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September 17, 2003 |
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Trump Call with Brandon...
The image of Brandon smiles, "Yes dear?" he chuckles.
To the image of Brandon, Yosannah smiles, "You're a hoot. I was wondering if you could do me a favor."
The image of Brandon winks, "Sure, whats up?" He coughs, "So early in the morning..."
To the image of Brandon, Yosannah offers him a light smile through pursed lips, "I hate to bother you... but Stone is out and so is... well everybody at the Club. And I've been meaning to pay a visit to the shadow of Paradesio. You wouldn't, by any chance, have means by which to get there, do you?"
The image of Brandon nods, "Me of all people, worried about bothering." he smirks, "Come come, bring me through I will take you."
To the image of Brandon, Yosannah says "Great. Thanks so much."
She reaches for his hand...
Portrait Room - Castle Amblerash ...
Yosannah blinks in an effort to let her eyes adjust to the lighting in the room. She looks about her at all of those present. "Oh. I didn't mean to interrupt..."
Rhiannon is rolling infront of the fire. She wiggles her fingers to Yo "Turnings again!"
Brandon grasps Yo and pulls her in. "House Amblerash." he motions around, "This is my friend Yosannah. Rhia, Magnus I think you know. This is lady Agrat lady of the house."
Magnus is seated in a cozy looking chair beside the roaring fire. Agrat is resting in his lap, and he's got an arm about her waist at this point. A glass of red wine in his other hand. He lifts it slightly when Yosannah arrives, in silent greeting to her before he takes a sip of the fine Rathorne vintage.
Yosannah smiles at each of the occupants in turn. To Agrat she nods, "Lady. Forgive the interruption. Brandon offered to take me to a shadow I'm not entirely familiar with."
"Wilkommen, Lady Yosannah," Agrat says warmly and formally, despite her seating arrangement. "Welcome to House Amblerash. I told Lord Brandon that it was alright for him to use the House as a waystation of sorts."
Yosannah nods her head, just a single tilt of her chin, "Most appreciated, Lady." She is no stranger to formalities, and it shows.
"Serpent's Greetings, my daughter." Magnus says softly to Yosannah, favouring her with a warm smile. He licks his lips, and then takes another sip from his glass of wine.
Yosannah inclines her chin to Magnus now, "Magnus. Good to see you as always."
Brandon bows his head, "Forgive the comming and going, I will return to see you." he bows and falls to all fors taking on a feline form a black panther of sorts with bright red eyes and a spiked tail. "Come Yosannah."
Rhiannon waves "Cya both."
Brandon starts to trot towards the wall, fading away as he does so.
Yosannah turns to Brandon and nods lightly. She follows after him, fading from view...
Naenesia-Paradesio...
Brandon roars softly, "Here we are." he grows back to his normal form and takes his clothes to life. "Paradesio, I think?"
Yosannah looks down at the cat-like form of Brandon, "This is it then." She sniffs at the air, eyes closed for a long moment before openning them again, "Interesting."
Brandon mmms, watching. "Mind if I tag along?" he sniffs as well.
Yosannah casts a glance over the archipelago in the distance and nods at his requestion, "You don't have to get back to your meeting? If that's the case, feel free..." Her voice trails off and her gaze darts quickly inland. She seems to beholding her breath all of a sudden.
Brandon begins to grow his standard wings, "No need to go back there."
Yosannah crouches next to the Brandon and bites at her lip. Her expression is pensive and thoughtful.
Brandon's wings sprout quickly, he looks to Yo. He closes his eyes, and examines the world through his minds eye.
Yosannah mutters, "She's here. Jesus, Brandon, what are the odds? Death is here."
Brandon mmms, "Arion that is, or .. I don't fully understand. Are they one in the same or, should I be worried?" Brandon raises the Logrus and offers his hand. "Point, I will fly."
Yosannah reaches for Brandon's hand and ponts out toward the open seas, "That way. I don't suppose you can wrap us in a logrus shield of some sort ... I have no idea how far."
Brandon grins, and nods. "I can do as much as possible of us. I can't get it all the way 'round." he takes her up his arms, and leaps to the air. His wings are quite possibly twice the size of him on each wing. He takes off to the indicated point, logrus shield ahead and to the front of them.
Brandon holds you at the shoulders and knees, "What way?" he holds close to his chest and probably offered his neck to wrap around for better grip.
The winds whip over Brandon and Yosannah as they head out into the open sea despite logrus shield. Yosannah winces, eyes peering outward and toward th e dire seas ahead. She points in that direction, "There."
Plains of Bereavement - Garnet Tower...
