Post by James "Mustang" Morrison on Apr 4, 2006 16:47:23 GMT -5
Everything started to move in slow motion. James ran for Hayzie. He stepped in front of her and summoned up an enormous shield of light. The curse hit and shockwaves of pain rolled through his body. But he stood his ground. It was not as bad as it could have been. But it was still pretty bad. He could not continue this much longer.
He brought Lightseeker to bear, the strain of it all made the veins on his arm stand out. He focused and slashed the sword through the air. A red streak rocketed at Tobias and cut right through the shield and slammed into him, cutting through his clothes and a large slash appeared on Tobias' front. The strain lessened immediately.
Post by Hayzie (ghosty) on Apr 4, 2006 16:52:22 GMT -5
I need a hero, I'm holding on for a hero til the end of the night...
And she had her hero. As the curse was shouted through the night sky, the boy she had helped out moments before appeared to return the favour. Hayzie scrunched her eyes shut in hopes that it would maybe all go away if she closed them for long enough, but the massive flash of light made her open them again, a small smile lighting up her face.
"Need a hand?" she asked, forming her own shield around the pair. "What'd you do to get these guys so wound up anyways?" Hayz questioned, watching as various spells bounced off the shield. "Take a rest, you'll wear yourself out."
Though it didn't seem her own shield was going to hold for long. It had already taken a lot of hits.
There is only one word in the english language that Tobias could say to match the sensation he went through. He had not expected Mustang to be so vigilant, he had to respect that, but being slashed through magic, he could only say, "Ow!"
His concentration faltered for a minute, as shield was broken, and blood began to seep out from his front. But after a second, he focused all of his attention into his curse, and whatever releif his victims had just felt, was replaced by pain more than they had begun with. Now that he had no shield to worry about, Tobias used his other wand to mend his wounds before aiming it at the pair. "I cant let my identity slide so soon...Obliviate!"
Now, all they knew, was that they were being assaulted, and soon tortured again, by a Mystery Shadow in a mask.
Max had turned his respectful gaze from Count Scorpius, and had been watching the most prominent fight. This fight was with the before mentioned Girl in wheel/hover/thing chair, and the student with the sword, against the Shadow that had been causing havoc in the air. This was quite a duel, as he saw magic that he had never seen before be used. The shadow was soon shown to be Tobais, the boy from the Salamandra(e?) Incident. He was the one who had thought of the teleportation rocks, which Max had, of course, forgot. In the end, it seemed that Tobias was the winner, even going so far as to erase their memory. But.. of course, the spell didn't exactly work on the Ghost that happened to be watching, and Max carefully imprinted into his brain: Tobias = Shadow. Not that this was a bad thing, or anything. But it just might be useful information, some day...
Post by Miles Landon on Apr 4, 2006 18:55:05 GMT -5
Miles had hurried to James' aid as soon as he could. He could hear his and Hayzie's minds crying out in pain. He came upon the scene and saw the Shadow, Tobias, torturing them. There was no mistaking that scent, it was Selther. He leapt onto the building behind him and chomped on his arm, crushing bones and causing him to drop his wand. Miles jerked his head and Selther's arm was now facing the wrong way. Completely and hideously dislocated.
He grabbed hold of the wand with his forepaw and snapped it in two. Now, drop the other one or you lose this arm.
Last Edit: Apr 4, 2006 18:55:25 GMT -5 by Miles Landon
Post by Tristan Pendragon on Apr 4, 2006 19:22:04 GMT -5
The edge of a blade appeared at Miles' throat. There had been no scent, nor any noise, as Exvind had appeared the Lycan, and now made the odd stereotypical three-way hostage situation. "It vould be vise, if you let go of ze boy. Removing body parts is a small threat for ze Society. I vould be much more concerned for your vell being. Vone twitch of my blade, would sever many of ze necessary veins in your neck. You vould die, and I vould never be able to give you ze cure. Ve vould not want zat, now vould ve?" The german's tones were monotonic with no emotion, but suddenly, it was as if there was another voice in the young Lycan's head, one of a twenty-year old English chap.
