[Self-mod] Honour's Path: Part II

[Cerius]

The Month of Immanis in the

Season of Spring, of Era II
of the Celestine Mandate (Current Pattern)

Era XI Post Fractum in the Age of the Darkening,
the Mageocracy of Julos the Mad

Self-moderated, Charybdis overseeing.

War Training Thread.

Spell List:
Banish Undead - LEARNT -
Complete Healing
Consecration
Death Ward
Desecration
Reverence
Reviviscence
Summon Angel - LEARNT -
Vesta's Retribution - LEARNT -
Wrath of the Gods - LEARNT -

Technique List:
Bind
Impart - LEARNT -
Improvise
Enchant
Promote

Cerius returned to the Shrine of the Aetherians the following morning, rested despite the previous night and ready to resume his quest of learning. All the previous day, he had been amazed by the city of Vers' dedication to the magical arts. His own powers had not yet been revealed in the city, although such strength was difficult to hide to the most inquisitive. Even the Purifier's enchantment would be enough of a hint, the blade enchanted by the combined effort of a journeyman and a master to become the ultimate weapon against the undead.

Cerius entered the Shrine of the Aetherians to find the same sight as any other would be confronted with, two humans that stood between the two alcoves to greet any visitors to the shrines. The male was engaged in conversation with another visitor, leaving the female to greet Cerius.

"Serale, traveller," the Arakmatian girl said with a warm tone to her voice that somehow lacked the desperate tone that her partner had. Whether that was because she had seen Cerius the day before, noticed the powerful edge to the elf or simply did not have the lack of confidence that plagued the other, it gave off a powerful radiance of her own that let the elf know that whatever was on his mind, Alma herself meant nothing but business that particular morning.

"Serale, Alma," the elf replied, using the woman's name without introduction to save the formalities.

"What can I do for you, Cerius?" Alma replied, a twinkle in her eye telling the elf that she knew about his mission as much as he knew about her.

"If you know my name, then you should know why I am here."

"A new Master in Vers doesn't go unnoticed for too long, especially when it's my ears and the mage is a thaumaturgist."

"I'm not quite a master yet, Alma. I was promoted, but I haven't learned the spells and techniques of the rank.

Alma smiled, not an overly warm smile but rather the smile of a daredevil accepting a new challenge with grim enjoyment. "I guess we'll have to teach you then, won't we? That's what I hard you wanted anyway."

It didn't take a genius to figure out who her source was, the elf having revealed his intentions to both the gnomish gate guard and the Knight whom he had met the previous brightening. The elf nodded the affirmative, glad to have the formalities done.

[Cerius]

"Let us start with the basics, Cerius. I was not present at your promotion, so before we begin I would like to see the best of your efforts. I want to see your Masterpiece."

"Here?" the elf queried, looking around at the shrine that seemed all too open.

"Yes, here," Alma replied, her voice that of a parent scolding a child who she didn't really want to scold, but did so merely to preserve a sense of discipline.

The elf nodded, before closing his eyes. Clara came ever easier now, the smooth streams of life sliding around the elf with but a thought; a wish. It was like the essences knew what the elf wanted and presented it to him as a reward for his decades of hard work. The spell itself was not difficult, a mix of techniques learnt during his earlier days as an initiate and apprentice, but their results were spectacular and totally unpredictable. The elf had surprised himself when he had found the spell worked.

Of the three shaping techniques he could manage at any one time as a Journeyman when he crafted the spell, the first was always Alteration, creating a field around himself. This field would then be filled by Conjuration, the elf's mana surrounding himself to be formed in the shape of a celestial suit of armour, from which sprouted a massive pair of wings some ten or twelve feet in span. The final component was similar in construction to the initiate spell Nimbility, lightening the elf's frame as a whole and increasing his control of his body which let him concentrate more on the Altered field and Conjured wings.

The result was outstanding, the elf standing before Alma the very avatar of angelic perfection, armoured to the core with the intimidating wings adding to the effect. That was not all, however. To the amazement of stunned worshippers, the elf began to slowly flap his wings, the beats picking up slowly but surely before after a few moments the elf began his slow ascent.

"Interesting," commented Alma, before the Mistress of Thaumaturgy copied the elf's spell shape for shape, rising up in the air beside him if somewhat unsteadily. "Very interesting."

