The Magecraft Chronicles: IC

[Mizagium]

"Kugo Agetev." Kugo gave a small bow, not that he had any sort of respect for his new teacher, but, well, it was polite. He DID just break the man's tower after all. "Former student of three different gurus. Flunked out of all of them," he added, though that wasn't completely true. "So don't get your hopes up for me living up to...whatever expectations you have."

-

Vesperitas slept soundly for the rest of the night. Whoever - whatever this Tiamat was, it let her sleep the night through and awaken feeling refreshed. Of course, now she had to tell her uncle that she had no intention of going home. She froze with her feet on the floor, seated upon the bed. Was she really about to just leave everything behind for some quest of which she knew few details?

I will guide you.

"Who said that?" A kneejerk response. She knew exactly who that was; it spoke in the same asexual monotone as the one from her dream. "Tiamat?"

Yes child, I speak to you though the necklace.

"How?"

It is a celestial artifact. While not attuned to me per se, I was able to tap into its frequency and speak to you.

"I had no idea..."

Have no fear. I shall be with you. Always. Trust me.

"Right. Ok." Somehow, she felt less at ease than before, but was determined to keep to the path she had chosen. Smells of breakfast wafted in through the cracks in the doorframe. Uncle Adden awaited.

When she found him in the kitchen, breakfast was set, and he seated at the table, waiting.

"Uncle..." she began, but he stopped her gently.

"It's ok, Vespy. I know."

She narrowed her eyes. "You...know?"

"Yes. I had a long conversation with my brother last night, and he showed me the way things are to be." He paused, sighed. "Go on this journey; it is meant for you. I am not one to stand in the face of destiny and attempt to push against it. For one, I am too old, but I also know better. Sometimes we are thrust into situations that seem far above our head...but turn out to be just what we need. I don't like sending you off on your own, but I will not stop you."

After nearly tackling him out of his chair, they ate, strangely joyful. She she got up to go, he stopped her once again.

"Before you go, I have something for you." HE disappeared for a few minutes and came back with a sword. "This is Gram. It is a sword of legend in Mundas Vertias. It slew a dragon or two according to the tales and have been reforged at least once. Many years ago I found this sword - or rather it called out to me - and drew it. Since then it has been mine. Now it is yours."

She aghast. "Uncle, no! I can't take this!"

"Yes you can. You are meant to. My time is over. You are the new Gae'om family hero. Take this sword of justice and go. Fulfill your destiny."

She hesitated. Even she could feel Gram's power. Was it really all right to take it? Uncle seemed to think so and he was never usually wrong...still. When she grasped the sword by the handle, all her doubts fell away. This sword was made for her; it felt right in her hands.

"Thank you, Uncle Adden. I don't know what to say."

"Say nothing and go - before I change my mind." He smiled, pulled her close and said, "I will take care of your father. Don't you worry."

Before long, she was gone, down the road and off.

[Sariel of Tevet]

Eleazar sighed, because he hates introductions, but he obliqued the teacher anyway. "I am Eleazar Sicarioi. I am a necromancer from Nostia, but I have spent my latter years wandering around Hyddick. Taking care of some...personal business." I'm not quite sure what anyone would think about my antics with the Hyddick army, so I better keep that to myself for a while.

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Oberon raised himself from his recliner and allowed it to dissipate. "Well...". he started as he grasped the top of his apron above the chest, "Anything is better than this job." He ripped his apron apart and created a shadow portal on the ground and tossed his feather duster in to it. "I'm in."

[Myrdraxxis]

Arrick looked from one seeker to the next, raising an eyebrow. A strangely hostile hellan who thought himself to be some sort of priest -though aside from veneration of the Mage of Beginnings there had been no officially recognized deities in the history of Mundus Magica- and a rather...emotive shade.

'I suppose Seekers come in all forms.' he thought.

"Indeed."

"Alright then!" Cole said loudly, spinning on his heel and heading for the door back down into the hotel. "We should be off then. It will take us several hours to reach our destination." With that, the lead Seeker disappeared back into the hotel. Arrick followed, motioning for their two new comrades to do the same.

It took little time for Arrick and Cole to gather their things; Seekers tended to travel light for the most part. After slipping away from their lodgings the group of seekers made their way across the vast city of Megolin-Mesbaria. Arrick had to admit, he found the city amazing, even in the middle of the night. It was a great deal more peaceful feeling than during the rush of comings and goings during the waking hours.

