Archive Posted January 30, 2003 Report Posted January 30, 2003 Cerulean Visitor Posts: 6 (8/5/01 6:42:41 am) Reply Through a glass, darkly -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- (Written by Macon Dor/Silexion as an application to The Pen.) It must be over six months that this weary Mage had been wandering in that vast desert. Living, barely living, in the dry, hot, seemingly endless expanse of rock and sand. He has only one memory not of the desert. That memory awoke with him when he opened his eyes six months ago. *…there were two figures in front of him, some distance away, a man and a woman. The Man was dressed in Red and the Woman in Blue, they embraced. He stood, no, floated, as he watched them. Looking down at his arms and hands he saw that he was more spirit than physical, then he looked up again. A wall of fire, fire of incalculable power, raced toward them. It hit the couple in front of him, and they were gone…a feeling of remorse was his last impression of that memory. * Much had happened, and much had he witnessed during his wandering. He had witnessed many battles fought between armies of great strength. And he had encountered many People with strange and wonderful powers. These People would look upon him with a mix of caring and pity in their eyes as they parted his company. The departure was almost always accompanied with a gift of food and water. But there was something more that lay beneath this needy flesh; he discovered that he, too, had fascinating, albeit weak, powers. He was able to stop a running hare or bring down a flying bird by concentration. He could start a fire on a piece of dry wood with his thoughts. But beyond this there was only the thought of survival and of finding a more comfortable place to live. Just a few days ago he had noticed a subtle change in the desert. There was more plant life and it was not as hot. These changes continues as he maintained his course and soon the terrain changed into chaparral. He would have continued in the same direction, content in the gradual improvements to his environment; but then something caught his attention. It was a piece of paper, tumbling in the wind across the top of the thorny shrubs. He raced forward and snagged it. It was an application form to a place (?) called "The Pen is Mightier than the Sword." It explained that they in this place were looking for members, and it was signed by Jechum and Wyvern. On the back of the form was a map. It would require a deviation from his current tack, but it took only a few seconds to decide. From the ridge he got his bearings and picked up the path that led to this strangely named land. Soon the land became even more green and lush, meadows of grass and trees. And soon other established paths crossed with his, sure signs of community. This caused certain uneasiness as he had lived alone since… well, for as long as he was alive. Then as his path joined a wider road he saw the sign, a feather gliding on a scroll. This was it, the Tavern of the Quill. To the side of the main building, attached, was the Office. He readied himself, took the application form firmly into his hand and walked, as confidently as possible, to the door. As he reached the front door it was pushed open from inside and a man came bustling through. He seemed nice enough as he held the door open for the dirty stranger. Only a raised eyebrow gave away any apprehension. But the door, held open, gave the wanderer little chance to change his mind, and he entered. Inside were three individuals; a man-lizard (almost a dragon) was behind the desk; on his lap was a beautiful girl with copper-coloured hair and laughing eyes, and standing next to the desk was another pretty girl with blonde hair and… …the memory of that time before; when the couple was consumed by fire, came back to him; That was Her! A name came to him suddenly, from nowhere, but he knew, "You are Cerulean. Your name is Cerulean? No?" Cerulean's eyes focused when she heard her name. Her face lost all colour, her eyes widened, "Macon-Dor!"
