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    1. Dazsos 12 yrs ago

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Myron never really believed in multi-tasking, it was always assumed that an individual could either put his whole focus in to one thing expertly, or divide that concentration, and create far from perfect results; however, if such a thing existed, he'd need to call upon its all mighty powers here and now.

The air seemed moody, a first sign of the opponent's move. With a newfound affinity for this forgotten land, it was impossible not to notice. Not finished reading his book, yet unwilling to be rid of his position, Myron would need to counter whatever was headed his way, and before the tornado could fully develop. Reaching swiftly in to his front robe pocket, one hand, three cards, a quick glance down to ensure each had the correct markings. The other hand finished engraving a symbol upside down in to the astral halo. As the gender fluid wizard leaped back, Myron opened a gap in his wings just small enough to fit having those three enchanted cards flicked out at high speeds. In two broad swings, and a half pivot, he sent them off spinning. Two would be directed forwards in to the gap between fighters, the third flew far in the opposite direction. Each held an adamant enchantment, and thus wouldn't sog or be ripped apart instantly, however these specific cards had additional effects; two held miniature rifts that weren't yet pathed, the third was empowered with antimagic. The anti-magicked card had an odd trajectory, aimed upwards at the gem in the sky, its use was strictly scientific. Elemental magic was often the hardest to nullify, due to it being primarily physical in nature, or the magic being a push behind the scenes. The card's job was cutting the tether between magic and air, perhaps dulling the tornado once caught. The in-battle rift rune would land closer to Myron, just beyond the borders of his furthes rune ring, he'd flash-freeze the card in to a puddle of water, so that it wouldn't be sucked in to the tornado.

Sparing absolutely no time in-between actions, Myron simultaneously slashed his quill wand downwards, pointing it's catalyst forwards, he'd hurl his halo at the ground where the tornado would land. The final markings enacted an idiom known as Stare In To The Abyss, a powerful vortex comprised of high powered gravity augmentation, drawing everything in to a cosmic rift. The tornado, being formed from sky to earth, would be sucked straight in to the void where only extremophiles may survive, whatever air pressure was left over would hardly be as dangerous.

Whatever the case, every precaution formed another layer in the great defense, and without his crown, Myron feared for his skull. Always fluid in motions, Myron's quill was pointing exactly where he wanted it to be at the end of its vertical slice, so he'd give it a good wrist-twist and unlock a barrier rune, formed by the ring finger in his ink hand's first spread. A lot was going on, however given his good insight, Myron would be left unscathed by the end of the action. The wind, although widespread and powerful, would be mitigated enough not to peel the frozen etchings of rune words off of the ice rink. Water, dust, and rocks flailed about, however the angelic wings were enough to block the debris. Whilst attached to his giant wings, the scribe was at least heavy enough to endure being pushed out of his bullseye, although he might slide a smidgen. With the barrier now in effect, Myron would be allowed the peace and quiet necessary to finish reading his book, whilst finishing up his enchantments at the same time.

Every second spared, Myron grew more powerful, soon enough he'd be able to match his opponent's prowess, however right now he understood his limits, and knew he'd lose this fight if unprepared. Based on the intelligence level of his opponent, Myron figured she knew and would fight to stop his stalling. The tornado was an excellent tactic, if it succeeded it'd rid the scribe of his defensive positioning, and deny him access to freely moving his ink creations. His barrier was something of a good-measure, if anything went wrong. Only after the barrier's erection, could he freely move his ink hands again, which would begin the process of clawing the area even closer to him, forming five more blank runic circles, fitting a total of eleven within the perameters of roughly fifty feet. The first idiom he'd call upon now, one of his trump cards, the Time-Space Paradox, he'd etch it in to the circle formed by his ink-hand's pinky finger, during it's second sweep. Once activated, in its current flip, the idiom would speed up time within the controlled area, creating a perfect situation for any mage who requires massive preparations.

In his natural habitat, the arcane scholar can often be found reading, writing, or bending the laws of reality to fit their needs! Here we have Myron, a younger male scribe trapped in between several natural disasters. Unlike many other classes, magi keep their wit and composure when facing danger. Watch as Myron enacts all the actions of your typical arcane scholar. Doodling a rune in his book? Check. Reading literature? Check. Readying a riposte most deviantly and magically so? Check!

