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Post by Sirius on Jun 23, 2014 19:31:23 GMT
He grew impatient
Watching the male make it a point to finish what was on his plate, every last bit of it, is what caused Sirius to lose his patience fairly quickly. It could have been because he had taken up Faustus’ time, possibly this was just returning the favor. Or maybe, he just really wanted the cake.
Eventually, after taking the crumbs from his face, he finally made his move. A sudden glint. His arm extending, and out came a weapon. A scalpel, sharpened to a fine point, threatening to cut through him at the solar plexes. In immediate response, Sirius lifted his weapon swiftly, as it was already in his hand. A soft clang sounded as Massacre’s blade met with the tip of the scalpel, deflecting it and making the scalpel clang on the ground below.
In the same moment that Faustus had thrown his scalpel towards him, he also stood erect, pushing his chair out to make space. His glance immediately went down to his two enclosed fists. One was holding another scalpel, while another was grasping what looked to be a piece of parchment. His eyebrows raised questioningly at that, he then brought his gaze back to the eyes of his opponent. His knife remained positioned to the side, in front of his solar plexes where the scalpel had aimed.
At the moment, he had no response. He was silently empowering his shadow form below, awaiting another attack by his opponent. Another standoff.
Shadow Form (1)
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Post by Faustus on Jun 23, 2014 19:56:51 GMT
From within a closed fist, nothing could be made out unless the man had X-ray sight. He'd see no parchment, none of the abysmal black ink that was spreading slowly into odd forms and shapes. There, it remained within his fist. Just as the first scalpal would be deflected, the second was loosed from his grasp, this time bolstered. A single current of electricity exited Faustus' body at the tips of his fingers, extended onto the blade, and the second scalpal struck the first one in its skewed trajectory, knocking them both off course, flinging in -seemingly- random directions. The first landed imbedded into the wooden table before them, buried down to the hilt, the silver blade protruding from the underbelly. The second was knocked just behind Sirius' foot, barely missing it. The electric current had passed from faustus fingertips to the second scalpal, and when those two flechettes had met in their brilliant dance, had accepted and exchanged that same gift of energy. Just as the two would send sparks flying as they clashed and met their resting places, that energy had begun to exchange quickly, creating a single, powerful bolt of lightning arcing up from behind Sirius' foot, and up through his waist to the first scalpal that was on the table before him. In a brilliant, colorless flash, Sirius would be galvanized into nothingness. Fausus' fingers coiled tighter around the parchment. The ink spread into odd, more complex shapes. Spellcraft[2]
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Post by Sirius on Jun 23, 2014 20:31:25 GMT
The shadow form around the foundation of the tower stagnated where it was for the moment, no longer prepping itself. At least not for now.
As for the battle at hand, Sirius caught quick sight of the second scalpel within Faustus’ grasp being thrown towards him at blinding speeds. A quick flash from the male’s fingertips told him there was something different about this one. Plus, it was not quite aimed towards him. It was aimed towards the first scalpel, randomizing their trajectory. As the first etched itself in the wooden table in front of him, the second move closer towards him.
