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Old February 16, 2005, 10:38 AM   #31
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Duncan shrugged and merely glanced at Serion and gave the vystichi prince a look of dismissal.

"I haven't got a clue and IIm not looking forward to going inside; but then if we don't then we die out here, its hardly a nice prospect either way." He rebuted Serions incessive questioning. The gray wizard then shook his head, his silver hair the only parts of him that was easely visible within the darkness. Duncan then took a ginger step into the darkness, immediatly dissappearing from the vystichi's sight.

"Shall we?" his crackled voice eminated from close in the ancient ink black crevice that served whatever eldritch creatures lived here, for a door.
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Old March 2, 2005, 03:42 PM   #32
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Serion shrugs his shoulders. The mage passed through with ease, so at least entering the dark passage wasnt dangerous in itself. Stepping forward, his swords drawn, Serion allows the darkness to envelope him, waiting to see if his Darkvision kicks in, or if there was some emanating darkness that would prevent his natural abilities from doing any good.
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Old March 4, 2005, 05:12 PM   #33
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The hallway behind the door was tight. More of a tunnel than an actual hallway it was, a crevice maybe, within the ancient glacial rock. With his swords drawn, he could not reach the walls for the much needed support and stability. It was not that the vystichi warrior was an old man; the fact was that the floor was completely covered with a small layer of rock hard ice. It was uneven and slippery, the water that had forced it's way down this narrow crack during the ages still lay here, frozen now though. Like the rest of this place. Frozen for eternity, not meant to be trodden by mortal feet.

Serion slipped, and fell, having no free hands to hold him up. Ahead of him, Faust and Duncan seemed to suffer no such calamities; from further down the hallway was only silence. He could not see the pair due to the claustrophobic nature of the tight passage that allowed no light between it's narrow walls. Only the moving of the darkness before him suggested that Duncan Sythe and Faust were ahead of him


Sounds aplenty in this forboding palace of something undreamed of for eons. Jittery sounds. The squabling of a thousand fiends perhaps. Or just the jittery sounds of mice, from down below. Squawking and talking, moving and crawling. Chirping. Chitenous shells, being rubbed together perhaps, like giant beetles would, or the mantis. Praying above it's still living food. Or not.

Duncan and Faust were already moving ahead when Serion got out of the passage. The wizened wizard even asked the two vystichi if they were coming, albeit in a soft, whispering voice. He was dreading this place, the human was.

It was clear why though, as this place seemed made not by the hands of mortal men, but by beings of incredible power. The smooth black floor that extended before him as he reached the end of the forbidden corridor was as exquisite as it was dreadful. Dark as the night, his reflection shone back at him, as if he was gazing into the abyss itself. It might as well be so. The walls of this room were crafted by cyclopean blocks of black stone; the same smooth stone that encompassed the floorworks before him. The room was definetly made for something a tad larger than the elf was; maybe six or seven feet in height the roof was, equally bleak and devoid of earthly passion. Light shone from the passageway he got out of though, and reflected, somehow, on the dark walls before him, giving it all a sinister dark appearance.

Six two man wide pillars supported the roof, in groups of two, lined one behind the other. Made in the image of grotesque huge men-like beings, supporting the roof on their backs, their heads and features were hidden by the darkness alone. They too were made of the same black stoneworks as the rest of this large hall.

From Serion's right hand side -for it was too dark to properly see the walls on either side of this titanic hal, even with the warriors vystichi eyesight- there came a jittery noise -spiderlike, chirping. As if chitenous limbs were rubbed together perhaps.

Duncan quickly went forward, dissappearing into the shadows between the pillars. He walked in a determined fashion, but yet, he was not eager here; every step was one taken by careful calculation, for he no more desired death than the two vystichi.
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Old March 6, 2005, 11:06 AM   #34
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The amount of time that was passing between the last encounter with Vlad, and the next was slowly growing unnerving to the Master Swordsman. He wanted to end this. Vlad would die, or the group would die, it was as simple as that in the dark elf's mind. In order to hurry that along, they would have to make haste, though in a cautious manner as Duncan had already exemplified.

