The Dead Are Talking

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The Dead Are Talking

Post  admin_jared on Fri Mar 26, 2010 9:52 am

WRATH OF THE RED WIZARD
FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE


Life hadn’t been treating Monique very well. None of the strange incidents occurring around her that were threatening her life added up to make much sense to her. The freak accident with the shelves had almost taken her life, but she had managed to survive somehow. Not too long after that, today had come and the bus had been attacked by – what were they? – Demons; angry monsters that should have only haunted people in nightmares instead of wrecking a bus and murdering innocent people. Even the Penthouse she now stood in didn’t seem to be normal. Having been lead there by a martial arts savior, Monique wasn’t sure if it was the huntress’ own home or a friend of hers. The chaos inside the place was great, the space filled with a bunch of people in a similar situation to her it seemed – so many were asking questions, though she had been briefed on the situation they were in on the way. Monique didn’t want to believe in all the creatures in the night; she wanted to keep them in the ghost stories she had heard as a little girl, where they couldn’t hurt her or anyone else around her. With black burning eyes the veteran Conjurer bust through the opening from the balcony into the den and darted straight for the newly empowered abjurer. He unsheathed a knife from his back and plunged the small blade into the young woman’s skull. Serik who was still recovering from the sudden disappearance of Brayden by his side took quick note of his old friends devilish actions and alerted the others.

“Everyone! Out now! There's a secret door in the guest bedroom, quick! We have to get out of here!”


The attack or betrayal wasn’t something Serik was previously aware of, the former Essentian was no longer “in-the-know” side of these arcane mysteries, but fortunately he had become good at the “act fast” approach to surviving them. While directing the others the reckless mage took Serik by surprise around a corner, no doubt with his teleporting ability, and tossed his up against the opposite wall. With enough fear to fill a canyon the newly depowered being finally met the sensation of mortality. Adrenaline steered his attempts at survival somehow Serik noticed the busted fertility statue Logan had dropped earlier in the night. He reached for it as Gavin advanced and within near perfect timing cracked the conjurer over the head. While reeling in pain Gavin threw a blind swipe with his knife and grazed his victims shoulder. Serik fled for the room hoping he could help the others out before Gavin was able to reach another one.
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Re: The Dead Are Talking

Post  Ryan Perry on Fri Mar 26, 2010 9:36 pm

(Ryan continues from here.)

Ryan had been quiet since the escape from the overturned bus. He was tired, frustrated, and in a state of shock. Outside he looked cool and calm, just relaxing, but inside he was a mess. They say that adversity doesn't build character it just reveals it, and for Ryan it revealed that he had the resolve and composure to stare down death when others were in danger. However, he was now in a state of disbelief, he had charged two different monsters, been thrown across a bus twice, and now had a dagger that used to be a crazy woman's still in his hand. He couldn't remember a time when he had ever been this beat up. He was surprised that he was still awake after everything and his mind just kept racing through the possibilities.

Assumption 1: Werewolves and other evil creatures exist
Assumption 2: I know about them, and they apparently know about me.

Those two combined assumptions sent a chill down his spine, it was the scariest thought that he could imagine. He only knew they existed, they could find out more about him. He was in a state of lost adrenaline, it was easy to be brave and forget about fear when your adrenaline and self preservation instincts were kicking, but now he was only as good as a scared little boy.

Then came another cry, a cry of retreat. What else had found its way into his life. Almost immediately he snapped away from his catatonic state, he hopped up and gripped the dagger with a new resolve. Something deep in his being responded to the danger of others and himself, or at least shut his brain off long enough to allow his body to take over. His body knew what it needed to do, while his mind was apparently weak and indecisive. He looked around for the nearest group of people and stood around them in a protective stance. He brandished the dagger as if it was excaliber and he would be able to protect them from any encroaching dragon.

"Well you all heard the man, lets make it to the guest bedroom already"
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Re: The Dead Are Talking

Post  Riley Cameron on Fri Mar 26, 2010 9:37 pm

(Riley continues from here..)

ONE, TWO, THE RED WIZARD'S COMING FOR YOU
FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE

The noise from the living room caught Riley’s attention, drawing him in from his spot in the library; it wasn’t as if there was anything in there for him anyway. The man he had been speaking to about the attack had up and left at a phone call, and the silent brunette who was supposedly their new leader had yet to make any call for initiative. Sure, he was curious at to what their new roles meant, and how to control the arcane magic that he supposedly now possessed, but he knew that when the time came for him to find out more, he would. Asking questions and expecting immediate answers were a waste of time. As he moved into the living room, he gave one last glance behind him, eyes focusing on the up and moving form of the young hunter from his past. Eyes narrowed as if with disgust before the blond looked away, motioning for his muddied friend Carolina to follow him if she wanted. While he would have liked to just leave the establishment and head back to his own penthouse, if only to clean up and get out of the wet, muddy clothes he was still clothed in, he knew that his leaving wouldn’t be the best idea.

As he sopped into the room, he took notice of the group of messy misfits that were taking their own shots at ruining the carpet. Now Riley didn’t feel as bad, they were all dripping wet and some were even bruised and bloody. The brunette girl who moved to shut the door looked as meek as she sounded when she spoke, though Riley didn’t bother to listen to what she had to say. His attention was more focused on the pair that had busted in the penthouse afterward, an older man dragging a bratty female behind him as if against her will. Standing with his arms folded, he watched as a bruised woman punched the man; he would have laughed, but he didn’t think it would have been appropriate. Looking closer at the wet individuals, he assumed that they too had gone through something similar to what he and Carolina had experienced – did they lose someone too? The blonde with them looked like she was mostly keeping to herself, not as if she were close to any of the group. Maybe she was the one who had lost a friend? Riley frowned, looking at her closer before it dawned on him:

“You’re that infuriating girl who practically ran me over in the Four Seasons!”