In response, Sirius quickly flicked his wrist, releasing Massacre and forcing it to fly. He aimed it at the right trajectory to hit the second scalpel, not only exchanging electrical flow similar to when the scalpels met, but also once again randomizing the trajectory of the scalpel, sending it flying forwards as Massacre flew in another random direction
This series of events caused the second scalpel to in fact land in behind the foot of his opponent instead of his own, just across from the table. Massacre just to the side of both scalpels, as it‘s weight caused it to not move as far as the others. Similar to how the energy was supposed to be exchanged between the scalpels, forming a large electrical arc to burn through Sirius himself, the same was now happening for Faustus. A triangular current of electricity formed from Massacre and the dual scalpels, threatening to burn Faustus to nothing instead of Sirius
Shadow Form (Still 1)
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Post by Faustus on Jun 23, 2014 20:46:17 GMT
Faustus watched with a strange sense of timidity as his own scalpal was redirected. The thing about the exchange of electrical currents, was that they were not in a closed system. They were directly enacted by Faustus, so even with Massacre being electrified, it would not create the magnificent arc of crackling death that Faustus had created. Well actually, it did. Massacre was now galvanized with Faustus' own bioelectric current, he need only concentrate the oscillating forces between the two appropriate flechettes, and get rid of the third; his second scalpal. Massacre was metal in composition, and thus susceptible to magnetic forces, and so it was. Massacre was drawn to the opposite spot that the second scalpal was previously, though only after the initial bolt was set off that -would have- killed Faustus, changing the flow of electricity from behind Faustus and up to the scalpal on the table, to quite the opposite of that, in half the time. The assault did not relent there. The rapid congregation of energies changing and envigorating the scalpal embedded into the table, caused it to glow white hot, just before sxploding into a fit of shrapnel that would punch quite a few holes into Sirius. Now I know what you're thinking; If it exploded into shrapnel, then why is it all only aimed for Sirius, and not Faustus? The answer is simple. Faustus didn't want it to. A magnetic 'gust' swept up the shards, and vaulted them at sirius' upper torso and neck with even more speed. Spellcraft[2]
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Post by Sirius on Jun 23, 2014 21:32:38 GMT
The shadow form around the foundation of the tower they stood on continued to grow in power and concentration, floating just above the clouds. The flexible form would begin to intertwine between the crevices of the tower, slowly but surely moving it’s way upwards to the top where they resided. Four pieces of shadow form took shop at the four corners of the tower’s peak, but did not make any movement.
On the battlefield, Sirius had severely underestimated the opponent’s ability when it came to the powers of electrical prowess. What the male thought would be a triangular current of electricity was not the case. The knife Massacre had been galvanized and controlled by Faustus’ electromagnetism, now landed behind Sirius’ person, unlike how he expected. Even with the series of unfortunate events, it assumingly still was in Sirius’ favor, as the bolt seemed to be going between the two scalpels, the wooden table suffering because of it, blowing to pieces. However, he somehow knew it was too good to be true.
His mental awareness was what saved him. He could see that Faustus was unfazed by the bolt initially going towards him. This gave him enough clue to know what was about to occur. The shadow form that had formed on the corners of the tower suddenly sprung into action, zooming around him in a circle. He narrowly avoided the rail gun-like bolt of lightning as the shadow form transformed into a spherical shield. The bolt of electricity clashed with the defensive barrier, spreading across the outer layer, accompanied with various chunks of white hot shrapnel trying to break through the defenses, both simultaneously hitting the shield. Luckily, the shadow form was prepared enough to prevent the attacks from getting through the shields and to his person. The best part was, Sirius was not required to move. Only a mental command, and the shadow form moved to him.
As the bolt dissipated, and the shrapnel dropped to the ground, silence befell the landscape once again. Sirius stared straight into the eyes of the male, coming to the realization that this series of attacks were virtually matched blow by blow. He had underestimated this man, and vice versa. This caused him to gradually get excited, mainly because this battle had only just begun. The shield that had saved Sirius’ life had dissipated, the remaining shadow form coming together into one object, which now stayed in the grasp of the shadow riser himself.
“Ah...Do you yet believe, that I am in fact an idol, like you?,” He asked, his voice gleeful even though the battle was all business, “Ha…is this not a clash of titans?!”
His eyes got the wild glint to them, and he began to pace back and forth on the tower‘s peak, staring straight at the man. “TELL ME this does not EXCITE you! Two, evenly matched beings. Attempting to DESTROY each other in combat.”
The object in his hand formed into that of a classically designed blunderbuss. Intricate drawings were printed on the sides, and the double barrels already had mist coming from them. Colorless mist, of course. He held it at his right hand, not yet doing anything with it. As if awaiting for the opponent to strike once more. Meanwhile, the shadow form itself no longer was powering as generally as it was before. A small orb stagnated at the base of the tower, beginning to grow in power and concentration, it’s physical state growing as well.
