Tekhetsio (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
heresyandlace) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-03-23 02:21 pm
heresyandlace) wrote in driftfleet2015-03-23 02:21 pm
Entry tags:
Dragon!
Who: ANYONE!
Broadcast: If you want
Action: The forest outside of town!
When: Ambiguously around the 23rd
→ Before the mob
[Tek has run out of time. he's pushed his body and spirit to its limit, and his hold over himself finally slips. he's quiet about fleeing the city, but it's a different story once he reaches the wilderness. the sudden release of energy as he loses his human shape hits the atmosphere in a silent wave. the countryside shivers as an aura of death and malaise touches every living thing, even if only in the very back of the mind. and for those more sensitive to such things... it's clear that something has happened. something is here.
for those wandering the forest that day, they may step into an area of the forest gone still with a graveyard hush. and if they linger there, they might happen upon a monstrous beast.
he's keeping to the tallest, deepest copses of trees... because it's hard to keep hidden when you're the height of a three-story building. either creeping and looming between the trunks, gratefully wading into streams, or curling up to rest in roomy clearings, he's there.
and he's hideous. though not actually rotting, the creature is at least designed to look cadavorous. he doesn't appear overtly aggressive... but something looking like that must be far from harmless.]
→ After the mob
[and he can only stay hidden for so long. a band of foresters eventually happen upon him, and a battle inevitably ensues. it isn't long before the remnants of the group run howling into town-- a dragon is less than a mile away, and it has already struck down several of their number!
at once, the bravest warriors take up arms, ring the alarms, and begin to set out in bands to take down the monster!
anyone striking out to find the dragon after the battles have begun is definitely in for a fight, because he is now wounded and angry. and, since he's so large and caught in such a small area of land before he hits the barrier, he won't be hard to find--especially whenever he breaks the canopy of trees and takes flight, to try and find another area of forest not already full of attackers. if you watch the sky and follow him long enough, you're sure to find him.]
(ooc: open to absolutely anyone! just take a look at the ooc post first, and then jump in! also open for any peripherally-related threads--like reacting to the creepy wave of feeling that goes through the town, gathering friends, etc.--if you feel like it!
if you have any other questions, dump 'em in the ooc post!
otherwise, DRAGONFIGHT DRAGONFIGHT!!)
Broadcast: If you want
Action: The forest outside of town!
When: Ambiguously around the 23rd
→ Before the mob
[Tek has run out of time. he's pushed his body and spirit to its limit, and his hold over himself finally slips. he's quiet about fleeing the city, but it's a different story once he reaches the wilderness. the sudden release of energy as he loses his human shape hits the atmosphere in a silent wave. the countryside shivers as an aura of death and malaise touches every living thing, even if only in the very back of the mind. and for those more sensitive to such things... it's clear that something has happened. something is here.
for those wandering the forest that day, they may step into an area of the forest gone still with a graveyard hush. and if they linger there, they might happen upon a monstrous beast.
he's keeping to the tallest, deepest copses of trees... because it's hard to keep hidden when you're the height of a three-story building. either creeping and looming between the trunks, gratefully wading into streams, or curling up to rest in roomy clearings, he's there.
and he's hideous. though not actually rotting, the creature is at least designed to look cadavorous. he doesn't appear overtly aggressive... but something looking like that must be far from harmless.]
→ After the mob
[and he can only stay hidden for so long. a band of foresters eventually happen upon him, and a battle inevitably ensues. it isn't long before the remnants of the group run howling into town-- a dragon is less than a mile away, and it has already struck down several of their number!
at once, the bravest warriors take up arms, ring the alarms, and begin to set out in bands to take down the monster!
anyone striking out to find the dragon after the battles have begun is definitely in for a fight, because he is now wounded and angry. and, since he's so large and caught in such a small area of land before he hits the barrier, he won't be hard to find--especially whenever he breaks the canopy of trees and takes flight, to try and find another area of forest not already full of attackers. if you watch the sky and follow him long enough, you're sure to find him.]
(ooc: open to absolutely anyone! just take a look at the ooc post first, and then jump in! also open for any peripherally-related threads--like reacting to the creepy wave of feeling that goes through the town, gathering friends, etc.--if you feel like it!
if you have any other questions, dump 'em in the ooc post!
otherwise, DRAGONFIGHT DRAGONFIGHT!!)
no subject
May I see it?
no subject
By all means, please.
no subject
he's very weak. dull. in a lot of pain. the screaming is there but it's so far away for him that he's almost startled by it.]
...We don't have much time. Here.
[he relinquishes his friend's soul gem, holding it back out for Dorian again.]
