Round
3
Frank grinned, his hands behind his back. The Trial had
begun, and he could hardly wait.
This
is going to be freakin' awesome! Kitty
agreed with him, already prepped and more than ready to receive the
event.
The Trial was everything he wanted it to be. Taking a
seat, he scanned the amphitheater, created from transmuted materials
just for this very event. That night a Barrier had been raised
around the entirety of Rancho Cucamanga, taking advantage of the
majority slumbering, timing it with the emptiness of the freeway to
set the Barrier and pinching the entire area off of base reality.
Such an undertaking was necessary, due to the nature of the criminal.
An S-class criminal, beyond even the A rankings, with a history of
murder, dealing with demons, deception, treachery, and with more
skill in Illusion Magia than any known magus today.
Frank's grin turned into a bloodthirsty smile. It was
the perfect trap, set for the perfect criminal.
The amphitheater, set in the parking lot of the Ontario
Mills mall, was an impressive bit of architecture, fashioned from
purest marble and onyx, the rows themselves built of purest silver.
Magi gathered from all seven major houses, each one taking up a slab
of the amphitheater in a line from the ground up: the leaders sat
closest to the ground in order to react to the first sign of trouble.
At the dead center of the amphitheater was a small disc
of silver, and in a circle the Council and the Grand Magus of the
Order would stand, hearing all who would speak within the Trial
before casting their judgment.
It was here, in the ring formed by the greatest human
magi, that the true Trial would take place. All who wished to speak
must have permission to enter, and the Council acted and judged
through the Artifact thrones they sat on, connecting their minds and
souls together to allow for instantaneous decision-making and
reaction. It was whispered that the Grand Magus, alone, could
counter-act them though there was no record of this ever happening.
Of course normally the Grand Magus acted alone, despite
the presence of the Darkwatch, as was his leisure. For the arrival
of such a dangerous criminal all seven houses had brought their most
powerful, the seven leaders, Darkwatch and Grand Magus all to sit
upon their thrones.
The Council of Nine had convened, and looking at the silver disc, Frank couldn't be happier.
From all seven "sides" of the amphitheater
they came, the recognized strongest and wisest of each House, each
walking the distance from the amphitheater seating to their throne.
Kitty, keeping his senses open and aware of as much movement as
possible, ticked them off within Frank's head:
Valken.
Of all the houses they are counted the most dangerous, and it is
whispered that Ol' Leggy Jerry is going to attempt a coup and become
the next Dawnguard. Due to the methods of their training and the
rigorous mental prowess, they are the ones who trains the Orders'
assassins and guardsmen. On the other hand, they have a further
greater form that is damn near direct brainwashing. They are
powerful in water, earth, illusory, charm schools of magic as well as
mesmerism, but it's well-known that their "training" is
hypnosis combined with Darkness magia, which isn't illegal but IS
frowned upon.
Kitty
noted with interest, Jerome
is sitting in the throne, but I don't see his little brother
anywhere, who should be here as his Second.
Ignore
it,
Frank responded, his eyes locked onto Jerome as the man took his
seat, as always wearing the resplendent cloak and clothing of his
station, Just
give me the rest. I want to make sure none of them pull any
surprises tonight.
An elderly man swathed in silk robes sat down gingerly,
a staff of iron so cold it radiated with a chilling, blue aura.
Settling himself, he gazed about with clear eyes, his craggy face
hidden by massive white mustaches. Removing his hat, he mopped at
his bald pate with a handkerchief and set it back into his
cream-colored robes, letting go of the staff where it remained rooted
to the floor.
Darius,
of the Tremor House. They specialize in Fire, Air, and Light Magia.
Darius himself is also a well-known and respected Alchemical
doctorate, and is one of the few Advanced Alchemists known. He's
supposedly in the Grand Magus's pocket, and is known for being
difficultly agreeable when confronted. Though the Grand Magus cannot
claim any house, the Tremor House is supposedly his alma mater, for
all that neither will confirm it. Due to their ferocity and
expertise in alchemy, they're the ipso-facto rulers amongst the
Houses and are considered the "Judgment House," keeping
balance between the other six.
A young woman, her face and form suggesting
functionality over beauty, sat down lightly on her throne. Wearing a
pair of light cream-colored trousers and an even lighter brown
blouse, her dark hair had been hacked viciously short, the back of
her head and sides shaved down. Though she was far from the beauty
his Vorel was, every part of her promised exquisite physical prowess.