The pair rose slowly, before at some altitude Alma spotted a small delta off to the west. One look at Cerius was enough for the tutor to pass on her thoughts, and the pair began to make their way there. Alma's flying skills were not quite Cerius' though, and even in the air their speed was relatively tame.

[Cerius]

Upon reaching the delta, Cerius took Alma's arm before guiding the thaumaturgist down, twisting his wings to slow his descent. The other resisted slightly at first, but that feeling soon faded as she tried to descend with Cerius and failed, her lack of experience forcing her around in circles, further up, uncontrollably down and indeed in just about every direction but that of Cerius' smooth descent. Luckily, the elf's grasp was firm and Alma managed to find the delta feet first, even if she did end up falling over and onto her backside while Cerius lowered himself.

"It takes practise, but it is quite an accomplishment," Alma mused as she rose and dusted herself off. "I'd like you to run through some spells now, Cerius. Journeymen have learnt many of the basic techniques, but we Masters must rise above such simplicities. We reinforce journeyman techniques, we expand upon them, but rarely is a Master technique revolutionary. This applies in all spheres; journeyman is the rank of discovery. Masters master."

As Alma closed her eyes and found Focus, two stools of pure light appeared on the delta in the middle of nowhere. She took a seat on one, but motioned for Cerius to stay standing.

"Throughout the next six months, I will not only be challenging you with Master level techniques, but I will also refine your knowledge of lower level techniques. As a master, your lower spells will be perfect and cast without thought. You will rarely challenge yourself with Master level spells in the real world, and it is your lower level spells that others will judge you by." Alma paused and pursed her lips for a moment, allowing Cerius to think on that revelation. She was right, of course. He had never seen his tutors ever cast spells above whatever they were trying to teach him - Master was simply too grandiose and destructive to be practical. Except in his case, when he deposed the Archmage Sarista. He would need every ounce of magical strength then to resist her Aeternian tricks and convince the Collegium to reverse his excommunication and restore to him his offices.

It wasn't revenge. It was retaking what was his by right, and striking down another heretic.

Wasn't it?


Cerius was torn from his musing by Alma's voice. "Cerius, for your first spell, I want you to cast for me, Wrath of the Gods."

The elf looked at his tutor inquisitively. Wrath of the Gods was a simple enough spell, and worth barely a thought. Her eyes said it all though, a smooth black that seemed to insist, with a subtle, whispered, 'Trust me.'

[Dream]

Breathing in as he wondered what his instructor was up to, Cerius gathered Vis and Ara to himself. Wrath of the Gods was a simple projectile, Evocation, mixed in with other techniques to enhance it's effects. Conjuration for a physical presence. Divination for a mental presence. It was a spell that harmed it's target, stunned it slightly, and generally caused more pain than it did actual damage except in the case of undead. The spell itself took the same form as it always did for Cerius, a simple ball of light that trailed as it moved, giving the appearance of a comet bound to earth to strike whatever target the elf wished. Which was interesting, given that there was no target for miles. He looked at Alma, wondering if he should simply dismiss the energy, now that he had proven his ability to create it.

Alma smiled, and from her outstretched hand a streaking spirit of light surged, looking for all the world like a conjuration of some necromancer.

Cerius did not need an explanation, as he mentally and physically hurled his evocation to catch the speeding spirit. He missed, by a few yards, and his spell crashed into the grasslands with an explosion of dust and ara.

"Try again," Alma said with a patient smile.

The elf did so, creating the spell first and then waiting for Alma's spirit-shaped target. His second attempt fared little better than his first, clipping the back of the trail of light that followed the shadow but causing no real damage until the explosion that followed. Even so, both thaumaturgists knew that it was not enough and that the spirit would have continued on to whatever target it had in mind. As a battle mage, the thaumaturgist would have failed once more - as their kind had a reputation for doing.

[Cerius]

"Well, at least that one hit," Alma murmured, as she threw out another pair. Cerius' spells flew out only a few seconds after the spirits had left his instructors hands, but the speed of the spirits was incredible. The second one simply managed to outrun its pursuer, the thaumaturgic conjuration escaping damage through sheer speed. The first was not as lucky in that sense, but still escaped relatively unscathed by twisting to the side and stopping, letting Cerius' projectile fly straight past it.