There was no doubt about it. Whenever Riley had someone plow him over in a hallway, he took to bitching at them no matter how fast they ran away – and Lyra had certainly dashed out of harm’s way that day, as if she had been on some sort of mission for survival. He hardly ever forgot faces, and he was certain he wasn’t wrong about this girl. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to follow up on her, as the sight of Sebastian leaving the penthouse behind a flow of others had him distracted. ‘Good,’ Riley thought, ‘yet again he’s leaving. No surprise there.’ The girl that had been dragged into the penthouse looked familiar too, but Riley wasn’t focused on her. Giving his attention back to Lyra, he ignored the sound of the door opening and the sight of three individuals returning; one of them being the man he had spoken to earlier about his attack.

“You should really learn some manners, like apologizing for trampling over people in your hast—“

The sudden burst of magical energy caught him off guard. Three ribbons of light encompassed separate people within the room he was in, one of them wrapping around the girl he was speaking to. Uncertain what was going on, he glanced towards Carolina, refusing to look as frightened as he felt. The sound of the balcony doors opening and slamming against the wall alerted him to Gavin rushing in like a madman, though he could only watch in horror as he stabbed Monique through her skull. That was not the same man that had just been explained as amnesiac in the library – whatever he really was had certainly been tossed aside; it was as if he were possessed instead. The stranger who had walked in with the two others yelled out a warning, though he was effectively thrown into the wall for doing so. How had Gavin managed to get there so fast? If only for a moment, Riley wished that his own teleporting friend were there instead – wishing wouldn’t do anyone any good, though.

Looking from his left to his right, as if searching for the way to the correct guest bedroom, Riley began to feel the anxiety of fear racing across his skin. Hadn’t he just escaped a killer? His life now seemed as if it were a horror film; complete with the wannabe-hero standing up against the slasher. Ryan stood bravely in front of the group with a dagger, as if he were solely going to protect them from the raging lunatic. This was no time for games.

“Do you think you’re the next karate kid? Get the hell out of the way, douchebag, you’re not going to do anything but get yourself killed!”

Rushing out of the living room, the blond took one look behind him to make sure that Gavin wasn’t going to magically be in front of him if he turned a corner like Serik had. He had watched one too many horror movies where the slow-moving killer had popped up without warning – and if the stereotype-killings continued, he would definitely be the next to go.
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Riley Cameron
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Re: The Dead Are Talking

Post  Brian Botner on Fri Mar 26, 2010 9:37 pm

(Brian continues from here.)

FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE

Everything was going fine until, abruptly, everything was wrong. A man suddenly burst into the hall, eerie ribbons of red light slithering in with him, from him. The light was being emitted through the man's flesh, and it had its own agenda. The ribbons groped through the hall, wrapping around people at random until they vanished. In moments, things went from wrong to worse. The man, eyes black and wide as he purposefully strode towards the group, took a knife from his back and sunk it into the black woman's head. Brian watched in horror as the girl's body slumped to the floor with the man standing above, utterly unaffected by the death he had caused so rashly. She had been through so much on the bus that night and had survived it, only to be murdered in a place that was supposed to offer safety, security, and knowledge. Brian's throat went dry as the man advanced on the remainder of the group; he took a shaky step back and a quick look around him. There were doors everywhere, but which would lead them to safety? The man was blocking the exit, but surely another room would offer some protection.

“Everyone! Out now!" yelled a young man as he rushed into the hall. "There's a secret door in the guest bedroom, quick! We have to get out of here!”

The man was punished for his timely advice; the lunatic shoved him up against a wall and seemed about to do him in when he was struck with a statue by the other man. Enraged, he lunged at him with the knife that had killed the girl, leaving a line of red on the man's shoulder as he ran.

"Well you all heard the man, lets make it to the guest bedroom already," said the lance-wielder, brandishing Sullivan's dagger before him. Even in this moment of panic, Brian couldn't help letting out an exasperated sigh. Had the man not seen the other thoughtlessly kill someone moments before? Brian didn't think one dagger was going to stop him, and that's all they had. Luckily, a blonde man who had just entered the room said what Brian couldn't.

“Do you think you’re the next karate kid? Get the hell out of the way, douchebag, you’re not going to do anything but get yourself killed!”

The man took off after the one who had given the group advice, and Brian grabbed hold of Ally's arm as he started to move, not wanting to lose track of her as they ran. "Move!" he yelled over his shoulder at those still standing around, dumbstruck like he had been. He followed the two men towards the guest room the first had spoken of. Hoping they would get there before the crazed man, Brian pushed forwards, taking long strides to catch up with the others.
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Re: The Dead Are Talking

Post  Serik on Fri Mar 26, 2010 9:38 pm

STEP ASIDE! FORMER ESSENTIANS AND CHILDREN FIRST!;
Stairwell Exit, LOS ANGELES, CA. >>

The awkward new mortal had cast his warning, taken his lumps, and was getting fuck out of dodge. When your squishy and death-prone, your life becomes precious and even if Serik still retained some of his archaic combat abilities, he wasn’t going up against someone that could easily teleport his heart of his little boney ribcage. At one point Serik had personally dealt out these arcane abilities to each one of these individual entry-level magic users so he wasn’t ignorant to their chances of survival against evil-fun-time-Gavin. He could feel the searing pain of the dagger as if it never left his shoulder. It was only a surface cut but the wound screamed at him to express its agony. There was an urge to cry and maybe even suggest a time out. He wanted Brayden there with a bandaid and maybe a few flawless rubies, but from the chaotic rage in Gavin’s eyes it was run-for-your-life-time. When the former Essentian made it to the guest room some people had taken cue, and weren’t standing around pretending to be Rambo.