I'll have it in a couple of minutes. Just let me carve out a spell circle. Should help contain his soul to the area.
[he inclines his head towards the dead grass. gotta do some magical bullshit.]
no subject
What is it you intend to do? I was expecting hair or nail clippings, or teeth or something. You don't appear to have brought much with you.
[Casually, like he wasn't dreading that it might be blood magic.]
no subject
[spoilers: it's totally blood magic. he leans down to pull a knife out of his (rather nice) boot, which is kind of an indication of where this is going.]
Let's just say that if you never wanted to speak to me again after this, I'd understand.
[he'll just. stab himself in the arm. not a little slice, either, he rams that sucker in there, wincing. the knife comes out a second later, blood gushing from the wound and dripping all over the ground, up his arm--the whole thing is a terrible mess.
but he moves his other hand and his blood appears to... gather and follow his gesture. he's already walking away. he's got a circle to draw in the grass. he threads the blood around like it's a rope. it's super-gross.]
no subject
Blood magic, of course.
As it stands, he just sighs, resigned. He'd thought he had escaped it when he left Tevinter, but no. It still was distasteful, still largely unnecessary, but at least Robin hadn't stolen it from anyone. At least there was a small saving grace.
Still, he couldn't help how his stomach lurched, watching the blood spatter into the ground, bracing himself for a demon to rise in its wake.
All at once, where there was playful joking, he's on edge, wary.
And he resolves that when this is done, he'll be leaving this entire business behind him- Robin and Tek both.]
Fasta vass! You should have fucking warned me!
[He all but hisses it, annoyed.]
no subject
[he crouches down at the circle's edge, shooting lines across, inscribing things along the edges, you know. no demons appear, but the ground, does smolder suspiciously where the blood is burning the pattern into the grass.]
But I've already made such a terrible impression, why stop now?
[the really creepy part is when he starts pulling blood from the wound and forming it into some kind of... shape. he doesn't seem any paler than usual, not dizzy or sickly or anything, but the blood just keeps coming... from somewhere...
the shape in the middle starts to look kind of human-like, and solid. an intricate, circular design blooms on its surface, etched in its "chest" despite Robin not touching it.]
no subject
Robin can't know how he feels about it, but even still, he eyes the hissing blood on the ground, and schools his expression into something entirely unimpressed.]
Are you quite done yet?
no subject
it would not be hard to imagine that he might be able to survive having his heart ripped out that way, in case Dorian is still counting.]
Tyr'b, prylas'l... [he sighs. holds out his hand for the necklace again.] Yes, I'm done.
no subject
no subject
still would have been easier if they'd just... dug up a body, but. he steps out of the circle. trying not to get more nervous than he already is.]
All right. Do your thing.
no subject
[His response is short, clipped. Blood magic. It wouldn't be possible for his opinion of Robin to sink lowers than it is.
He steps forward, holding his staff behind himself, the crystal skull from Jove pointing at the ground, the magic in the circle humming as he uses his mind to pull at it. It wasn't entirely alien to him, no.
He reaches out, the necklace floating for a moment, and he murmurs something in what sounds like Latin to steady himself.
The magic in the circle hums to life, and he feeds mana into the soulstone, forcing the spirit to grow and become more substantial. This is delicate work, and he feels like he is picking apart small threads when he tears it free of the necklace.
For a moment, Tek's soul hangs, uncertain, shimmering in the air between Dorian and the homunculus.
He spins his staff again, the power in the circle swelling again, Tek's soul burning with more mana for just a moment before he takes his staff and slams the butt end of it against the ground.
It is almost an explosion of magic- purple and black energy swelling around the homunculus, and a skull shape over that as the magic forces the spirit into the body.
Dorian holds out a hand, forcing the spirit to coalesce inside the homunculus, feeding more mana into it with a flourish of his hand, and once it feels settled, he makes a gesture, the swelling magic inside the circle dispersing as soon as it had built up. The purple and black magic disperses like mist rolling out of the circle.
He turns back, satisfied, and smiles to himself, holding his staff in one hand and looking entirely as if he expects Robin to be at least impressed.]