For a moment the taste of her cream-colored, lightly freckled skin
grazed his memories and Frank withheld a chuckle as her royal
purple-colored eyes shifted to him, quick and unnerving in their
intimacy. The only one of the Council who was truly youthful, Frank
was finally able to remember the details only a split-second before
Kitty did. Out of all of them, it was Elliemae Ra'zer that he was
truly afraid of, if only because of how she was able to cut to the
heart of any matter...even better than he himself did.
Elliemae
Ra'zer. Combat Magia specialists who are incredibly ferocious,
violent, vicious, and just plain mean. They send their people to the
Valken House for the final stages of their guards' training, though
it's just to reinforce the viciousness that's already there. They're
the best known Enhancers, weaving magic spells into items for a bit
of time, almost like Artificing only the effects are only temporary
and nowhere near as strong. Elliemae was once your greatest
competitor in the realm of Artificing, and is known for being
especially cruel in how she applies Combat, Defense, and even Support
Magia. She's one of the few people who never learned Elemental Magia
during Crucible basic training, and the only person better than her
with a weapon here is you, possibly the Darkwatch and the Grand
Magus. She's also the youngest leader of a house ever, having bested
her own father at the age of 14 in a critical duel, nigh on ten years
ago. You apparently had some relations with her five years ago, and
she's one of the few people on this planet who knows about me. That
is not a coincidence. Out of anyone here, only she has the charisma
and ability to resurrect the War Party, with you gone from the Order.
Strangely enough, she has not, probably out of sentiment...except
she's her, y'know? Simple sentiment doesn't cut it.
An exquisite woman sat down on one of the thrones,
crossing her shapely legs. Neither too muscular nor too thin, her
body was as full as she herself was ravishing from head to toe.
Long, red hair cascade down her back in waves, as clean as her
olive-tanned skin. Lustrous, large green eyes gazed through thick
eyelashes, and the only bit of makeup the woman wore revealed itself
with her perfectly-applied red lipstick, her lips full and generous.
Gazing about lazily at the others, she sighed and placed
a sharp-nailed hand against her heaving bosom, her entire body
covered in bits of black, leather straps, in what could be considered
a semblance of a dress, though a noticeably tight one that still
showed off plenty of her well-toned, tanned flesh.
A flash of a smile that never touched her eyes flitted
across her beautiful features as she locked eyes with Frank,
challenging him to a game of wills. Instead of rising to the bait he
immediately shifted his gaze to the next councilmember, ignoring her
delectable pout and the interesting stirring sit provoked from him.
DeFerens,
the only House whose specialties aren't publicly known. They're
practically all over the place, and no two DeFerens will sport the
same specialties and basics. They're also the only house here
outside who has two known representatives: the young woman you see
sitting on the throne and the Darkwatch, naturally. Little is known
about them and they prefer it that way. They are strong allies of
Masaharu and Tremor, for all that Tremor publicly hates them.
Hedonists, every last one of them. That is Melisande DeFerens,
mother of Magus Dawn Tanelin and far-removed niece of Darkwatch
DeFerens himself. It's rumored that she's a practitioner of every
single Magia known, and may not be completely human which would
explain that anomaly. No human can master more than five Magia at a
time without blowing their head up, y'know? I apparently had some
relations with her five years ago, and she hasn't a clue about me.
You're happy with that coincidence, she was happy with your prowess,
I still don't remember sleeping with her and you STILL won't share
those memories with me.
Frank chuckled at that and ignored the implication that
he should share them with Kitty in the near future.
On the fifth throne a truly nondescript man sat down,
his gaze wary and hawkish as he sized up the other six before calmly
looking at Frank. Of middling height and age, he was the one who
reeked the most of magic, his aura practically spilling random
elemental spells onto the ground. Neither handsome nor ugly, his two
most noticeable features were a beakish, hawklike nose and graying
sideburns that faded into majestically black hair, slicked back and
cut at the neck. Dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a simple,
button-up shirt, the man looked practically outlandish in comparison
to the other Councilmembers.
Mauser,
pure Elementalists, their game is ever and only Elemental Magia. The
only handlers of Plasma Magia known outside of the Grand Magus, and
there are no Advanced Plasma spells. You either learn it or you
don't, apparently. They're very straightforward and are counted as
being staunchly supportive and loyal to the Orders' directives.