Now listen very carefully Miles, my name is not important, but you must comply if we all want to live. I do not want more lives to be lost on either side this night, so just follow what I say. I must keep this German facade for a while...now then, let go of Selther's arm, and back away, I have a bad feeling that Syrus Korodin is on his way. I shall fall backwards as if hit by a spell, so you must run. And as to a cure, I'm sad to say there is none, but how would a Shadow attempt to persuade? After you run, I shall take care of the current situation...with luck, I can keep both of them from dying.
Skullwhite remained on the edge of the battle, his bridle only constraining him to come, not to actually for him to do anything. If this thing went under, he'd plead Faerie Law, and be off scot-free. He only helped the shadows with their individual battles, working healing charms here, magical sheilds there, and occasionally dispatching someone who snuck up behind one of his fellows. His last manuvere had been helping Selther revive himself. He didn't care for Selther at all, and thought him at least as big a fool as Mustang. One gained nought from being overt. True power came from patience and determination, slowly over time.
He turned his attention to the ghost-boy. If this skirmish was enough to attract the attention of even the newly dead, then maybe he had misjudged its potency. He'd keep a close watch on this one. It seemed to him, any wizard who can become a ghost without preparing the usual spells was a force to be reckoned with. bg
Post by Miles Landon on Apr 4, 2006 19:46:50 GMT -5
What the hell? For a second there, it had been a good old-fashioned Mexican stand off. This was a startling new development. You better not be lying to me. And as for a cure, I gave up on that a long time ago. No worries. Miles did as he was instructed, letting go slowly. He ran to protect James and Hayzie.
They were heavily damaged and wide eyed in pain. He stepped in front of them, hoping to guard them from anymore attacks. A Kelpie arrived near Selther and started to heal him. They had to get out fast.
Last Edit: Apr 4, 2006 19:51:07 GMT -5 by Miles Landon
Post by James "Mustang" Morrison on Apr 4, 2006 20:05:36 GMT -5
Finally, the onslaught ended. Miles padded up to him, and stood in front of them. James took hold of Hayzie and Miles. Summoning the last of his strength, he focused on Joker's Bar. The smell, the atmosphere. He gathered up his energy and Disapparated.
They suddenly appeared in the midst of the huddled masses. Several people shrieked at the sudden appearance of a large lycan and a battle weary wizard and witch. But they recognized that Miles was the lycan helping them and they calmed the others down.
He sat down and crossed his legs and began casting the spells Dahaslim had taught him. He went into a trance for a few minutes. The spells worked quickly, his body began to recover almoswt immediately. Bones mended, scratches and bruises receded. His body felt whole again.
He went over to Hayzie to make sure she was okay. They'd need to rest for a while now. They had to wait for Talon.
Post by Hayzie (ghosty) on Apr 4, 2006 20:30:47 GMT -5
"Not ag-" was as far as Hayz managed to get before the spell hit her, leaving the blonde completely confused. Obliviate wasn't a spell the girl had experienced before, and the experience certainly wasn't a welcome one. She struggled as much as her mind could take without experiencing a headache to try and figure out anything. Where she was, how she got there, who she was.
As a wolf came bounding over to where she sat in her chair with a boy next to her, Hayz let out her first scream of the evening. Why was there a wolf there? Why was everyone panicking? The shield the store owner had placed up before seemed to have vanished before the spell hit, leaving the girl vulnerable to the spell's effects. It was certainly doing its job.
As the boy who was standing there admist the chaos in the streets grasped the back of her wheelchair, Hayz scrunched her eyes shut only to open them to much quieter shrieks than the ones she was hearing before. Suddenly, something came back to her. They were there... there were bad guys... someone had begun killing, that's why the dead bodies were there before... "Why are we here if they need help there?" Hayzie asked uncertainly as the boy walked up to her. "We can't just wait around here... we've got to help!"
