Coming of a Champion, The [CLOSED]

Thomas
Nu Guardian

// FrothyAsCoffee

Posts: 23

Join Date: 20,000,000 BC

Coming of a Champion, The [CLOSED] May 31, 2014 18:21:33 GMT

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Post by Thomas on May 31, 2014 18:21:33 GMT

Crash! A wooden chair smashes into pieces against a wall after having been thrown the distance of the room. The once spotless private chambers of the Osgoth prince, Valamir Legion, had become a graveyard for the many pieces of furnature that were exquisitely crafted, once upon a time. The carpets had been pulled up from their previous position upon the wooden floor boards and tossed aside, along with the furnature, piling up against the door. In their place had been scrawled, in white chalk, a large pentagram within a circle. Another circle denoting the flower of life accompanied the pentagram. Scattered around this scene were thirty lit candles, creating an eery atmosphere of dim light. The candles seemed to do more to devour the light they created, rather than keep it going. In the corner of the room resided a large body-length mirror. Within its reflection, the entire set up could be seen. A ritualistic scenario such as this, sporting the symbols that it did, could only mean one thing. Someone was trying to summon Faustus Clemens -- the Chosen tourniment victor.

Slumping into a less-than-acceptable posture, for one of royal blood such as himself, against the wall -- next to the mirror -- the Arrogant Prince exhaled heavily in both irritation and exhaustion. Physical labor was never one of his strong suits. The smell of vanilla filled the air as the scented wax of the candles melted away under the heat of the beautifully flickering flame, dancing gracefully upon the wick. Inhaling the sickly sweet smoke through his nostrils, Valamir kicked off the wall and made his way towards the center of the pentagram. His eyes shimmered in the dim light of the candles as he bit his bottom lip softly and withdrew a simple razor-blade from his duffle coat pocket. This was the last step. A droplet of blood. This was all it would take. Hesitation? Of course. The prince was many things -- arrogant, selfish, obnoxious, -- but stupid he was not. For all he knew; Faustus Clemens could be the devil incarnate. And if that was the case? The prince would make a deal with the devil himself.

The flesh of Valamir's right thumb parted along the edge of the razor-blade, a deep, clean, incision. A crimson droplet of liquid life oozed from the cut and made its escape. It fell from his thumb and onto the pentagram's center. Now he waited. The silence drilled into his brain before the prince blinked and then sighed once again, covering his face with his right hand and dragging his bloodied thumb across his forehead. He'd forgotten something. Of course he had. He'd forgotten the most important part...
Chanting...
He cleared his throat...
And...

"Nants ingonyama bagithi Baba! Sithi uhm ingonyama. Nants ingonyama bagithi baba! Sithi uhhmm ingonyama, ingonyama. Siyo Nqoba. Ingonyama... Ingonyama nengw' enamabala! Ingonyama... Ingonyama nengw' enamabala! Ingonyama... Ingonyama nengw' enamabala!"

Last Edit: May 31, 2014 18:22:10 GMT by Thomas

"Inside this fantasy it seems so real to me. Synthetic ecstasy, when her legs are open. True love behind a wall, where men and angels fall. A fading memory -- when my mind is frozen."

Faustus
Scholar

Posts: 78

Coming of a Champion, The [CLOSED] Jun 1, 2014 16:43:29 GMT

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Post by Faustus on Jun 1, 2014 16:43:29 GMT

From the frothy shadows, a glint of silver gleamed against candle light in the reflective mirror that stood within the center of the whole ritualistic mess. A pentagram, and the Flower of Life, accompanied by a vesica pisces. This man knew what he was doing. Was he mad? Or desperate? Obviously one or the other, or he would not have gone to the trouble of acquiring the tomes to recite this ancient recountance of ritual. To summon the man known only as The Man With Golden Eyes.

It all seemed more satanic than the mere summoning of a man who won the Chosen tournament. The pentagram, the blood sacrifice, the mirror. It was as though Faustus Clemens was the Devil himself.

Once the blood was given, something began to happen. The image in the mirror began to shimmer and quake, and convulse violently. Reshaping, and reimagining the whole scene. The mirror was no longer reflecting the room, but looked into another. Valimir's reflection contorted in and out of itself, becoming a blurry mess, and then began to reshift into focus. What stood on the other end of the mirror was not Valamir, that much was certain.