Dire mists settle like ashen funeral gauze over the eerie expanse of the courtyard leaving a faint film of unsettling moisture clinging to your skin. This hellish haze waxes and wanes revealing fractured remains of broken stonework: wrecked Gargoyle-encrusted tombs and crumbled mausoleums, chipped monuments of weeping angels bleached to the bone by the onslaught of the spraying sea. There is no moon, no glimmer of a celestial orb in the sky, only the ominous red glow of a luminous tower - jagged like a serpent tooth and spiraling up into oblivion. The sea shines crimson, frothed with wraithlike foam, waves wailing like the echoes of drowned souls. Awash in the crimson glow of the stone tower, it's peak a jagged splinter of a past glory, a slim silhoutte is whipped mercilessly by the raging winds and terrible sheets of rain. Ominous rumbles of thunder fill the sky, brilliant sapsms of light flickering behind a mask of roiling black clouds as the sea churns hungrily below.
Brandon carries Yosannah in his arms close as he flies forward. A logrus shield protecting most of his top and front as he moves. He murmers as he flies forward, "What have I gotten myself into this time." he grins, "The things I do for you." he grins and looks to the storm.
Yosannah is quickly drenched, hair clings to her face and covers her eyes. She holds to Brandon tightly.
A flicker of motion from the great toothy peak send a tongue of blue light arcing down to touch the spire. WIth a burst of blinding blue-white the lightning slits into countless fragments that fly back up into the clouds. Moments lately, they fall again, towards the air-borne figures...
Brandon's hair mats down, draping over his face in typical Brandon style. His wings flap in the rain, flickering the water from his form as the massive beasts of feather flap over and over. Each wing is probably double Brandon's size. Brandon's Logrus shield is strong, he has been trained well directly above him hopefully taking the blast.
Yosannah's insinctive reaction is to cling tighter to Brandon - having no spells of her own waiting in retort of such an assault from the individual below. A sharp intake of breath is the only sound that escapes her lips.
Webs of lightning pound against the logrus shield with uncanny accuracy, splashing over it with brilliant fury. The sharp smell of ozone is chokingly strong. There...another movement from below...clad arms sweep upward, a length of twisted blade extending from them in a black line. Waves and wind whorl and twist from down below, the waves forced into a the onset of a whirlpool, its formation clearly visible from an avian veiwpoint.
Brandon murmers, "Shit, hang on."
After a light nod for Brandon's benefit, a soft mummer escapes Yosannah's lips - inaudible to anyone save the spirits of the island. Slowly, gradually, the trinket at Yosannah's wrist begins to pulse with an unearthly glow as a blue-grey mist pours from the gem therein. Despite the stormy winds, it coalesces into a shape, a creature, off of their flank.
Brandon continues to fly on, keeping everying intact as much as he can. He dosn't like the whirlpool, and starts to tilt to go faster and away from the pool.
The sea below stirs with something more akin a life of its own with sickening rapidity, the whirlpool becoming more apparent and speeding, a mass of water frothing upwards from the nexus point of it in a slowly bulding cone.
Brandon slides off to the side, angling down towards Arion he moves as fast and hard as he can keeping in mind the wind/rain/shield that he has to deal with. He dosn't like the building, and knows it as an obvious threat. He whispers "He is an Archmage of the Elemental school at the RSS. That thing is big, he is good.. Damn good, tell me what to do."
The creature following after the duo takes on a more solid form now - a great white charger with wings like those of a seraphim. It's nostrils flair against the onslaught of the torrent, wings thrusting in an effort to stay air-born. The creature seems intent on it's target, diving towards the individual below.
Yosannah yells out, "We have to break his concentration before he finishes the spell, it's the only way."
The lightning tapers off suddenly as the rapidly nearing figure redoubles its effort on that below. THe blade in it's hand glimemrs with green fire, the glow of it highlighting the sharp angles of the skull-like visage above. Beneath. THe sea groan and strains upwards...10 feet...20 feet...the whirlpool tapering to a twisted, watery finger still thick and unweildy.
Brandon continues to fly, and as quickly as his training allows while Arion is distracted with his monster. Brandon sends out a tendril from the Sign of the Chaos directly at Arion with a deadly accuracy. He may not be very good at Sorcery right now, but he has a damn good controll of the sign. That and he is gaining on Arion's standing form.
Yosannah's concentration seems determined, her resolve and that of the steed's bound as one. Her will urging the creature forward, decent increasing as seconds pass, knuckles white and her head buried against Brandon's neck.