The secret door was opened and he sprung through the space connecting with the cement platform on the other side. Serik started barreling down the closed-in stairwell without a speck of hesitation. He took each uniformed level in separate styles, sometimes bounding down several steps in one stride. Although he found that it was painful on the feet to take too many at once.

“Future note! The palms of my feet are delicate!” he breath-fully stated to himself. There was no telling whether Gavin was waiting for them all at the bottom, and as he burst around horrible thoughts sunk into his mind. He was actually slightly grateful that Ryan had sacrificed himself for the group. Unless they were far from the building, the bastard teleporter could hunt them down. There had to be a safe house close by that wasn’t in the conjurer’s cranium Rolodex. It was hard to concentrate, especially with the thunderous sound of footsteps in the echoing space, but around the second level he finally drew together the connection between amnesia and the possession. Whatever possessed Gavin did so after his hiatus in the Shadowlands so “The Keep” was a complete mystery to this wolf in conjurer’s clothing. Before his fragile dogs hit the beautiful solid ground of the bottom floor he’d chased out an emotional thought involving how this threat might affect Brayden if he came back unaware of the truth and how the evoker would feel if he just stranded the arcane recruits. Brayden would definitely be disappointed if several deaths occurred on his watch.

Reaching for the emergency door he would have pondered the irony in the title of the exit, if not for the fear of what could possibly be on the other side. His mortal digits applied shaky terror-filled pressure on the bar-like metal latch and swung the heavy door from its frame.


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Serik
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Re: The Dead Are Talking

Post  Gavin Sterling on Fri Mar 26, 2010 9:40 pm

THE RED WIZARD; IN THE DEN; WITH THE KNIFE...

When Monique’s head slide off the edge of his knife there was a “slunk” noise that made Gavin feel sick. Gavin was not a killer. Sure he hunted Horde, creatures and Kreelocks, but the Conjurer never murdered any. Sadly, Gavin Sterling was not steering this vessel any longer.

The Red Wizard started in on the Essentian when he alerted the flock, and after the tussle gave them a large girth to get a head start. He was cocky inside the Conjurer, knowing that no matter how hard they ran he could instantly be on the other side of them waiting for a blood soaked collision. Although something even more perfect presented itself, a hero? Seriously? Drawing in close on Ryan Perry, the possessed being produced an eerie smile. Plans of frightening possibilities sunk into his mind, coming up with wonderful ways to end the arcane race. A second dagger was relieved from Gavin’s coat sleeve as he came face to face with the young man. Instead of posing an attack, the crazed being sunk both daggers symmetrically into his own cheekbones and slowly but aggressively dragged them down to his lips and together. If that wasn’t gruesome enough he pulled the serrated blades from his lips licking his blood off the ends. The cuts formed a perfectly macabre grin, and within seconds disappeared as a result of the conjurers healing abilities. “Gavin” ventured forth to lean in and whisper.

“It wasn’t fair…” He paused to relish the look in Ryan’s eyes. “I didn’t allow that one to scream, but you’ll make up for that, right?”

Several brief nods and a mock pouty look channeled through his devious visage. Dragging away the abjurer’s attention while his right fist was tossed in towards Ryan’s chest aiming for a sharp surprise, meanwhile his left fist swung towards the man’s neck. The Red Wizards blades never stopped for a second and his maneuvers were flourished like a passionate martial combatant. He teleported behind the younger arcanist and hurled both daggers down at the shoulders, and wound up back in front when his wrist with his blade dragged back intending to scar up Ryan’s face. Every attack was directed to parts that would cause pain and suffering rather than the kill. Who cares if some of them got away he wanted to make this boy scream like a little magical b-tch.
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Gavin Sterling
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Re: The Dead Are Talking

Post  Carolina Kenyon on Sat Mar 27, 2010 4:31 pm

Carolina knew if the situation weren’t so dire, she’d probably be crying. Or maybe not, it was a conscious thought and the tears probably wouldn’t have come. Tired from running on no sleep, tired from running for her life, tired.. Okay plainly she was just tired of all this. One thing was for certain, she was going to be a little more cautious when getting correspondence from people she didn’t know. Looking to Riley she noticed him motion her forward. While, Carolina wasn’t usually one to just follow another blindly, he was the only person she knew here. True they’d only met this morning, but they’d been through a death defying experience. Surely that counted for something. Following him, she shivered slightly, the feel of the mud drying on her skin unpleasant.

Blue eyes looked over the group and came to the same conclusion. She would have asked if they were okay, if they needed anything, not that she would have known where anything was, but still.. It was the thought that counted. Before she could do so though, Riley was speaking accusatorily to a brunette. And then there were ribbons of light, and she exchanged glances with him. It was similar to the light that had borne them away from the graveyard, but there wasn’t any danger was there?

