Angela raged against the chains holding her arms in a crucifix. Captured by Cordorian forces in the last coup, held in prison while they got things in place. Her safety was used to secure their movements, getting the siege in place. It came down to this.
The volleys started, and as expected, the outer wards repelled them. After a few, cracks started to show. Explosions were heard by the siege grounds as the sabotaged rounds went off, bringing a smile to her face, and a scowl to the King's.
The Outer Wards shattered with flashes like iridescent glass, amidst cheers. Short-lived ones, cut short when the next volley hit their Tower Shield. She held onto hope when the Shield held against the next volley, not so much as a hint of strain showing on the wards. She knew every bit of what they were up against, and what they had to offer. They would spend their spells and shells and go home weary, accomplishing nothing.
She studied the King, puzzling why he showed no irritation. His efforts were failing. He was waiting on something. She caught a flash from a window of the Tower. The next volley didn't come as expected, a pregnant pause dragging on.
She turned her eyes back to the Tower, and looked on in horror as the shield suddenly swung out of the way... Betrayal! No surprise showed on the face of the men around her, and even a smirk on the king's hateful visage. Glaring at him, she missed the next volley... The sound of brick and mortar shattering tore her gaze back to her beloved tower, just in time to see Jacob fall from it's highest point... She could see the twinkling of contingencies activating as he fell in slow motion.... and stopped.
Confusion filled her mind, levitation wasn't one of his wards... somewhere in her mind, something was screaming that he wasn't moving. He was on the ground. He was on the ground. He'd -hit- the ground. She started to scream. Something inside her started to scream with her, chains in her mind breaking free, the moorings of logic and reason giving way to an incandescent rage. The little voice in her mind, the ever-simmering boil inside that only wanted to consume all in flames... It screamed. It was finally free, and hell couldn't begin to pay what was owed to her.
***
The men next to her never knew what happened. Laughter and victory were their last thoughts, ash and blackened plate mail their fate. Flames spread out from her, igniting anything in range. The Muldorandi in their ranks would later say it was as though Ra had lent his heavenly form to her, bright and burning. The faint rattle of chains falling went unheard by all, as their links melted and fell limp. There was absolute chaos in the ranks as the Eldest Flameborn ignited their world.
***
She opened herself to her Power, twisted by her rage into an explosion of fire and magic. Her resistances would fail eventually. She knew it would be the last time. There was no turning it off, no turning back this time. She didn't want to turn back. Killing Edward was all that mattered, so she started to walk to him. Spears and bolts disintegrated in the air around her, spells broke as her Power twisted and overloaded them. She began to run now, barely aware that it was so difficult. She flung a spell, and another, and another, spell mantles falling before her. Straight through their ranks she moved, Edward's aged form moving just slower than hers. He fell, and his guards couldn't get close enough to pick him up in the heat.
The King was dead long before she got to him, a burning corpse. She collapsed on top of him, her hands around the blackened bones of his neck, screaming at him. The last bit of restraint left her, her mind gone. All that was left was Rage and Power, and they consumed the army around her before finally consuming her, the very Weave starting to tear from the power being pulled through it.
Something finally gave way.
The screaming stopped.
The sun went out.
In Another Timeline
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triaddraykin
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In Another Timeline
Alia: The uncanny knack of Angela Amana to make the otherwise perpetually well-mannered girl lose her temper and be HORRIBLY ASHAMED afterwards.
Who on the Team to PM and When
Public Tower Discord
Tower Library
Scroll, Wand, & Potion Costs
Who on the Team to PM and When
Public Tower Discord
Tower Library
Scroll, Wand, & Potion Costs
-
triaddraykin
- Arelith Silver Supporter
- Posts: 736
- Joined: Mon Sep 08, 2014 2:32 am
Re: In Another Timeline
Jacob was so kind as to write a 'sequel' to this!