From behind the pane, a man, drowned in an all-black suit, saved only by the white trim his undershirt offered, a man stood, golden eyes peering like a lions into Valamir's soul. His skin was pale, and his hair as black as midnight. A smile crept upon his lips. It had been years, decades even, since someone had uncovered his summoning ritual.

"Hello, there. Tell me, what is it you would have me do?"

Thomas
Nu Guardian

// FrothyAsCoffee

Posts: 23

Join Date: 20,000,000 BC

Coming of a Champion, The [CLOSED] Jun 4, 2014 2:36:26 GMT

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Post by Thomas on Jun 4, 2014 2:36:26 GMT

Beads of a cold sweat rolled down the face of Valamir Legion as his eyes strained under the stress of seeing his reflection in the mirror warp and enter a metamorphosis. He was frozen in place, his feet rooted to the ground. It was those eyes. Suddenly... The prince whom had feared nothing his entire life; learned what it was to be intimidated. Staring back into the eyes of this man was like jumping into the gaping maw of a monster -- accepting death.

But Valamir would not submit.

_ "Hello, there. Tell me, what is it you would have me do?"

Forcing himself into a respectable posture, he began to speak, his voice firm. He was attempting to show some form of authority so not to be taken lightly by the frightening male before him.

"Greetings. I am Valamir Legion -- prince of the kingdom; Osgoth and heir to its throne. I have summoned you: Faustus Clemens, the Chosen tourniment victor, to propose a deal." Taking a few steps forward, towards the man in black, the Arrogant Prince slipped his hands into the confines of his duffle coat pockets.

"I wish to acquire power and knowledge. You have both... Not to mention ways of obtaining even more with the addition of the Chosen's winnings. Here is my offer..." A brief pause. Valamir swallowed -- an attempt to rid himself of the lump in his throat.

"Assist me in attaining knowledge. Assist me in attaining power. Assist me in ridding my kingdom of the murderer whom sits upon its throne this very second. In return? I offer you my fealty. Does this proposal appeal to your tastes?"

His delivery was confident, professional, yet somehow lacking in the very thing he had tried to speak with... Authority.
In all honesty, however, there was not much authority to be had by Valamir in this situation.
He was the one asking for help. He was the one who had to search and find the tomes containing the rituals required to summon the man with golden eyes. He was the one with the most to lose if Faustus declined his offer.

And so the Arrogant Prince stood and stared in silence, waiting for a reply. He could do little but tap the tip of his boot against the floor in an impatient and nervous manner.

Last Edit: Jun 4, 2014 2:49:00 GMT by Thomas

"Inside this fantasy it seems so real to me. Synthetic ecstasy, when her legs are open. True love behind a wall, where men and angels fall. A fading memory -- when my mind is frozen."

Faustus
Scholar

Posts: 78

Coming of a Champion, The [CLOSED] Jun 24, 2014 4:08:44 GMT

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Post by Faustus on Jun 24, 2014 4:08:44 GMT

A grim smile crept upon every one of Faustus' facets, down to the tresses of his hair. It all seemed to emanate glee. Retiring to the back end of the room that lie on his 'side' of the mirror, he came back with small, blank, white indescript piece of parchment. With focus, he strained to push his arm through the portal, just enough to slip the parchment onto the floor in the Prince's room.

"These things can easily be provided with a studious mind, so giving you your end of the bargain is simple. But mine? You may find it more difficult to appease me." Faustus turned his back to Valamir, his pale hands clasping either wrist behind his back. "You offered me loyalty. You will soon come to find that you never truly understood the definition until you met me."

The prince of Osgoth wanted power. That was something Faustus understood above all else. He remedied over the many uses - and dangers - someone else with a lust as inquentiable as his could turn out to be. The benefits apparently weighed out the danger.

"If you would make the deal aware of the circumstances, then forge your name in blood upon that parchment before you. I deal in blood. Not money. You want a faux King gone from your kingdom, with my help, you will have it done. All you need to do, is sign the parchment."

He reached into his pocket, and turned to Valamir, bringing forth something sharp, and glinting against the candle light; A scalpal- to draw blood. His golden eyes were set in place; on Valamir's.

Nu-Guardia

Coming of a Champion, The [CLOSED]

Post by Thomas on May 31, 2014 18:21:33 GMT

Post by Faustus on Jun 1, 2014 16:43:29 GMT

Post by Thomas on Jun 4, 2014 2:36:26 GMT

Post by Faustus on Jun 24, 2014 4:08:44 GMT

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