Wrong. There wasn’t even time to call out to the now dead girl. It had happened too fast, too unexpectedly. Should it have been unexpected? Perhaps she should expect things to happen in such a way from now on. She took a step backward, not sure of where she could go.

One of the many people she didn’t know gave a rather welcome suggestion and with a quick glance to Riley who seemed to be taking his advice, she followed after at a run. She’d survived too much today to die now.
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Carolina Kenyon
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Re: The Dead Are Talking

Post  Plotline on Sun Mar 28, 2010 7:48 pm

WRATH OF THE RED WIZARD
FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE


The chaotic war that currently raged on inside of the eldest Conjurer’s body was nothing short of wrenching. While on the outside Gavin’s shell was cutting into himself and aiming for others under the control of the Red Wizard, he was fighting to regain control of the body he rightfully owned. The Conjurer hadn’t been possessed before, so the experience was a losing battle. When he had escaped to the Arcane realm during the battle in Florida two years ago, he had to fight for his life day after day against Shadowkind that belonged to a gradually amassing army. He hadn’t been safe then, and even when his body had been taken over by the entity known simply as the Red Wizard, he still hadn’t been offered a sanctuary. Instead, he had been thrown into an ongoing battle to control his own mind, his own host. Inside, darkness engulfed everything around him, but the war he fought with the murderous monster still continued. Even though Gavin struggled, his possessor effortlessly continued.

With no control over his actions, Gavin was forced to watch the scenes play out before his eyes like a tragic scene that he couldn’t look away from. With his body at the Red Wizard’s disposal, he wasn’t able to control the power he had been born with. The cruel being manipulated those around him into believing that Gavin was simply amnesiac, when he was really stuffed deep inside with no way to escape. One thing he didn’t do was give up; even though he had been fighting for the past two years against his possessor, he refused to give up the battle or his own body. He strategically ran inside his own mind, barely escaping the attacks thrown at him within the boundaries of his very flesh.

Serik pushed that heavy door in his own attempt to escape the clutches of the outraged Sterling; though the terror and feeling that he was experiencing were both new concepts for him to grasp, the shock of surprise at the Conjurer’s betrayal was overwhelming. As he dashed into the area of escape, the blinding light that came from the other side of that door simply hid what the passage truly lead to: the den, complete with an attacking Red Wizard and a targeted Ryan Perry. The knowledge of the secret escape had been resting dormant in Gavin’s mind, and had quickly been picked up on by the attacking fiend. The excess of illusion that the Wizard spat off had quickly crafted the escape route into a never-ending loop back to where they all began – right where he wanted them.

The blond that had spilt venomous words towards the brave Abjurer was the next on his list. One simple teleportation spell, thanks to the mana in his possession’s veins, was all it took to have him materializing in front of the running boy and those still running behind him. One of the daggers he had used to cut his mouth into a Cheshire grin was held in his grip tightly, slashing out towards the young Evoker. With the attention span of a young child, his focus turned to the brunette lady following closest behind him. The ribbon-like energy that swelled around his arm produced a long javelin staff, the cool metal sharper than any ordinary sword. With a warlike scream, the weapon cut forward, jutting right towards the girl’s stomach.

The maniacal laugh that echoed throughout the penthouse’s halls was the only warning given for his next set of victim. The faded energy lapped at the area surrounded Alisa and Brian, small demonic creatures being produced from the twisted light. From above the Red Wizard fell, a gleam of bloodlust shining from his feral eyes. The javelin he held extended outwards, aiming for the young doctor stood beside the clay-maker. Slice after slice was thrust towards the other Conjurer, blades directly aiming for the soft spots on his belly. One hand reached out towards the female Evoker, attempting to snatch her up by the throat in order to grapple the last few breaths from her throat if he was successful. The creatures at his feet ignored their caller, angry growls accompanying vicious chomps and attacks at the two Arcanists.

From inside his own body, Gavin watched helplessly; all he could do was hope no one died before he had gathered enough power to expel the demon from its host.
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Re: The Dead Are Talking

Post  Alisa Madison on Mon Mar 29, 2010 1:58 am

How the hell did we get back here?
From here at FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE

Every time Ally thought she had things figured out, something happened to prove her wrong. Even though she wasn’t positive she actually had everything figured out, she had thought she was able to at least piece together the basics.

Apparently, there were demons in the world (plenty as she saw several within the same month) and she was somehow linked to them and these people. Although Ally had been raised a strict Christian and therefore was taught not to believe in monsters and magic, even her years of learning and father’s preaching had never prepared her for this. Now she didn’t even know what to believe. How else could the day’s events be explained? The only choices were that such things did exist in this world, or she had hit her head too hard in the accident and is having hallucinations as a result. Or she had simply gone crazy.

Hard to believe, but she was more comfortable with it being the latter choices rather than the former.

Especially when she was just starting to get answers, when she was just starting to calm down, a man came in and killed the woman in their group in front of everyone. Just like that, no warning, nothing. Everyone was as startled as she was for a moment before scrambling to move. Ally didn’t have to make a decision as Brian took matters into his own hands again and prompted her to move, once again probably saving her life. Although she was panicking, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Brian weren’t here to push her along.

Gripping his hand tightly as though it were her lifeline, she ran along with the others into a bedroom of some sorts. A man briskly walked forward and swung a large heavy door open on the side of the wall. She was anxious to get through the door. Wherever the hell the door leaded, it must be a way out of this house…this crazy fucking nightmare. Yes, Ally was never one to curse, but given the way the day was turning out, she was sure her father would forgive her this once.