Falling. The wards triggering, contingencies firing. Steady hands coming up, concentrating even as his ears were filled with the sound of rushing wind. In the corner of his eye, he saw a conflagration in the midst of their troops. As the spell released, time seemed to stop. His mind racing rapidly as the Time Stop spell took affect. The spell was Modified, meant to give him time to prepare to land instead of simply increasing his speed. His mental 'clockspeed' temporarily set at higher than normal levels, he quickly released multiple wards, and directed the skeletal minions below, his last resort to try and avoid war. To the army's credit, only a small portion of their forces had run screaming as the skeletons and dessicated corpses tore themselves out of the very ground around them. They came together rapidly, skeletal limbs forming a network of bone. It would not be pleasant, but compared to the harsh stone he was headed for otherwise, a semi-flexible netting of bone would be far safer. The final ward released, he closed his eyes. Three. Two. One.
He impacted with the impromptu netting, skeletal minions shattering in place of his own body, leaving him sore, bruised, but alive. He rose not yet noticing that there had not been a followup volley, not been a continued firing upon the Tower. Instead his concern was with another. His hastened form barely touching the ground as he half flew, half ran back upstairs and into the Tower. The traitor, someone whom Jacob had welcomed as a member of the Tower. Someone whom Jacob had trusted. Someone whom Jacob had called family, had disrupted the shield. The blow to the roof had neatly flung Jacob from the position he had taken to direct the undead army, and could only have occured if the shield had been dropped or moved aside. They were on the top of the tower, nearby the defensive wards. If left alone for too long they could disrupt them permanently. That was what was on Jacob's mind, when the roof door slammed open, and he stepped back out onto it. His eyes glowing a fierce blue, his left hand, no longer gloved but blazing bright red with negative energy. The rational voice in the back of Jacob's head now had started to note how odd that there had been no more further volleys. That the air itself had started to grow warm, the humidity boiling away slowly.
The Traitor turned as Jacob approached, names no longer on Jacob's mind. Emotions unchained, running wild and threatening to slip past control. The Traitor no longer deserved a name, they were but what their title stated. One whom had almost killed Jacob, and had assuredly killed members of his family. Three steps. they were three steps away. The first step, the Traitor gave him due to panick as they realized the Necromancer had not perished. The second step saw spells beginning to form. Concentration beginning to fail as they saw that glowing red hand, and what it meant for them if the Necromancer got within range. The third step came as the Traitor finally managed to bring forth a spell, a wall of pure flame between them. The hazy red flame distorted the air, hiding each other from their sight momentarily. Suddenly that skeletal hand thrust through the flames, the necromancer following behind as those bony fingers, wrapped around the Traitor's face. Bony palm against their nose, sharpened fingers digging into their forehead, and thumb pressing into the fleshy hole in the underside of their jaw. There was a pulse of red, and where there had once been healthy flesh, blood, and sinew; there was now rot and decay. They screamed, their eyes boiling in their head as their face was exposed to such energies that consumed flesh, blood, and sinew all. Their nose melting away as the rot stole the cartilage that made up the center of their face. Their tongue falling from their mouth as their jaw was warped and mishaped by the energies attuned to death and decay. Not yet dead, the Necromancer released them. Leaving them to writhe in pain on the roof of the Tower. No longer caring if they lived or died. They would suffer, and that is what mattered to the Necromancer right now.
Jacob turned, finally. The shield re-tuning to it's proper location, and that was then Jacob Swift finally saw the goddess of flame and fire in the midst of Edward's retinue. Jacob's Goddess.The skeletal minions, recognizing a friendly amidst their targets had formed a barricade. What few suicidal members of Edwards advisors that had still tried to stop her wrath, assuage her anger, were busily being torn apart by the undead creatures. They could try and stop the flames from burning them alive, or they could try and ensure the undead were felled. Together they were nigh impenetrable. The weave had been stretched from Jacob's previous timestop. . .As it slowly regained it's position, Jacob forced it through early. To outside observers, it was as if the Necromancer had blinked into existance next to the flaming orb. Wards coming up, trying to protect from the flames. He screamed, trying to get ahold of her attention. A desperate plea for her to stop before she went too far.
And then the light went out.