Strangely enough, their brand of over-specialization in Elemental
Magia makes them very dependable in a fight though not predictable,
whether it be long-range or even melee, though they're not as good as
the Enhancers of Combat Magia. That man there is Gerard Mauser, and
he is an absolute fiend at just about anything he does...which is so
weird considering how sneaky the bastard can be. Almost figured me
out during a panty raid on their House Mansion, and he still suspects
I'm with you to this day. He's also gifted with a natural
Aura-sight, his eyes extremely discerning even before the Mage
training. Dangerous, but nowhere near as dangerous as the others -
he prefers to think up a plan first, THEN acts on it.
The sixth Council member was an older woman who sat
levitating two feet above the seat of her throne, her legs crossed in
a classic lotus position. Whereas the other Councilmembers were
relatively in their physical prime, either by natural or occult
means, she ran to fat quickly, her hair a fringe of silver around her
bald pate. At the moment her eyes were closed, but Frank remembered
that they were silver by nature and quick to glare at anything even
remotely associated with himself, though not due to any actions of
his own but, rather, his nature as an Esper.
House
d'Balthazar, well-known sages who rock at scrying, forecasting,
basically any Magia that crosses with Psionics. They're also noted
for alchemy, research of all Magia and experimentation, and are
pretty much the Order's historians, bookworms, and scribes. They are
not to be underestimated - they have proven themselves time and time
again as being just as good combatants as any other House outside of
Ra'zer. Because of how important they are to the research and
development side of the Order, they are highly respected. Ethel
d'Balthazar there pretty much lives up to the trope to a T, and is
the best freakin' Librarian we've ever met. She was also a terror to
us when we were teaching here, mainly 'cuz she hates the Internet and
we're, y'know, actually a psionic whereas she needs spells to do what
we do naturally. If only she understood the terror of Burnout...
The last one to take their seat was one that took him by
honest surprise.
Frank hated surprises.
Masaharu,
known for Interdimensional, Conjuration, and Banishment Magia.
Despite how specialized they are they are considered incredibly
powerful, not just for those particular schools but in how they can
use them offensively and defensively, ways that no one outside of the
Masaharu House can use. Outside of yourself they are the foremost
leaders in Interdimensional Magia and all-related subjects. They're
also incredibly loyal to the Grand Magus but were especially counted
as allies of yours, since you helped clear thier names during that
little faux pas when you were Darkwatch. Much like House DeFerens,
they don't really mingle well with other Houses and normally keep to
themselves.
Frank,
I haven't a clue who that is though!
The last time he had checked with the House of Masaharu,
an elderly patron, good-natured and kind despite his open alliance
with the War Party, led them with a kind and wise hand, a man full of
secrets.
The woman who took the throne in the name of Masaharu was no one he had ever seen before. Her hair tied and pinned into a loose bun with a pair of golden picks, the magelight did little to hide the strangely luminescent shine to it, a color so black it bordered on purple. Though she wore loose clothing, white bandages peeking out from a loosely-belted tunic of soft, silver material suggesting either a breast binding or a strange form of fashion statement and dark leggings, she strode with the gracefulness of a dancer, her body lithe and gracefully muscular. No jewelry or makeup adorned her features, and the freckles that lightly dusted the bridge of her nose and cheeks were without enhancement. Every part of her smelled completely mundane, though wonderful, to him.
And that actually scared him - unlike the other six,
there wasn't a single ounce of discernible magic about her. In fact,
every single type of sight he possessed didn't catch a single slip of
any of the four known types of energy from her.
It was as if she wasn't there at all.
The woman took her throne and, crossing her legs at the
knee, gazed directly and intently at him, her eyes only half-opened.
For a moment, Frank felt dizzy as he spied violet eyes behind the
thick fringe of eyelashes, only to realize they were both red – no
less a shockingly inhuman color as violet, but at least it was one he
could deal with.
Choking back a frown he watched as the thrones
activated, the Artifact merging their consciousness into a hive-mind,
a gestalt that took their individual thought processes and balanced,
weighed, and judged using them.
The Grand Magus grinned wickedly as he stepped beyond
the ring made by the Council, the Darkwatch DeFerens by his side,
both clothed to befit their stations. The Darkwatch wore the black
catsuit, wide-brimmed, floppy point black hat as well as jet-black
pauldrons on his shoulders, lined with onyx and draping a simple,
black cloak that barely brushed the ground, covering his back
entirely. The Grand Magus wore the full regalia of his exalted
calling, his own exquisite robes of crimson and gold, worth more than
any five countries combined, hidden underneath a magnificent cloak of
purest silver thread, his own pauldrons of jet and gold sloping
downwards to cover his upper arms as well.
