2006-01-05 (PreU) The plot thickens...

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The plot thickens...


Who: Johnny_C, magus, schala, vashtearnia
When: January 5th, 2006
Where: Chronos

Johnny C-icon.gifMagus-icon.gifSchala-icon.gifVashtearnia-icon.gif

The information contained within this log is to be considered information gained Out of Character (OOC).
This information may not be used as In Character (IC) knowledge or in roleplay unless it has been learned in-game or permission has been granted by the parties involved.

Questions should be directed to staff.

Watcher's Cliff(#1616R)

Looking down over the remains of the Guardia Fairgrounds rests a naturally made cliff once home to a score of local legends about a pair of spirits that watched over the area and protected it. However, now things are a bit diffrent. Since the breakdown of time the side of the mountain seems to be covered with a slick black substance which no one can seem to remove. At certain times of the day the darkness shifts it's position like a living shadow clinging to this spot for some unknown reason. It's been said that standing on the cliff during one of these 'shifts' will distort the view of the countryside turning it to one of burning ruins. What could have caused this?

Johnny wipes his brow as he's carried. oO(Ok... lots of destruction... lost a dagger briefly... otherwise, I'm doing ok...) Gripping the one he has tighter he closes his eyes and tries to concentrate. The cold energies pouring inside him are strong, but not as strong as they could be. Finaly he takes the blade and plunges it into the vines carrying him in a weak attempt at draining them of some of their power. Assuming, he can hit them at the moment. With any luck he'll reclaim his other dagger in a moment, but no point in waisting energy he could be using right now...

Magus tries his best to scythe away the vines that creep up around him, but finds that they move so fast that he's not too successful. And he can't do a barrier spell, it's too late. The tight grip of the vines latches onto his arms and wrists, pinning them against his body. Obviously, he can't use his scythe that way. "GAHHHHHH!" he exclaims, trying to squirm his way free but the vines are too tight... not to mention the thorns are cutting into his skin.

Tearnia hovers above her throne of vines and roses, looking towards Magus as the vines engulf him, she giggles like a child would before looking over to Johnny as he plunges a dagger into one of her many vines that are now overtaking the entire area. "Ow, ow! HEY!" She yells, her voice still that of a younger girl, "That's painful!" Red blood splurts from the wound Johnny made. Of course, Tearnia doesn't feel the pain directly, but she's still connected to every vine that's roiling about the area. "Here!" She yells to Johnny, and immediately concentrates, every piece and particle of the vines filling with a malicious hatred and anger. She knows what feeds the Shadow over there. The vines haven't let go of Magus, and now that they have him within their grasp, they continue to writh this way and that, and the thorns that have found purchase all begin to grow and lengthen in order to dig into his body even more fully. Oh the blood! Ah, yes, they are also drinking up the blood that drips from Magus' wounds, of course. Nummy yummy.

Johnny blinks as he begins to absorb more engeries than he'd expected. Well, that's a small sign of relief, maybe that means... Pushing himself up he flicks his free wrist to the side causing his missing dagger to return to him abruptly. With a tight grip on each of them he stands and shakes his head. "Vashtearnia? HEEL! Enough... I'd like to see what the bastard has to say." Well, he should at least give her a chance to stop on her own, even if he does think that's impossible. But... heel?

So much anger, so much bitter destruction in the name of duelling egotism. One might almost think the beautiful kingdom of Guardia is too small and peaceable to survive such furious souls - but events both long past and more recent stand testament to its resilience. What other land could weather the total breakdown and resurrection of a twisted world? Remarkable. But such things draw the attention of powerful beings, far mightier than those exchanging unorthodox blows on the Watcher's Cliff. And destruction? Breeds power; it creates a maelstrom of energy just waiting to be tapped by those capable of doing so, forming a sturdy basis for the most frightening forces known to mankind.

Such fearful beings often travel mysteriously.

There's a flicker in the skies, a streak of dark magenta that coalesces into a more definite shape. With this coalition comes a heavy breath upon the winds, airwaves sent hammering outward in every direction to buffet the surrounding area - strong enough to stagger all but the hardiest warriors. Floating, held aloft in an irridescent glow that somehow mixes equal parts purple, black and white whilst remaining transparent, is a figure born from dreams. Clad in luxurious robes, a hood is drawn about the newcomer's face to betray not a single feature, the cut of their garment enough even to conceal the very hands and fingers from view. Briefly.

