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sparkindarknessWords cannot describe how much this THING killed me. I hate hate hate it. I've re-written it 10 thousand times and I hate each version more than the last *kicks it*
But it's done and it's being posted so I don't have to look at it until I am drunk. So there :P
And to think, I used to like the fight scenes. It just seems... dry and boring and wordy which it really really shouldn't be. And there are too many adjectives. And it's too detached
Grrr, I need to re-write it
I paused, for several long moments I was paralysed by shock - Doyle, an elder, had acknowledged me? My world shook a little, for a brief, glorious second I considered that Camaalis may actually be sincere. they may want me back. My family may welcome me home.
I jerked myself into the here and now. It would hardly matter if Kyernath left no home to return to. Though, in truth, I didn’t expect much. It was too soon for Kyernath to launch as major attack, he was too far away to bring much power to the fight and Camaalis too strong here. This was a feint, a test an attack on the wards alone, perhaps. That was my hope, at least.
“Caoimhe, the wards are damaged. They need reinforcing - stability, growth, life, protection.” Caoimhe was a White Mage, the very opposite of a Sorcerer. She was stability and life and growth and purity. She was the essence of all things light and pure and good. She gave a me an icy, frosty look, dark blue eyes chips of darkest ice. Slowly, she nodded her head and opened herself to her power.
My skin crawled as her power flowed over me. I fought desperately not to send my Sorcery outwards, fought not to mix my power with her’s. It was beautiful, it was glorious, it rolled over me like the feel of silk and the taste of honey, so soft, so sweet, so pure and wonderful. I recognised it, I could almost understand it, I could feel it as kin to my powers, so desperately similar. But it was wrong, there was a discord, everything was written backwards, it was all mirrored. I felt I could stare at it for eternity, revel in it and almost understand it - almost but never quite. It felt more amazing than anything I could imagine yet at the same time it was bitingly uncomfortable and painfully wrong - exhilarating and dangerous, painful and rapturous. Almost unbidden my power came forth, I couldn’t stop it, it was called from deep within me.
I took a step back and another... quickly I put space between us. I had a brief glimpse of her face, eyes wide, shock and horror reflected in them before I closed my eyes and turned my back. Slowly I shut out her power. Eyes still close I concentrated on the battle, trying to ignore the lingering feel of power that still coated my skin with goose bumps.
“Ieuan, can you channel her stability and empower the wards?” I opened my eyes to see his reluctant nod. His eyes, dark as my own, blazed with poorly contained rage. I stepped away from him, almost without thinking, even after all these years I had not forgotten his power or his fury. He was a master of all the Elements, a True Elementalist. Let Kyernath try to destroy the wards empowered by Ieuan, let him try to destroy the very elements themselves.
“Darren!” I jerked around, Rick was pointing... I blinked. I could see his hand, but not where it was pointing - it was pointing at a direction that didn’t exist. My eyes couldn’t grasp it and started to water, my head ached trying to understand it. I took a quick breath and stopped trying, let me see with my instincts and senses behind my eyes rather than my physical vision - I felt the veils between worlds weakening, saw the portals opening, bridges between worlds forming where Rick ‘pointed‘.
I felt the worlds they reached. Realms of the dead. Realms of the Infernal. Realms I knew only too well. I was impressed - Kyernath could open this many portals - these portals - from across the Atlantic? I shivered - I couldn’t imagine how that was done, not from this distance. Again, I refocused. The battle at hand...
“Can you close those portals?” I asked, focusing with Necromancy and Infernalism, I outlined the gateways that worried me with power, making them pulse and shine unmistakably to any Cleric.
“Yes, we can close them and keep them closed.” Nikolai already had the distant look of a Shaman in his power.
“Fuck, we can?” Rick yelped.
“Sure we can.” Cerys was laughing, but her dark eyes were already focused beyond. “Let us lead.”
“What about them?” Nikolai’s own power outlined more weaknesses. His edging was green and white and red and shining while mine was dark and glittered and shifted in deep, solid colours. Stained and tainted next to his bright and pure light.
“They are mine,” I smiled, only vaguely aware of the Shamans backing away from me. “Except that one,” one of the portals gleamed red with my power. “Ahrimadan?”