"There are a lot of soldiers out, even at night." Arrick noted as the group turned a corner to the city outskirts and passed a patrol.

"They're gearing up for war. It's painfully obvious." Cole agreed. The older man shook his head in disgust. "I suppose forty years is long enough for people to forget how horrendous war is." Arrick glanced over at the man as they group made their way towards the city gates.

"I always grew up with stories about how bad the war was. My father used to tell them to my brother and me." Arrick said. Cole grunted.

"Yeah I'd imagine so. Ethan always hated the war, though ironically he and his group were a focal point of the fighting." Cole said as the group made their exit from the gates of the Megolin capital. Arrick looked at Cole with surprise written across his face.

"You know my dad?"

"Everybody knows who Ethan Sorian is, boy." Cole chuckled. "But yes, I know him. I didn't have the honor of fighting with him during the Second Great War or facing the Mage of Beginnings, but we crossed paths on Earth. Took down the blood cults together. He helped me find these swords too." Cole rested a hand on the pommel of one of the two swords at his hip. It seemed to glow at his touch.

Arrick stared at him for a moment before speaking. "You're that Cole. My father used to mention you."

"About how irritable I was all the time, no doubt." Cole chuckled again.

"But...I don't get it. I always thought you were older than y dad. You definitely don't look all that old." Arrick observed. Cole should be a great deal older than he looked if he was the same man who journeyed with he original Dark Wing group nearly forty years ago. Now it was Cole giving Arrick a surprised look.

"You don't know? I mean, I know you're still kind of a greenhorn in this whole Seeker business but...Solomon never told you?"

Arrick frowned, glancing down at his ring, a feeling of unease settling in his stomach. "Told me what?"

"It's part of being a Seeker." Cole began explaining. "When you become a Seeker, you're partially opening yourself up to a Celestial's influence. While Celestials can't enter Mundus Magica and have to use physical mediums to communicate, they use us Seekers, and will occasionally semi-possess us. Seekers, touched by Celestial power, stop aging from the moment they make a contract with a Celestial."

Arrick stared at the man in shock, then down at the ring. "Solomon?"

"It is true. Often times the tasks required reach farther than the normal lifespans of the partners we reach out to. Our power preserves the life of our Seeker until they are slain or part with their Celestial patron." Solomon admitted. Arrick opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out for a moment.

"You..you mean I'm immortal?" he managed to ask finally.

"Essentially." Cole answered. "You can still be killed, but until you leave service with Solomon, your body will not age. You're too young to notice the effects, but give it a decade or two and you'll find you haven't aged a day from the moment you agreed to be a Seeker." the elder Seeker said.

"We should move along." Hecate spoke up. "We can speak more on this later."

"She's right. Let's go." Cole said, leaving Arrick with the new and shocking information.

a couple of hours later the group of Seekers arrived in Idris, the small town where their artifact had last been reported to reside. It was still night, and the streets were deserted as the group entered the town.

"Spread and look for anything....weird." Arrick said, glancing around. "We have no idea what this thing does, but it probably won't be pretty."

[Luminous Gale]

Phaeral slowly turned in his chair to gaze behind him, and his intuition was right. Standing in the shadows by the wall was a tall figure, clad entirely in black with a cowl covering his head. The only splotch of color on him was something red on the left breast of his shirt. The two just stared at each other for a couple breaths, before the Hellan finally spoke up.

"Well? What do you want?" he said, trying to keep his voice even so as to not betray his surprise. The figure shifting a bit, bringing one arm forward slightly, and Phaeral noticed he wore a rather gaudy gold bracelet on his left arm. He stared at it, like he was listening to it, before answering Phaeral's question.

"You have something that belongs to me." the velvety voice spoke, and he pointed to the eagle dagger resting on Phaeral's desk. The artificer glanced at it, then back at the intruder. He didn't doubt that the dagger belonged to the man, but he had a feeling it would be best to keep it out of his hands.

"Don't want to hand it over? I can always do it the hard way, I suppose." the black clad man shrugged his shoulders, taking a step closer to where Phaeral was sitting.

