Lord Zee
Vec
JFK
Fetzen
Thayr
BingTheWing
Yeah, it makes a lot more sense now.
Did everybody simultaneously go on vacation?
Cyclone
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Back when dinosaurs ruled the Earth, I got started with writing online on the Spore forums. Man, those were the days. We're talking like 12 years ago 2010-ish!
I've been here on and off for almost as long, and have GM'd a bunch of different things to varying success.
I've been here on and off for almost as long, and have GM'd a bunch of different things to varying success.
Word of my splendor:
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Shaige saw Ifrit's transformation in the corner of his eye, though his eyes remained transfixed on the wraith that had just arrived. To turn away and leave one's self exposed to a creature that hungered for souls would have been a poor decision. The Keeper, after giving the spirit time to respond and receiving only silence, answered Ifrit. "Now, We leave this place. I have been away from my domain for far too long."
With a wave of a ghostly hand concealed by his new robe's long sleeves, Ifrit disappeared from the spirit realm. Shaige followed suit a moment later, leaving behind the wraith. The duo would find themselves a thousand feet above the carnage outside of Paterdomus. Down below, people were coming out of the city to search for their relatives amongst the surviving soldiers. As the ash and charred corpses testified, many would not be found.
Though still slightly affected to gravity, Ifrit would find himself mostly pulled upwards and buffeted to the sides, subject to the whims of the slightest eddies of wind. The fact that nobody below looked up in alarm at seeing a massive, floating monster would be Ifrit's first hint as to what had happened. Upon appearing, Shaige was quick to summon up an ethereal link that tethered his mostly incorporeal form to Ifrit's. The beast was no doubt unaccustomed to moving about as a ghost.
Shaige voice resonated inside of Ifrit's mind, "You are halfway back. No longer in the spirit realm, but not entirely in this one either. You are what the ignorant humans call a 'ghost'. In this form we can fly quickly and undetected, back to a safe place. Then, I shall restore your body."
Without further ado, Shaige flew through the air towards his dungeon, faster than any bird. Ifrit would find himself dragged behind by an invisible cord, secured enough to not fall behind much more than a few hundred feet or get blown away by wind, but not so much that he couldn't move around a bit. It would no doubt be an odd sensation, being tugged along by Shaige as he assumed such a small, weightless form.
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Balon howled in pain for several moments as his leg was removed, but then suddenly fell silent. The adrenaline removed much of the pain, and his hatred gave him the strength to ignore what remained. "The fool," thought Balon, dares to come so close while one of my arms is still free." The thought struck Balon to wrap his free hand around the tiny torso of the girl hidden beneath the black sludge and golden eyes, and squeeze until her ribs came out of her mouth. He banished the thought. It was be suicide; it was clear that this strange monster had him beat. He would do as it asked, for now.
Balon thought for another long moment. He possessed a talent for killing and conquering, not demonstrating 'intelligence'. What did he know that this...thing didn't? In a sudden motion Balon hand snatched up the corpse of a dead runner, before it floated to the bottom of the tunnel and out of Balon's reach. The thing had been one of the ones tearing at the giant's armor, and had unfortunately come into contact with the plagued water that the old king conjured. At this point, its body more resembled a blackened husk than a creature. Balon's gaze drifted from Xir'ain to the dead runner. As he looked at it, the corpse's flesh somehow began to fester and rot more than it already had.
"Do you see the wretched thing?" Balon at last spoke. "Dead. Its mind, muscles, and organs all reduced to rot. Food hardly fit for maggots. I didn't do that. Countless tiny creatures did. Creatures so small that you can't even see them. They infest the bodies of the living and cause disease. Then they infest the bodies of the dead and have a feast, reducing it to dirt and rot. I have discovered how to manipulate these miniscule beings with magic, and use them to slay other creatures within seconds."
His two blind eyes met Xir'ain's golden ones with an unnerving stare, while the living one atop his forehead constantly flitted its gaze between the two. "Do you know what this means?" Balon asked. "Let me live, and I could conjure a plague the likes of which you have never seen."
"I could reduce your enemies to this," Balon said as he brandished the dead runner, his voice growing in volume.
With a wave of a ghostly hand concealed by his new robe's long sleeves, Ifrit disappeared from the spirit realm. Shaige followed suit a moment later, leaving behind the wraith. The duo would find themselves a thousand feet above the carnage outside of Paterdomus. Down below, people were coming out of the city to search for their relatives amongst the surviving soldiers. As the ash and charred corpses testified, many would not be found.
Though still slightly affected to gravity, Ifrit would find himself mostly pulled upwards and buffeted to the sides, subject to the whims of the slightest eddies of wind. The fact that nobody below looked up in alarm at seeing a massive, floating monster would be Ifrit's first hint as to what had happened. Upon appearing, Shaige was quick to summon up an ethereal link that tethered his mostly incorporeal form to Ifrit's. The beast was no doubt unaccustomed to moving about as a ghost.
Shaige voice resonated inside of Ifrit's mind, "You are halfway back. No longer in the spirit realm, but not entirely in this one either. You are what the ignorant humans call a 'ghost'. In this form we can fly quickly and undetected, back to a safe place. Then, I shall restore your body."