Granted, Muryllis did not entirely approve of the Society's occasional acts of mass violence; the only reason he had become a Shadow in the first place was because of the honorable promise of infinite knowledge. He had, over time, developed an opinion of intrigue over the actions of this group; though he did not appreciate the idea of senselessly bombarding towns full of innocent civilians, he was mystified by their approach to forming their image. What better way to instill fear and the idea of power than to display that power in this sort of attention-gaining way? For this reason, he decided to tag along when Syrus informed him of the latest show of power.
As the havoc insued, the adept Muryllis centered his gaze on the setting; a miniscule black cloud appeared a few meters in the air, a single ray of hazy blue light peering out. Scanning around, he smiled, sitting comfortably in a second-floor bathroom stall, taking in the magnificent display of magical knowledge at its liveliest. It was then that he felt a sort of tingle in his belly; though never really exposed to situations of the deepest peril, Muryllis drooled over the idea of being in the midst of a magical battle (doing so in greater quantities after reading of the Battle of the Appians, in which wizard bandits were confronted by the Roman Legionary Arcanists, back in the days of Cicero.) Passively setting his mind in motion, he tapped his Society badge and sent a mental note of his plan to Syrus and Scorpius.
Pushing aside the idea of having to stand the dishonorable slaughter of civilians, he instead thought of the interesting fights between the best of those present in Drakborough. The puff of blackness, his Shadow's Eye, faded into nothingness, and he now took on a more ethereal appearance as his mind probed for a safe place to exit the Shadow Corridor. With the simple image of a labyrinthine alleyway molded into his mind, his body effectively left the bathroom stall, entering the indescribable realm of Shadows. Running through possible disguises in which to act as a spectator, he let the shadows fuse into a porcelain-white shell, molding eventually into a simple.. actor's mask? Yes, Muryllis was quite fond of theatre...
-----------
The unique sounds of battle and chaos flooded his ears, only barely muffled by the mask and thick black hood of a cloak that covered his head. He was an interesting figure: an entirely black body, the robes and cloak casting numerous wispy folds down to his feet; the imposing emblem of the Society decorated his chest; the pale, uninviting white mask turning the entire form into a combination of contrast and ominousity. Lazily enchanting himself with various charms of protection, learned or developed within the halls of the Temple of Shadows, he slid his wand back up his sleeve; a glide-like walk to the mouth of the alley brought him to a spot across from the Joker's Bar. Inside, he could see the form of James Mustang and a different, stranger one he had seen only once before - the wheelchair-bound form of Hayzie. Standing quietly near the wall, he gazed at the two of them, his senses ever-alert lest a surprise attack were launched.
[OOC: How good if feels to be back.. though my return posts might be a bit crappy ]
Last Edit: Apr 4, 2006 20:31:42 GMT -5 by Mury 6.0
Evilyn walked up next to Skullwhite and stood by his side. "So they started the party without me did they?" Her disappointment was evident from her usual pout. Out of the corner of her eye the nymph spotted a boy peering around a corner of a building, holding an apple about to throw it in the dark lord's direction. Her shining black eyes squinted in the boy's direction, and he immedietly fell to the ground, clutching his throat and coughing up stream of water. Soon he was nothing more then a twitching corpse added to the body count. Evilyn sauntered into the square, drapped in a sheer black cloak. She looked around, searching for more "heros" to cut their mortal coil. The square was all but deserted. She looked back at Skullwhite. "Aren't you coming to help with the cleanup?"
For whom does the lonely cry out for with such anguish?
Orifiel, after dutifully dispatching a few more opponents; named thus because he chose to attack any who would raise wand to fight, thus granting them the noble death in combat they deserved. As fitting and end that any warrior could desire.
He had even gone through the trouble of detaching himself from certain combat to approach the new little scuffle, headed by the crippled little girl who was quite an amazement to the seasoned warrior. Yet to his near dismay, the battle ended nearly as soon as it had begun with an act of utmost cowardice; they had fled! Not fled as in to regroup and re-plan, but simply fled for the sake of escaping, the cowards way out. They were utter cowards, the lot of them, unworthy of the meager lives they had been granted. Soon enough they too would be dealt with.