"Why do you want it? What's so special about it?" Phaeral said, trying to keep the man busy so he could formulate a plan. The other man seemed to smile, a ghostly white that contrasted sharply with the rest of the man's features.

"I suppose I can indulge you...you won't be living much longer anyway. It's the key to finding a treasure, and I'd like to find it quickly, if you know what I mean..." the man said, and Phaeral knew his time was up. Muttering a short incantation that would imbue him with a quick burst of speed, he stood up and rushed at the figure. The man flinched and stepped back before the Hellan rammed into him, forearm leading, and slammed him against the wall. He had the intruder pinned, his forearm crushing his windpipe.

He struggled for a bit, his right arm flailing. The man's hand found its way to Phaeral, but most of the strength was gone from it. Suddenly, Phaeral knew he had made a mistake, and had no time to dodge the ray of fire the man unleashed from that hand. He was blown back, but luckily his desk was there to slow him. The impact with the desk made it explode into splinters, but Phaeral used the distraction to grab the eagle dagger.

Before he even hit the ground, he increased his speed once again, and launched himself through the cloud of splinters at the man. Dagger in hand, he sliced at the surprised man in a wide arc...to slam it against some invisible force in front of the intruder. He gazed at it for some time, and could see a shimmering, octagonal field of force on the man's upraised arm. Some kind of warding, Phaeral thought.

Changing his tactics, the artificer muttered charms to speed up his arms, and went into a furious assault on the intruding mage. He reversed his grip on the dagger, holding it in his right hand, and punched out at the shield. The hit was absorbed, and he followed with a shortened slice of the dagger. He flipped the dagger to his left hand and stabbed at the shield, and sparks flew from the impact. The intruder just smiled at his futile attempts.

"I would love to see where this battle would go...but I am in a hurry." he said, and Phaeral noticed the slight shift of power that indicated a spell. A spell that he knew to be a dangerous soul spell, and he reacted quickly and spoke a counter-spell. The man had cast a spell that would take a part of his soul and shoot it at Phaeral, with devastating effects. Phaeral's spell locked onto the soul missile as it exited the man's body, and held it there.

The two were suddenly in a battle of wills, each trying to push the missile back at each other. The missile slowly made its way closer to Phaeral, but he tightened his focus and pushed back harder, bringing the missile to a halt. His head ached, and it felt like it would explode if he didn't finish this quickly. Growling, he put all of his willpower into the missile, and it flared a bright red. For the first time he saw his enemy's eyes, as they grew wide in surprise and horror. Phaeral shot the soul missile back at its owner, resulting in a red flash and a low pitched boom.

Phaeral was on his back, and when he came back to his senses he looked up at where the man had been standing before. He was now against the wall, his chest caved in and literally flat against the wall from the redirected spell. The bracelet on the man's wrist seemed to glow then, and a cold voice spoke into the silence of the room.

"You have foiled my plans this time, mageling. But you won't be so lucky next time." the voice spoke, and Phaeral swore it was coming from the bracelet. Before he could ponder it further, the body disappeared into a dark portal, and he was suddenly alone.

The Hellan artificer looked at the dagger, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

[damienzd]

As Arrick began to scan the Seekers one by one, Anebos couldn't help but mutter the incantation to a spell that would let him "listen" to anyone's surface thoughts that he happened to focus on.

"Telyelvy yruowryl..."

He focused completely on Arrick as he moved his eyes from one Seeker to the next. A strangely hostile hellan who thinks himself to be some sort of priest -though aside from veneration of the Mage of Beginnings there had been no officially recognized deities in the history of Mundus Magica...

"I heard that," said Anebos, drawing the confused glances of the other Seekers. "I am a priest. My gods are not known to any outside of the hellan race. We discovered the remains of texts that spoke of various gods, and we took them as our own."

Arrick let out a slight sigh, but Cole broke the awkwardness. "Alright then!" Cole said loudly, spinning on his heel and heading for the door back down into the hotel. "We should be off then. It will take us several hours to reach our destination." With that, the lead Seeker disappeared back into the hotel. Arrick followed, motioning for their two new comrades to do the same. Anebos followed, wondering what exactly he might be getting himself into.

He went into his room and gathered his few possessions: his backpack, which contained a few items of personal value, and his staff, a gnarly shaft of wood insribed with warding runes and topped with a completely clear, transparent crystal.