A flood amassed within the dividing barrier, it would mark the beginning of a transformation. Myron would become veiled from Crystal's sight, and vice versa, however the mask from earlier would give the scribe vision beyond his beseiged castle. It's levitation stopped the minute that barrier formed, due to the division of Myron's own magical control. Its effects, however, defied space, so Myron might be able to witness a 1st person tornado ride in 3d, whilst not actually being present.

Hidden from sight, unhindered, Myron geared himself for the battle ahead with extreme haste. A second halo would form, whilst silver ice coated his body and took the shape of full plate armour. From measly scholar to a knight in shining armour. A scribe in shining water. As large globs of liquid were chiseled in to an arsenal hovering around his body; Roughly five round shields, and a dozen frozen battlestaves were formed, each with a different animal shaped headpeace. Each and every weapon or armour would require an adamantine enchantment, this action would likely go uninterrupted, however as quick as Myron was when empowered by meditation and sped up time, enchanting was a process that took effort. Seconds might pass, each one meant so much to the scribe. The adamant mark was one he had extensive practice with, it didn't strain his concentration. Each battlestaff would eventually bare a mark in the mouth or along the handle, and each would be empowered with the kind of magic you'd expect of a typical spell-slinging staff. The shields too would be enchanted beyond just physical protection, in entirety, his arsenal would require nearly every rune he knew, thus is why he needed time on his side. To ensure his actions weren't seen, Myron coated the inside of his barrier's wall with a curved sheet of ice.

Beyond the fortification, the flash-frozen landscape may chip, and ice shards would begin flying about rapidly if Crystal continued to empower her tornado. The bubble-bombs around her might be popped prematurely, due to the massive area-of effect attack of hers, and the fact there would be debris flying everywhere. Myron judged that he might lose his mask and antimagic card in his own vortex, however this was a price he was willing to pay.
I'll try to post tonight or tomorrow. This weekend I'll be terribly busy again, due to a huge moving project between warehouses I manage merchandise in. Plus I'd be a few towns over by then, and hardly available. Sorry to create such a delay, I am still interested in the battle, I just didn't expect synergy between all my problems.
My apologies for the absence, some critical things are happening in my life right now, and I haven't had the time to fully plan out a post. Today and tomorrow still won't be easy for me to post, either, between all the issues and time-frames I'm given with other events. I don't dare inform about the issues I'm having, they're very personal in nature.

May I postpone any due dates for a post to next weekend?
You probably didn't read it before the edit, but IC, I accidentally wrote 'says' instead of rays, and mentioned four instead of a total five runes created by the black hand fingers during their clockwise rotation. I fixed that.
Atmospheric pressure hinted towards the clash of powerful magical forces, droves left in the field deterred from the initial path, whilst a single hole bore in to the ground where the impact was met. There was no doubt in Myron's mind, that he had caught his opponent off guard, but the ever looming presence of lifeforce unveiled Corban's survival and whereabouts. Dust kicked up between the magi, caused from two separate explosions, shrouding the naked eye's view. Myron could feel a vague presence a good distance away, honing a nexus to magic. His mask would slide out from under him, so that it was fully facing the gem wizard in case of a sucker-punch styled riposte. To be frank, Myron was very impressed that his opponent survived.

Fluidly connecting his own spells and giving momentum to craft, Myron chained together his offense with preparation of a new defense. One of his runes was being fortified at his feet whilst the laser beam met a powerful disjunction, and that engraving would be complete before the explosions even kicked in. To begin a long process, such as the one creatively imagined in Myron's head, he'd need to begin with the one rune, which embodied the aspects of meditation and universal connectivity; he'd become highly attuned to his surroundings in an instant of its creation, as long as he stood within the vicinity. His next many spells would come at a heightened speed, so much so, that it would be obvious that something changed for Myron. His new awareness applied to all things affixed to his magicka, and so drawing back his tome to face him, and force-melting the dome of silver liquid before came as childsplay. Much of the immediate ground had been completely coated in a silver liquid, even from the hole bored, a vial had been tossed down, paired with the broken vial now opened again by the kinetic freezing's wearing off, a seemingly endless silver stream veiled the earth and reflected the sun's rays back.

