Appearing in a swirl of dirt and moldering leaves, Faust and Syrus appeared into an open spot amongst the crumbling gravestones encircling the central crypt. Here the stench of decay was almost overpowering now that the omnipresent grave smell combined with Faust's own aroma of death. The bits of blond hair that poked out between the black wrappings on his head whipped about in the strong gusts of wind that blew across the barren lot.
"It seems that I have been called in to deal with the problem that apparently is you," Faust rasped, "So do you feel lucky? Have you prayed to your god? For it seems that you shall be meeting your maker in short order."
Faust lifted his hands above his head, his wand angled towards the multitude of graves surrounding them. He appeared to be thinking about something as a jet of sickly red light shot into the ground from his wand. A deep rumbling sound erupted from the ground as the earth around Faust started to crack as skeletal limbs began to extend upwards out of the soil.
One minute Syrus was preparing to actually start his attack, and the next minute he was spirited away by an utter stranger. What a strange way to end a fight! He was quite confident that he would be back to deal with Talon and Azrael eventually. His only concern as of now was Fenris, and how he would fare under the watchful eye of some of his worst enemies.
A mere moment passed and the scene shifted, from the Arch to the Crypt. Immediately Syrus noticed a less than pleasant smell emanating from the graves and from Faust himself. Syrus strongly suspected that Faust did not shower. Although, being dead, showering was not really a prerogative. It was a foolish idea anyway, and Syrus chided himself for assuming that the undead require bathing in the first place.
It was rather windy, too. The breeze was quite enjoyable and thankfully it was carrying the Faust-smell away. It did not, unfortunately, carry his words away, and Syrus listened with growing boredom. When the disgusting apparition was done speaking, he raised his arms above his head and seemed to initiate some sort of spell. Almost immediately the earth began to shake and groan, and the dead began to rise from their graves. Syrus was used to necromancy, and this was not very distressing to him.
Instead of cowering in fear, which was perhaps what Faust expected of him, Syrus took a casual step forward and crushed the hand of a skeletal wraith that was busily making its way out of the sodden earth.
"My good sir, what is stopping me from simply apparating away? I am here of my own volition, really. At any given moment I could disappear using any one of the many methods of rapid transit in my inventory. Do not think for a moment that you have me trapped!"
"I do feel lucky, as I am a compulsive gambler and always have luck at the slots. I don't pray, but that is none of your business, really. Also, your use of 'meeting your maker' was rather cliche and I disapprove." Syrus chuckled and gestured to the skeletal apparitions that were now rising from their graves. "And what's all this? Come on, Faust. Be frank with me. What the hell are you doing?"
Syrus was quite curious. He wasn't really worried that Faust could injure him or anything like that. Even without a few important pieces of his armor, Syrus was much stronger than his usual self. His studies showed him that at full power he was three times his regular strength. Right now he was at half power as he had been unable to figure out all the abilities of his suit as of yet. Soon, when he managed to activate its full potential, he would be able to unleash much havoc with relative ease. Until then he would play Faust's game until he became quite bored and returned home to play twister with his villainous minions.
Faust watched, unphased, as Syrus stomped on one of the emerging skeletons. Minions were, after all, merely pawns. Completely expendable and yet crushing the hand of one did absolutely nothing as it was the entire skeleton that is the weapon and not just what it can hold. Even as Syrus stepped on the hand, it clasped around his foot in an iron grip.
"You ask what is stopping you from merely dissapparating?" Faust mused, "Why, I would think that would be obvious. How would it sound if the 'mighty Syrus' fled in terror from a gaggle of skeletons and their master? Isn't it obvious that any duel between wizards could be ended as quickly as a simple escape on one of their parts? But the duels still happen and they go to the death. Why would that be? Simple. They would rather finish their grudge match and attempt to kill the other. For that is what most wizard duels are, two wizards trying to kill each other because either of them disliked the other to such an extent that they would rather kill each other than let their opponent live another day. Is that too complex of a concept for you? I assumed that now that I have challenged you that you would rather save face and not run away. But it is up to you I guess, do you decline this chance to prove yourself the better or would you rather be known as the scared little piece of sh!t that I believe you to be."
Throughout this long-winded little speech, Faust's minions had not been idle. The skeletons that had emerged were now encircling Syrus. Some had even begun to charge forward at him their claw-like hands aiming to rend flesh upon connection. Faust himself had lowered his arms and had drawn his wand back up into his cloak all the while keeping Syrus in his unblinking stare. He knew that his minions would not be able to do much more than provide a distraction. A smile crept across his mostly hidden face. It would be apparent what he was planning, but then it would be too late. An almost inaudible crunch sounded out below the ground directly under Syrus as the various roots deep below were torn asunder. Soon his titan would emerge...