“Master Darren?”
“I have some toys for you. Go play.” I smiled as Ahrimadan leaped through the portal. I was an Infernalist, I could feel the denizens beyond the portal. I felt the daemons on the other side, powerful creatures from infernal realms most people couldn’t even imagine. I felt their hunger, their eagerness to cross their barrier, their thirst for the slaughter they would commit. I felt their surprise as Ahrimadan joined them - then there was only fear and pain and horror.
I have heard people describe the concept of overkill, but never quite grasped it myself.
The other portals were open now, portals to the realms of the dead releasing spectres, wraths and incorporeal dead of all kinds into the realm of the living. I was a Necromancer, the dead held few fears for me. I didn’t try to command them, or destroy them, there were too many and under the command of Kyernath for that.
But they didn’t belong here. they were drawing power from the realms of the dead to exist here, to manifest here, to be a power here. I was a Necromancer, master of that power - I pulled it from them, weakened them, spreading their power back across the realms.
Power flared to my left, lightning flashed from a clear sky. Weakened, the undead were easily crushed by the assembled Camaalis. I felt Kyernath’s power roar downwards, a freezing, itching blanket of magic to force open the portals, to return his minion’s power. The magic parted and wavered, Kyernath was too far and the wards were too strong. Doyle stood surrounded by the trappings of ritual and connections, chanting whole sentences of the Word to direct the wards. The ancient lines of power bound into the land flowed like water, they danced to his every command and gesture slashing aside any reinforcement Kyernath could send.
We were winning. Kyernath wasn’t strong enough, not yet, not to take us here. I smiled, I wasn’t even sure myself if it was triumphant or relieved.
“Caomihe!” I heard Ieuan yell. I turned, already running to them. Caomihe was on her knees, both hands to her neck, her breath was rasping in her throat. She was pale, her eyes were wide with panic. I grabbed her arm, for once ignoring Ieuan’s furious presence.
Death. Kyernath was willing her to die. He was stealing her breath, stopping her heart, leeching her heat. There was no one cause of death - it was simply death. If she hadn’t have been a White Mage, she would have been dead already, dead and cold before her body even hit the floor.
I acted on instinct. I recognised Kyernath’s power and called it to me, pulled it into me. I felt Kyernath’s eagerness, turning his attention from Caomihe to me. The power pulled out of her, clinging and thick and settled on my in an unclean layer. Death. My lungs clogged, my throat closed, my heart slowed. Death. The world began to fade, my eyes dimming. Death, my skin was cold and stiff, it felt plastic and fake. I didn’t fight it, I let the power roll over me. I welcomed it, absorbed like water on desert sand.
And let my Necromancy meet it, already charged with the underworld energy permeating the air. I didn’t breath, my heart had stopped and my skin was cold. I died.
My vision cleared in perfect clarity. My lips twisted in a chilly smile. Kyernath’s power still poured into me, his senses dulled by distances and the wards that still duelled with him, his skills deflected by Caomihe’s White Magic and the might of the Elements hammering down. I drank the power and he strained to throw more at me. It was death and I was its avatar and I was empowered. Too late, kyernath realised what was happening and tried to withdraw, struggling to pull back against my pull, foundering blind and lost in the wards.
I took the power and sent it out. I felt Ahrimadan exult in the rush of energy, carving through Kyernath’s minions with ecstatic ferocity. I felt the legions of spectral undead that still welled forth. I crushed the power round them, controlling them, empowering them, claiming them. Kyernath’s hold on them shattered and with this power rush, his minions were mine.
The portals were closing. Ahrimadan emerged from his conquered and claimed portal and stood ready, purring thunderously, to leap into another. I gathered the undead to send them back, to claim the portals still being fought over. There was no need, Kyernath withdrew from the fight his portals closing and stablising as his presence left. The battle was won.
I took a deep rattling breath, heat returned to my body, though the effort left me shaking. The line between life and death may be blurry for a Necromancer, but it was still difficult to cross. I staggered, falling to my knees and only quick hands stopped me falling on my face. I thought it was Rick, before I realised I was shrouded in long, shining red hair, my last sight before I surrendered to the fatigue that dragged me like lead weights.