Without further ado, Shaige flew through the air towards his dungeon, faster than any bird. Ifrit would find himself dragged behind by an invisible cord, secured enough to not fall behind much more than a few hundred feet or get blown away by wind, but not so much that he couldn't move around a bit. It would no doubt be an odd sensation, being tugged along by Shaige as he assumed such a small, weightless form.
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Balon howled in pain for several moments as his leg was removed, but then suddenly fell silent. The adrenaline removed much of the pain, and his hatred gave him the strength to ignore what remained. "The fool," thought Balon, dares to come so close while one of my arms is still free." The thought struck Balon to wrap his free hand around the tiny torso of the girl hidden beneath the black sludge and golden eyes, and squeeze until her ribs came out of her mouth. He banished the thought. It was be suicide; it was clear that this strange monster had him beat. He would do as it asked, for now.
Balon thought for another long moment. He possessed a talent for killing and conquering, not demonstrating 'intelligence'. What did he know that this...thing didn't? In a sudden motion Balon hand snatched up the corpse of a dead runner, before it floated to the bottom of the tunnel and out of Balon's reach. The thing had been one of the ones tearing at the giant's armor, and had unfortunately come into contact with the plagued water that the old king conjured. At this point, its body more resembled a blackened husk than a creature. Balon's gaze drifted from Xir'ain to the dead runner. As he looked at it, the corpse's flesh somehow began to fester and rot more than it already had.
"Do you see the wretched thing?" Balon at last spoke. "Dead. Its mind, muscles, and organs all reduced to rot. Food hardly fit for maggots. I didn't do that. Countless tiny creatures did. Creatures so small that you can't even see them. They infest the bodies of the living and cause disease. Then they infest the bodies of the dead and have a feast, reducing it to dirt and rot. I have discovered how to manipulate these miniscule beings with magic, and use them to slay other creatures within seconds."
His two blind eyes met Xir'ain's golden ones with an unnerving stare, while the living one atop his forehead constantly flitted its gaze between the two. "Do you know what this means?" Balon asked. "Let me live, and I could conjure a plague the likes of which you have never seen."
"I could reduce your enemies to this," Balon said as he brandished the dead runner, his voice growing in volume.
Dawnon, to be fair the IC does say this, right at the top by the link to the map:
It's fine that you killed a few people loyal to the fire priests and are trying to convert the city, but it's huge. With only a few hundred men Macaroth will have a very hard time controlling the city, especially if he won't resort to violence. In any case, the fire priests will probably be pissed and try to kick out Macaroth and his religion in any way they can. Terrorism, assassination attempts, and possibly even a full-blown crusade are likely to happen.
Speaking of the fire priests, once Shaige starts to ruin their plans and gather together all their enemies, I was planning on introducing their Lord Inquisitor as a minor character, and then promptly having the fire priests retaliate against Shaige. BBeast, when that time comes he probably won't ignore Calvartem either.
Also note that major cities have populations between 100,000 and 1,500,000, and a proportionally large military force including spell-casters, so conquest of such a place will invariably be a major undertaking.
It's fine that you killed a few people loyal to the fire priests and are trying to convert the city, but it's huge. With only a few hundred men Macaroth will have a very hard time controlling the city, especially if he won't resort to violence. In any case, the fire priests will probably be pissed and try to kick out Macaroth and his religion in any way they can. Terrorism, assassination attempts, and possibly even a full-blown crusade are likely to happen.
Speaking of the fire priests, once Shaige starts to ruin their plans and gather together all their enemies, I was planning on introducing their Lord Inquisitor as a minor character, and then promptly having the fire priests retaliate against Shaige. BBeast, when that time comes he probably won't ignore Calvartem either.
I'm not entirely sure whether you're intending to have a one-legged giant, or if Xir'ain will somehow patch up the poor fellow. But if it's the first case, it'll be a bit strange writing from the perspective of a giant that crawls around killing things. 
I definitely have that problem. It helps to actually have something planned ahead of time that you can work from. I have a hard time when I wake up and just decide to post and come up with something on the spot. In particular, I find that my posts are of better quality if I run out of time halfway through and finish them later, or if my browser/computer/ceiling just crashes on me. That way I am forced to redo it, and usually for the better.
Dr_Trapezoid, feel free to alter Ifrit's appearance in any way you want, or give him a new power or two as a result of Shaige little 'ritual'. It's been pretty common in past RPs for rogue beings to change a bit upon obtaining a new master, but by no means feel forced to change something about your character. I was vague about what would happen to Ifrit, in case you don't want to make anything different from before.
Ifrit succumbed to Shaige's will, as the Keeper knew he would. There was no shame in doing so; soon enough everything else would be faced with the same dilemma- serve Shaige, or die. Shaige abandoned his black staff and robes, blowing them to the side with a spectral wind. In the realm of the living the apparel and staff would have faded out of existence like any other shadows that came into the light, but here they behaved just like anything else. After all, this was a world of little save bone and shadow.
