt more like the world went missing and they were being stretched and mashed and pulled at by thousands of tiny tweezers. It was a brief feeling, until the world reassembled around them.
Agrabal recovered easily from the teleportation, stepping down from the arcane platform of marble towards the archway leading out of the small room. The room of the teleportation arcanum was small, decorated like any Ayleid room, and the center of the floor was raised a foot off the floor. Etchings that mirrored those made in the sand of the beach were engraved into the marble, and glimmered crystalline in the faint lights of the Alyeid Welkynd stones. In fact, the symbol itself seemed to emit a glow. Upon closer inspection, one would see that the lines etched into the stone had been filled with chipped, melted, and finely cut pieces of Ayleid crystals, that must have taken years to fashion.
Agrabal left the room promptly, heading down a thin hallway that led to a bridge. The bridge crossed over another hallway, and Agrabal slowly walked across this strip of stone, carefully maintaining his balance on his suddenly widened and clumsier body structure. At the exact center of the bridge he stopped, raised his second set of arms, and pointed both index fingers at his sides. Twin blood red crystals lit white at this gesture, only to dim once more. The blood crystals were at each end of the hallway below, and acted like magical turret defenses for the Ayleids, and now for their lich master, striking at anything that had not the power to deactivate them.
Courtesy of Agrabal, they would not harm Akhil, and he could safely follow the Lich. Agrabal continued down the bridge to the next hallway, which was short and opened up to a much larger room than before. This chamber had a single door to the left, a stairwell leading to the passage they had crossed above. But this chamber was furnished.
It was Agrabal's personal library, his choice location of scholarly study. Every inch of wall had been hidden by bookcases, or a shelf etched into the stone structure itself, and a book placed within it. No shelf was empty, though many were occupied by a mere couple of volumes. The center of the room was adorned with a myriad layout of several stone and wooden tables, perpendicular and parallel and at angles with one another, but all having enough room between them for a man to walk amongst them without fear for his hips. Several of these tables had open tomes, some had alchemical equipment, some had daggers of various qualities and needles and calipers, and one held a collection of small soul gems.
Agrabal raised one of his right arms, and a book from a shelf two stories above the floor floated off and dived to greet him, coming to rest on one of the few bare tables in the room. His left hand motioned and a quill and ink well came, landing soundlessly beside the tome, which Agrabal opened manually.
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Jul 10, 2009 2:07:52 GMT
Akhil was used to more 'regulated' forms of transportation, such as the platforms operated by mages in the Guild. The sensation of an 'on the spot' teleportation was not very different from that of standard procedure, though clearly developed for practicality over comfort.
Despite himself, Akhil found that he had to regain his bearings once it was over, and once the lights had faded from his vision (except for that little spot in the corner of his eye that kept reappearing whenever he blinked). As soon as he did, though, he was amazed by his surroundings.
The degree to which the Ayleids had mastered magicka had always fascinated him when he was Aulus Rubellius, and they still did. "That's a novel idea," he said upon catching sight of the etchings on which they stood. "This room must be some sort of 'mark anchor', as to have roughly the same function of a mark and recall spell, except that the 'mark' is permanent, which cuts out the extra effort of maintaining a dynamic mark location." He had just bent over to examine the crystalline material lining the etchings when he realized the lich was heading off. Akhil hesitated for a moment when the magical defenses activated, but seeing that they did not find him a threat, he relaxed and followed after Agrabal.
It only took him a few steps (which got him about a foot of distance) to remember to make use of levitation. Now that he was out of the dungeons, where it was dark, winding, and in general unsafe for such magic, he felt he could now make use of it.
After a brief moment in which purple light engulfed him, Akhil raised himself several feet into the air and floated after Agrabal. He continued at an average pace behind the lich without speaking. That is, until he saw the library.
"!" said Akhil, and he would have staggered if he had been on the ground. As it were, he just lost concentration for a moment and his elevation shifted a bit, but shortly he regained composure and drifted towards the shelves in amazement. Some of these books must not have known the hands of a mortal for...well, a very long time. By Julianos, even I haven't heard of some of these! "How long you must have been around," he said to Agrabal, his eyes never ceasing their scan across the shelves, "to have a collection such as this! I would venture to guess not even the Summerset Isles are home to some of these volumes," he added ponderously.