"There are times when journeyman spells simply will not suffice," Alma explained, as she motioned for Cerius to create two spirits of his own. The elf nodded, but rather than mock the necromantic summonings, the elf threw out a triplet of lions. The three ran through the air for a good hundred yards or so before Alma began her own casting, but for all their lead it did the conjurations no good. Above the three lions, the sky itself seemed to open up, a column of light streaming down onto the three before balls of light began to stream down, crashing randomly into the area. All three were hit by the assault, all their speed and grace unable to withstand the sheer power of the spell each one vanishing in a burst of light in turn.

"There are times when a single concentrated spell will not suffice, Cerius," the human explained, reasoning the elf could easily see the reasoning behind.

"What was that spell"

"That spell is the next form of Wrath of the Holy. It sacrifices a single, concentrated blast for heavy damage across an area. It will do just as much damage, but it will do it to a range of targets and is virtually inescapable. It is known as Wrath of the Gods."

Cerius nodded, as he tried to reason in his mind the construction of the spell. The shaft of light would have required Abjuration, clearing everything from within it to leave room for only the pulsing lights. Abjuration would form a second weave, this time cycling down to improve the force of the balls of light more than gravity itself could be entrusted to do. After that, it was simply a matter of conjuring as many balls of energy as he could and maintaining the spell for as long as he could. A mixture of conjuration and evocation though ... that would cause more intense damage than conjuration alone. The elf tried it himself, a thin column no more than two or three feet in diameter, extending out above the heavens to blind the target with the unadulterated light of the sun. From there, he set up the field pulsing down, before he began creating as many of the little Wraths as he could. It was a simple matter for him, but for all his skill he could not match the sheer damage potential of Alma's magnificent casting.

"Interesting," Alma said. "Did you ... want me to impart the proper casting of the spell, by any chance?"

The comment took the elf by surprise, but he recovered gracefully enough. "It would be appreciated, Mistress Alma," the elf replied, as he awaited the spell. The casting, as he received it in his mind, was not that different from how he had done it, although a clever blending of the two Abjured weaves left the mind free to enhance the area of effect without too much difficulty.

[Cerius]

The elf moved to attempt the casting, but Alma waved her hand to stop him.

"You have attempted too much already today, Cerius," she said firmly. "I will have you learn one last part of a spell, then you will go home for the cycle. There has been enough done already."

Cerius nodded, as Alma again set up the link between their minds necessary for Impart. The link between their minds, a clever combination of divination, abjuration and evocation, was set up to transmit mainly thoughts, but more importantly spell techniques.

"Now, you must cast the spell, but without Ara. Let me see the patterns you use, the way your mind works as you create a spell. I want you to impart to me your masterpiece." Alma's voice was firm, but her instructions clear and easy to follow. It wasn't too difficult to imagine, as Cerius had been receiving knowledge via the spell for countless patterns. He had often wondered how it was done, and even if he did not quite understand the link, the act of teaching was relatively simple. In his mind, the elf reasoned out the methods for casting the spell, going through each step slowly and precisely. His Vis moved as though he was casting the spell, but he did not mix Ara with his internal power to actually create an effect. Alma nodded, a slow smile spreading across her features as she gained more intimate knowledge of the spell she had so effortlessly copied earlier.

"Well done. An interesting casting. Simple, but efficient protective measures could be incorporated into it as well. I suppose learning to use it would be the most difficult thing then?" Alma's question was rhetorical, as she offered her hand to Cerius. The process of learning was certainly the most difficult, as the elf himself knew from his countless attempts at flying in Diana resulting in too many bumps and bruises to count. The elf took his instructor's hand as both mages sprouted thaumaturgic wings of light.

"Now, the trick to rising is forcing air beneath you as you rise, then angling your wings to cut through the air as smoothly as you can on the stroke up ..."

[Cerius]

The ground was charred and black, but still the elf persisted. More than a few travellers had come to investigate the stream of light coming from the heavens as though something was present that Ioannes himself had taken an interest in, only to find an elven thaumaturgist beating the ground to a charred pulp. The radius of the spell was now some good ten or fifteen feet, giving the elf an impressive area of effect that he would no doubt use quite often in the coming days. His lessons with Sir Valaren were helpful as well. In many ways, the study of theology with the aging Knight was calming the elf down after the magically induced mental illness that had turned him to the Aeternian path long enough to turn the tide of the war. He still had the necromancer to blame for that, manipulating the spells on Cerius to crush the elf's will. The list of targets Cerius had was growing longer, to the point where the elf was closer to a bounty hunter than a paladin.