As a lazy cat sprawled on an elegant rug, drifting to sleep under the soporiferous efforts of the afternoon sun, the Violet King yawned, luxuriously and extravagantly, in outright mockery of his opposite number. Faust was more long-winded than Syrus himself! How preposterous, he thought, that anyone would try to wrestle the record away from him!
Yet, Faust intrigued him. What did this skeletal apparition, looking like he was not of the Earth and yet on it, want with him? He had mentioned the armor but had so far failed to mention it again. Perhaps the strange man wanted to try to take the armor from him. That in itself was absurd and impossible, as Faust would quickly ascertain if he tried to steal it.
And really, what the hell kind of name was Faust? What poor, uncreative couple would name their child after a tragedy by Goethe? Mayhap this fiend was really the Johann Faust. He looked both ugly enough and dead enough to make it a distinct possibility. There was also the possibility that it was not his real name, but more a pseudonym used to represent the individual's use of dark magic for power, referring to the medieval legend. The Violet King resolved to solve this dilemma at some time in his future career. For now, though, he had a rebuttal to unleash, and perhaps another fabulous fulmination would follow.
"Faust, my dear, dear, foul smelling friend!" he cried, raising his hands in the air, palms open as if surrendering, "What a marvelous speech on your part! Your phenomenal use of insult and rhetoric and delicious reverse psychology was sufficient to sway my heart. You have single handedly forced me to stay here and partake in whatever game you have devised. Brilliant!"
A bright flash of ridiculously deep purple, so deep it was almost blue, burst forth from Lord Korodin's armor, soaking the skeletons in ethereal effervescence (perhaps fitting to their ethereal condition) even as it dismantled them. In the moment that it took the flash to begin and to end, the skeletons were all destroyed, clattering as they fell and became mere heaps of bones.
"I don't need to buoy my reputation among such pathetic and worthless circles as you and your embarrassing brother. In fact, please think less of me, as it will make the irony of your defeat more poignant as a result, whether it occurs now or later."
"Now that your skeletal minions have been dispatched," said Syrus, "kindly show me what you have waiting for me beneath the ground, as I am busy and have to attend a rendition of Bedrich Smetana's Ma Vlast in two hours time."
The Violet King stretched out the magical connections he had developed over many years, linking his body and soul to home in the event of severe danger, and promptly summoned to himself a greater burst of energy. There were no doubts in his mind concerning his safety here. Neither Faust nor any of his creations would be able to slay him, and that was all that mattered. Until then, he would have a little bit of fun, and maybe figure out what else his armor could do.
A slight frown flickered across Faust's mostly hidden face. This getting them nowhere as Syrus was just dissmantling all of the fodder that Faust was lazily tossing at him. He would definately need to try instead of just examining how Syrus was using the armor.
As the piles of bones increased around Syrus, Faust drew his wand back out. "It would seem that you aren't really taking this seriously," he mused, more to himself than to Syrus, "Well, If you feel as though we are inferior to you then why don't you actually try doing something instead of blow up minions. All you are doing is taking the defense, am I really that scary that you wouldn't even try?"
Faust spun around as if to apparate but stopped... He hadn't moved at all and his back was now to Syrus. Something had caused his apparation to not work... "Damn," he swore under his breath, "GEIRROD, COME FORTH!"
His voice seemed magically amplified as he roared out the command, it reverberated through the bones piled on the ground causing the piles to sink lower... and lower... They weren't settling down at all, rather some of them were falling into the cracks that were now radiating from below Syrus' feet as something huge was pushing its way up very rapidly.
Teagan Offline: This board is full of nostalgia.
Aug 22, 2020 8:39:09 GMT -5
Missing the old MH: gotta say missing when MH and all that was around.
Nov 6, 2019 0:02:30 GMT -5
Willow_lazy: why tf are there 400 posts about adidas
Sept 6, 2018 17:35:57 GMT -5
Azrael: I'm not hard to find, since I'm the only one there who goes by "Azzy", I'm pretty sure. XD
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:41 GMT -5
Azrael: Dunno if anyone still pops by here from time to time, but if any of you mofos do and still feel like gettin' yo nerd on, I've been hanging around this here place a bunch recently: www.roleplayerguild.com/
Feb 10, 2018 16:44:10 GMT -5
Azrael: hold onto your pantaloons
Jul 25, 2016 5:16:43 GMT -5