I had to stop dying, it near killed me every time.
But it's done and it's being posted so I don't have to look at it until I am drunk. So there :P
And to think, I used to like the fight scenes. It just seems... dry and boring and wordy which it really really shouldn't be. And there are too many adjectives. And it's too detached
Grrr, I need to re-write it
I paused, for several long moments I was paralysed by shock - Doyle, an elder, had acknowledged me? My world shook a little, for a brief, glorious second I considered that Camaalis may actually be sincere. they may want me back. My family may welcome me home.
I jerked myself into the here and now. It would hardly matter if Kyernath left no home to return to. Though, in truth, I didn’t expect much. It was too soon for Kyernath to launch as major attack, he was too far away to bring much power to the fight and Camaalis too strong here. This was a feint, a test an attack on the wards alone, perhaps. That was my hope, at least.
“Caoimhe, the wards are damaged. They need reinforcing - stability, growth, life, protection.” Caoimhe was a White Mage, the very opposite of a Sorcerer. She was stability and life and growth and purity. She was the essence of all things light and pure and good. She gave a me an icy, frosty look, dark blue eyes chips of darkest ice. Slowly, she nodded her head and opened herself to her power.
My skin crawled as her power flowed over me. I fought desperately not to send my Sorcery outwards, fought not to mix my power with her’s. It was beautiful, it was glorious, it rolled over me like the feel of silk and the taste of honey, so soft, so sweet, so pure and wonderful. I recognised it, I could almost understand it, I could feel it as kin to my powers, so desperately similar. But it was wrong, there was a discord, everything was written backwards, it was all mirrored. I felt I could stare at it for eternity, revel in it and almost understand it - almost but never quite. It felt more amazing than anything I could imagine yet at the same time it was bitingly uncomfortable and painfully wrong - exhilarating and dangerous, painful and rapturous. Almost unbidden my power came forth, I couldn’t stop it, it was called from deep within me.
I took a step back and another... quickly I put space between us. I had a brief glimpse of her face, eyes wide, shock and horror reflected in them before I closed my eyes and turned my back. Slowly I shut out her power. Eyes still close I concentrated on the battle, trying to ignore the lingering feel of power that still coated my skin with goose bumps.
“Ieuan, can you channel her stability and empower the wards?” I opened my eyes to see his reluctant nod. His eyes, dark as my own, blazed with poorly contained rage. I stepped away from him, almost without thinking, even after all these years I had not forgotten his power or his fury. He was a master of all the Elements, a True Elementalist. Let Kyernath try to destroy the wards empowered by Ieuan, let him try to destroy the very elements themselves.
“Darren!” I jerked around, Rick was pointing... I blinked. I could see his hand, but not where it was pointing - it was pointing at a direction that didn’t exist. My eyes couldn’t grasp it and started to water, my head ached trying to understand it. I took a quick breath and stopped trying, let me see with my instincts and senses behind my eyes rather than my physical vision - I felt the veils between worlds weakening, saw the portals opening, bridges between worlds forming where Rick ‘pointed‘.
I felt the worlds they reached. Realms of the dead. Realms of the Infernal. Realms I knew only too well. I was impressed - Kyernath could open this many portals - these portals - from across the Atlantic? I shivered - I couldn’t imagine how that was done, not from this distance. Again, I refocused. The battle at hand...
“Can you close those portals?” I asked, focusing with Necromancy and Infernalism, I outlined the gateways that worried me with power, making them pulse and shine unmistakably to any Cleric.
“Yes, we can close them and keep them closed.” Nikolai already had the distant look of a Shaman in his power.
“Fuck, we can?” Rick yelped.
“Sure we can.” Cerys was laughing, but her dark eyes were already focused beyond. “Let us lead.”
“What about them?” Nikolai’s own power outlined more weaknesses. His edging was green and white and red and shining while mine was dark and glittered and shifted in deep, solid colours. Stained and tainted next to his bright and pure light.
“They are mine,” I smiled, only vaguely aware of the Shamans backing away from me. “Except that one,” one of the portals gleamed red with my power. “Ahrimadan?”
“Master Darren?”