Proximity brings clarity even through the veil of the storm. Drapped in robed whipped by the the harsh winds the pale figure atop the glowing spire emits no expression; no strain lines the sparse lines of his face, no sneer touches the thin lips, no glare marks his dead glare. But not for the measure runes drawn in wide patterns before him by weaving sword and crooked arm there would be little to distinguish the figure from the litter of broken angels in the courtyard below. Curling upwards in massive coils of sea water the elemental begins to claim a life of it's own, drawing millions of gallons into itself as it reaches upwards towards the wind buffeted pair.
Brandon holds Yo at her knees as she suports herself mostly at his neck. He uses his right arm to swoop his logrus tendril down and sucker punches Arion in the right side going to the left. Once Arion is struck he continues to push into the ground as hard as he can still managing a semi-normal land. He drops Yo's feet to the ground in order to use both his hand for better control.
The winged charger settles near Yosannah, rearing onto its hind legs before the tower upon which Arion stands. She is tossed to the ground, landing on all fours, hair whipping about her face. Lifting her chin over her shoulder she casts a glance to the elemental taking shape in the waters before calling, hand outstretched upward and toward the man, "Arion� Death! You know me - why do you do this?"
With the sudden impact Arion is swept off the tower abruptly...even as Yosannah's question rises upwards to be torn to shreds by the storm.
Brandon trails arion with his hands, watching him . . . wait for it, wait for it. . . Snag, just in time Brandon breaks the fall and eases him to the ground.. Perhaps he waited because he couldn't reach, perhaps he just likes the jeark affect but either way he sets Arion on the ground and holds him there without actually touching him just yet. More a cage of the Logrus...
She holds her breath as Arion falls. Eyes close for a brief moment as he is caught safely as a result of Brandon's efforts. Finally an exhale and what can only be considered a sigh of relief. Abruptly, however, something in her visage changes. Eyes become void of color - filled suddenly with dark nimbus and an energy that is of a new aura. She stands.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, the tumble of Arion's seemingly uncontrolled fall still even as the logrus tengril encasing him slows his descent. Never fully touching gound the pale figure rights itself easily, one needle-tipped spidery claw reaching outward as if to grasp something unseen. Of his other had, and the blade weilded earlier, there is no sign...though the possibility of both being hidden inthe folds of his robe seem not unlikely. Behind, the massive element starts to slowly reorient, having lost its earlier purpose at the point of Arion's fall.
Reaching his hand up, doing his best to pull away from Arion and not get hit with a psycic blast of any sort. Not a chance he wants to take with the adept on the ground like that, he will however risk a quick twap at the shins. Brandon's arm rolls downward in order to strike at Arion's shins, and then if the timing permits pulls the tendril away once more.
The gaunt figure betrays a hint of expression there, the corners of tightly drawn lips drawing down somewhat. The spidery hand begins to pull back as without warning Arion's feet are swept out from underneath him. He strikes the ground with an impact that raises rock dust in plumes quickly torn away by the howling winds. The last of the haze clears from the now supine form, revealing darly glittering eyes in a drawn, skeletal face boring intently into the winged man.
The presence of the elemental is not lost on Yosannah, her peripheral gaze keenly aware of its close proximity. The summoned steed stands nearby, hooves pawing at the ground nervously, its resolve is to remain beside its master - though a beast of similar stature might have fled in this circumstance. When she speaks, her voice is laced with the tonal qualities of another. Two souls speaking from one mouth, "You're confused. Understandable given what has happened." She seems to address Arion, though one might not be certain given the void that fills her gaze. "But Brandon is not your enemy. And you have no qualm with I, your sister."
Upon striking Arion, Brandon looses it. He falls to the ground, his logrus falling from his mind in attempt to break off the mental bashing he is taking from the clearly superior mage. He clutches his head, doing his best to move his mind away from Arion.
With a measured flow of bone and sinew, the convoluted blade snakes from the depths of Arion's robes. With an impossibly long arm he drives it point-first into the ground, using the grotesque level to rise once again. The movement is perhaps not as smoothly performed as it might have been lacking a fall and various bludgeonings, but nevertheless he stands. The slight frown touching the taut lips fades into impassivity as he looks right through Brandon a moment more, turning then with infinate patience to the Other. From the hollows of of awareness comes a voice woven of wind and weather, storm and sibilance. "Confused. Odd, one does not agree with your conjecture Pestilance. Perhaps it is instead you who are disconcerted. This childling attacked me when warned off. There is not one thing that prevents his rending asunder. After all, what is a life worth?" He straightens further while in the distance the elemental shifts and whorls, still regaining its bearings after the sudden seperation from the power giving it life.