"I think the ground has had enough of your torture, Cerius," a voice came from behind him. The young female who had taught him the spell, although how she managed to sneak up on the elf was a mystery.

"The ground will heal in time," the elf replied. "Better the ground than any other target."

Alma nodded, accepting the point even if there were countless other solutions that did not involve hurting things or blackening patches of ground. She had met enough paladins to hold at least a mild disregard for the profession, and of all the paladins she had ever met, Cerius was one of the most extreme. He was also the most infallible, she knew. Behind his hard exterior, there lay a heart of gold, beating with the heavens themselves and ready to do anything for that cause. That was what made him such a strong thaumaturgist, that dedication to the exclusion of all else.

"I don't want you practising before a lesson again, Cerius. Ever. That kind of strain can burn out your mind and permanently impact your ability to cast." Alma did not mean to sound so harsh, but the words came out that way regardless. "Go home for today, and come back in a cycle. You're a Master, you should know better than to push yourself beyond the limit, especially in the training situation."

Cerius did not bother arguing. He had made a mistake, and he would face the consequences.

[Cerius]

The next week, Alma arrived to find Cerius merely sitting on the ground, deep in Meditation. No charred, blasted ground surrounded him, no lingering trace of Life energy remained to reveal the training of the elf. He had been training, of course, but he had taken the previous day and that morning off training and remained in meditation, familiarising himself more with the flow of Ara while he contemplated that which he had been taught in his Theology classes.

The elf rose as Alma approached, acknowledging his instructor with a simple nod.

"You listened this week, I see," Alma noted. Again, a simple nod was the only answer she would receive from her student. He was obviously straining against the orders to keep his powers in check, although that was a skill the Master would have to learn.

"Do you remember the spell I taught to you last week? Or half taught, as it where ... Impart?"

A nod. Powers swirled around the elf, the raw strength from the last day and a half of meditation giving the elf unusual power, even for one of his rank. The technique, Impart, was one that he had mused over for quite some time, and he thought it had it figured.

The elf first established a link through Divination with his mentor, before creating a weave of abjuration, evocation and alteration to let their minds share thoughts and techniques. Anything, he figured, transmitted over such a link would become almost a memory in the other mind, allowing the other caster to cast the Imparted spell as though he or she had been born with it. To test, he moved through the casting for another of his own spells, Purification, combining the techniques from Turn Undead and Calm to reveal an aura that heartened all living creatures and disheartened the living dead.

Alma smiled as the elf sent the spell to her. Her student had potential, if he would just only learn to conquer himself.

[Cerius]

"An interesting spell, Cerius," Alma noted. "You don't seem the type to be commanding the legions against undeath, though. Why did you choose to integrate Calm, of all spells, with Turn Undead?"

Cerius smiled enigmatically. It was true, he was a loner and very rarely did that effect of the spell see much use. When he had designed it, though, he had been fulfilling a different role. Once upon a time, the elf had been a Sergeant in the Diana city militia, the Vigiles. That time, however, had long past. The Church and he had come to blows time and again. More specifically, Aerienne and he had come to blows time and again.

"Perhaps you need to organise your mind a little better," Alma suggested, although she expected the elf would not take kindly to the comment.

She was wrong, as the elf's musing simply changed directions. Calm and Turn Undead was a rather random combination. "True," the elf said in a simple, matter-of-fact tone. "Though, the spell has its uses, and I have grown much as a mage since that time."

The simple refusal to get annoyed took Alma off guard for a moment, but only a moment. "Are the undead something you see often, Cerius?" Alma asked. Her only reply was a sombre nod. "You will appreciate this, then," the instructor said, deftly reversing the flow of information through the Impart link the elf had left between their minds, before pushing through a new spell.

It was nothing less than perfect. Divination stunned and destroyed the consciousness of the target, while a secondary wave of Evocation weakened the shell that an undead being hid behind. After that, a dual weave of Abjuration and Alteration combined with the properties of Life scattered any Death weave to the winds, tearing apart the very life of any animated creature. He had heard rumours of the spell, whispers amongst the initiates of how Masters dealt with such magic. "Banish Undead..." the elf muttered, with appreciation showing in his tone.

"You've heard of the spell before?" Alma asked.

"Yes."

"And?"

"Thank you?"

[Cerius]

Alma smiled, the comment being unpredictable but nevertheless expected. "A simple manipulation of that as well, Cerius, could yield surprising results."