Clear water poured out from two vials located at Myron's back, they coiled around to his front quickly, and spread out wide and tall, forming two crystal clear wings when frozen, each perfectly encompassing a front-to-back view of the scholar. If any could see him, they'd bare witness to his deft handiwork, swiftly clipping six runic cards from his vestment, and flicking them all away. The flat side of each rune pressed tight against the inside of his wings, and with a steady mind, Myron extracted the ink of each card and pasted it on to his wings at six different key spots. Using the cards would hasten an adamantine enchantment, allowing the scholar to focus his wand-hand elsewhere, he'd have much to prepare, and his opponent was taking his/her sweet time transforming, using her free time to boast and laugh. Myron would be able to complete his runic defense measures before his opponent was done scoffing at him, and then continue to bolster it afterwards.

From between the ice wings and the now frozen landscape, black hands slithered below icy wings and contorted beyond normality, they reached out symmetrically to either side of Myron, and each clawed the earth with all five fingers, both in a clockwise fashion that circled the scribe, and tainted the ice black. Five runic circles would be drawn, and the ink would reshape in to methodical patterns as quickly as they were etched in to the ice. The circle drawn by the thumbs closest to Myron were the only discord in an otherwise identical pairing of runes, and their effects would be activated first and foremost; Another adamant mark, this time much larger, recreating the ground at Myron's feet in to a humongous, nearly indestructible ice rink, denying most latent attacks from below. The latter four runes would remain dormant for tactical reasons, they would compose the scribe's greatest defense.

Every second that Crystal wasted speaking or laughing, Myron used to further his personal agenda. Wit and words didn't work in the beginning, and using them now would waste the artist's enlightened focus and inspiration. The dust in front of both wizards only covered so much, Myron was as observant as can be, and his exterior eye was quick to catch on to what could be a feint, a ball of some sort shooting straight up in to the sky. If it were aimed to fall back down on Myron's head, he'd be ready for it.

The last rune to begin formation would begin its growth above Myron's head, where he amassed an aquatic halo, which soon filled in with a variety of complex symbols. It'd be done before the crystal ball fell down, if that was the target path. Although taking the appearance of an angel may seem transposing to the divines, the shapes and forms were more useful than aesthetic. The wings covered every angle from front-to-back, and having six separately marked areas for two wingspans, coverts, and patagiums, meant they were malleable. A halo would guard from the equivocal chance of a meteor shower. Strange cosmic glitter would eventually be visible inside of the crowning rune, if seen from above.

Wandering through thoughts, worries, and the ephemeral doubt, Myron's omni-coloured eye grazed over his magical tome as its hundreds of pages flipped and turned without a licked thumb peeling them. Every moment was a mayfly's eternity, and needn't be wasted on a single wrong move. Ever studious, the scribe began researching alternative runes written throughout his book, in the hopes that he'd find a spell actually capable of breaking his opponent's surreal level of defence. He remembered his old reflect and varied enchantment runes quickly, they might serve a purpose, but likely wouldn't do much without a trap to impose their effects. The greater rune might enhance a beacon of nihil to actually pierce those gems, but raw power hadn't worked so far. Whilst the halo filled in, Myron's quill-wielded hand twisted and flicked aimed upright, and his other hand hovered over the book. "Aha!" Myron began to take mental notes on the runes needed to invoke a couple new idioms, which were ones he had already memorized long ago. The correct combinations were trivial, but far from impossible. And to think, the scribe was actually reading a book in the middle of a life or death scenario.
@LeeRoy
There are a thousand self proclaimed pirate kings and queens, if you believe but one of them... you've already lost.

Best hope you fit in the barrel, else you're useless to us otherwise.
@LeeRoy

By not recognizing me as a member of the arena, you've put yourself on the top of my hit list.

And let me tell you now, I'm a pirate... yes... those round bullets are coated in grog and aged egg yolk.
By now, should I assume the kinetic-absorption of Myron's previous liquid dome has given up its hold? You mentioned something about it requiring steady input on Corban's end, I don't assume he'd continue till now.

Also, if you're wondering about any of Myron's new spells, you can find them here: roleplayerguild.com/posts/3393189 The second hider is where I've begun work on describing unmentioned runes, adding new ones, and coming up with new idioms.
"Mathematics is the gate and key to the sciences." - Roger Bacon

I think the issue here is forgoing the beauty of metaphors and examples, for simplicity in numbers. Numbers are in everything, they're expected to be, so we don't have to recite upon them all the time, however they can often be the deciding factors in combat posts. It's always more interesting to express a character's ability through feats of skill, rather than raw numerical values, but both interpret what's needed to be known. "He can wrestle two bears and win!" Or. "He can bench-press 500lbs." Both work, and that's what matters. What doesn't matter is; "he r rly stronk." Well how stronk, and what's the difference between being strong, and being stronk?