Sirius’ free hand pointed to his head, pressing two of his fingers into the side of it. “My mind…it’s freeing itself of the boundaries and restrictions of before. I’m just too excited, to act normal anymore.”
“All I want…” He placed his fingers down, as he began to laugh slowly, “Is to see the life go from your pupils…To watch you die, and the title of ‘God’, officially come to my possession. But we will see. We shall see which idol will be standing tall once the smoke finally clears.”
He stood erect, staring him down as his tongue ran across his smiling lips, his eyes dancing with anticipation and wild insanity, as opposed to the calm insanity that resided within the soul of the man before him.
Shadow Orb (0)
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Post by Sol on Jun 25, 2014 19:10:59 GMT
Nightmarescape in effect. Sirius: Sirius is unable to prep his shadow orb as of this turn without suffering quickdraw-level manaburn damage. Faustus: Unable to prep his Spell-craft as of this turn without recieving moderate damage as a sacrifice. Effect(s): The foundation of the Dreamscape, held sturdy by the brief moments of sanity cherished, begins to crumble at the seams temporarily. -- Eiffel Tower begins to wax and wane, threatening to topple over at a moments notice. -- Clouds go from grey, to black. Unknown effect. -- The light atop the tower goes from white, to deep red, becoming the only true color in the land, and casting its hue across the scape. -- The Otherworld: The world appears contorted, metallic, and gritty. Walls bleed, and most are replaced by metal cages. Corpses hang from atop the towers. Sirens from nowhere blare loudly, and without proper defense, the sounds of wailing Dream Creatures can damage ones sanity(this will take the form of being unable to prep for longer durations.) -- Dream Creatures are up to you to make, but you must either deal with them up front, or defend yourself from their wails and attacks. Inability, or refusal to stop their wails will result in prepping being halted for longer durations. There are a total of six of them. They are weakest to holy magic, but susceptible to all forms of it, and are incorporeal, so physical attacks are useless.
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Post by Faustus on Jun 25, 2014 19:52:28 GMT
Faustus raised a single brow as he watched the glob of viscous shadow cradle the other man like a newborn child. His tactic had failed, but it wasn't a loss. It was knowledge gained. Now he had a better idea of what he was working with. Faustus rolled up his sleeves to just past his wrist. He didn't want to get blood on them. Faustus watched, hands in his pocket with a bored icor as the other dragged on and on about his melodrama, most of which Faustus couldn't be bothered to listen to. He thought, for a brief moment, to just end it there. Throw another well timed scalpal right into his jugular and end this whole.... tirade. But he only fiddled with the blade. The last sentence he spoke did in fact grab Faustus' attention. And as he responded, the world began to fall apart. It was on cue, as though Faustus himself were the one ripping apart this fixed reality around them. "I told you before," Faustus brought his hands from his pockets, and placed them together. "There is only one idol here. And that's me." His hands went from palms together, to interlocked fingers, a rainbow of color shining between their loose cracks, creating a film of sherbert delight to paint a world of grey. He separated his fingers, and the colorful essence spread apart with them. Faustus took in a deep breath, his chest billowing out like a balloon as the stale air filled his lungs, and breathed out. What came out was nothing but what appeared to be air, and rest assured it was just that. But when it passed through the energy he had brought between his fingers, that air exploded out in a different form; a tsunami of black flames that billowed forth toward Sirius, and then encorched the top of the tower completely, drawn to magic running rampant in the world, empowered and bolstered by his own. The ghostly, phantasmic bodies that sought to skewer his sanity were magical in nature, if not supernatural, and acted as fuel for the abysmal black force that engulfed and eradicated their bodies into piles of ectoplasmic residue. That same force sought to devour Sirius. However, when the flames cleared, Faustus would be nowhere to be seen. By the time the sight would even return to Sirius' eyes, and the smoke expelled from his lungs, Faustus was already waist deep in another plan to end his life. As reality congealed and convulsed, the towers already rusted mantle became even more brittle. Shhhhhiing. The sharp sound of steel grinding against steel echoed through the scape of dreams, and the top of the tower had begun to crumble and cave in with enough weight to smush the other man flat as a pancake. Faustus remained a safe distance of three floors below. It's weight taken into consideration, about a ton or so of metal crashing down onto a rickety surface would crush the first two floors, leaving the third in perfect range to prepare a counterattack if Sirius somehow survived. Golden eyes watched, and keen ears listened. Spell-craft: Reduced to 1 prep.