"...such hatred. Mother would be pleased at this sight." The whisper comes in a soft tone, lost in the wind to prove inaudible to mundane ears, though perhaps some present ears are quite remarkable in themselves? Regardless, the figure remains in place, dark eyes watching from inside darker cover, pinpointing each living creature in turn with a careful analysis. Emotion registers in this odd new arrival, but nothing is outwardly displayed...

Not all are inclined to make themselves known through brutality.

Whoever the powerful figure was, they couldn't have come at a better time. Anything to get them to focus on someone else for a change. Through the pain, Magus takes the moment of distraction offered by the cloaked figure to try to relax himself. He wants to try to channel energy out of his body to push the vines off of him, but it's not something he's had to do before. Nonetheless, he tries. As if he were channeling chi, the mage's body begins to shake, the energy inside of him quaking, but it's only rustling the vines slightly. They are pretty tight, more so than he originally expected. Plus, the blood loss is draining him some.

Tearnia immediately disappears from human and most any other beings sight, to reappear next to Johnny, the throne of vines de-writhing from where she was and re-writhing to where she is. She gives Johnny this totally little girl pout face, "Awwww....don't be like that, we're having so much fun!" She protests, her eyes looking up towards the figure that appears in the sky, but paying it no heed as it isn't down here, maybe if it decides to actively do something she'll go after it, more blood afterall! But, right now Magus is quite, quite delicious for her and the vines! The thorns continue to skewer into Magus, they'll be completly through him in a few more moments, nice long thick thorns of death, each one suckling upon the inside of his body for the blood that comes forth from it. "It's so GOOD!" She squeals, looking over to Johnny and giggling, clasping her hands before her in a pleading gesture, "Just a little bit longer? I'm only not drinking from you because I said I wouldn't!" The vines beneath her writh back and forth, traveling down the cliif and out from it, beginning to spread their way into a vine like forest as pieces of them branch upwards into a mock form of a growing tree, branches lined with red roses all along them.

Johnny raises an eyebrow at Tearnia in disbelief before taking a deep breath and glancing towards the newcomer. Sheathing his daggers, but making it a point not to say anything along the lines of 'let Magus go', he narrows his eyes trying to get a better look. "Can I help you? We're kinda busy at the moment, but it's so rude to ignore someone who just barges in out of nowhere..." With a slight smirk he glances at Magus and hmmm's. Maybe a little bit longer.

Did we mention briefly shrouded hands?

No longer.

A frown mars the shadowed forehead of the aerial figure, and the winds pick up once again. This time it is with less objectional force, but simply a hastening of the breeze already blowing, enough to whip those regal robes into a tight billowing. A shiver runs down her back, for this newcomer is most certainly female; telltale curves showing upon a frail body now finely highlighted courtesy of physics. With a slight sigh moving between parted lips, the woman slips pale fingertips out into the open, delicate digits emerging only to curl around an imaginary ball before her. "Indeed you may help me." With production of such a simple phrase comes a noticeable aura of power, flaring around the mystery female and rippling outward to stimulate the senses of all present. Suddenly, unbidden, a lock of hair streams away from cover to tear against the edge of her hood... a subtle blazon of teal blue against the pale skies. A pause follows - as though she has realised this unfortunate circumstance - before shadowy Princess Schala speaks again, tone loud and clear but oddly distant. A side effect of the twitching of her fingers, which has a notable effect upon the energy signature emanating from her frame.

"At least, one of you can. I'll admit I'm not familiar with all of you," an unseen smirk, but then an almost palpable sensation of uncertainty before the next phrase springs forth - a slight tic sounding in her voice. "But you, Mister... NNY. You can help us all by leaving this place. Leave now, and I promise..." Whoomph. With no warning save the oh-so-brief lull in her speech, Schala calls forth whatever she has been creating, an explosion of semi-transparent purple flame shattering the relative calm around her. Not large enough to reach the assembly below, it's certainly enough to raise the temperature a degree or two. "We'll all fare quite happily."