Both of them reeked with enough magic to cause a minor
anomaly, if not for the reality-enforcing nature of the pocket
dimension set up within and around the amphitheater.
The thrones deactivated and Jerome immediately slouched,
looking aside and growling aloud in a bored monotone, "I speak
for the Nine, and this Trial is to begin. You will not be killed
outright, and will be presented with a chance to defend your case,"
he offered a grimace towards the Grand Magus, his teeth clenched as
he growled out, "such as it is."
Frank grinned and held up a gloved hand, pointing
directly at the Legatus, "I call you forth, Jerome Valken, to
stand before the Circle."
A loud murmur arose from the assemblage as Jerome, startled of his reverie, blurted aloud, "H...what? Me? What madness is THIS, Todd?!"
"You have been called forth, Magus Valken,"
the Grand Magus rumbled deep in his throat, his shaggy brows covering
his eyes as he closed them, "Even a Councilmember must stand and
submit upon the dais when called."
"That's outrageous," the Legatus growled,
slamming a fist against the arm of his throne.
Darkwatch
DeFerens took a step forward, smiling lazily, his eyes sleepy as he
murmured loud enough to be heard by the magical amplification, "Do
you deny the Grand Magus and the Council, Legatus Valken? Will you
not take the stand and commit yourself to the geas?"
Valken's glower shifted in quick succession, from Frank
to the Darkwatch then back to the dais before slowly answering, "No.
It sets a bad precedent, one that would set aside both aeons of
history as well as the-"
"Why so glum, chum?" Frank's chuckle
contained little warmth and even less mirth as he gestured with a
gloved hand towards the silver disc, "C'mon, Jerry. Ol' Leggy
Jerry. Afraid you're going to be forced to give THAT away? Heh.
Big secret, everyone knows your fetish for bodybuilders' legs."
"THAT...IS...," the Legatus began to turn red
with apoplexy, "NOT THE...FRANK, YOU - NO COUNCILMEMBER FOR OVER
FIVE MILLENIA HAS EVER BEEN FORCED UPON THAT DAIS!"
"Because until now, none have ever been suspected
of so many crimes as you, Jerome Valken," the Darkwatch spoke
softly.
"Wh-WHAT?! What poisonous, treasonous, vile-"
Magus Valken held up a finger and pointed at Frank as the
brown-skinned, black-clad man slowly stalked towards him, "YOU!
What have you done? What IS this?!"
Ignoring Valkens' tirade, Frank continued to close the
distance between them until he stood about a foot away from the
enraged man, setting down the Trial summons Tanelin had given him two
days previous. The entire time, his rage spewing so venomously he
was blind to Frank's actions, Jerome continued to rant, "Is this
not the Trial for HIM?! Frank Todd, the base deceiver, the fraud,
the charlatan, the-"
Jerome's eyes, the best part of him according to some,
suddenly widened as the magical energies associated with the spell
known as the "Eye Maze" became dispelled from the paper.
The spell was an amazingly subtle piece of work, one that he himself
would have been proud of doing had it not been used by him.
The dais. The damned dais. The Trial. Everything
suddenly clicked and Jerome realized the trap that had been set.
He didn't dare look up into the eyes of the Council, who
had duped him into coming here. He didn't dare look towards the
Grand Magus nor the strangely sober and sentient Darkwatch.
He looked straight into the murderously intense,
chocolate brown eyes of The Generalist and growled, "You have no
proof. You have no precedence."
The court summons hadn't been for Frank.
It had been for Jerome Valken, the greatest known
Illusionist and Charm-based Magus on the planet. It was for the
Patriarch of the House of Valken, suspected for illegal brainwashing
of the guardsmen, harboring and trafficking with demons illegally,
and practicing the banned Magia of Daemon and Thaumaturgy.
He was on trial under suspicion of creating Demonsidhe,
the warped product of baleful, hellish magics and Alchemy.
The last sent a chill down his spine, reinforced and
made ever so much colder as Frank's voice cut through the ringing
that had begun in his ears, "We have a Tribunal here. Temporary
Darkwatch, Darkwatch Descending, and the new Daywatch. All three of
the Security forces are here."
