Post by The Grey Warlock on Aug 27, 2013 6:54:18 GMT -5
The Grey Warlock's dark eyes studied the arms before him, the scars crisscrossing the skin only hinted at the brutal life the assassin before him had endured. With an impassive gaze Gregori moved his eyes to the non-reflective goggles that Talon wore, "The bigger the sacrifice of flesh, the stronger the incantation." he stated in a detached tone, it meant nothing to him what the assassin lost in this, once Nocturne was bound, if he was bound, it simply meant more power for the Order. The Order's goal wasn't simply to gain power, but, to study such a creature as Nocturne was certainly an interesting opportunity, one the Warlock would not pass up if he could help it.
"The sooner the better, I assume." He questioned with a raised brow, "Someone such as yourself cannot afford to spend too much time in a place such as this. I will call those necessary to a ritual ring to re-purpose it for the incantation. I have an idea in mind that will bring him here, by force."
Post by The Blade's Shadow on Sept 8, 2013 16:25:12 GMT -5
"My time is limited, to say the least, Hastur. The sooner you can have this done, the better. I have places to be." Talon replied, relaxing the slightest bit. The colony had no reason to be wary of Talon, at least not that he was aware of. If this were some elaborate trap, its purpose was far beyond what he could possibly comprehend. If they had wanted him captured, they could've done so long before now. Dead as well.
His hands turned over and he had nothing more to say. Fingers drummed upon the table before him not out of impatience, but out of anticipation mixed with... Was it fear? Everything that wasn't blind drive to accomplish his goal had begun to bleed into an indeterminate mass in Talon's mind. Nothing to do now but wait for the sorcerer's magic to succeed or fail.
Post by The Grey Warlock on Sept 10, 2013 3:13:31 GMT -5
Gregori quickly stood from the table, understanding that the assassin had things to do and places to be. He nodded, "Then I will gather those necessary, it will no doubt take a few hours. Your affiliation with Noxus will not be well perceived here, so in the mean time, you will wait here. I will retrieve you when the time has come for the ritual." Without so much as a good-bye Gregori moved to walk from the room, the large shadow wolf moving to follow only to stop as the Warlock raised a hand, "You, wait and watch the Noxian." With a growl the wolf returned to sitting beside Talon, staring curiously up with pure white eyes as they waited.
Two hours later: A figure in dark grey ceremonial robes entered the small room, his face shrouded in shadows cast by the hood he wore. Simply beckoning to the assassin with a black gloved hand before he simply turned on his heel and walked back through the door. Should the assassin follow he would find himself in a dark dimly lit corridor that seemed to be carved out of the earth, the floor looked to be unnaturally smooth as it lay before him. The walls however looked to be jagged and rough as though not nearly as much attention was paid to them. The simple glowing orbs that illuminated barely gave off enough light to see around them, though Talon would soon notice the presence of the wolf simply walking beside him as if to guide him. It was clear that the order was manipulating the situation, ensuring that Talon had no choice but to go where they wished and gave him no chance to stray if he wanted to.
The cavernous corridor began to become more narrow the further they walked, signaling they were nearing the exit. The aroma of incense floated through the air, following by a soft humming accompanied by a series of flickering lights varying in color further down the path. The silhouette of the robed figured could be seen surrounded a flickering aura of various colors, his shadow danced about before him while he waited for Talon and the wolf to approach. The nearer they got, the clearer the aura would become revealing that it was in fact different colored fire flickering behind him as he stood in the archway.
The room behind the figure was a large, dome shaped area. In the center was a stone slab, iron bindings held in place by a heavy set of chains. The floor in the room was just as unnaturally smooth as it was in the corridor that lead here. Around the stone slab was a circle that looked to be made of a fine crimson powder, at regular intervals the power trail would spread off in a straight line that connected with another circle, presumably these circles would be where those involved in the ritual would stand while they participate. The source of the multicolored flames would become apparent, within the wall of the circular room were small pockets gouged out with small braziers burning. A strange sense of suffocation would overcome him if he looked into them for too long as the strange flames danced about casting their light about the room. For now, it seemed to be devoid of live other than Talon, the Shadow Wolf and the strange robed mage who now simply stood at the entrance waiting.