He saw what was left. Charred bones, still grasped around the pile of ash that had been Edward Cordor. As the heat faded, the Necromancer sagged to his knees. He screamed. The scream of a young boy, losing his family, a man desperate to understand what he was, and now finally having found someone with whom he could share existance with. The soldiers fled. The remnant routed and fleeing. The remaining defenders of the Tower came forth, seeing Jacob screaming like a banshee. A wail the likes of which none had heard before.
~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been months, since the attack. Months since Jacob Swift had seen her meet the same fate as so many others like her. Months since he had come out of his room. Months since he had begun his work. The effort of an entire lifetime of work. The ritual circle encircled the entire room, catalysts dipped here and there, runes within runes within runes. With her in the middle of it all. Disheveled, worn, no longer the prim and proper Archmage, Jacob Swift teetered on the edge of madness. And now, after all this time, it was finally ready.
He stepped into position, flexing his hands. His mussed and unkempt hair threatening to drift into his field of view before he brushed it aside. He wore little but trousers, runes having been marked across his body to continue the conduits of energy. He had planned this out to the nth degree, and now he himself was but a component in the ritual. The energies he'd gathered, stored over weeks of channelling to the point that his fingers had been left blackened and burnt, were prepared in their containers. Jacob Swift knelt down, pressing his hands into the small runic circles meant for him to interface with. As he chanted, the containments were released. Energy flowing through the carefully enscribed runes, circling around both Jacob and her remains. He didn't even flinch as he felt the energies travel up his right hand, tracing a path through his flesh as he added his own essence to the ritual. His teeth grit as he felt the energy flowing up and around, finally back down through his skeletal limb. Red glowing energy arced from his bony fingers, each touching another enscribed rune. Negative energy starting to flow into the room, beginning to wrap around the remains in the middle of the room. But instead of animating, it touched something still tied to the remains. The final container was released into the circle, energy arcing from point to point as it threatened to overwhelm the enscriptions.
Finally a reaction began to occur. Energies starting to swirl around the bones, laid out delicately in the shape of a human form at rest. The bones twitched once, twice, thrice, before suddenly growth started to form around the white structure. Nerves first, wrapping around the spine and outwards around the framework provided. Sinew and flesh was next, wrapping it all together and forming the cavities that would hold the organs. There was a hesitation, before a thumping sound filled the room. A heart to pump blood, and lungs to fill them. Eyeballs forming inside the empty sockets and attaching to the nerves connecting into a bundle that was slowly forming into a brain. As the muscles layed on more and more, fatty tissue wrapped around them to keep them better protected, and finally skin formed and held everything together. Her hair, her brilliant silver hair, forming once again where it all should be. Until Jacob felt a surge of energy tearing through him. He cried out softly as it overwhelmed his concentrations, the strain almost overcoming him completely. The energy drew more and more upon his essence. There was a loud crack as the energy finally overloaded the runes, and Jacob's resistances. Darkness overtook him as he passed out from the draining ritual.
~~~~~~~
Consciousness abruptly resumed, his eyes swiveling left and right as he forced himself to sit up. The room was a mess, the overload of energy had left it's scars on the walls. If the mirror had not been shattered, he might have noticed a streak of pure white contrasting against his pitch black hair, but for now all he could see was her body. She appeared as if to be sleeping, the only oddity being the lock of black hair in place of a previously silvery white. Jacob pulled himself forwards, crawling towards her. Where the runes had been marked across him, were burns and singed flesh. One hand clumsily grasping at her soft wrist, feeling the soft thump of a pulse inside of her. Her eyes remained shut, but she was alive. For how long? Was she a vegtable? A soulless husk? He gently grabbed her shoulders, shaking her back and forth. Silently begging, pleading for something, anything. For a time, the silence hung in the air, as if to smother all life. Before a soft and strained voice could be heard. "D-Dearheart?"