As she nervously glanced behind her for the crazy murderer, Ally couldn’t help but notice something weird, or perhaps something that should have been normal given the circumstances of the day. The painful sores and stinging scratches on her arms and legs slowly started to fade. At first, she thought it was just her adrenaline rush that was blocking the pain until she looked down and saw that her injuries were literally fading away! Confused, she pulled away from Brian just for a second and stared at the half healed scar that only minutes ago was still raw and bleeding. Now it started to scab over as though it’s been healing for days.

Although she should have been glad over the strange occurrence (after all, who wouldn’t want their injuries to heal quickly?), she couldn’t help but feel uneasy at the sight of the scars. Unfortunately, she wasn’t able to dwell on that problem for long. As soon as the group went through the door, Ally clapped a hand over her mouth and tried to stifle the scream that came through. Somehow they had returned to the exact place they were trying to escape! Before she had time to figure out how the hell that happened, little creatures came from nowhere and started surrounding her and Brian. Ally wasn’t sure if how the other people were faring against this sudden turn of events as she was occupied staying away from the demonic mutts.

She forgot about the deformed monster man for a moment until she saw a hand reach toward her. Acting instinctively, Ally immediately took a step back and threw her arms crisscross across her face to block and ward them off even though in her mind she knew this wouldn’t work. Feeling a slight tingling in her fingers, she suddenly heard a loud whoosh along with small thumps and crashing. As she peeked out between her fingers, Ally was surprised to see the creatures have all flown off their feet and the man was knocked back a few feet. Slowly lowering her arms, she took another step back, unsure of what to do now as she was confused about what had happened.



[- 1 spell point +wind spell + Kreelocks]
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Alisa Madison
Arcane-Touched
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Re: The Dead Are Talking

Post  Brian Botner on Mon Mar 29, 2010 1:49 pm

Never Much Liked Surprise Parties
FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE

As he ran down the hall towards the guest room, tugging Ally with him, Brian began to feel fatigued. Thinking that exhaustion from his long day plus a number of recent near-death experiences had finally caught up with him, he only pushed on, unwilling to succumb to it. They still had a long way to go before the madman behind them could do them no harm. The man in the lead pushed open the door to the guest room and the rest of the group barreled into the room after him. They ran through the plush room, more lavish carpets likely destroyed by their trampling muddy feet, to the secret door. While the man was opening it, Ally abruptly let go of Brian's hand. Embarrassed, Brian felt his cheeks start to go red, and he diverted his gaze from her to the front of the pack as if trying to see what was going on ahead. The young man kept doing things more appropriate for good friends than acquaintances-turned-friends in hours, but in the heat of the moment he acted had impulsively, taking her hand to not lose her instead of merely taking after the man by his lonesome.

Although he was troubling over this, Brian realized he felt more awake now than when he had held her hand. Puzzled, he chanced a glance down at her to see that his furrowed brows matched hers; she was looking fixedly at a scab on her upper arm. There was a trail of dried blood down her arm from the wound, but how could it be from the wound when it looked days old and practically healed? And despite her disheveled and weary appearance, her skin had a healthy glow to it, like she had spent the day before out in the sun.

Brian's mind went into overdrive as he quickly examined himself. There were lines of red covering his ruined pale green button-up, but, pushing up his sleeves to look at the flesh below, he saw that the wounds that corresponded with the blood on his shirt were but pink lines of new skin. How could they have possibly healed so quickly? There was only one logical explanation, one that would have seemed entirely illogical if not for what Sullivan had told them on their trek to the penthouse.

He was a Healer.

The man burst open the secret door and headed through it; the pack followed. As they hurdled down the staircase, Brian was working to remember all that Sullivan had said about Healers. Healers were derived from - from - from Conjurers, yes? This meant he should be able to summon creatures and make walls and teleport! All in good time, of course, but man! It felt unbelievably good to know what he was, what he would be able to do soon with this new magic. He got a boost of energy from the revelation, and couldn't keep a brief smile in as he went down the steps.

That smile was incredibly short lived. The man in front had opened the door that should have led them out of this crazy situation but instead led right back to the start. They were back in the entrance of the penthouse, and guess who was waiting for them? The murderer from before, with new blood dripping down his cheeks, was altogether too happy to see the near escapees. He launched towards the blonde man with a dagger, then swiftly turned on the girl who had come with him. A javelin materialized and he struck at her with it before laughing maniacally. The harsh sound echoed throughout the penthouse, raising the hairs on Brian's arms. And then he was gone - only to back in a moment, crashing to the floor in front of Brian and Ally. He brought with him insistent little dog-like creatures from Hell; the hounds growled warningly before jumping up and attempting to take a chunk out of the newbies' legs.

The black-eyed man still had his shiny new toy, and thrust the javelin at Brian's middle. Brian jumped out of the way, only to be herded back to where he had been by the hounds. The javelin came again and again, and the sick dance continued until it hit its mark. With a cry that only made the monster laugh, Brian stumbled back into the hounds, arms covering his stomach. They soon grew uncomfortably hot and sticky with the blood seeping out of the wound. Breathing hard, he tried to mend the wound but, having done it subconsciously before, he realized he had no idea how to consciously heal. Frustrated and exhausted, he groaned; the low groan was covered up by a sudden woosh of wind. Brian was pushed back a few steps and turned his blue eyes on Ally, amazed. She stood with arms crossed in front of her and overturned hounds and a staggering man at her feet. As she slowly lowered her arms, the girl's brown eyes were wide with confusion. Brian let out a low, admiring whistle. Heartened at his companion's success, he tried to heal himself again, knowing he'd be completely useless with both arms attending to the task of keeping his insides in. He focused his thoughts on the skin at the edges of the wound, willing it to grow, to weave together, to reform the barrier between his body and the world.