“I have some toys for you. Go play.” I smiled as Ahrimadan leaped through the portal. I was an Infernalist, I could feel the denizens beyond the portal. I felt the daemons on the other side, powerful creatures from infernal realms most people couldn’t even imagine. I felt their hunger, their eagerness to cross their barrier, their thirst for the slaughter they would commit. I felt their surprise as Ahrimadan joined them - then there was only fear and pain and horror.
I have heard people describe the concept of overkill, but never quite grasped it myself.
The other portals were open now, portals to the realms of the dead releasing spectres, wraths and incorporeal dead of all kinds into the realm of the living. I was a Necromancer, the dead held few fears for me. I didn’t try to command them, or destroy them, there were too many and under the command of Kyernath for that.
But they didn’t belong here. they were drawing power from the realms of the dead to exist here, to manifest here, to be a power here. I was a Necromancer, master of that power - I pulled it from them, weakened them, spreading their power back across the realms.
Power flared to my left, lightning flashed from a clear sky. Weakened, the undead were easily crushed by the assembled Camaalis. I felt Kyernath’s power roar downwards, a freezing, itching blanket of magic to force open the portals, to return his minion’s power. The magic parted and wavered, Kyernath was too far and the wards were too strong. Doyle stood surrounded by the trappings of ritual and connections, chanting whole sentences of the Word to direct the wards. The ancient lines of power bound into the land flowed like water, they danced to his every command and gesture slashing aside any reinforcement Kyernath could send.
We were winning. Kyernath wasn’t strong enough, not yet, not to take us here. I smiled, I wasn’t even sure myself if it was triumphant or relieved.
“Caomihe!” I heard Ieuan yell. I turned, already running to them. Caomihe was on her knees, both hands to her neck, her breath was rasping in her throat. She was pale, her eyes were wide with panic. I grabbed her arm, for once ignoring Ieuan’s furious presence.
Death. Kyernath was willing her to die. He was stealing her breath, stopping her heart, leeching her heat. There was no one cause of death - it was simply death. If she hadn’t have been a White Mage, she would have been dead already, dead and cold before her body even hit the floor.
I acted on instinct. I recognised Kyernath’s power and called it to me, pulled it into me. I felt Kyernath’s eagerness, turning his attention from Caomihe to me. The power pulled out of her, clinging and thick and settled on my in an unclean layer. Death. My lungs clogged, my throat closed, my heart slowed. Death. The world began to fade, my eyes dimming. Death, my skin was cold and stiff, it felt plastic and fake. I didn’t fight it, I let the power roll over me. I welcomed it, absorbed like water on desert sand.
And let my Necromancy meet it, already charged with the underworld energy permeating the air. I didn’t breath, my heart had stopped and my skin was cold. I died.
My vision cleared in perfect clarity. My lips twisted in a chilly smile. Kyernath’s power still poured into me, his senses dulled by distances and the wards that still duelled with him, his skills deflected by Caomihe’s White Magic and the might of the Elements hammering down. I drank the power and he strained to throw more at me. It was death and I was its avatar and I was empowered. Too late, kyernath realised what was happening and tried to withdraw, struggling to pull back against my pull, foundering blind and lost in the wards.
I took the power and sent it out. I felt Ahrimadan exult in the rush of energy, carving through Kyernath’s minions with ecstatic ferocity. I felt the legions of spectral undead that still welled forth. I crushed the power round them, controlling them, empowering them, claiming them. Kyernath’s hold on them shattered and with this power rush, his minions were mine.
The portals were closing. Ahrimadan emerged from his conquered and claimed portal and stood ready, purring thunderously, to leap into another. I gathered the undead to send them back, to claim the portals still being fought over. There was no need, Kyernath withdrew from the fight his portals closing and stablising as his presence left. The battle was won.
I took a deep rattling breath, heat returned to my body, though the effort left me shaking. The line between life and death may be blurry for a Necromancer, but it was still difficult to cross. I staggered, falling to my knees and only quick hands stopped me falling on my face. I thought it was Rick, before I realised I was shrouded in long, shining red hair, my last sight before I surrendered to the fatigue that dragged me like lead weights.
I had to stop dying, it near killed me every time.