Post by The Blade's Shadow on Nov 4, 2013 15:48:28 GMT -5
Waiting was not strange to the assassin. Orders came and went, sometimes with gulfs of months between each. Rather than muse on the precarious nature of the situation, he allowed himself a moment's reprise. Closing his eyes, he reached under his garb and withdrew a small scrap of dried meat, presenting it to the canine beside him, but simply letting it fall before the creature., allowing it to do whatever it should wish with the gift. Feeling his good deed for this day was done, he simply remained where he was, ears taking in every tiny noise they could, as though his complicity was perhaps not enough to allay some surprise assault.
The requisite time having passed for whatever preparations the Order needed, Talon rose as he was beckoned and turned, footfalls coming light as feathers as he was lead to his next destination in the otherwise unnavigable, potentially hazardous, hallway. While his senses were bombarded in a flurry of color and incense, still he remained sharp, the soles of his feet landing without a whisper until he reached what could only be his destination.
"Magic... An art that missed its mark. Valuable, but anything but perfect." Thought the murderer, simply awaiting what orders he would be given so that this deed might be done.
It brought him back to a very different time, serving only the hunger in his stomach, upon the precipice of something far greater than he had expected. Victory, every single one, had been hard earned, and there was but one of import that was robbed of him. Perhaps this would be another, his life extinguished here and now to fulfill some arcanist's sick whim. Apprehension crawled its way under his skin and across his body, setting the hair on his neck at a stand. In a brief instant, choices flashed before his eyes but each was met with the ring of blade on blade, the sound of blood coating the gutters of what was once the closest he had to a home of his own, and the sight of young, impulsive Kavyn's eyes draining of life.
Post by The Grey Warlock on Nov 10, 2013 2:29:19 GMT -5
An ominous low chanting could be heard rolling through the corridors, a chorus of voices speaking in an ancient tongue no doubt only remembered by the Grey Order through their study of the darker forms of magic. Talon would feel the magic, as if the air itself was charged with electricity. The various coloured flames flared as though the magic in the air fueled them further.
A large group of figures clad in grey ceremonial robes slowly entered the room, their faces obscured by hoods, all walking together in a circle, one man in the middle. He was to be the one that they would summon Nocturne through, no doubt it meant guaranteed death, or at least the loss of his sanity at the very least.
Behind them, carrying a large wooden bowel filled with what looked to be ash, was the Grey Warlock himself, his hood down to show his dark eyes glancing briefly to Talon, grey hair combed back and his lips drawn in a line line, a grim expression upon his face.
Post by The Blade's Shadow on Jan 28, 2014 6:09:26 GMT -5
The assassin could do little more than watch the proceedings as they unfolded, gaze kept passive and calm through it all. Gregori was back, so if nothing else, it allowed Talon's nerves a chance to ease themselves from breaking. He had been told nothing about what his role here truly was, but it was becoming clear that no matter what it was, it would have consequences, an outcome Talon was not particularly familiar with.
Talon sorely wished that the wolf were here with him for this. Even in the treacherous sewers of Noxus, the strays had always been nice. Perhaps it was the odd, tiny scrap here that brought them to Talon, or perhaps it was that they sensed his indomitable spirit. Whatever the reason, he had grown fond of animals from his childhood, seeking the calm of their presence now, in a moment that stood to change everything.
He was ready for this, of course he was. He had endured great hardships before, he had nearly lost ears, fingers, toes, his tongue, even an entire hand on assignments. At least when he had been summoned, he could not be hurt in any lasting capacity. A welcome change to how his life had been up to that point, though he now worried if it was making him go soft. He hoped not, if his murders in the bottom of the Institute served as any kind of indication for his skills.
Post by The Grey Warlock on Jan 31, 2014 19:30:29 GMT -5
Those in the robes moved to take their places in the circles that were attached to the main summoning area. Their eyes closed and heads bowed as they stood in place. Their soft murmuring chants seemed to carry immense power in the words, the intense magic within the room almost suffocating now. Gregori moved toward Talon, his eyes moved to Talon's arm, "Flesh to be sacrificed, young Blademaster." There was a look of almost pity within his eyes, "This will obviously be unpleasant." He then held out his free arm, a thick strip of leather, "Bite this and hold out your arm. The wound will be cauterized as soon as possible to stop unnecessary blood loss. There's no going back."
Two others in robes would emerge from the entrance, one holding a rather large knife, a strange light dancing across the reflective steel of the blade. The other with a small ball of conjured flame floating in his hand.