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Post by Sirius on Jun 25, 2014 21:05:25 GMT
Sirius caught eye of Faustus, barely paying any attention to the words the came from his mouth. His colorless hues went from flashing with excitement to anger. How dare he. To be so…bored with the words he said, was similar to a sin! Then to once again name himself the sole idol in this helacious world...That was enough to send him over the top. Bad judgment told him to lunge upon Faustus, to pounce on him and tear him to shreds. Just the thought caused him to rip at the collar of his jacket, his teeth bared. However, his better judgment took hold. He had to kill him carefully. He could not just charge like a buffoon. That would only get him killed. He had to calm down.
It was then that Sirius took notice to the scape of dreams around them. It was beginning to change. The grey and colorless clouds took a form of dark black. The light emitting from the tower flushed the skies with a dark red, the first color he had seen since he had made it to this forsaken place where color was nothing but a metaphor. From the guardrails around the tower peak hung various corpses, skinned with dried blood plastered all over their mutilated bodies. The entire world was falling to pieces, just like Sirius’ mind had so many years ago.
His eyes locked with Faustus as he separated his fingers, revealing a sherbert hue, a curious color in this world of grey. His chest billowed, taking in the air around him. For a split second came the sight of horrendously disfigured creatures between the two opponents. Their pulsating bright red hues glimmered as their teeth were bared towards both. Destructive phantasmal ghosts that sought out to maim the remaining sanity that Sirius held onto.
However, in that same moment, the colorful essence between the fingers of Sirius’ opponent transformed into multiple black flames barreling forward, burning the incorporeal mutilated beings to pure ectoplasm. As if by sheer instinct alone, Sirius pushed his feet off of the tower’s top floor, rapidly bursting into the air. He smirked towards Faustus before he arched his back while using the momentum of his jump, forming the vanilla vertical jump into a back flip. His quick and critical thinking narrowly saved him from the licking flames as the flip sent him off the edge of the tower and into the colorless skies. The deep red of the beacon’s light illuminated Sirius and his face, causing his hues to shimmer.
As he began to fall from the sky, he caught one last glimpse of the Tyrant flame destroying the remains of the tower’s top floor, blackening the ground and seeming to burn the metal. But, if the metal was burnt then-
Shhhhhiiing.
An ache formed in his eardrums as the shrill sound of steel against steel deafened him. He took a quick glance up, and noticed the top floor caving in, with the peak and the beacon falling below, thousands of pounds of steel looking to crush anybody that was on that floor. He counted his lucky stars that he didn’t get caught in that. But then he scoffed. It wasn’t luck, it was pure skill.
As he began to fall like an anchor towards the very real clouds that would shatter his bones upon contact, he looked to the tower. As rusted and brittle as it was, the majority of the foundation was still holding strong. Various metal beams interlocked with each other to make up the foundation. That would be how he would stop his drop from the sky.
Two floors later, and he caught a glimpse of a suit belonging to the gentleman Faustus. Waiting until the time was right, he extended his free hand, clasping onto the metal beam that was locked in the middle of the third floor. He positioned himself just the right way that when the rest of his body weight fell, his arm wouldn’t become dislocated. The moment he started hanging on the beam, he lifted his right arm that held his shadow created blunderbuss, leaving him hanging off of one arm. A smirk was plastered on his face.
“You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily,” He cooed, chuckling, “Did you..?”