And there we are.
no subject
it's not exactly a success, however... because there still is no Tek.
it turns out that all the necromancer has done is transferred the bit of soul left in the necklace to its new anchor point, and gotten the process started. and the necklace has always been only a gateway. just as an entire draconic soul cannot fit in a lowly mortal shell, it absolutely cannot fit in a necklace.
the rest of it still has yet to arrive.
the necklace--wherever it has landed--quietly disintegrates. the metal rusts away and the stone crumbles to dust. and that little spot in the center of the homunculus' chest begins to dissolve, revealing a corona of light that spills up and out.
with a roar that seems to begin in the very deepest places of the earth, a storm rolls in. energy first gushes, and then begins to rage up and out of the homunculus as the remains of an entire draconic spirit begins to spill into this plane without direction.
the homunculus lurches, nonexistent spine arching, and looks as though it's ready to burst apart completely as light and mist and broken sound rush out of it. without that nice little resurrection routine, the untamed soul doesn't know where to go--half-sticking to the shell, hitting the walls of the circle, buckling back on itself as it tries to spill higher. it wants to spread. it wants to become a dragon-shape. it wants to disperse altogether and become part of the world. it wants to be small and pretty. it wants to do what it was created to do and sweep across the land as pure death. it wants and it is confused and it is angry.]
no subject
but then there's an explosion of energy, the horrible roar, the cosmic shift in the very sky above them, and suddenly there is a massive, dragon-sized soul ricocheting around in the cylindrical containment that Robin had burned into the earth. he looks up, follows its direction, and realizes--with dawning concern--that his containment field doesn't exactly have a ceiling, and he's not sure how high it goes...]
Oh. Okay.
[he gets up. very calm-like. his palms are bloody when they weren't before, but he keeps them facing down, level with the ground. what designs are left on the body glow a stunning red, like a beacon. him yelling in Gods' Speak at the dragon spirit may or may not be to help.]
Tekhetsio! Gal im l'ha dy'ab!
no subject
The waves of energy nearly bring him to his knees, but he holds onto his staff for support, letting the soul surge around him. It feels like pain and yet an absence of any feeling at all, pure energy surging around him, and he can feel it, taste it like the Fade in his mouth. This... Dorian is an odd sort of mage, feeding off of the energy of death. This feels like nothing he's experienced before, and it feels like his nerves will be razed out from the insides. It's too much, too strong, and he has the shake his head to try and stand.
He pushes himself to his feet, though each step he takes forward, toward the homunculus, feels like he might start floating. Holds out his left arm, focusing the energy inside himself into the geometries that he knew could focus it, waves of energy pooling in his hand, purple lines etching in a skull in the back of his hand.
Everything feels like it's screaming around him, his veins feel like they're on fire. Was this was Magisters did blood magic for? The feeling was exhilarating, but terrifying, like the breath being snacked from his lungs and replaced by darkness.
Dorian closes his eyes, holding onto his staff, stepping forward and gingerly touching the homunculus. He looks up, at the soul surging around him, and he beckons it.
Here, come here. Through me, use me as a focus.
His nerves are shooting something not quite pleasure but not exactly pain through his body, all the way to his skin, as the death energy courses through him.]
no subject
given direction and guidance, and no small amount of encouraging force, the soul begins to buckle and circle around on itself, feeding into the body instead of the air. but that alone isn't enough. the body is a fleshy anchor, but there is no veil of death over it. he needs that source of native energy, the stuff he's made of, if he wants to manifest in a way that will actually stick. a vacuum is forming in the wild nexus of energy, and it needs to be filled.
so, as the homunculus begins to writhe and solidify, its hunger begins to focus.
the face is the first thing to become clear--it has always been the feature that Tek has focused on the most--and soon the mouth splits open full of teeth and a broken, feral groan. then come the pinpoints of light that mark the eyes... and the creature twists around to fix its new gaze on an absolutely surging source of the energy it needs.
it obeys the command, and lunges right for the necromancer.
arms out, the creature grabs for him, and its touch is leeching. grabbing, climbing, desperate to drag him to the ground so it can drink him up.]
no subject
it feels like the vats. the haunted caves. the stone that's been soaking him up for a hundred years, from another time--except it's all right here, in front of him. he can only see Dorian out of the corner of his eye, but whatever he's doing is ominous. unsettling. his insides lurch uncomfortably while the soul starts its descent, and he has been through far too much to think, for a second, that things may be looking up.
the... grotesque transformation leaves him breathless. he stares. he's taken aback and startled when it suddenly lunges on Dorian, of all people--and when Robin tries to grab at it with his power, there's so much other magic saturating the form that he can barely get a grip on it.
he may have a better time bodily hauling the form off of him--which is his next step.]
no subject
Robin?! A little help?!
no subject
its hands will likely leave pale welts where they're fastened--both from the leeching force, and the sheer, desperate strength they're grasping with.]
no subject
[with his blood manipulation useless, he lunges forward and literally hauls the form off of Dorian--his hands sinking into what should have been flesh, fighting this thing's violent instinct. he yells at him to stop, dragging at it with supernatural strength. his words aren't in a language he's ever used here--but it's not like anyone's going to notice.]