Archive Posted January 30, 2003 Author Report Posted January 30, 2003 Cerulean Visitor Posts: 7 (8/5/01 6:46:21 am) Reply Re: Through a glass, darkly -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- They had only seen her in peace time. She wandered the Conservatory, laughing with friends, sharing tales. She wrote songs of love, of skies, of sunsets and deserts. They had not seen her at war. Cerulean stands and meets the visitor's eye. She matches him for height and her gaze is unwavering. If her face shows pallor, it is the pallor of one suddenly caught off guard. She had not expected to see this figure again. Neither of them move, but she increases her concentration. If ever she needed focus, it was now. Drawing energy toward her, gathering in from the surroundings, she pulls force from the others. She can feel it pulsing through her body, twisting through her senses, consolidating where she urgently needs it. Cerulean's eyes narrow with effort, it has been too long, she has been lazy, peace brings with it a complacency which is dangerous. How had she not sensed his coming? How had it been possible for him to assume the advantage. She scoffs at her own incompetency. If this time she is to defeat Macon Dor, then she must act with cold precision. There will be no room for sentimentality this time. She allows the energies to settle into a pattern she recognizes and her mind responds almost automatically, sending out an initial scry to him. He takes a half-pace backward as the fingers of the spell invade his consciousness, but makes no attempt to block her. He sends an image of two people, of a fire, of an ending. She scries harder, the figures are too distant, the picture incomplete. She increases the pressure three-fold. The enchantment snatches at his thoughts. If there is resistance, it's too late for him. She will see what she will see. As if through a tarnished mirror, Cerulean's mind grasps what she has been searching for. She slides one thought ahead and snaps it at him with enough power to kill a lesser Mage. He hears her, though she utters nothing aloud. "You are a fool if you underestimate me. Did past events not warn you of this at least?"
Archive Posted January 30, 2003 Author Report Posted January 30, 2003 Cerulean Visitor Posts: 8 (8/5/01 6:57:58 am) Reply Re: Through a glass, darkly -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- OOC - I hope the two preceding posts will serve as an introduction to the story Silexion and Cerulean have to tell. It has spanned five resets (I think) with a couple of hiccups. We both have literally hundreds of pages of messages of this RP collected over the last year and a half. The first in character message I ever wrote, anywhere, followed my multiattacking of Macon Dor's Kingdom after I had suffered his rather acid (and effective) retaliation. Thereafter an alliance was formed and a story developed - Now we'll try to bond these fragments into something cohesive. I hope you enjoy reading this, as we've enjoyed playing it out. Enough babble! And on with the tale...
Archive Posted January 30, 2003 Author Report Posted January 30, 2003 Cerulean Visitor Posts: 9 (8/5/01 7:34:36 am) Reply Re: Through a glass, darkly -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She had conquered him twice. If the victories came close, one after the other, what of it? Now this Eradication Mage had the temerity to fight back? Cerulean regarded the bloody evidence of his retaliation. He had not approved of her methods, nor she of his. The lands she held so dearly, bore scars of their warfare. Yet she would not let his assaults remain unpunished. If he wished for war, then Macon Dor would receive it. She had never shied from bloodshed, indeed battle drew her like a moth to a flame. "Clearly I need to visit him once more", she muses. "If that fails to teach him to fear me, then he can accept the consequences of non-capitulation." With the whisper of a smile about her lips, she prepares to leave her realm. *** Cerulean strides into his chambers, watching with wry pleasure as Macon Dor's minions humbly cower from her withering gaze. "So my Lord, you have thrown down the gauntlet? May I remind you that to tarry too often in the kingdom of Phantasm lore may be ultimately the downfall of your puny state. I rule to conquer the weak and ill-learned. If your armies cannot fight me with venom and passion, then I shall return again and again to plunder your land and massacre your cowards. Be a scholar and a hero to your followers, instead of wringing your hands so pitifully." She exits his castle, an impenetrable wall of darting blue sparks surrounding her. Her absence seems to cry out in her wake... ~You will not forget her eyes, her mocking blue eyes. For the first time in your young life, you will know what it is, to be truly afraid.~