His breath caught for a moment as he was about to point
out that he would never speak out against himself when a particularly
electric blue gaze caught his eye. Slightly behind the Grand Magus,
her slight form hidden behind the bulk of the Grand Magus's regalia,
Daywatch Tanelin watched his every move, studying him as she would
any specimen. Her face, alive yet passive, held absolutely no
emotion, her form sheathed as it was in the black unisuit Frank had
taken the time to make just for her, the position of Darkwatch held
for so long that none knew where the original Daywatch's gear was,
let alone if it had survived the ascension.
Jerome's eye twitched as he growled, "You cannot
stop me. This...this is merely a momentary setback, one that can be
easily explained-"
Frank threw a handful of papers atop the court summons
and began to laugh, "OH! Oh, HAH! Yeah. Now I know yer on the
ropes, yer startin' to talk like a villain~! You gonna start
monologuin'?" Frank slipped on a pair of shades, his finger
sticking to the bridgepiece as he growled around his glowing fist,
"That's all the evidence we need. Your orders for large
shipments of dried spells, the powdered remains of spent Magia that
sometimes erupts from around a magic circle. Sodium pentathol. Your
brainwashing techniques. The very recipes you've had to follow from
your own SPELLBOOK...which if you weren't such an elitist scumbag,
you would've noticed I rummaged around your personal effects,"
Frank chuckled and shrugged at Valken's incredulous look, "The
perks of bein' Darkwatch. Despite your denials of it, you've
secretly attempted to secure the very Shop itself as well as our
store of legal artifacts and reagents, a war that was NOT condoned by
the Order but you, in your hubris and ego, felt was proper. If we
were as weak as you had been led to believe by the false rumors we
planted with your own people, then you could just TAKE what you
wanted, including-" he slapped down the final point of paper
evidence, the written order re-constituted via a simple cantrip, "my
friend, the legally protected American citizen, Daniel 'Dash'
Hopkins, the troll-gene! The Council has already found you guilty,
sir.
This wasn't a trial for me. This has always and ever
been YOUR lynching, Jerome."
"You," Jerome slumped into his throne, a hand
thrown over his face as he responded slowly and carefully, "Ever
since you have come into my life, Frank. You've been nothing but a
stone underfoot, a thorn in my side."
"I get that a lot," Frank frowned, realizing
something was up. Jerome was way too goddamned calm not to get his
hackles up.
"You've always got to be the underdog who wins.
The champion of the little people," Jerome chuckled slightly,
each member of the Council coming to the same conclusion as Frank,
their paranoia increasing the calmer the Valken Mage got. He began
to clap, slow at first then more, his chuckles turning to guffaws
before becoming outright laughter, "OH! Oh! Oh the drama of it
all! How long have you been setting this up, Frank? How long have
all of you been working together on this?"
Frank offered an honest grin, "I got the word
'roundabout a month ago. Dawn's been slowly gathering information on
your brainwashing techniques and your clandestine replacement of
dried Magia for a small while. It was SHE who figured you out first.
The rest, well-"
On
a lazy Saturday, with nothing better to do, Frank and Dash lazed
about the upper floor of the Shop. Frank thumbed his way through a
graphic novel, his eyes flying as he absorbed the book, his bulky
form stretched out on the big, black, comfortable leather couch they
had. In his hammock, Dash slowly thumbed through a book on boxing,
his muscles jumping inside of his skin every now and then as if the
rest of his body was moving without his skin.
The sun was out, for once it wasn't that smoggy, and the two had nothing to do.
A
small pop intruded on the comfortable silence as a strip of paper
popped out of thin air, floating down towards Frank. Snatching it
with a gloved hand, Frank read the message then burned it with an
instantly-cast spell.
Dash,
barely noting the whole situation out of the corner of his eye, asked
in a calm tone, "Hey, Frank. What's that about?"
Frank
grunted as he turned the page, "Huh. We just got requested by
the Order of Magi to help them stop a violent coup, reveal a
Demonsidhe scientist that's attempting to create an army of the
twisted little fucks, and basically use ourselves as bait to bring
the fucker out and finally put the kibosh on his skull."
Dash,
for a few long minutes, simply read and allowed his muscles to move
on their own, so deep into the book that he needed those minutes to
fully process what Frank had told him. Looking at him suddenly, he
blinked and roared, "WHAT?!"