Still feeling the sucking of Vashtearnia's vines on his body, the dark mage continues to squirm. With the mistress of vine

Still feeling the sucking of Vashtearnia's vines on his body, the dark mage continues to squirm. With the mistress of the vine's attention elsewhere, he was able to gain more ground, his energy pulsing enough to at least give him some sort of cushion. The thorns are now only scratching him, as opposed to sucking the life out of him. He's about to grab his scythe and cut the thorns away again, but his attention instead turns to the woman up in the air. There was something... oddly familiar about her. Her voice sounded like one he had heard from a girl in his youth.. only more mature now. And the energy she carried... strong. Powerful, moreso than he had felt from someone in a long time. "... It can't be, can it?" he thinks aloud, which is when his eyes catch the sight of the woman's teal blue locks. Like his own. There was no mistaking it then, but he was floored by the idea of the woman even being there. All this time he had been searching for her, and yet here she was, finding him instead. "SCHALA!" he exclaims, grabbing his scythe to cut away at the vines, as he wants to get to his sister's side.

Tearnia looks up towards Schala and licks her lips slightly, though she eyes the flames and such coalescing around the body with a bit of wariness. Still, it isn't currently down here catching everything on fire, is it? She turns her attention to the scythe wielding Magus, who appearently just found his girlfriend from the way he struggles. Her eyes narrow down as the vines begin to get hacked at, blood spewing forth from the wounds. Rather than try to wrap around his body now, the vines grow outwards and upwards, twining themselves together, one after the other, after the other, beginning to form a hollow pillar of vines stretching up into the sky about twenty feet. Of course, Magus can just start hacking into such a wall, but that's why more and more of the vines are twining up around them, in order to form a cocoon, of course, he could climb out. Large throns begin to sprout along the walls, each one growing to begin the impaling process, while red roses bloom in the night, raining their petals down upon Magus like a gently flowing trail of blood. Well, it does smell nice in there. "I don't want to go yet! I just got out to play!" She says, either towards Schala, NNY, or Magus...who in the world knows!

Johnny barely gets to mouth the words 'Mr Nny' before the flash of light goes off, Magus and Tearnia start acting goofy. Wow, the world just flipped itself over, huh? Going from a smirk to a growl he clutches both daggers and screams over the commotion. "WE'VE ALREADY HAD THIS SPEACH, BITCH. GO BACK TO ACT ONE!" Well, with that bit of oddity, Johnny tightens his grip to the point where blood begins to run down his fingertips. He's really been abusing the hilts of those daggers today. Enraged he drops to his knees plunging both weapons into the ancient Zealion rock making up the mountain forcing a surplus of engergies to come flowing up from the ground. With a smug look of, I can do that too, Nny glances up waiting for the next move while continuing to restore his energy reserves...

It can be, because it is being. Schala hovers just a short distance away, the product now of travel through three worlds and three separate times. Her path has recently been a most confusing one, the royal Zealian floating upon a sea of chaos, striving forward with magic her guide - but now she is here, far from the concealing shadows of her palace. Vastly distant from the degrading sanity embodied in her mother. But apparently, so close to a beloved entity - the mystic signature a shock to her senses every bit as much as her appearance now stuns Magus.

However, her brother's cry now is met with a secret frown, brow creasing beneath Schala's hood as conflicting emotions fight for dominance. To observers, there is but a temporary pause in the actions of the flying female, before her hands twitch once more, this time subsequently falling limp and retreating back inside that heavy robe. Turtled away in preparation for the actions now performed by a screaming Johnny. Patience emanates from the girl, as dark eyes watch through the dissipating haze left by her 'firework'.

The aura surrounding the Princess still burns, not a shift in its sensation greeting the sudden responsive surge from a certain maniac. But then, when he seems to be relaxed, Schala's eyes blaze into visibility, a glow searing out from their depths that fills the darkening hood she wears; bringing her features into focus. Eerie though, she resembles more a ghost than anything else - light and pale pigment conspiring to a fearful countenance. "Impressive." But the word is not harsh, spoken quite softly with just enough power to carry, in fact.. she sounds youthful, far from the more commanding clarity used previously. "But please consider my suggestion... we have business that I'd like to discuss."

Magus finds the words that Schala speaks to be surprising, as he doesn't understand what the girl could want with Johnny, if not for the same goals he has in mind. To get him off of this planet. Unfortunately for him, he doesn't have time to ponder such things as the vines of Vashtearnia start to entomb him. The thorns and the vines move quickly to trap the mage, but the blue haired man is too quick with his wit for that. "I know you do not like fire. Lucca proved that. So burn!" he exclaims, holding out his hands on either side of him to flare out at the vines. The tomb of vines surrounding him is meant to engulf in flames, so that he can cut his way out when the vines die.

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