"As with all spells?"

"As with all spells." Alma gave the next spell to Cerius, a very similar casting to the last. Divination was again an essential part of the weave, blasting the target's consciousness into a radiantly perfect realm that was as far from the present as could be imagined, resulting in a lengthy stun. In the place of the Evocation that was designed to blast and weaken a physical shell was a swirling vortex of conjured blades that would tear apart the target. This initial blast would then be followed by Alteration and Evocation, taking advantage of the damage caused by the blades of Life to tear into the target's body and tear apart the weakened shell for massive damage.

"Impressive," the elf commented. "What is it?"

"Vesta's Retribution," Alma explained. "Every fool can cause damage with as much thaumaturgic energy as we can wield. It takes smart use of that energy to get real use out of that power. This spell weakens the target first, before the real force hits and tears it apart."

Cerius nodded, still speechless. The spell was genius, but also unbelievably deadly compared to what he had learned as levels prior to this. Vesta's Retribution, he repeated to himself, committing the name to his memory. The spell would be more than handy if he ever found himself in situations like those in his past.

[Cerius]

[ooc]
Post pending GD permission - this may not look like it at the moment, but this is part of the process for learning 'Summon Angel', as well as actually making Cerius try to cast 'Vesta's Retribution', 'Banish Undead', and mastering 'Wrath of the Gods'. Oh, and to relieve any doubts, Cerius assumes all celestial beings carry crazy powerful swords and wear Celestine, and is thus untouchable to him.

[ic]
Alma smiled briefly, although the smile seemed almost sadistic to a point. Cerius knew he was about to be tested, and from Alma's smile it was far from easy. It was time for her to prove just how strong her student was, and for him not to let her down. He would exceed her expectations, he knew it. Watching, the elf watched the formation of a portal similar to that which he used when summoning faeries and the like to his cause, but on a far larger scale. This was one that he could fit through quite easily himself, and that gave him his first hint of what was to come.

The portal that opened was something the elf expected he would learn in due time. From that portal emerged a being robed in the purest white, the colour Cerius often wished his own robes were. Her eyes were a gentle blue not unlike Cerius', but without the pain of centuries that plagued the elf. Her hair was a beautiful platinum blonde, bound tightly in an intricate maze of knots and plaits. Like Cerius, this being held her sword like it was but an extension of her arm. Arcanically though, Cerius could only guess this being toyed with the planes as though she was born to it, with Vis reserves at least the equal of Cerius' if not greater. She was a splendid sight to behold, although a sickening tightness clenched Cerius' gut for the first time since he had found himself impaled on the tail of a manticore. Whatever the lesson was today, he was certain it would fight back a lot more than a spirit-shaped Light Dart, and as powerful as the elf saw himself as being the new summon was likely a little far out of his league.

"Alma," the celestial being said with a smile, looking at Alma. The priestess only smiled back to her summoned creature. "This is not the usual calling. Should I be glad? This one ... he doesn't seem to be a servant of Aeternia, but on some note ... he doesn't seem to recognise his own darkness."

Cerius' brows furrowed for the briefest moment before he recovered himself and erased even that temporary show of emotion from his face. "What do you mean?"

"You walk a fine line, thaumaturgist. You seem to eschew all chaos, including Emotion, but that is a difficult task. 'Ware the dangers of mortality, is all I will say."

The being smiled at Cerius, a radiant smile that any other mortal man would have been stricken by. For Cerius, he had seen that smile before in his radiant ex-wife, and he would do anything to take back the hurt he had dealt that night when he left her and their friends to pursue his dark prey. "You talk of mortality as though it is a burden," Cerius said carefully, watching his words. He had realised what the being was a few moments ago, despite having never seen one of her kind before. "I would dare to hazard a guess, Alma. She would be, like me, a Master of thaumaturgy, in power at least. I would think beings like her would wield arcana like the dragons do, though to a much lesser extent. Capable with that sword as well I would say, and as powerful as the Purifier is, there is no way I will pierce Celestine like she wears under her robes. Am I right, Angel?"

[Cerius]

The angel smiled, a gentle smile that seemed to have no purpose but to reassure Cerius. It didn't work, the elf needing no reassurance for one thing and not accepting any that would have been offered for another.