Fatigue was settling in; he stopped and spread his fingers, hoping to see between them new skin. No new blood oozed from the previously deep slice, and there was a thin layer of fresh new skin over the area. Satisfied - no, exalted - Brian turned his attention once again to the fight at hand. The healing had taken little time; the man hadn't charged them again. Although the man had been pushed back by Ally's generated wind, he wouldn't stay back for long. And how could they possibly defeat him? He was stronger than them all put together, and wily and experienced to boot. The only way the motley pack could survive this encounter would be to escape. If only the thought was as simple as the reality, because unless the man who'd led them to the guest room had another secret door up his sleeve...

But wait - did they really need a door to go from one place to another? Teleportation. Teleporting them out was the key! It would probably take all of the energy he had left, but Brian saw no other choice. While the man and hounds were still distracted, Brian leaped through the whining line of defenses, gesturing for Ally to come with him. He hastened to reach the others, and once there quickly said to the man who had been leading them, "I think I can teleport us out of here, but I need a place. And Angry over there is stirring, so whatever you can think of now we'll do."


[- 1 spell point + healing spell]
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Brian Botner
Arcane-Touched
Arcane-Touched

Domain : Conjuration

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Re: The Dead Are Talking

Post  Daphne Fuller on Wed Mar 31, 2010 10:03 am

…Welcome to Ringling Brothers Circus
Continuing from Forunate Isles Penthouse

The petite brunette had come to one conclusion—whoever he was, he was a presumptuous asshole. All she wanted to do was escape New York and her life had quite literally crashed right into her. She had been forced to reckon with destiny despite the unbelievable tales that were flitted about the around the richly decorated penthouse. How had any of them expected that they would just stand there quietly and not point out the fact that they were all raving lunatics? Monsters, demons—they didn’t exist. Maybe there were some exceptions to that rule, namely her dream, but ultimately what they were saying was preposterous. How in the world had Daphne Fuller come to be mixed up with this lot? Olive hues narrowed on the back of the towering hunter before her. His back might have been turned but it wasn’t hard to hear the amusement in his voice. The woman he was talking to obviously was in no mood for his antics. He was blind if he couldn’t see her muscles tense and twitch the more he spoke. At the sound of a crack, a tiny smirk played at the corners of her lips. Perhaps she would have something in common with some of the people there. A shame she hadn’t had the chance to act on that impulse herself, that had truly been her only regret. The circus of juggling acts, lion tamers, and trapeze artists all circled the ringmaster. Or masters in this case. The two who seemed to know exactly what was going on had bickered until responsibility had been dumped into the lap of a woman barely a year her senior. Arcanist, spells, magic—she felt as if she belonged in some fairytale novel. Despite the sheer madness of it all, curiosity got the better of her. Feet remained planted on the Oriental rug as she leaned back against one of the bookcases as she entered the room and quietly observed. She was still soaked from head to toe but that didn’t matter. A cold chill swept by as a breeze entered from the open balcony door as it was left opened from the man who had just exited.

No one in his or her right mind would actually believe this. How were they supposed to know what powers they had anyway? Did they just magically manifest out of the blue? Or perhaps wands were involved like some Potter kid. The concept was almost laughable as her arms crossed over her chest; unfortunately this was the reality of her life at the moment. Her thoughts drifted to the faraway dream she had had. It felt like a lifetime ago, and yet she could still remember what it felt like—the pain she felt the morning afterwards. Everything didn’t add up but deep down in the pit of her stomach she knew she could feel something inside of her as it called out to her. The feeling was buried, locked up. She refused to let it take full claim of her because Daphne didn’t know what to expect if she let it out. What if it consumed her? The likelihood was very possible. It stood as the unknown; there was no guarantee what would come of its release. Somehow, everyone standing in the library was connected in a way. While she might have denied that fact, something pricked at her senses and caused the hairs on the back of her neck to rise. Her earlier outburst had been pushed aside to the far reaches of her mind as people would come and go. Nothing was keeping he there, she could have left if she wanted to, and yet she didn’t. Why would always remain the mystery. Yet, Daphne felt as though she had to stay for some purpose—some indefinite reason.

Inquisitive hues fell upon a familiar blonde as a mousey brunette followed in his wake. For the life of her she couldn’t remember who he was or why he would be familiar to her. The damp locks of her hair tickled the side of her cheek as she tried to place the face within her memories—nothing came. Nothing would, the next thing she saw would force her long lashes to blink twice. All around, one-by-one half their number disappeared out of thin air, including the woman she was supposedly supposed to report to. Pushing away from the bookcase, her arms fell, as the room grew silent. Daphne wouldn’t state the obvious but the truth of it was, she had no idea where they went. Moments ticked by until heavy footsteps hurried towards the girl on the opposite side of the room. Before she could even scream the dragged was embedded into a lifeless skull as cold black eyes drank in the destruction at hand. She didn’t know the man but the others had. The warning followed shortly after and she knew she couldn’t stay there and do nothing. One stood blocking the door the others had retreated to while he was set to face the lunatic aiming directly for him. “You do realize that isn’t a good idea right?” Before Ryan could protest, she plucked his hand while avoiding the downward motion of the dragger as she dragged him out of harm’s way. They left the dead body behind and she refused to look back. Daphne was never on to retreat but in this case she could make an exception when she didn’t fully comprehend what was going on. Crammed into what seemed to be a guest room, an exit was revealed at the back. What sort of place was this? Secret exits, pass codes, security—what did they have her involved in now? Gripping the hand within her own she refused to listen to any protests as she used what momentum she had to urge him through the door. Her heart pounded against her chest despite the calm composure she seemed to display to the outside world.