His index finger depressed fully on the trigger, and two pitch black bullets burst from the double barrel weapon. A sharp sound of gunpowder igniting filled the dreamscape. One would initially think that the bullets were aimed specifically towards Faustus himself. One was. Due to Sirius' ability to control the shadow form, both bullets veered off in different directions. One dug into the ground, before detonating near one of the four corners, torching and corroding through the metal and destroying that foundation. The other went to the beam opposite of Sirius, and as it detonated two other corners were blown to bits. This series of events caused for the steel that was pressing against the tower to push through, shrill sounds of metal bending and steel grinding be heard. Sirius let go of the beam he was positioned on, allowing himself to drop further to the seventh floor down as the extra ton of steel pressing against the rickety surface made the entire third floor cave in, crushing the fourth, fifth, and sixth floor below it before it would stop. This time, as Sirius clasped his hand onto the seventh floor beam, he used the momentum of the drop to swing forward, landing on his feet at one of the surfaces or beams below. Once he landed, he brought his glance upward.
Watching. Waiting. Listening.
Shadow Orb (Still 0)
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Post by Faustus on Jun 26, 2014 2:38:55 GMT
As Faustus looked on, where there should have been the remnants of a man crushed by tons of pounds of pressure and skewered by metal shrapnel, there instead was a particular lack of any of that. His right eye changed from its extraordinary bright gold, to a listless blue. Light, and deep as the ocean. His vision changed thusly, as well. The world could be seen in murky hues, blurred lines, and obscure shapes. The mundane had become like looking through a foggy window, while anything supernatural was seen in vivid details, down to their true colors and nature. His bi-colored eyes followed the man as he sought to escape from Faustus' death cage. For the second or so that the two men's eyes crossed like blades, a flare erupted up from within Faustus' chest. Something he hadn't felt in ages. That electricity. The rush of meeting an opponent who was worth the plots and schemes. The tedious machinations. Someone who was worth the effort. Though he was still just getting started. That aside, faustus was still slightly perturbed by the fact that Sirius still drew breath. His plan did not go as he would have wanted to, but it went as he had planned,. Faustus, in his genius, that single trait that made him the victor in every bout prior, always planned for the worst. He did not end Sirius' life atop the tower, but also had him fall into his plan. He gave up the superior positioning. In mid-air, Faustus would end his life. Just as the bullets would be fired from what Sirius fancied a double barreled hand-gun, they seemed to ignore Faustus completely, just as he 'vanished'. Of course that was not the case. His Iris of the World caught all, the murky shadows surrounding his bullets, the silvery flash of them against the silvery clouds that rose up and around them, and Faustus reacted accordingly. The Towers upper floor bent in and buckled upon its own weight, crashing down, the added attrition of six floors of destruction created a pluming mist that further increased Faustus' own advantage; suprise. When Faustus 'vanished', he did not actually teleport, as many would assume, but used a clever amalgamation of speed, superior movement, and magical camoflage, though this happened in a blink, almost at the same time that the bullets created their dramatic flare, so from Sirius' point of view, it would seem Faustus was in fact buried in the destruction. Ace of spades. Faustus appeared behind the hangman, his blade already drawn silently, coming across horizontally to split the mans spine in twain. But it didn't end there. Full house. Faustus' carefully cultivated spellcircle(Even though it got set back a bajillion times cuz the Nightmarescape! AAAARGH D^ erupted from its flowering sleep, envigorated by the rage of being awoken before its time. A great burst of light escaped from the source, in this case, the blank paper Faustus held in his free hand. This offered a natural boon against the shadows the man has shown to claim mastery over. It corrupted them, and then banished them from the realm, doubling as a powerful flashbang. Faustus was of course, too, effected by this flashbang, but his aim remained focal and true, his blue eye keeping tabs on the magical tresses that graced Sirius' form. His chakra points were outlined nicely, and the perfect white light actually allowed him to see them all in their true colors according to his body. A sillhouette of colors. And in that moment of majestic, supernatural beauty, that same light coralled and hugged the edge of Faustus' blade a la lightsaber. If he didn't think fast. If he didn't think like a true psychopath. If he didn't think like Faustus, he would find himself lacking a lower portion of his body, and all the things a man cherished with it. Flash-saber[1]: Flash bang to blind sirius' sight, also used to give an beam edge to Faustus' sword. Light acts as a ward against shadow-based magic, and also dispels any active, weaker shadow magic. If unavoided, the light 'imbeds' itself into the enemy, locking lower level shadow based magic for two turns. If a shadow attack reaches a higher level than that of the level of the light's own prep-count, then it is reduced in effectiveness by 1 prep.