"Not quite, Sir Cerius," the angel said, using the elf's seldom used ranking as a Knight of the Eternal Flame - an order recognised by the heavens but not by Imperial politics due to their underground nature. "Just on the Celestine count though. My name is Laura, young elf, and I guess Alva wants me to help in your teaching. You're lucky to have a tutor of Alva's ability. Now, Alva, what would you have me do?"

Alva returned the smile that Laura gave, before turning her attention back to her student. "Cerius, any ideas on how that was done? Theories, thoughts, anything you like?"

Cerius was left stumbling with that question, his mind referring back to the closest spell in his arsenal that he could think of. Summon Faerie was a Journeyman level spell that used divination to seek out a fae before constructing a rudimentary portal of Celestial energies, Alteration and Conjuration to shift the Faerie through the Celestial Plane to the caster's location. The main limitation of that spell was the limited strength of the portal, and its inability to support anything larger than a fae of a few inches, a foot at most. Masters could, however, add a fourth shaping to any spell ... which meant ...

"Casting would possibly be something similar to Summon Faerie, I would imagine. But, using a second weave of Alteration not only to shift a being from one location to another by movement through the Celestial Plane but also to create a sufficiently large field, one could expand the size of the portal conjured to allow for the summoning of an Angel, I'd believe," the elf ventured, his voice sounding sure of his answer even if his mind was not. He would not be able to tell until he tried, and whether or not that would be a wise move was unknown.

Alva merely nodded, not mentioning whether the elf's answer was correct or not. "That is of no consequence," Alva replied, looking to Laura. "I need you to construct defenses, Laura. As powerful as you can manage, and powerful enough to hold off a student Master." The thaumaturgist turned her attention back to Cerius after that, although the elf was only half-paying attention, the other half in wonder as he watched the angel prepare herself. The spell was Consecration, one unknown to the elf but a curious mixture of Endure Elements and Shield of Divinity. With the additional, simpler wards the angel set up, the elf could not figure out any way to get past the defenses save sheer, brute force - and even so, it would take a lot of that.

[Cerius]

Alma floated up, a platform of Life rising from the earth to give her a more controlled, yet slower form of flight than the elf's masterpiece spell. From her aerial vantage point, she watched the proceedings as she gave her commands.

"Cerius," her voice came, strong and sure. "I want you to attack Laura. Your limits are - no spell or technique above apprentice level. I don't want you burning yourself out."

The elf looked up curiously. Centripax had proven that the Master thaumaturgist could maintain an insanely well controlled and orchestrated barrage for an extended period of time. As strong as the Angel's defenses were, if she was not going to retaliate then the elf could simply wear the celestial being's high level defenses down over the course of the next ten or fifteen minutes until she could cast no more. It was dangerous for Laura to try and withstand a barrage like that, but Alma knew what she was doing. Cerius nodded in recognition of the orders, before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes.

Clarity surged through him quickly, easily. His mind was calm, analysing. There were no weak spots in the Angel's armour, which meant the elf would have to make one. A single point would be the choice of a lesser mage, but Cerius was not a lesser mage. He was elfkind, a race second only to fae amongst mortals in arcane proficiency. His mind was ordered, methodical, brutal without the calming touch of compassion. He would not be weakened by emotion like other mages were. Silently, he began his assault.

It began slowly, a shimmering dart of light, perfectly formed and flying lazily in a slow circle around Laura before swooping in to contact at the Angel's eyeline. She did not blink.

Then there were two, swirling in lazy arches before one darted in to strike at the side of her head and the other at her chest. The spells of defense absorbed both, without buckling under the strain.

Then it began. Spells, rudimentary stun and shock spells appearing as quickly as the elf could envision them, colliding home into the Angel's defenses. The plateau grew thick with remnants of Ara, as the elf drew more and more Life energy to add to his attacks. His Vis returned as quickly as he drew it, those minute amounts not enough to impact the elf in any real fashion. Dust rose under the assaults, the constant battering. Laura crossed her arms in front of her face, before her wings closed to shelter the vital parts of her body. The hem of her dress, unprotected by her spells, began to tear and shred under the weight of the Master Thaumaturgist's frenzied yet methodical assault. The defensive spells shifted slightly, clinging tight to the Angel's body rather than defending the area around her, but still Cerius' assault continued. Simple lances of Altered energy designed to disrupt mana that they contacted were added to the elf's spells, joining Divination darts made to stun and Conjuration darts for physical impact.