The nightmare refused to end though, what she had assumed they had left behind had brought them once more face to face with the madman after descending the stairs. The others had reached there before her. Something in the back of her mind clicked as her teeth gritted in frustration. She was tired of running, tired of everyone here trying to run her life. No one could control her and no one would force her to hide away like some frightened kitten. Unconsciously the hand within her own was released as her dark hues swirled. She wasn’t shocked or stunned by the wind tunnel that had burst from the girl’s arms out of nowhere. The man had been caught off guard but he wasn’t fazed. Daphne had no idea what she was doing, but a force greater than herself pushed her forward. “He isn’t going to stop until everyone of us is dead!” They knew that, she knew that. Mana surged through her veins as her unconscious mind called it forth, just as his playthings were charging towards them, her eyes shut as she allowed it to flow freely. Fangs bared and drooling, her hands reached out as if to block the oncoming attack but none came. Peeking out from behind she found them withering in agony before her feet as they contorted. They couldn’t move another inch and she had no idea how any of this was possible.


[-1 spell point; Sigil of Algos + Creatures]
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Daphne Fuller
Arcane-Touched
Arcane-Touched

Domain : Enchantment

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Re: The Dead Are Talking

Post  Riley Cameron on Sun Apr 04, 2010 4:01 pm

ONE, TWO, THE RED WIZARD'S COMING FOR YOU
FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE

His taking off after Serik seemed to be the catalyst for everyone else running for their lives. Carolina was right on his heels, with three others following suit – the only one left standing in the den was poor Ryan Perry, who had been left in the dust. Maybe Riley felt a tad sorry for yelling at the man before ditching him with the psycho, but if he did he had a clever way of masking it. Perhaps it was the bubbling fear that was rising within him, but any emotion other than “oh, fuck,” was clearly gone at this point. The blond had been trying to keep up with the fleeting former Essentian, but it hadn’t been a successful goal – the newly human being had quickly hightailed it out of sight and down into the long hall that brought them all back to where they had scattered from to begin with.

Riley cast a glance toward Carolina, though it ended up being a bigger mistake than helping either out of their current situation. His attention had been diverted long enough for him not to take notice the swirling mass of energy that the possessed Arcanist materialized from. The steel blade that lashed out towards him managed to scrape a long cut through the boy’s skin, blood quickly seeping through the muddied clothes he was still wearing. He yelled, grabbing at his chest and mentally cursing the day. He would have much rather stayed in New York with a chance of facing the haunting demon than faced the events he had been thrown into today. At least the Gentleman only attacked him once in his life; he had gone through two battles with demonic assholes in the past eight hours – life sucked.

Luckily for him, and not so lucky for Carolina and the others, the attention the crazed man had was placed elsewhere. The brunette he had befriended earlier that morning was the next focus of his wrath, with another brown-haired lady and her manfriend behind them. The sight of the dog-like creatures that were summoned up didn’t really faze him; he had been attacked by zombies earlier. The gust of wind that knocked them all back did surprise him though; it was the precursor defense to the mind-numbing pain spell that had the creatures convulsing, thanks to the young lady who had been dragged into the Penthouse moments before they were all attacked.

Still clutching at his chest, Riley used the wall as leverage to steady himself. The blond human, who was seemingly somehow the most normal out of them all, had yet to offer any of them another escape. It seemed that they were actually going to have to kill the man before they themselves could be killed; realistically, Riley didn’t know if he could do that. Sure, the monstrous murderer was happy to come after them all, but was it right of them to kill him, if only to be safe? If they didn’t find a way out of there, and soon, then they were all doomed.

Thinking hurriedly, he thought of ways that they could get out; with the secret escape looping them all back around to the starting point, maybe the only way out was the same way he and Carolina and gotten in. The manfriend and brunette duo had healed themselves up right before being attacked – that was something that the man from the graveyard had done to himself and Riley. If that boy could heal, and so could the stranger, that meant that they should both be able to teleport. Right? Maybe it was a crazy assumption to jump to, but it was wilder to believe that he had actually been attacked by zombies only a few hours prior.

“Doc, can you teleport us out of here? If the secret passage is a loop, that seems like our only way out!” His voice was shaky – the blood coating his hand, along with the cuts and scrapes he had gotten earlier – was starting to get to him. If they didn’t get out of there soon, Riley could only imagine how much more blunt trauma his body could withstand.


