A meteor shattered besides him, mere feet from
the dancing boy. The gleam of silk flashed in the murky light of nearby
torches, a brilliant blue kimono creating shallow facades of the true physical
being. "ALMOST!" snarled Wildren, his fanged maw gleaming with sweat. The
archmage snapped his thumb and index finger, producing a dazzling array
of magic missles that sped furiously towards the barely visible opponent.
A few of them were led astray by the shadowy figures swirling through the
dungeon, these exploded into starbursts as they were expended on the oily
black onyx used throughout the keep. Two managed to find their true target,
causing his magical defenses to spark and flame in protest. In retaliation,
both hands were raised, summoning a band of icy blue elementals from a
nether gate. "You know, your getting better," Kyarn said, dodging an errant
lightning blast. "You've managed to destroy half my defenses, and you've
still got almost a full spell repetoire. That is unless you've been changing
that too." He turned around in place and cast off sparkling dust in four
different directions. "Yaggla'roth Velshooooooom," the boy mumbled, and
a wall of force marred by a single gaping hole appeared between the wizards.
Wildren snickered triumphantly, flapping his tattered black wings to bring
himself to the level of the hole, and releasing a summoning of his own,
that of a minor death armed with a horrid looking lochaber axe. The skull
of the creature split apart, revealing a skeletal grin as the creature
lunged at the child within. Kyarn, with eyes still closed, looked to all
as if he did not even acknowledge the powerful magical being that closed
in on him by the second. Deep concentration was neccesary now, the time
for second guessing and procrastination was gone. The lochaber axe sliced
cleanly through the prone form's neck, causing black blood to gush through
the wound and splatter across the cobblestone and newly created wall of
force. Wildren eyed the dead body suspiciously, his hand drifting down
to his weapon belt. "...Black blood?... But the boy is human..." Wildren
thought, his suspicions growing stronger and stronger. "Damn." With frantic
response, he spun around as quickly as his u upward arc of his weapon only
barely parried the blinding white blade of kyarn's primary katana, a purple
flickering light engulfed the combatants as Wildren's sword was thrown
violently from his hand. The attack was defeated, but the older and wiser
archmage knew that the child never went into battle with only one blade.
He could only watch as the second sword followed the second one, only slightly
more horizontal in cut, slicing off his weapon belt and producing the very
amusing spectacle of a archmage of strife dressed only in a pair of underwear
beneath the waist. Kyarn hit the floor almost as soon as the pants did,
laughing uncontrollably. Wildren's skeletal creature managed a smile of
it's own, but was soon dismissed by the grumbling archmage. "Your only
mad because my last spell was better then yours, a simulacrum spell with
demonic components drawn through a everlast contingency spell." Wildren
swore again, as he used a simple mending spell upon his belt. With a click
the belt was back in place, but his pride had been moved down a notch.
He would have to remember to return the favor. Soon. For now, he had much
to discuss with his fellow strifelord, the time for practice was over.
After a short afternoon recess, the leaders sat lazily in Kyarn's bed chambers,
along with a few other bored cyricists. Silverblade argued heatedly with
Vassago over some trick dice, it was a mute point anyways, both of them
had been seen using levitation spells over the dice and it would have been
an idiot's point of view to even bother trying to right the wrong. Kyarn
looked over at Wildren and began the meeting. "What's been up? How's your
daughter?" Wildren snarled and glared at the boy. "I don't have any daughter,
and if I did she would have been used for last month's company barbeque
anyways. What is the meaning of this?" The boy laughed and held his hands
up defensively. "It was only a jest wildy, some of us still have humor
left somewhere in our skulls. What i meant to talk to you about are these
scurrying little rodents that seem to have some preconceived idea that
they can toss words around without us acknowledging them." Wildren poured
himself a glass of vodka and nodded in agreement. "You do of course know
what im hinting at yes? give me a sign." Wildren once again only nodded
and leaned back in his chair a little more. "K, you mean the Black Roses?
That Turiya guy?" Kyarn nodded. "He's not even an issue. All of them combined
still aren't an issue," Wildren said with a very end of conversation tone
of voice. Kyarn shook his head and looked back at him, his wide shiny eyes
betraying his insatiable lust for intrigue. "That's not true, they speak
badly about our clan members, and boast unrespectably of their own strength.
You know the rules, heretics live only as long as they keep their mouth's
shut, well uh.. they live longer anyways." Kyarn muttered some words lazily
and created a circle with the curves of his hands. The boy then motioned
for Wildren and the other strifers to look into the image that appeared.
A typical dark elf sat deep within the shadows of a city dwelling, the
architecture of the building looking very similar to those in Westbridge,
one of the largest cities in these parts of the realms. A smug look upon
his face was ordinary to the extreme, all drow seemed to have some idea
that they were somehow better then those they were around. Infact, most
of the picture seemed ordinary as well, minus the fact that this drow had
decided to walk the surface. "This is Turiya," Kyarn said with the slightest
hint of disdain. He waved his hand over the surface of a nearby half drank
chalice, the vodka within changing to show pictures of other dark elves
residing on the surface. "There's most of the others, you can view them
as you wish, i'll keep the enchantment up as long as you'd like." The others
purveyed the scenery for a few minutes, the wizards using minor enchantments
to write notes without actually writing notes at all. Zhenance raised his
hand. "Yea?" Wildren nodded towards the priest with his usual subterfuge,
his crooked jaws looking menacing for no apparent reason. "They all look
the same, why don't we just kill as many dark elves as possible, it's not
like we'd lose much in doing so." Kyarn giggled and urged his comrade to
respond. "Because of alot of reasons, most of them bad. Let's just focus
on them right now, we'll leave that thought for another meeting." Kyarn
shrugged with a yawn and a sigh, and stood up to his full 5 foot 4 inches.
"If they cause you problems, kill them. If they don't, talk to them. Find
out what they're up too and whether or not they would be willing to rescind
all those petty little remarks they have made. We might have use for them,
even if you don't think so." With a snap, the boy was gone, leaving only
the slight mark of brimstone upon the ground. [The End... for now]