A couple of hours later, the group of Seekers arrived in Idris, the small town where their artifact had last been reported to reside. It was still night, and the streets were deserted as the group entered the town.

"Spread and look for anything....weird." Arrick said, glancing around. "We have no idea what this thing does, but it probably won't be pretty."

"Wait," said Anebos. "Let's make this a little easier. Hiwry!"

Upon finishing the incantation, an orb of light appeared above the heads of each of the Seekers. "These will make it easier to see in the darkness. All you have to do is will it to move, brighten, et cetera, and it will do what you want. If you need it to go out completely for any reason, just will it to do so, but you must will it to come back within ten minutes...give or take...or else the spell will dissipate. Now for some protective spells."

He went up to each of the other Seekers, drew an oval shape in the air, and recited the two incantations. "Pannieln! Lrielht!" When the two incantations were spoken, the air around the Seekers quavered. There was now a quasi-tangible force surrounding each of them. "The first spell I cast is a shield against magic, so no fireballs or shadow tendrils should be hurting you. The second was a spell for a shield to ward off physical attacks, so no swords, knives, arrows, and the like. Last time I checked, each shield lasts about twenty minutes, so after they dissipate, you're on your own. I'm still channeling my thought-detecting spell,-" he looked at Arrick "-but I've put more into it. If you are injured and in need of healing or some such thing, just scream my name in your head. I'll hear it...or you could scream for the hostile hellan, and that way I'll know it's you." Anebos smiled, trying to not look nor sound threatening. He meant nothing by it. He just didn't have much trust for anyone that wasn't a Hellan.

He inclined his head. "May the gods protect you."

[Nergal]

"Great," Jin nodded, acknowledging each of the former intruders as a new apprentice. "It shall be a pleasure to work with you all on our upcoming journey." Jin walked away for a moment, heading up a very lengthy staircase toward one of the higher rooms in his home. In fact, this particular room happened to be the highest room his mansion featured: the attic. For decades now, Jin had been storing various ancient and dangerous artifacts there, many of them relics from his days as an adventurer in times long past. He preferred keeping them as far away as possible as they brought up bitter memories of how powerful he used to be. Not that he minded having that much power, of course...He just detested thinking about how far he had let himself fall.

Jin gravitated toward one pile of artifacts in particular that was caked in a thick layer of dust. The only feature that distinguished this pile from any of the other dust-coated pieces of junk in his attic was a pale, light blue gleam that seemed to be struggling to make itself seen from beneath its dusty prison. "Rest, Blade," Jin spoke. "You will have your time to shine very soon. Viento!" Jin uttered an incantation that would ordinarily create a light breeze around the caster. Ordinarily. In the presence of so many dangerous and powerful artifacts, the spell's strength was augmented tenfold and became a massive windstorm that forced all of the dust to the other side of the room...and outside a newly broken window. With the dust cleared, Jin was easily able to identify the most useful objects in this pile. In particular, he needed the source of that dim blue light - a double edged jian that (aside from the pale magical glow) seemed no different from an ordinary sword. He grabbed it as well as a number of other items - a travel bag, a beautifully carved oaken staff, a purple hand mirror, a small necklace and another sword, far more sinister in appearance than the first one. He strapped the first sword to his back, sheathed the other at his side and shoved the rest of the collected items into his bag, slinging it carelessly around his back.

After a few moments, Jin finally returned downstairs where his new apprentices were standing. "On the subject of journeys, " he began, "where exactly were you all headed before crashing into my home?"

[Sariel of Tevet]

Meanwhile in Southryos

“Aaaaaaaaah,” The Dayman sighed as he lifted his royal muscular arms and extended his equally royal legs before relaxing back into his seat.

