Post by Faustus on Jul 8, 2014 17:15:51 GMT
In a world of silence, save for the sound of water dripping from shattered pipelines, the chanting man reigned supreme. His incantation rose in speed and timbre, and his voice boomed with an unnatural base, and a faint overlaying tone that sounded almost bionic. As the growing vocalization of the chant continued, the face of his watch glowed bright enough to illuminate the entire channel in which he worked with a flashing rainbow of color. It was almost ready.
Faustus was fully subconsciously invested in his incantation, but also consciously aware of the world around him. It was something akin to dreaming, but knowing that you are dreaming. He heard the sound of Euphaire's blades. Not so much phsyically, as the blades were not, but his senses were unnaturally acute to the supernatural. He heard them warping in and out of themselves, their arcane loops swirling against the physical world.
His words, now completely unrecognizeable by any tongue of man, did not stop. They did not slow, even in the face of impending danger. The blades finally showed themselves, azure flame-licked tongues engulfing them, and when they sought to skewer the man, they were met by another flame, so black and deep that it made the blue flame look cyan by comparison. The flames raged against each other for a titillating, but fleeting moment before the abomination Tyrant Flame consumed them wholly.
Magic was graceful and beautiful, but it was no toy. Most people unlearned in the subject matter may think that magic is without any recourse from natural law. That they somehow defy it. That simply is not the case. Magic is a function of natural law, and worked, like all things, within reality, not apart from it. The two flames mixed into a dangerous concoction, and exploded in the shape of a budding sunflower up, and out of the tunnels, and into the street. Namely, coming just under Euphaire with the force of your standard frag grenade. If she didn't move, her legs would be blown off.
Faustus peered up from the hole the explosion their energies created in their lovemaking, unscathed, his lips twisted into the most dangerously innocent grin he could. Faustus' tyrant flame absorbed and grew with energy that entered its maw, and thus sheltered him from the heat and kinetic energy the explosion caused. If Euphaire was there, and he felt she still was, he knew she'd sense it. His sense of vanity. His arrogance. He flaunted it purposefully. His incantation had stopped, but his watched thrummed with power, and vibrant blue strings of energy began to coallesce around its face.
Faustus was fully subconsciously invested in his incantation, but also consciously aware of the world around him. It was something akin to dreaming, but knowing that you are dreaming. He heard the sound of Euphaire's blades. Not so much phsyically, as the blades were not, but his senses were unnaturally acute to the supernatural. He heard them warping in and out of themselves, their arcane loops swirling against the physical world.
His words, now completely unrecognizeable by any tongue of man, did not stop. They did not slow, even in the face of impending danger. The blades finally showed themselves, azure flame-licked tongues engulfing them, and when they sought to skewer the man, they were met by another flame, so black and deep that it made the blue flame look cyan by comparison. The flames raged against each other for a titillating, but fleeting moment before the abomination Tyrant Flame consumed them wholly.
Magic was graceful and beautiful, but it was no toy. Most people unlearned in the subject matter may think that magic is without any recourse from natural law. That they somehow defy it. That simply is not the case. Magic is a function of natural law, and worked, like all things, within reality, not apart from it. The two flames mixed into a dangerous concoction, and exploded in the shape of a budding sunflower up, and out of the tunnels, and into the street. Namely, coming just under Euphaire with the force of your standard frag grenade. If she didn't move, her legs would be blown off.
Faustus peered up from the hole the explosion their energies created in their lovemaking, unscathed, his lips twisted into the most dangerously innocent grin he could. Faustus' tyrant flame absorbed and grew with energy that entered its maw, and thus sheltered him from the heat and kinetic energy the explosion caused. If Euphaire was there, and he felt she still was, he knew she'd sense it. His sense of vanity. His arrogance. He flaunted it purposefully. His incantation had stopped, but his watched thrummed with power, and vibrant blue strings of energy began to coallesce around its face.
Tyrant Flame: As it says on the charactersheet.
Spellcraft[1*]
Note: It may seem I not only defended and attacked in this post, while managing to still prep, that is not entirely the case. Faustus did not directly aim to attack Euphaire, but rather cause and effect ended in an explosion that could potentially hurt Euphaire. This does not count towards Faustus' phase count.
Spellcraft[1*]
Note: It may seem I not only defended and attacked in this post, while managing to still prep, that is not entirely the case. Faustus did not directly aim to attack Euphaire, but rather cause and effect ended in an explosion that could potentially hurt Euphaire. This does not count towards Faustus' phase count.