Avoiding math is fine, but lest we forget, the math is always there. In a world ruled by greed, almost anything can be narrowed down to a number. How many seconds are used up between actions, the melting temperature of various elements vs the base heat of others, how many bullets are flying and at what directions they come from, force in newtons, all of these things have numerical values. We can replace the use of numbers with depictions of how they work to make them more beautiful, but when push comes to shove, the numbers always have your back if you're logically correct.
Inter-dimensional pirates ravaged the land, one that had served as a place of meditation from time to time. Such interesting ruins, surely someone would come along at one point or another to claim the dead's treasures for themselves. An excavation team pried at the secrets of the ancient civilization, and whilst in the eyes of some, unearthing such information could be seen as scientifically moving forward, the pious would shun it as another form of graverobbing. Daos was such a resolute kind of man, and his instincts told him more than he aught to know about the nature of this organization. He did not see their actions as positively effecting this world's people, and an aura of darkness clouded any benefit of the doubt he might have had at first glance.

Traveling from continent to continent had its ups and downs, but Daos memorized the lands he traversed, especially the places he deemed best worth revisiting for meditation. The jungle's magitech ruins was such a perfect place, the eerie dread of magic long dead, the fruition of nature amidst such age old devastation. What was once a peaceful calmed vibe was being dug up by outlandish scientists. Daos had only recently returned to this place of meditation, and was not aware of its new prospectors. Regardless, he knew the real monarchs of the providence this ruin belonged to, and the tribunal of chiefs had already come to a conclusion that the ruins were to be left alone. There was no need to warn authorities and sit on the outskirts of a problem, Daos had a moral compass to abide by. The high priest thought himself capable of dealing with these intruders himself, and saw fit to do so in the simplest of ways.

From the outskirts of the scientist's camp, Daos kept his presence mostly hidden. His spiritual aura was suffocating, but so was the air out here, he assumed meager scientists with such minuscule auras wouldn't be able to decipher any better. He would attempt to scare them out of their mission, by acting the part of a series of natural disasters. Taking the staff of Ngma and holding it above his head, twirling it a total of three times would be enough to summon the wind's ferocity, however a prolonged whirl, angled a touch low from time to time, and the gathering storm would widen in to the perfect shape for him. Dust and dirt gathered all around the tornado Daos brandished as his mantle, and he would begin to walk forward in the moment of its birth. Everything about him, and what he wore would be veiled from sight. No tale of a tall man in priestly robes assailing the camp would come to tongue, unless he met a more powerful foe along the way. He need only waltz through the outsider's camp, it would be torn asunder as he did so. A tornado in the desert was highly illogical, if they didn't see this as a good reason to flee, he'd be forced to destroy more of their works using earthquakes and landslides.

Once done with the scientist's camp, Daos slowly trekked onwards through the forest, through a path he knew well that would avoid much of the swamp fog, while relocating him atop one of the many mountain crags. His tread was slow, he made no intention of killing the scientists, only their will to continue working, and he'd slip out of the main camp and towards the ruins at his earliest convenience. This is when and where the darker aura became ever more present, and the rest of the working scientists would lose their focus on what jobs were at hand. At once, anyone directly close to the ruins would be able to witness the bizarre path of that tornado, which seemingly held its position in front of a rope bridge. Daos knew he had torn down several younger trees in his travel, however nature was always self sufficient, and a skilled druid could undo his actions with ease. The rope bridge was something he wouldn't be able to climb, however, so he stopped abruptly, plus there was something itching at his psyche, that dark aura, its presence was less masked here, closest to the ruins themselves.

Daos extended the size of his tornado briefly, and tilted his staff upside down, he'd quickly jab the end in to the earth at his feet, he'd pull it out as a large boulder sized maul, his all natural weapon of choice. These preparations were necessary, for Daos realized the err in his ways. The strange aura was strong, it should've been obvious that these scientists had some sort of protector in their service. Not to mention, they were scientists! The kind of people most skilled at determining the truth behind phenomenon. The high priest would probably have to fight, so he readied himself for whatever awaited him on the other side of that rope bridge.
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