Archive Posted January 30, 2003 Author Report Posted January 30, 2003 Silexion Visitor Posts: 2 (8/10/01 7:58:00 am) Reply Re: Through a glass, darkly -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 2. The icy cold fingers that gripped his consciousness where more painful than anything else he had felt. Pushing into and then through his brain, probing for something; but he did not know what. Or why. This Cerulean looked at him with shock and anger and then this hit him. He felt only two things; confusion and pain! The cold blunt probing became sharper and more intense. He could now feel that She was reading his thoughts, searching for information. The dream came back to him, and she tore at his mind again. She felt him questioning, "Why are you doing this?" But her anger intensified and she lashed out with a scry of great power. Macon-Dor could do nothing, not even scream; he was defenseless as Cerulean focused her power. Just a little more and she would have what she wanted even if it meant liquefying Macon-Dor's brain. Suddenly, a feeling of remorse, as he felt in his dream but intensified by the psychic magic, filled his being. Deeply buried emotions, not understood by him, were being examined. The mental probe widened until he felt that his head would burst, but then withdrew. Suddenly and without gentleness. He was left with the following admonition, "You are a fool if you underestimate me. Did past events not warn you of this at least?" The mind-probe, upon removal, left him unconscious and he fell backward onto the stone floor. Cerulean, pulling her wrap tightly around her shoulders, strode directly out of the room. Scarlett and Wyvern looked at each other and then checked Macon-Dor for signs of life. He was alive, just barely. "Wyvern, get the healer. I have to talk the Cerulean." And she ran in pursuit of her friend. Macon-Dor heard the Healer come in and felt himself being moved to another room. His body could not respond, but his mind was responding. It was responding to the mental attack just sustained. There were memories long lost, buried so deep in synaptic knots that only a scry of this power could begin to bring these to the surface. Slowly Macon-Dor's mind began to put images and sounds of times long ago back together. Fleeting bits of color and image slowly congealed into snippets of another life and finally a full memory played out in his head... "My Lord, the battle reports have come in. I am sorry but we have suffered losses in two major battles to one enemy. And land was lost in the southwestern quarter." The WarLord seemed to blame himself, but Macon-Dor knew the fault was his own. The armies were not ready. Macon-Dor was new to this. He did not yet have the skill and knowledge to maintain a large Kingdom against aggressive and ambitious Mages. But now was the time to begin the acquisition of the qualities needed if he were to survive this harsh world. Macon-Dor turned back to the WarLord; "You will soon get your chance to recover what was lost. Organize the armies and order the Guild-Masters to bring the Magic to full. Then await my command." Macon-Dor hastened to the Library and poured through several tomes of The Battles and the Art of Eradication Magic. He had ignored the writings of the skilled Mages that preceded him; and in his arrogance lost part of his Kingdom and, more importantly, a number of his People. Ignorance would no longer be a factor to be held against him. Some time later, he emerged from the Library with at least the basic knowledge of warfare and armies. Using the Magic, he summoned, for the first time, Liches from the depths of The Hell and Dragons from the Caves of Fire. He completed his army with various fighting creatures from all of Terra. He then sent his armies to recover the land taken by this Mage of Phantasm Magic. From his vantage point, Macon-Dor directed the Magic that began the battles. The fighting was fierce and there were many losses. And as always the battle reports came in almost too quickly. "My Lord, We did not succeed in the main siege, we were unable to recover any fortresses. But we were successful in recovering some land and some villages. It is a small victory..." "...but one to build on." Macon-Dor interrupted dryly. "Set up good defenses and barriers. I believe that our warring days have just begun." The two smiled briefly at each other, and then set out to do that which was required. ----- In his dining chamber, Macon-Dor sat thinking. A noise or some sort of disturbance came from behind. He turned to see a Woman, a Warrior Mage, appear. The servants scattered like leaves in the wind. Her eyes were blue and mocking and she walked right up to him. She used words like weapons, glances were like the edges of a sword, smiles were like lances. She threatened him and then left in a shower of sparks... Although he felt fear for the first time in his life, he could not show it. He settled down the domestics and left the dining room, no longer hungry. He wandered through the halls of his Chateau, thinking. "Who was this Mage against which he decided to retaliate? This may have been a truly grave error. The power she seems to wield! How could she gain entrance to my home so easily?" Through the long hours of darkness, Macon-Dor searched his library for answers. All he learned was that he was fighting against an enemy that was resourceful. The Phantasm Magic was strange and difficult to fight against; especially as an Eradication Mage. But he took all he learned and ordered his army to establish these defenses immediately. The horizon was just beginning to glow with the light of a new day, but Macon-Dor lay down for a few hour sleep. His mind replayed the visitation of that Phantasm Mage. As he drifted into sleep he recalled her face, and especially her eyes. Why is it that someone so fair has become his enemy? Edited by: Silexion at: 8/16/01 7:57:56 am
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