"And that's how babies are made," Frank ended
with a grin, "So. The trick wasn't how to put my fist through
your skull, or at least get you to give up and submit to the twelfth
position for the Council, but, rather, how to get you to willingly
place yourself close enough to the Dais that your magic would be
affected and drawn to it. Then we had to separate you from your
assassins, which we did by whispering into the ear of your little
brother that we would be vulnerable. Funny how being an asshole can
sometimes cause your own people to give you up, huh? So you get all
uppity and send your assassins after the Shop. We isolate the agents
sympathetic to our cause, and kill the rest - your training is way
too good and it'd take an army of the best hypnotists and
psychologists to undo the kind of damage you've done to them, an army
that doesn't exist since so many people couldn't keep the secrets of
our Order for long. Best to put the dog down while it's frothing at
the mouth."
Walking around the Dais and keeping Jerome's eyes on
him, Frank continued, "Next, we had to ensure you would be in a
place where you would be separated from the guards who were under
your direct control."
At the mention of the guards Jerome looked from side to
side, seeing for himself that the only people in the amphitheater
were the general Magi community and the higher-ups of the Households.
Growling, he realized that he himself had wanted them to be used to
help steer the mundanes away from the Mall and the surrounding city,
wanting it to be a show of power as he ascended to become the new
Daywatch.
He also realized, too late, that the Council members had
slowly made their way to a short distance between those seated at the
lowest part of the amphitheater and the thrones themselves, forming a
ring around them to exclude him. His eyes flickered back towards the
Dais and he immediately wondered at what their next move was going to
be.
The
Dais was a rare Artifact, one that dispelled magic yet radiated magic
at the same time, forcing whomever stood on it under a geas
to tell nothing but the absolute truth without even the briefest of
deception.
The whole truth, and nothing but the whole truth.
Still, the Dais was too powerful, and repelling magical
energy even up to a third of the way up the amphitheater, getting in
the way of anything less than a Higher Working. Growling, he focused
back on Frank, realizing the man had allowed him the time to note
what he did.
That bastard!
"Suffice it to say, we even got videos of one of
your assassins trippin' out and transforming into a freakin'
Demon...using Blood Magic to empower it! Thankfully Dash is a hard
guy to bring down, but hey - there ya go. And now, here we are."
Frank grinned, tapping his own head, "And
so....here we are. At the Trial. What do you plead?"
Jerome looked over at him, his eyes hard as flint as he
asked, "I don't suppose a 'Guilty by Insanity' will work?"
Frank chuckled good-naturedly as, behind him, the
Councilmembers raised a new Barrier, a subtle work that operated
within the two already established, "No. But you'll get the
pleasure and honor of dyin' by my hand. I speak for the Council of
Nine.
Jerome Valken, you are ostracized and marked for death,
to be carried out immediately by the hand of The Generalist, Frank
Todd, of the Shop."
Jerome grinned wildly back at him, pointing at the Dais
as he shot to his feet, "You and what army, Todd?! YOUR magic
is nullified as well!"
Frank grinned and held his arms to either side, rotating
his hands with a flourish at the new barrier, "You and I are
separated from the crowd and the dais. They can watch as you and I
carry on where our earlier Duel left off. I'm gonna tear your
freakin' skin off and wear you like a goddamned Edgar suit.
Bring it."
Wasting no time, Jerome roared and leaned forward,
slamming his fists into the ground as a magic circle erupted around
him, "FINE! SHALL WE GET TO IT?"
Frank's voice began to rise in a gentle song, his hands
becoming obscured by a dark, severe mist. He slowly stalked towards
Jerome as the Defense Magus cast forth from transmuted earth his Mage
Armor, the ground itself rising up to cover him before changing into
his own suited plate of armor, black and severe, lined in glowing
purple. His breath exploded forth in a fine plume of super-heated
mist, growling aloud, "Earlier, I knew something was up.
Obtenebration Magia is not without its' weaknesses as well, you
know...and I have discovered it! You yourself shall behold the power
of the Valken specialty, the Added Effect~!"
"You talk too much for a guy who's lusted after becoming the Number One for as long as you have," Frank chuckled, slightly hunched over as he pounded one fist into the other. As he advanced on the transforming ex-Legatus his mage sight noted absolutely no real difference in the Mage Armor, figuring his previous speech to be bluff. It was stronger, so the solid magical energy suggested, but otherwise it was his usual boring form.