Her visage is void of expression. Disposition is collected. She lifts her hand in the direction of the Pegasus creature and the pawing ceases. "The man's presence with me should be sufficient. Release his mind, Death. He will not trouble you further."
Brandon's eyes open wide, as if he was being sufficated. Suffering under Arion's gaze his mind becomes a pile of mush. His arm twitches, tattoo wrigling wildly as Arion's mind presses into his own. A gasp arrrrgh at the pain, twitching more often now. Brandon's black clothes scuff as he wriggles along the ground.
Arion makes no gesture, leaning on a sword that seems almost to writhe with impatience. "One will consider it...he will also no longer trouble me bereft of will. Ever." The wiry figure straightens slightly, relaxing the weight on the sword. "You've obviously gone to the effort of seeking me out. What do you want?"
She inclines her chin in a single nod, "Truth be told, I did not seek you out. They traveled to this shadow to explore. For adventure. As coincidence would have it, your presence woke me from my rest." Her gaze seems to linger on Brandon's form, "That man is an ally of ours. I would have him in possession of all his faculties." A smile seems to linger on the corners of her lips, "He is one of the few that past the Serpent's test. Worthy of my amity. And yours."
The fluxing has subsided, A Lord of Chaos reduced to a pile of mush on the ground. His mouth opens and his eyes roll up to look at Arion and Pestilence.. No words.
If Arion is impressed or influenced by the Other he makes no show. Overlayed on the skeletal figure is the essence of Death. There seems to be no...seperation. He/she speaks with the voice of sleeting rain and rolling thunder. "One does not see this. The childling is spared for no other reason than your request, and this one's whim." There is a silent pause as Arion/Death turns to regard the prone figure.
The steed strides toward Brandon, dipping her head and nudging at the man's limp form.
Brandon's lips purse at the Steed, his eyes open recovering fairly quickly considering. He dosn't get up; however, he does roll to look at Yosannah and Arion. His eyes drop to Arion's feet, a solom bow. Or at least as much as he can for the moment.
"It is possible, you realize, that you may be hunted in this form." A blink. Slow and deliberate, "If we were able to find you, others will certainly be on our heels." She reaches a hand into the inner folds of her jacket and retrieves a deck of tarots. She fishes through them as she speaks, gentle tones interlaced with those of an old soul - profound and mellow, "We must make arrangements."
Arion appears non-plussed. "Perhaps you forget. One was found before only when one was ready to be found. It is difficult to hunt the tree, the crow, the wind, the stone. Joachim would disagree with your concern one thinks, as would Magritte, Kreeasarii...a host of others that caress unknowing sleepers and feed freely from the most vigilant."
She settles on a card and the remaining tarots are returned to the recesses of her jacket. She extends the token to him, flipping it in her fingers as she does, "As always, your confidence does little to stay my concerns. Take this. In the event that you need my aid. Would that I had the likenesses of the others, but I do not."
Brandon resumes his posture of laying on the ground, still now the lord reserves his strength.
Against the backdrop of the terrible storm the three figures appear as nigh insignificant, perched precariously on a weathered rocky plain that even now erodes inch by inch into the hungry ocean. Towering in the near distance a column of living sea melds ocean and sky in a helix of raging water, an elemental grown to full power and reveling in the storm. The robed figure of Arion hesitates only a moment before retrieving the offered token. "Perhaps you should depart soon. Deprived of the violence inherit in its nature, the elemental will seek to test my will. It should be...educational. Perhaps I will feed it the storm..."
At his words, the nimbus that filled the woman's almond eyes quickly spills from their depths. Black fading to gray. Gray fading to green. Pestilence resumes her slumber within the confines of Yosannah's being. For the woman's part, she casts a weary glance in Arion's direction before moving to Brandon. She kneels before him and reaches a hand to his forehead.
Brandon's eyes open for Yosannah's touch, his brow is cold and furrowed from the pain that was so great in his head. "Is it time to go?" he wonders aloud, head still upon the ground.
Yosannah smiles at the man, "Yes, Brandon. You did well tonight. Rest your head." With that she extends her right hand, reaching toward the steed. The creature tosses its head at the woman as it begins to dissolve, fading back toward and into the trinket at her wrist.
Arion no longers resides in the realm of flesh and stone, awareness directed upwards to encompass the fury of the sky...
Yosannah offers a final sidelong glance in Arion's direction and then out over the waters and the creature that looms above them. She slides a card from her pockets, clasps Brandon's arm with her free hand and begins to focus on the image...