Overhead, Alma watched as the elf's impressive display of controlled chaos overwhelmed the Angel, surrounding the heavenly being in the raw, dangerous powers of Life. She was ready to reverse her own spell if need be, pull Laura back to the Celestial Plane if the elf proved stronger than she anticipated.

It wasn't to be. After some fifteen minutes, the elf straightened up again after his titanic effort. There was something different in his eyes, pale blue wisdom gone and replaced by something more sinister. A sadistic smile crossed the elf's lips as the dust settled and Laura unfolded her wings to reveal her unscathed body, still shimmering with the aura of her spells.

A slow, steady clap rose from the elf's hands.

"Bravo, angel. Bravo."

[Cerius]

Jakob turned his head to face the angel first, a look in his eyes that almost said, 'I'll deal with you later.'

"Cerius was always too institutionalised, wasn't he, Alma? Creativity was never that man's strong point. He's too rigid, plays by the book too much. He'll never be great." Inside Jakob's mind, the flicker of a stoic but ultimately powerless elf tried helplessly to overpower his one greatest nemesis - but it didn't happen. Jakob had overpowered Cerius again, a rare occurrence but one that was difficult to predict and even more so to avoid.

"Initiate and Apprentice spells though ... an Apprentice could do this, although it would take a Master to maintain it like so -" Jakob started, not even bothering to stretch out his hand as an aid to concentration like Cerius so often did. He knew his target, and unlike Cerius' methodical, ordered approach designed for maximum damage, Jakob toyed with his art to show off. A vortex of Life, similar to the one Cerius had just conjured, surrounded the angel yet again. This time, however, there was no divination, no alteration, no conjuration - only evokation, designed to tear and rend the target regardless of what defenses she had up. Laura surrounded herself with her wings again, the feathered hardened and backed by the same spells she had before. She did not totally understand the change in Cerius, but she knew the foe on the plateau was infinitely more dangerous than the shamed priest. Unpredictable, which made all the difference in the world.

Jakob smiled, adding to the spell his second Apprentice level weave - the dual technique of Alteration and Evocation, in a single lance of power that drove deep into the angel's defenses, shattering them and very nearly driving into the Angel herself. A fourth initiate weave came, albeit at a master's power, a thrusting dagger of divination that struck the angel's mind, driving it almost back to the Celestial Plane. Laura stumbled back a few steps, before her winged unfolded and she forcefully thrust all traces of Life energy away from her, sending Alma and Jakob stumbling.

A thin drop of blood trickled from the angel's nose, before healing power swept over the celestial being. Cerius recoiled inside Jakob's mind, but the elf's alter ego had control and there was no stopping him. What Jakob planned to do was another question.

With a bow and a flourish, Jakob turned to Alma. "Vesta's Retribution - a brilliantly organised mass of initiate and apprentice weaves, when all comes down to it. A simple enough technique, although I must admit juggling that much power and making the four weaves work in tandem at that level is quite difficult. A task worthy of a Master, shall we say?"

[Cerius]

Alma and Laura both recoiled slightly at the revelation of this new side of the elf. Cerius' mastery of thaumaturgy was always dangerous, but in the hands of this psychopath it was downright deadly. Cerius was always calm, predictable. Overbearingly powerful with his smoothly controlled mind, balancing power and technique with perfection that was well worthy of his rank and that would make lesser mages stagger, but he was always predictable. Anyone could watch the elf through a few fights and know exactly how he would react to any situation. This new being that had reared its ugly head though ... this was a different story. Neither of the thaumaturgists had anticipated that Cerius would let loose with a spell as powerful as Vesta's Retribution, deconstructed so well as to create several composite low-level techniques creating a single powerful blow. Neither could they have anticipated that the elf would cast as well as he did so soon after learning the technique. Laura was, in all reality, only a Master, and she could only do so much to hold off the spell. Given a few cycles to practise, Cerius could have possibly broken down the Angel's defenses and caused some real physical damage.

The Angel hovered uncertainly over the battlefield, her wings taking her three or four feet above the field. Her uncertainty was compounded when the elf himself created his wings, almost exact replicas of Laura's. Then, without warning, the elf flew at the Angel, using wings flapping hard to pick up speed before gliding at some velocity, missing Laura by a few feet. When he turned back to face the Angel, he had a smile on his face that the other flyer could not miss. The sky was their new battlefield, and with Alma aware that there were no more rules, hopefully any serious injury would be avoided. The elf would not let the angel get the best of him though.