Post by The Blade's Shadow on Feb 1, 2014 3:16:52 GMT -5
"If I've learned one thing, it's that much of my life is meant to be unpleasant." Talon muttered, gladly taking the strip of leather between his teeth. He slowly rolled his sleeve up, feeling the pangs of indecision bounding around in his mind. "This is necessary." He reminded himself, jaw tight as he held out his arm, exposed to the elbow.
He immediately looked to the blade that would be doing the deed, examining it from a distance as best he could. The only hope he held was that they at least sharpened it properly. Somewhere in the back of his mind he had a feeling that pain was likely part of the process, a necessary payment for this kind of arcane alteration of reality.
Post by The Grey Warlock on Feb 12, 2014 6:45:39 GMT -5
One of the robed mages handed the odd shining knife to Gregori, being extremely careful to not so much as touch the blade as though he were almost afraid of what it would do should it come into contact with his skin. The robed figure then moved behind Talon, remaining at least half a meter away, ready to catch or support the assassin should his knees buckle under the amount of pain he was about to endure. The mage with the ball of fire stood to the side, simply watching with impassive eyes, prepared to burn the wound closed once the flesh had been taken.
The Grey Warlock looked Talon in the eyes briefly, searching for any ounce of fear that may be lingering in the Blademaster's eyes. Gregori gripped the knife with his right hand and the large ash filled bowl in his left, under the assassin's arm that was to be removed. He moved the knife so it was a few inches below the elbow, still careful not to allow the oddly shimmering blade to touch the flesh, "Bite."
A sharp movement happened, the moment the blade came into contact with Talon's skin, searing agony would shoot through his arm. The blade itself didn't seem to cut, simply looking to phase itself through the flesh as though it didn't exist. It all had all happened within a few seconds, the blade came up through his arm. No blood upon the still shimmering knife. The arm itself fell upon the ashes that began to react immediately.
Gregori turned away from the assassin and briskly moved himself into the unoccupied circle connected to the main summoning ring. The ashes began to glow as though they had become the smouldering embers of a dying fire. Placing both hands upon either side of the bowl, Gregori bowed his head, his voice soon dominating the others that now thundered around the room.
As soon as the Grey Warlock moved away from Talon, the mage with the ball of fired moved into action, his hand that held the flame pressing itself against the open gushing wound. Should the assassin need it, the man behind him would hook his arms under the Blademaster's arms and keep him from falling.
The magic had ignited the circle drawn upon the floor with a dark crimson glow as the dark rune magic was activated, reaching out across the world to ensnare the essence of the Eternal Nightmare itself and drag it within the summoning circle with, or without the consent of the creature being brought here.
Post by The Eternal Nightmare on Feb 12, 2014 19:39:39 GMT -5
Existence merely consisted of drifting in empty space, transcendental and ephemeral wisps of smoke sliding along the walls of silent houses and flickering lights. Trails of shadow and smoke coated throbbing minds with a palette of grey scale, echoed and muffled screams washing over dusty plains and reverberations of wet squelches and violent hues of crimson and raw umber.
He was streaking across ice, his blades outstretched and anxious to slaughter. There was an incessant tug, just on the edge of where his brain would be but Nocturne paid it no mind as he flickered in and out between the dark and what little light there was. There were so many bodies to cut down, so much warmth to drain and so much blood to spill.
Then there was a sudden glint of black, tunneling through the ice with tendrils of frost and before Nocturne had time to disappear, something grabbed him. He saw no Summoners, no strange men in hooded cloaks but he felt dead hands and dead eyes grasping, tugging and pulling. His blades flashed in the air, cutting through the fog that was beginning to cloud the air, his physical form straining against those invisible hands. They threw him into the wall, escaping into the open air and hurdling him over the barren world. Backgrounds were a blur, scenery a mesh of dark green and brown and black corroding his being and all he could hear was the scream of the wind and perhaps his own.
Nocturne found himself being thrown forcefully back into reality; the bonds were still there but now there were men, and a memory grappled him right before he let on an unearthly shriek. There was nothing subtle or quiet about the sound that erupted from him, his body shaking as he ripped against the cold hands that dared to lay themselves upon him. The Nightmare was chained once again, and his infinitesimal rage was a torrent of black smoke straining and billowing outwards from the circle etched into the ground.
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