Falling. The wards triggering, contingencies firing. Steady hands coming up, concentrating even as his ears were filled with the sound of rushing wind. In the corner of his eye, he saw a conflagration in the midst of their troops. As the spell released, time seemed to stop. His mind racing rapidly as the Time Stop spell took affect. The spell was Modified, meant to give him time to prepare to land instead of simply increasing his speed. His mental 'clockspeed' temporarily set at higher than normal levels, he quickly released multiple wards, and directed the skeletal minions below, his last resort to try and avoid war. To the army's credit, only a small portion of their forces had run screaming as the skeletons and dessicated corpses tore themselves out of the very ground around them. They came together rapidly, skeletal limbs forming a network of bone. It would not be pleasant, but compared to the harsh stone he was headed for otherwise, a semi-flexible netting of bone would be far safer. The final ward released, he closed his eyes. Three. Two. One.
He impacted with the impromptu netting, skeletal minions shattering in place of his own body, leaving him sore, bruised, but alive. He rose not yet noticing that there had not been a followup volley, not been a continued firing upon the Tower. Instead his concern was with another. His hastened form barely touching the ground as he half flew, half ran back upstairs and into the Tower. The traitor, someone whom Jacob had welcomed as a member of the Tower. Someone whom Jacob had trusted. Someone whom Jacob had called family, had disrupted the shield. The blow to the roof had neatly flung Jacob from the position he had taken to direct the undead army, and could only have occured if the shield had been dropped or moved aside. They were on the top of the tower, nearby the defensive wards. If left alone for too long they could disrupt them permanently. That was what was on Jacob's mind, when the roof door slammed open, and he stepped back out onto it. His eyes glowing a fierce blue, his left hand, no longer gloved but blazing bright red with negative energy. The rational voice in the back of Jacob's head now had started to note how odd that there had been no more further volleys. That the air itself had started to grow warm, the humidity boiling away slowly.
The Traitor turned as Jacob approached, names no longer on Jacob's mind. Emotions unchained, running wild and threatening to slip past control. The Traitor no longer deserved a name, they were but what their title stated. One whom had almost killed Jacob, and had assuredly killed members of his family. Three steps. they were three steps away. The first step, the Traitor gave him due to panick as they realized the Necromancer had not perished. The second step saw spells beginning to form. Concentration beginning to fail as they saw that glowing red hand, and what it meant for them if the Necromancer got within range. The third step came as the Traitor finally managed to bring forth a spell, a wall of pure flame between them. The hazy red flame distorted the air, hiding each other from their sight momentarily. Suddenly that skeletal hand thrust through the flames, the necromancer following behind as those bony fingers, wrapped around the Traitor's face. Bony palm against their nose, sharpened fingers digging into their forehead, and thumb pressing into the fleshy hole in the underside of their jaw. There was a pulse of red, and where there had once been healthy flesh, blood, and sinew; there was now rot and decay. They screamed, their eyes boiling in their head as their face was exposed to such energies that consumed flesh, blood, and sinew all. Their nose melting away as the rot stole the cartilage that made up the center of their face. Their tongue falling from their mouth as their jaw was warped and mishaped by the energies attuned to death and decay. Not yet dead, the Necromancer released them. Leaving them to writhe in pain on the roof of the Tower. No longer caring if they lived or died. They would suffer, and that is what mattered to the Necromancer right now.
Jacob turned, finally. The shield re-tuning to it's proper location, and that was then Jacob Swift finally saw the goddess of flame and fire in the midst of Edward's retinue. Jacob's Goddess.The skeletal minions, recognizing a friendly amidst their targets had formed a barricade. What few suicidal members of Edwards advisors that had still tried to stop her wrath, assuage her anger, were busily being torn apart by the undead creatures. They could try and stop the flames from burning them alive, or they could try and ensure the undead were felled. Together they were nigh impenetrable. The weave had been stretched from Jacob's previous timestop. . .As it slowly regained it's position, Jacob forced it through early. To outside observers, it was as if the Necromancer had blinked into existance next to the flaming orb. Wards coming up, trying to protect from the flames. He screamed, trying to get ahold of her attention. A desperate plea for her to stop before she went too far.
And then the light went out.
He saw what was left. Charred bones, still grasped around the pile of ash that had been Edward Cordor. As the heat faded, the Necromancer sagged to his knees. He screamed. The scream of a young boy, losing his family, a man desperate to understand what he was, and now finally having found someone with whom he could share existance with. The soldiers fled. The remnant routed and fleeing. The remaining defenders of the Tower came forth, seeing Jacob screaming like a banshee. A wail the likes of which none had heard before.