“What a lovely royal day it is to be me!” He said with a bright and shining royal smile (royal smiles are the best of smiles afterall). The world was quite tranquil this morning. It was a morning tranquil enough to constitute a royal picnic under The Dayman’s favorite tree (a royal dogwood). He was seated at an elegant table, formed of ivory (of course), because someone with such a large codpiece as The Dayman has does not simply seat himself upon the ground to dine. What do you think he is, a hobo? Common filth? The Dayman would like me to remind you that of course he is NOT common filth. His codpiece is of more than sufficient size to constitute his royalty. He would also like me to apologize for this sudden deviation in text, please allow me to return to the scene description. Where was I? Ah yes. Birds were chirping the song of the land and of The Dayman’s family, servants were catching mice and other bugs and vermin in order to give them their daily baths (for even the lowliest of creatures are required to have proper hygiene in a place immersed in royalty so heavily), and the smell of freshly prepared clams began to fill the vicinity. A freshly bathed and perfumed servant was carrying a tray of clams over to The Dayman’s picnic table with the customary purple royal picnic cloth draped over their arm. The servant (who will remain gender neutral, for equality of course, the royal family believes that all common filth are equally distraught and sterile [rather they wish they were sterile, filthy swine! How dare they reproduce?!] so they refrain from paying attention to the genital detail of their help), spread out the royal picnic cloth over the table and presented the tray of exquisite royal clams (it’s true, divers were sent to find a kingdom of clams and procure their lords) to The Dayman.

“Ack!” The Dayman spat at the ground and stood up, presenting his royally broad and distinctly shaped chest and his equally massive codpiece with its customary royal sparkle. “How dare you bring me a royal crop of clams without any royal tartar sauce! What common filth do you believe that I am gender neutral servant?! I am no Kardashian (the Kardashians are a tribe of dark skinned foreign women who spend their days gallivanting around and spreading their horrible sexually transmitted diseases across the country side to unknowing farming folk. What a wretched bunch!) I assure you! No matter. I shall procure my own.”

The Dayman took his well defined royal hand and thrust it into his infinitely random utility belt. He retracted his hand and a rushing spray of light protruded henceforth and began to form a wormhole in front of him. Before The Dayman could use his royal brain to decipher the absolutely magnificent consequences for his discovery, the ground began to rumble. He eyes widened and his royal jaw dropped.

“No, no it cant be...”

He glanced over at the tray of clams and then off to the distance. The rumbling got more severe and a shape began to form along the event horizon. First came the smell of vagrancy and dirty diapers that were unprecedented to the most ridiculous degree. Then, the shape began to take form as it got closer. Hobotron was coming. The gigantic mecha hobo construct had caught the smell of clams (a most favored dish among the alley dwellers if you recall) and began his bum rush to claim his prize. Before The Dayman had time to try and calm the beast, it had already snatched up the clams with its massive, dirt encrusted fingers and passed them on to the dumpster baby minicons perched on his shoulders, and continued his sea food induced thrashing and ran straight through the wormhole which promptly bisected behind him and collapsed within itself. The Dayman let out the manliest sigh he could muster, and reclaimed his place at the picnic table.

“Bring me more clams, I don’t believe I shall have to worry about the likes of him any longer!”
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Oberon admired the shields that they were all now contained in. He could just as easily have protected himself with shadows, but he liked the lackadaisical approach he could take for their journey now, atleast for the first twenty minutes or so. Less of his energy to waste he assumed.

“Well, looks like we are ready for anything aye?” Oberon announced as he formed a shadow blade in either hand. There was an audible pop that echoed through the air as a few feet in front of them, a wormhole appeared. In what seemed like an instant, Hobotron appeared through the portal and took the group of Seekers by surprise. He was now in a new land and possibly a new time, and hobos are of course notorious for being easily spooked. He opened his cockpit and the dumpster baby minicons tossed the remaining clams for safe keeping, and they began to charge up. Their shrieking grew in decibels exponentially as an emerald colored beam began to form slightly above their mouths. The shrieking peaked and the two beams converged and forced themselves outward and collided with Anebos, knocking him to the ground. Satisfied with their handling of the perceived danger, the twins retrieved their aquatic spoils from the cockpit and Hobotron skipped gingerly away off into the distance to continue is vagrant wandering ways.

Oberon stared at Anebos in his tackled state, and hung his head. “Er…apparently we WEREN’T ready for everything. I think it is safe to say we are now however. Let’s go get that artifact.”

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“Well I was on my way out of Hyddick, headed to well…anywhere I suppose. I need to lay low for a while. Honestly I am up for any adventure you can throw at me master. Frankly, I just do not have much else to do until things blow over in the west. Does this journey involve the spells you are cooking up over there with the marine life? I hope this task isn’t too…fishy, but I assume I have no other choice than to follow now.”