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Post by Sirius on Jun 26, 2014 3:40:18 GMT
As he hung along the beam of the rusted tower, watching the once towering monument crumble into pieces, all by the doing of both Faustus and himself, he smiled. All of this destruction. Everything falling to bits and pieces. It was one of the best battles he had fought. For there were no explosions, with the exception of the method in which Sirius destroyed the foundation. There was no overpowered monsters fighting against each other to see who’s cock was bigger. No matter what his opponent said, Sirius knew.
This had been a clash of two titans.
His smile grew into a devious one as the tons of grinding steel piled onto the ground that his enemy was atop of, the rickety surface being reduced to nothing as the weight of the steel broke through the floors. As this occurred, he only chuckled to himself. Because within his vision, he had destroyed the idol Faustus. He had been crushed by the sheer weight of the steel. The next phase of his plan, dropping downward, and to celebrate was cut short. He felt a presence. No…It couldn’t be. He just saw him.
A roar like that of a monstrous wave penetrated his eardrums for a moment, before his ears began to ring. His eyes burned and ached with pain as blindness came over him, as if a bright curtain had been pulled over his face. In the process of the flash, all of his shadow form was reduced to nothing, leaving him empty handed. With all of this happening, at first he did not even process the fact that he had been cut. Badly. So badly that he could feel half of his weight gone, and the sound of his legs thumping against the beams below accompanied his ringing ears.
Then came the pain. The horrible pain, as blood gushed from the lower part of his torso, his spine cut through, leaving him paralyzed from what would have been the waist down. His unscathed jacket swayed back and forth with the wind he could not feel. Even with this burning, searing pain, Sirius Nightshade still managed to hold on to the beam with the last of his strength. This wasn’t because he was going to try to keep fighting. It was because he had more to say.
As his sight came back, he turned his head ever so slightly, to catch a glimpse of the man who had done this to him. He wanted to see for himself, even though he already knew. Faustus. Somehow he had faked Sirius into thinking he had been crushed, only to “appear” out of nowhere behind him, blind him, and cut him in an equal half. Genius.
As Sirius’ fading pitch black hues locked with the eyes of Faustus once more, he let out a heavy cough. Out came a large amount of crimson blood, falling down onto the clouds below. Blood trickled from his mouth, blood he could not even taste because of this forsaken world. He still had enough dignity to lift his free arm, and wipe it off. His eyes never went away from his opponent’s, as he swung back and forth on the beam. Eventually, he had the strength to speak.
“I must…give it to you,” He began, stuttering through the entire affair as the pain rendered him unable to speak at some points, “You have…defeated me. Bested me in combat. I am nothing but a bloodied torso. A dying man.”
Something then happened. Something that one would never see from a dying man.
He smiled. A wide, devious smile.
“But do not think…for one SECOND, that this is over, friend!,” His voice grew in volume and authority, his teeth bared, his eyes glimmering with new found anger. His voice went back down to a whisper, but a sharp-tongued whisper of a man without sanity, “You..may have proven yourself to be the idol now. I may have lost the battle…”
He pushed himself closer, so their faces were only inches away, his right hand grasping his shoulder, “But the war…Has just….BEGUN”
In that moment, Sirius Nightshade let go. He took his grip off of the beam, and fell down rapidly like an anvil. That same, evil smile that was on his face never left, however the life within his pitch black hues did. He fell all the way to the ground, where the semi-real clouds would eventually become transparent and send his dismembered body to the depths of hell.
But believe me, he won’t stay in hell very long.
The Lord of The Night, shall be reborn.
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