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No Way Home
Sep. 29th, 2015 06:47 pmHe seeps in through the imperceptible seams around the crystal window. The oily purple smoke he currently inhabits the form of swirling in agitation around the second floor of his tower, unable to bring himself into cohesive physical form from sheer anger.
That anger manifests outwards when the form of air changes to that of fire. Ixis Naugus screams his fury and frustration, flames flowing over his room in waves, consuming everything in the room that isn't stone. Books, parchment, blankets all catch fire, collateral damage in the mage's supreme outrage.
But the flames soon weaken, gutter, die. Everything is scorched black all around him but he couldn't care less. He is left defeated, falling to his knees, his staff slipping from his hand and clattering to the ground.
There is no way home. His Mobius is gone. He doesn't know how, but the doctor's done it. Reality is rewritten and he is locked out of it. Trapped. Exiled.
His anger has dissipated with the flames and Ixis Naugus just slumps further to the floor in despair.
That anger manifests outwards when the form of air changes to that of fire. Ixis Naugus screams his fury and frustration, flames flowing over his room in waves, consuming everything in the room that isn't stone. Books, parchment, blankets all catch fire, collateral damage in the mage's supreme outrage.
But the flames soon weaken, gutter, die. Everything is scorched black all around him but he couldn't care less. He is left defeated, falling to his knees, his staff slipping from his hand and clattering to the ground.
There is no way home. His Mobius is gone. He doesn't know how, but the doctor's done it. Reality is rewritten and he is locked out of it. Trapped. Exiled.
His anger has dissipated with the flames and Ixis Naugus just slumps further to the floor in despair.
Homemaking
Aug. 13th, 2015 03:37 pmThe map Verity had given him leads to a humble, if run-down, stone house. Undisturbed by the vacant and possibly dilapidated venue, the mage steps inside, gazing about, sizing it up. The look and the make of it doesn’t matter; these are merely building blocks for his craft.
It will do well.
Stepping to the center of the living room, kicking aside dust and detritus, his staff is brought to bear. The chaos emerald glows, at first faintly, then growing in intensity. Making a gesture with folded fingers, Ixis Naugus gestures outward, exhaling slowly at the same time.
The stone shift, the bricks crack, the mortar crumbles. Another sweeping gesture and it all melds together into one cohesive wall of earth with a dry snap. Turning slowly, arm held outstretched, the rest of the walls follow suit. The shifting and changing splinters and pops the wooden doorjamb and window frames, falling useless and shattered to the floor.
The building grows. Pulling from the soil the very foundation is set upon, it stretches towards the sky, material creeping and crawling to thicken and heighten walls. Inside, more intricate earthshaping takes place; stairs, floors, shelves, tables, chairs, formed from the very stone.
The stone finally settles, stopping its transformation once it’s taken the form of something closer to a tower; three stories, solid dark stone, one open door and a scattering of holes as windows. Now the second part.
Naugus gestures anew, his staff glowing brighter still. The doors and windows grow an emerald, glass-like spiderweb, slowly filling in. Soon enclosed by green crystal; faceted, opaque and shining. Finishing touches inside follow: a chandelier made of the same crystal, sconces given arcane flame to provide light, seams of gemwork added to the stone to aid its strength.
As the last fixture, he kneels and draws with the tip of his claw using wide, sweeping motions. Rather than scratches or displaced dust, his claw is followed by lines of that green crystal. A mystic sigil is soon etched into the middle of the floor.
Standing once more, Naugus surveys his handiwork thus far.
It will do well.
It will indeed do well.
It will do well.
Stepping to the center of the living room, kicking aside dust and detritus, his staff is brought to bear. The chaos emerald glows, at first faintly, then growing in intensity. Making a gesture with folded fingers, Ixis Naugus gestures outward, exhaling slowly at the same time.
The stone shift, the bricks crack, the mortar crumbles. Another sweeping gesture and it all melds together into one cohesive wall of earth with a dry snap. Turning slowly, arm held outstretched, the rest of the walls follow suit. The shifting and changing splinters and pops the wooden doorjamb and window frames, falling useless and shattered to the floor.
The building grows. Pulling from the soil the very foundation is set upon, it stretches towards the sky, material creeping and crawling to thicken and heighten walls. Inside, more intricate earthshaping takes place; stairs, floors, shelves, tables, chairs, formed from the very stone.
The stone finally settles, stopping its transformation once it’s taken the form of something closer to a tower; three stories, solid dark stone, one open door and a scattering of holes as windows. Now the second part.
Naugus gestures anew, his staff glowing brighter still. The doors and windows grow an emerald, glass-like spiderweb, slowly filling in. Soon enclosed by green crystal; faceted, opaque and shining. Finishing touches inside follow: a chandelier made of the same crystal, sconces given arcane flame to provide light, seams of gemwork added to the stone to aid its strength.
As the last fixture, he kneels and draws with the tip of his claw using wide, sweeping motions. Rather than scratches or displaced dust, his claw is followed by lines of that green crystal. A mystic sigil is soon etched into the middle of the floor.
Standing once more, Naugus surveys his handiwork thus far.
It will do well.
It will indeed do well.