"You talk too much for a guy who's lusted after becoming the Number One for as long as you have," Frank chuckled, slightly hunched over as he pounded one fist into the other. As he advanced on the transforming ex-Legatus his mage sight noted absolutely no real difference in the Mage Armor, figuring his previous speech to be bluff. It was stronger, so the solid magical energy suggested, but otherwise it was his usual boring form.
"Number One? That has been denied to me now,"
Jerome snarled, holding his arms wide to receive whatever Frank was
going to throw at him, "I would've been quite satisfied to
simply be the man behind the throne, the Vizier. I would have led
the Order to a glorious new age, one that not even the War Party
could outshine! But no...now, I'm going to have to change my plans."
"I didn't mean that, numbnuts," Frank grinned, his intense gaze wild despite the shades, "You can't surpass the Shop with such underhanded, shady tactics. You should've come at us directly instead of attempting it through assassins and a shadowy war that the Order suspected.
That's no way to become the Number One killer in Los
Angeles, man!"
Jerome grunted, "I suppose you're right. Fine
then. Show me what it takes!!!"
"MY PLEASURE!" Frank roared, covering the
distance between the two with a blinding swiftness that caught Jerome
off-guard. Leaping high into the air, Frank spun around once and
immediately launched himself into a series of spinning back-heel
kicks, wanting to test the physical limits of the Mage Armor - or so
he had thought he was going to do as he flew backwards, landing
roughly before rolling to his feet.
Gasping, more shook up than hurt, he glared at Jerome,
ignoring his laughter while replaying in his mind what had happened.
For a glorious moment, the thrill of combat raced
through Frank as he made the first attack - always his favorite
tactic. Besides, he wanted to see what kind of surprised the
so-called Greatest Defense Master in the World had for him.
And he got it as the Mage Armor rippled for a moment after his first back-heel kick landed, the Water-based nature of the Mage Armor finally revealing itself as the physical force of the kick rippled through the Armor and around it only to explode back towards him, the Armor stretching to form a boot not unlike his own to strike at him, sending him flying backwards.
And he got it as the Mage Armor rippled for a moment after his first back-heel kick landed, the Water-based nature of the Mage Armor finally revealing itself as the physical force of the kick rippled through the Armor and around it only to explode back towards him, the Armor stretching to form a boot not unlike his own to strike at him, sending him flying backwards.
Getting to his feet and bouncing on his heels slightly,
Frank brought his fists up before him, the black mist still spilling
out of them. Valken's laughter died and he sized up Frank again, his
frown noticeable even through the plate armor helm.
"Since you cannot come to me, I will come to
you...Frank. I am going to break you."
"Whatever, Drago," Frank smiled wildly as he
rushed forward again, leaping to the air.
"Again? Your tricks won't-!!!" Jerome's eyes
widened as his mind fought to catch up with the obscene series of
attacks he had been subjected to. Between one second and the other,
Frank had disappeared from his sight, somehow stopping his own
momentum in mid-air and crossing the distance between them in a
blindingly fast run that caught him off-guard.
Then Frank fought with himself.
With a speed that was completely inhuman, Frank struck
at the Mage Armor with his mist-covered fists, each punch faster than
the other, pounding his way through the Armor's dense,
magically-enhanced protection. Turning far too slowly by his own
perception, Jerome realized what was happening with a frightened gasp
as Frank's arms disappeared, moving too fast to be seen, a strange
and utterly demonic energy pattern erupting from his form as he
leaned into the flurry of attacks.
With each punch Frank gave with one hand, he parried the
attack the Armor rebounded back to him, punching and blocking at the
same speed but immediately making the next punch faster, the block
the same speed only to punch EVEN faster on the next one! In such a
manner, Frank was severely overloading the Armor's ability to absorb
and redirect the force of the attacks back at himself.
Roaring, Jerome swept his fists in front of him blindly,
intent on driving the other man back with his horribly spiked gloves
only to stagger forward, once again caught off guard by a burst of
speed that made Frank practically invisible, his attacks barely
relenting for a second before resuming their brutal assault on his
Armor.