"So!" he rotated himself to face Agrabal, who appeared to be preparing to write something. "These are the fruits of immortality? I must say, sir, I have underestimated your resou-" he paused mid-sentence, and what was once his brow furrowed. "I say, were you actually able to keep some of your flesh intact? It looks like normal skin there, on your arm. Astounding," he finished.
OOC: It just occurred to me that I don't know if Agrabal's arm skin is actually visible or not. If it isn't just say so and I'll edit the post.
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Post by FC4 on Jul 10, 2009 23:25:14 GMT
"The Isles.... werrreee once... hommme... to themm." Agrabal rasped, taking the quill and dipping it in the inkwell. He was currently using his original right arm, as his back right arm he was not yet dexterously confident enough with. He began to write upon the sheet of the book, which was blank.
Date unknown; Post-Magicka Surge, Day 1 free from imprisonment.
I have encountered others affected by this mysterious, sudden magical surge of power. Each seems to be affected differently; I have seen a tree-woman, a crystallized and dwarfed man, a man of shadow, a feathery and chameleon like woman, and a man like magma. I myself have been morphed into a octo-limbed being, yet maintained my undead condition.
What is worrying, however, is the condition itself. Somehow, I have become self-aware. I do not know how long I have been in lichdom, my soul has not been with my body and I only have vague memories of what I have done. And they are gruesome.
But with the return of my soul, my flesh seems to also be reverting back from the undead stasis. I have incurred wounds from several fights, and the wounds have grown back; as flesh and muscle. I have a beating heart once again, and can see golden skin upon my wrist.
Agrabal paused, his back right arm moving and curling in front of his face. His hand flexed, and the wrist flesh quivered and tensed. Just like it would have in life. It was then that Akhil, who had been talking in amazement of Agrabal's collections, noticed the flesh and spoke of it. Agrabal looked up, the Argonianesque fanged face coming to bear on the floating man, empty eye sockets staring at him. It looked rather horrific, and as the lich's serpentine tongue flickered out briefly, it looked evermore threatening.
"Effffectsss.... of the sssurge." He hissed back, holding up his back right arm so Akhil could get a closer look. "Woounddd.... healed." He had to skip words and talk barbarically, else his barely formed throat would take all day to get the message across. "Wanntt.... ansswerrr." He looked back down to the book, writing again.
One of the mutants has agreed to join me, and take sanctuary in my Ayleid home. He is a miniature man seemingly made of crystal, yet able to move and speak like any man. While I wish to study him, I must focus first on myself. I theorize that the surge has caused the lichdom to reverse itself, bringing me back to mortality, back to life. My soul has returned, and my flesh is as well. But this brings to light many questions. Will I maintain the capabilities of the lich? Undead strength, resistance to magicks and pains, no requirement of rest or sustenance. Or will I become a frail mortal once more? How frail will I become?
I know not the answers, because no one, not even the famed 'God of Worms', Mannimarco, has actually reversed Lichdom. I must admit I am afraid. Afraid of what my future holds.
But I must experiment, and my first experiment is to complete the regrowth of my throat; maybe it can aid me in regaining greater speech capacity.
He set down the quill now, his front left arm extending. Bone-tipped fingers clawed the air, purple light shimmering out of the sparse flesh on them. A smooth, polished silver dagger spun from one of the tables, whistling through the air a foot from Akhil before slowing down and gently slipping into Agrabal's hand. This dagger was brought up to his throat as he tilted his head up, the flat of the blade resting on the bone protrusions of a jaw. The blade hovered above golden flesh, touching the air inches above it.
"Likke... thiss." He moaned to Akhil, before pressing the blade into his rotting upper neck and running it across his vertebrae. Hanging flesh was severed and fell down, scattering within his hollow chest. The lich dropped the dagger and hissed in pain, a normal reaction for any lich hit with silver. But it was a heftier pain than the arrows of the legion soldiers in the prison. Because this was silver.
"Ugghhh...." Agrabal groaned from the pain, clutching his neck while resting his elbows on the table, leaning over the book.
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