Not giving the human a response, Serion merely keeps his swords close, and his ears open, where his eyes seemed to do no good. The chittering noise was something Serion would probably find common amongs terrain such as this, so instead he focuses on noises outside of that. Following Duncan into the darkness, Serion could do nothing more than prepare for the unexpected, ready to move at an instant notice.
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Old March 7, 2005, 03:09 AM   #35
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As he paid no attention to the noise, Serion could not hear his foe sneak up on him. With fast scuttling motion the escaped brethern tracked the vystichi, eager to consume the warrior's brain and take over. It was quick -much quicker than the sneaking vystichi could be, though his strides were so much lengthier.

From out of the darkness the celaphid jumped, four tentacles wide. It came to Serion as much as a surprise as a realisation of dread. He dropped his swords as his hands tried to protect himself by pulling the vicious creature off -the snapping round mouth was lined with razor sharp teeth and only inches away from his face. The tentacles had wrapped themselves around his head and clung on with an iron grip, pulling the main body slowly closer as the vystichi struggled in vain.
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Old August 2, 2005, 11:56 AM   #36
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Events had been instinctive for the new Illuxian. Vague images. He had been hungry, he had needed nurishment. The delicious pair had injured the young one, in his ravenous frenzy. Only now, had he come to his senses. Now that he was here.

Rocks fell from the ceiling, but none of the three cared overtly much. None of them were hit by the showers of dust and pebbles from the cracks. A huge black pit was just to the side, cracks decorated the floor. Ancient machinery fell into these bottomless pits as they expanded. Nothing that simple mattered to the remains of the Illuxian empire.

The newborn had been hurt. Half his face had been hacked off, though it was still forming when he had tried to take his meals by force. He was young, he was impetious. He was hungry. He needed nutrients to grow his body, he needed to feed to survive. Before him stood one as regal as an elder Illuxian would be in his prime. Yet his body was young, too. Not as young as this ones, but younger than he should've been, for his sheer posture.

The other was dressed and looked much in the same way as the ones he had just encountered. He had just scared off. Illuxians never fail, never lose. But he was an Illuxian. ZorKronroz (SP) could feel it with his mental powers.
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Old August 2, 2005, 06:27 PM   #37
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Scattered images had flooded the Illuxian's own mind as he had taken over the creature that was known as Serion D'Rinishad. The being had a strong will, but was no match Illuxian mental powers--such a victory was perhaps what led Zorkorokroz into attacking so headlong against the other two, his hunger kicking in before his other senses. As he ran from the two, making a strategic retreat, he raised his hand to where his tentacles had once been. The young Illuxian was not quite aware of his full potential, but he managed to sort some of the scattered images in his head...his new head...and found that accursed face that had caused him such pain. Faust was the name that his host had known him by. Yes...Zorkorokroz would have to repay this Faust one day.

Stopping short as he noticed his surroundings, Zor found himself staring at two others that were much like himself...though one was much stronger and regal than himself. Hunching down out of instinct, whether his own or perhaps some last refuse of Serion's, Zor suddenly realizes he is wielding the two swords still that were possessed by his host. Sheathing them, he looks on. After a moment he attempts to send out a small amount of mental energy--nothing truly strong enough to make a link, or send a message. Just something to tap at the door of the regal looking Illuxian, wanting to gain his attention. Zor was injured, and to show it at first glance could perhaps be a mistake, even to a fellow Illuxian.
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Old August 29, 2005, 11:40 AM   #38
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"Calm, calm. You are adjusting. The pain is only natural, it will pass." The already transformed of the pair said in the gutteral tongue of the cattle.

"We need to go," he said, removing his hands from the young Iluxians shoulders, "can you follow?"

And he did. The ship did not leave them with plenty of food, but casaulties on such a perilous journey are not uncommon. They traveled to the mainland of Telath, and as soon as they landed ashore, they split their ways.
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