Frank's laughter rang out, evil and full of malicious
intent as he felt the backplate of the Armor buckle. Unlike normal
armor, Mage Armor didn't dent or take damage by it's combined and
buckled pieces but, rather, as a whole. Frank had, within the span
of several seconds, decimated the Armor's defensive potential by a
clear fifty percent, and was intent on bashing his way through the
other fifty! Staggering forward, he sought to put space between them
himself, Frank's relentless assault slamming harder into his
backplate, denting it further even as the spell sought to reaffirm
itself, drawing further from Jerome's reserves
Jerome roared and immediately synchronized his body's
natural energy pattern to that of the earth below him, forcing Frank
into a series of hard backflips in order to dodge the stalactites his
spell slammed up from the ground, each one as tall as a man and able
to spear even a tank clean through. .
Refocusing his energies, Jerome roared wordlessly and
created a dome of hardened and packed Earth around himself, a magic
circle surrounding it as the simple protective dome became a thing
harder than steel, reinforced by the magical energies he sought to
pour into it.
"Come and get me now, you bastard!" Jerome panted, his glowing Armor providing enough light for him to realize he had trapped himself with the Dais, separated only by a thin layer of reality-warping magics. Despite that, he shivered, certain he could feel it drawing at his precious reserves - without the Mage Armor, he had no
Outside, Frank walked up to the dome and chuckled,
recognizing a cornered rat when he saw one. His shadow trembled as
he fought for control, allowing Gregorio to reach up through it and
come up to his waist into the physical realm. The humanoid trembled
with it's lust for violence, finally accepting Jerome as a
worthy-enough target.
"Go for it, Gregorio," Frank knelt down and
dipped his fist into his own shadow where it stretched and connected
with Gregorio in an unnatural fashion, the magelight within the
amphitheater beginning to waver under the presence of such an
outpouring of strange magics, "Do what yer going to do."
For a moment the Shadow Demon spun it's head around to
glare at Frank, who met it's unnatural gaze with a cool expression of
his own, his features calm as he relaxed his control little by
little. Startling all within the amphitheater, the Council members
included, Gregorio roared with the strange sound of gargled, jangling
glass before pulling itself completely into the physical realm before
passing through the earthen dome, leaving electrical currents of dark
energy racing about the dome's surface, for all intents and purposes
shredding the Earth Magia as if it was so much tissue paper.
From outside the dome, Frank stood stock still, the
energies of the two combatants growing quiet to the senses of the
others. All about the amphitheater students, novices, masters and
teachers all took furious notes and compared them with one another,
seeking council and the perspective of wiser heads. The wisest stood
in a ring about the execution stage, each one seeing for themselves
what they each had only suspected concerning the strange Shadow
Magic.
Some had seen it in action before, but the masters of
Obtenebration were, if anything, sneaky in how they used such spells.
Those who were firsthand observers had long since died, and the
current generation of Councilmembers only knew of the effects and
weave of the energies by stories and notes, found in the journals of
their predecessors. To witness a battle where it was actively being
used was a rare treat for them, and one that assured each one in
their own way.
The Grand Magus, Darkwatch, and Frank Todd each shared a certain trait that they, connected still via the Gestalt Artifacts, noted together. A certain fatalistic urge that bordered on the suicidal.
Frank frowned, his mage sight seeing what others could
not: within the dome Gregorio physically grappled with the
ex-Legatus, the nature of the dome and the dais, even through the
barriers that separated the two alternate realities, turning the dome
into a pressure cooker. Laughing evilly, Gregorio turned into liquid
in Valken's grasp, slipping into the Mage Armor through the chinks
and imperfections Frank had created earlier only to find a genuine
surprise - Valken grinned as Gregorio found itself unable to simply
crush or drown Valken, who had surrounded himself in a small shell of
hyper-pressurized water, the Added Effect of the Mage Armor he had
called forth.
Taking the challenge for what it was, Gregorio increased
the pressure around the shell of water, seeking to force it to
implode, heedless to what the exchange of energies was doing to the
immediate area within the dome. Unable to move, Jerome gritted his
teeth, forcing himself to endure it as point-blank in front of him,
barely a scant inch from his flesh the Shadow Demon attempted to
crush the life out of the paper-thin, already hyper-pressurized
shell.
Outside, Frank noted a tiny fissure begin at the base of
the dome then immediately backed up, mentally keeping the Overdrive
from rocketing itself in order to help him compensate to the
immediate danger: within a mere second, the dome suddenly erupted,
testing the strength of not one but both barriers and the Dais itself
as the magical clash sought the only direction it could go in order
to relieve the immense pressure.
Outwards.
****
The Generalist – Taboo 3:
Misfits and Mayhem (The Mayhem Arc)
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