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Riley Cameron
Arcane Wielder
Arcane Wielder

Domain : Evocation

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Re: The Dead Are Talking

Post  Plotline on Sat Apr 10, 2010 8:43 pm

THE DEAD ARE TALKING
FORTUNATE ISLES PENTHOUSE


The gust of wind that expelled from the female Evoker’s hands pummeled into the Wizard’s chest, feet being swept out from under him and bringing him to a inevitable collision with the Penthouse walls. Gavin Sterling’s body was in for a world of hurt while under the control of the demonic being; the force that had sent the Shadowkind flying backwards had been exerted with enough of a push that knocked the two daggers from his hands. While one clattered to the floor in a thin tinkering noise, the other sliced into the side of his abdomen, the curved weapon embedding itself deep within the confines of his insides. The Wizard fell to the floor, motionless for the time being, while the small group of new Arcanists gathered their wills. He wouldn’t be down for the count for long, but the small moments of salvation they were granted would need to be appreciated.

The impish hound creatures that had been summoned whined angrily from the pain they were susceptible to. The windstorm had scattered them after they had nipped ferociously at the flesh of the healer & the pottery-maker, sending their medium forms gusting away from their legs. They had been regrouping and setting their eyes on the sole Enchantress before she had cast a spell that had them yelping in twisted agony, the pain coursing through their bodies too much for them to handle. The creatures had an allegiance with the Shadowkind that had summoned them, though they were quick to end their ties due to the misfortunes they were suffering. In willowy wisps of black smoke, they tore from the premises in a last ditch effort. They would leave the lunatic to his own devices: it was his battle to fight, not theirs.

Inside the mind-space of the eldest Sterling, the true reasoning as to why the Red Wizard lay motionless was revealed. Having used Alisa’s attack as the catalyst to start up his own backlash to his possessor, Gavin had unleashed his own war with the Red Wizard. Inside of that human body, the two were at a war that had long been overdue; blow followed blow as each fought for control of the external body. The brilliant fireworks being fabricated from the leftover mana in Gavin’s body were his last hope – one that was quickly dying. The strength he was using was foreign – the Red Wizard even had the upper hand within Gavin’s own mind. As he struggled, he thought of the last few saving graces he had up his sleeve; the silent hero knew his last moments were slowly dwindling to an end, though his thoughts were consumed of getting the newcomers to safety.

On the outside of his body, the new Arcanists would be witness to an evolutionary stage of events. The coalescing ribbons that had stolen the others from before returned, expelled from the chest of the fallen soldier. Gavin let only one thought consume him as he started the last uses of his power – Logan Kilmartin. He would teleport the others to the location of his friend, leading them to a hopeful safe haven. The red energy hastily wrapped around each of the bodies in the nearby vicinity: Riley, Carolina, Daphne, Ryan, Alisa, and Brian. Each body was gathered within a ribbon-loop, cradling their bodies in a conjured comfort and whisking them from their location to one safer than there, one where they’d find the one person Gavin was focusing on leading them to.

The Red Wizard broke his concentration. Though the Conjurer had successfully managed to teleport the others to safety, he had attacked at a delicate precise moment. When the red light dispersed from the Penthouse, the ribbons left one sole one it their wake: one that unfolded to reveal the body of the man he had meant to send the Arcanists to. Logan Kilmartin stood in the Penthouse, angry and confused, with Serik at his side. The hunter went to demand answers, though the hand of the fallen Essentian clasped over his mouth, pointing at the fallen body as if it were an explanation on its own. The body on the floor glowed with a thin aura around it, red and black energy crackling on its flesh. With his last bit of power, the Conjurer cast the Red Wizard from his body, splitting from his possession. The Red Wizard’s own body materialized out beside his own, though the lifeless corpse belonged to the Conjurer himself. No longer was he under the control of the Shadowkind; no longer was he alive.

The twisted grin of the demon was hidden behind a large, blood red hood; shadows hid its true features, though thin eyes could be faintly made out. In his hand was one dagger of his own, and he bent down to rip the embedded weapon out of the dead Sterling’s side. With a maniacal laugh, a long forked tongue emerged from the shadows, lapping eagerly at the blood of his dead victim on his blade. He leapt forward without much warning, disappearing from sight only to reappear at the two comrades sides. Though Logan went to attack, he found the two daggers jutting into his flesh; multiple more wounds were quickly inflicted, until the hunter slipped into a bleeding unconsciousness on the Penthouse floor. Turning his sight onto the fallen Essentian, he made a move for the human, only stopping once a shimmering bolt of lightning lit his body up.

The form of a new body graced the interior of the Penthouse, materializing at Serik’s side. He offered no explanation, and gave little more than a gruff exterior. He struck twice more at the Wizard, needing no more leverage to have his enemy joining the two other bodies on the floor. Serik made a move towards the mysterious stranger; he was all too familiar with the being, too knowing of the powers that leapt from his hands. From his pocket, the man produced a letter that he placed on the desk in the den – left for Lorelei Ashford and Brayden Abrams once they returned back to the warzone. Without words, Serik moved forward, reading it in its place, and signing at the bottom. The man left once, carrying Gavin’s and Logan’s bodies with ease as he disappeared; when he rematerialized, he hoisted the corpse of the fallen Shadowkind across his shoulder, and wrapped a free arm around Serik’s waist. With a few words, the two were gone from the Penthouse – and from the earthly realm.

“It’s time to go back home.”

In its place on the table, the letter served as a note of what had occurred: Gavin Sterling was dead; the Red Wizard had been dealt with. Logan Kilmartin’s body was located in a nearby hospital, and Serik was returning to his home, the Arcane Realm., being granted the ability to return to his true form. The two who thought they had been on their own for the past two years were now closer than they’d realize. At the bottom rested two signatures: one belonging to Serik, and one belonging to a name only the Abrams would recall from Serik’s past: Ethriok.
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Re: The Dead Are Talking

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