In his pure, true form without any guise or illusions, Shaige took on a roughly humanoid shape. His body was a featureless mass of swirling, amethyst light, the same color as the eyes that had peered out from the Shadow's hood. Without offering any explanation to Ifrit, the Keeper tore out a piece of himself, which coalesced in the form of a flawless, prismatic crystal. Shaige felt naked and vulnerable in this form, so he wasted no time. With the wave of a hand pillars of shadow rose from the ground on either side of Ifrit's skull.
The pillars then bent, wrapping around the head of dazed Ifrit. They wrapped quickly and forcefully, overcoming any resistance, and then melded together to form a giant muzzle of sorts. The Infernal King's mighty scion would be helpless to fight back or escape as Shaige embedded his crystallized essence right into the beast's forehead. Instantly Ifrit was wreathed in more than just fire and smoke; wailing souls were pulled into the gem, the bones of nearby skeletons cracked open as liquid blood burst out from their marrow and squirted through the air towards the gem, and the darkness itself reached out towards Ifrit. Shadow, smoke, blood, and soul came together to fuel Shaige's black magic. The cracks in Ifrit's body vanished, and his bones hardened. Perhaps more changes would occur if the beast was unable to prevent Shaige's essence from taking over too much of his body, but the Keeper's attention was now diverted.
Shaige sensed a spirit approaching. It was not a mere poltergeist, or even the starved revenant that he had seen before stifling Ifrit's light with a shroud of darkness. This was a powerful and old spirit, perhaps also that of a Keeper. Shaige quickly assumed a different, less revealing form. The arrival, upon passing through the barrier of darkness, would see Ifrit still being wracked by dark magic. Next to the great beast was a spirit that took the form of a floating, hooded violet shawl, wrapped with a stole and sash the color of blood. The duo would indeed be a strange sight, for such a dreary place as the spirit realm.
Keenly aware that revealing any information to a wraith was dangerous, Shaige endeavored to answer any questions with naught but riddles and lies. Suspecting that the other spirit was ancient, the Keeper would address it as soon as it arrived, "Erelong we depart. 'Twas wanion we shan't be able to speak."
The dead had all the time in the world, quite literally. For Shaige to attempt to leave without so much as a few words would be odd indeed, but the Keeper knew better than to risk treating with a wraith if avoidable, especially under such circumstances. Shaige intended to make an escape as soon as Ifrit's transformation was complete.
In his pure, true form without any guise or illusions, Shaige took on a roughly humanoid shape. His body was a featureless mass of swirling, amethyst light, the same color as the eyes that had peered out from the Shadow's hood. Without offering any explanation to Ifrit, the Keeper tore out a piece of himself, which coalesced in the form of a flawless, prismatic crystal. Shaige felt naked and vulnerable in this form, so he wasted no time. With the wave of a hand pillars of shadow rose from the ground on either side of Ifrit's skull.
The pillars then bent, wrapping around the head of dazed Ifrit. They wrapped quickly and forcefully, overcoming any resistance, and then melded together to form a giant muzzle of sorts. The Infernal King's mighty scion would be helpless to fight back or escape as Shaige embedded his crystallized essence right into the beast's forehead. Instantly Ifrit was wreathed in more than just fire and smoke; wailing souls were pulled into the gem, the bones of nearby skeletons cracked open as liquid blood burst out from their marrow and squirted through the air towards the gem, and the darkness itself reached out towards Ifrit. Shadow, smoke, blood, and soul came together to fuel Shaige's black magic. The cracks in Ifrit's body vanished, and his bones hardened. Perhaps more changes would occur if the beast was unable to prevent Shaige's essence from taking over too much of his body, but the Keeper's attention was now diverted.
Shaige sensed a spirit approaching. It was not a mere poltergeist, or even the starved revenant that he had seen before stifling Ifrit's light with a shroud of darkness. This was a powerful and old spirit, perhaps also that of a Keeper. Shaige quickly assumed a different, less revealing form. The arrival, upon passing through the barrier of darkness, would see Ifrit still being wracked by dark magic. Next to the great beast was a spirit that took the form of a floating, hooded violet shawl, wrapped with a stole and sash the color of blood. The duo would indeed be a strange sight, for such a dreary place as the spirit realm.
Keenly aware that revealing any information to a wraith was dangerous, Shaige endeavored to answer any questions with naught but riddles and lies. Suspecting that the other spirit was ancient, the Keeper would address it as soon as it arrived, "Erelong we depart. 'Twas wanion we shan't be able to speak."
The dead had all the time in the world, quite literally. For Shaige to attempt to leave without so much as a few words would be odd indeed, but the Keeper knew better than to risk treating with a wraith if avoidable, especially under such circumstances. Shaige intended to make an escape as soon as Ifrit's transformation was complete.
Well, I still have only one creature and an imp construct, and I was the second one to post. So, in my eyes at least, nobody else is really behind. And yes R4, it is only three posts.
Do you think my posts get too lengthy at times? I probably could condense them, but I always feel like it's choppy and without enough detail if I do that.
Muahahahaha, the 100th IC post is mine! I award myself with billions of dollars and infinite girlfriends.
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