~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been months, since the attack. Months since Jacob Swift had seen her meet the same fate as so many others like her. Months since he had come out of his room. Months since he had begun his work. The effort of an entire lifetime of work. The ritual circle encircled the entire room, catalysts dipped here and there, runes within runes within runes. With her in the middle of it all. Disheveled, worn, no longer the prim and proper Archmage, Jacob Swift teetered on the edge of madness. And now, after all this time, it was finally ready.
He stepped into position, flexing his hands. His mussed and unkempt hair threatening to drift into his field of view before he brushed it aside. He wore little but trousers, runes having been marked across his body to continue the conduits of energy. He had planned this out to the nth degree, and now he himself was but a component in the ritual. The energies he'd gathered, stored over weeks of channelling to the point that his fingers had been left blackened and burnt, were prepared in their containers. Jacob Swift knelt down, pressing his hands into the small runic circles meant for him to interface with. As he chanted, the containments were released. Energy flowing through the carefully enscribed runes, circling around both Jacob and her remains. He didn't even flinch as he felt the energies travel up his right hand, tracing a path through his flesh as he added his own essence to the ritual. His teeth grit as he felt the energy flowing up and around, finally back down through his skeletal limb. Red glowing energy arced from his bony fingers, each touching another enscribed rune. Negative energy starting to flow into the room, beginning to wrap around the remains in the middle of the room. But instead of animating, it touched something still tied to the remains. The final container was released into the circle, energy arcing from point to point as it threatened to overwhelm the enscriptions.
Finally a reaction began to occur. Energies starting to swirl around the bones, laid out delicately in the shape of a human form at rest. The bones twitched once, twice, thrice, before suddenly growth started to form around the white structure. Nerves first, wrapping around the spine and outwards around the framework provided. Sinew and flesh was next, wrapping it all together and forming the cavities that would hold the organs. There was a hesitation, before a thumping sound filled the room. A heart to pump blood, and lungs to fill them. Eyeballs forming inside the empty sockets and attaching to the nerves connecting into a bundle that was slowly forming into a brain. As the muscles layed on more and more, fatty tissue wrapped around them to keep them better protected, and finally skin formed and held everything together. Her hair, her brilliant silver hair, forming once again where it all should be. Until Jacob felt a surge of energy tearing through him. He cried out softly as it overwhelmed his concentrations, the strain almost overcoming him completely. The energy drew more and more upon his essence. There was a loud crack as the energy finally overloaded the runes, and Jacob's resistances. Darkness overtook him as he passed out from the draining ritual.
~~~~~~~
Consciousness abruptly resumed, his eyes swiveling left and right as he forced himself to sit up. The room was a mess, the overload of energy had left it's scars on the walls. If the mirror had not been shattered, he might have noticed a streak of pure white contrasting against his pitch black hair, but for now all he could see was her body. She appeared as if to be sleeping, the only oddity being the lock of black hair in place of a previously silvery white. Jacob pulled himself forwards, crawling towards her. Where the runes had been marked across him, were burns and singed flesh. One hand clumsily grasping at her soft wrist, feeling the soft thump of a pulse inside of her. Her eyes remained shut, but she was alive. For how long? Was she a vegtable? A soulless husk? He gently grabbed her shoulders, shaking her back and forth. Silently begging, pleading for something, anything. For a time, the silence hung in the air, as if to smother all life. Before a soft and strained voice could be heard. "D-Dearheart?"
Alia: The uncanny knack of Angela Amana to make the otherwise perpetually well-mannered girl lose her temper and be HORRIBLY ASHAMED afterwards.
Who on the Team to PM and When
Public Tower Discord
Tower Library
Scroll, Wand, & Potion Costs
Who on the Team to PM and When
Public Tower Discord
Tower Library
Scroll, Wand, & Potion Costs
Re: In Another Timeline
(Incidentally, perhaps this thread could serve as a repository for 'what if' stories?)