At any rate, there was one left who needed to be dispatched, one who Orifiel knew needed to be removed for his atrocities from near the very beginning, and this was the small one; he who had attacked a crippled girl without any hint of hesitation. It was he who would not walk casually away from this scene this night, the new target for the Nephilim’s wrath.
While the insolent human children had played their little games, distracted with one another, Orifiel had taken it to mind to almost casually approach the building. Leaping upon an overturned cart, gaining a handhold upon the edge of the roof, he vaulted himself to the rooftop with the unnatural grace of his kind.
Once he had made the rooftop, he had immediately darted at the dishonorable one, even as the lycan child had begun his own departure, taking with him his friends and leaving only the random recent appearance and the child on up top. With the inhuman speed of his kind, he was upon Tobias before he would have known what assailed him, driving a line of spikes from each hand into the boys side and back, the force of the impact carrying them both onward and clear off the roof, where Orifiel landed atop the boy with an impact easily powerful enough to knock a full-grown man unconscious.
He had stated once before that they should all pay attention to him and him alone, so there was no dishonor involved if he had taken them completely by surprise.
And it was at times like this, with the scent of blood and sweat and combat in the air, that the true nightmares came away from their hiding places to wreak havoc upon the world. The little town of Drakborough was busily being turned inside out by the power of the Shadow society. Spells flew through the air, accompanied by the screams of the living, both human and inhuman. Corpses littered the streets, their lifeblood staining the cobblestones black in the dim light, occasionally illuminated by bursts of powerful magic erupting all around the city. Duels were occurring in every alleyway, doorstep, and courtyard, and every few seconds another man fell to the power of the Society. And rather suddenly, indeed rather unusually, the temperature began to drop.
In the sleepy little town of Drakborough, a haven for students, jokers, and alcoholic men of all shapes and sizes, it began to snow. At first it was simply a few stray flakes of crystalline water making their way down from the upper levels of the atmosphere, but very soon the snow began to thicken and increase in intensity, coating the ground in a thin layer of whiteness. Lightning began to crackle way up in the stratosphere, searching for a path down to the earth where it could finally neutralize. And in the center of this storm of snow, ice, and electric death, almost a kilometer up in the sky, was something like a man. He was dressed in muggle clothing, finding them far more comfortable than clumsy wizarding robes, most of them appearing to be expensive name-brand clothes.
His shirt, complete with trendy lapels upon which a name-tag was hanging (Hello, My Name Is: Knowledge), as well as his pants, were made of a material that felt like silk but was as strong as muggle nanofiber. It shimmered and flowed like water, trapped by some arcane art into the form of fiber, and the wearer could make himself invisible at will. His cloak was made of the same material, and it snapped and cracked in the high winds generated by his ice storm. His eyes began to glow an ethereal violet as this terrible figure cackled madly, his mirth drowned by the roaring winds. And then, quickly and without any signal, he began his dive toward Drakborough.
There was a sound, louder than the roar of a twenty-one gun salute, and a massive explosion as Syrus Korodin tore through one of the larger buildings in the sleepy town, obliterating it completely. It exploded with a violent flash of violet, spraying shrapnel, magical energy, and shards of ice in every possible direction. People screamed in pain and fear as their bodies and minds were torn apart, while the Shadows expressed their joy at the fact that another one of the "Big Four" had arrived. There was another explosion, and a nearby building went up in flames, smoke billowing from its windows. And then Lord Korodin was in the air, floating several stories above Drakborough, and revealing his presence to all those still alive with a mighty roar.
"Here I am, bringer of death! Who among you shall face me?"bg
Post by Miles Landon on Apr 4, 2006 21:12:32 GMT -5
Miles changed back to his human form. On his back and front his tatoos intertwined with his scars, creating an interesting aesthetic effect. Someone offered him a coat and he put it on, covering his bare back. He started trying to connect with Talon's mind again.
Talon Windwaltz...Help us...Hurry...We won't last much longer...Hurry.
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