Post by kihaku on Dec 13, 2008 5:16:21 GMT
The bright energy passed harmlessly over each and every person assembled, and passed through the walls, leaving the rock looking aged and degraded. However, despite the almost pleasant tingling sensation left behind, the changes in the area were almost shocking.
The collected warriors and entities thereof stood still and tense in the darkness that had suddenly changed. The mood, the very essence of damp and cold that had pervaded the chambers was now gone, replaced completely by a dry warmth. The icicles and puddles that threatened harm had vanished, and in their place lay moss thick enough to sleep on and vines that hung from above and clung to the walls. Cracks in the ceiling allowed shafts of bright sunlight to pierce the darkness and illuminate the room, dust motes floated through them like little faeries to taunt and giggle in glee at the warrior’s predicament.
Though the change of atmosphere may feel welcome to most, present company had become a worry, at best. Not a single of the remaining combatants seemed harmed in any way, but with the strange energy gone, twelve strange figures had appeared. Each one was a different size from the last, though they all wore identical white robes that obscured their features. Each one seemed to stare at nothing in particular, as if the assembled fighters were instead interrupting their meditation.
Loki looked about with a mixture of confusion and anger in his eyes. Already he knew that something about this situation was out of the ordinary, even for Dragonia. For starters, anyone strong enough to assemble in this chamber should have been brought from the beginning by Tidus’ scroll. Secondly, with Guardinia under water, the sun shouldn’t be shining, no matter what kind of power these robed monks might have.
“Who the Hell are you?”
One of the figures stepped forward half a step, drawing the attention of each of the warriors. For a moment, the person did nothing, but then he raised his arms and revealed pale, white, thin fingers. They glowed briefly a dull blue, then the person’s eyes flashed brightly, but only for a moment.
“Rise, Scaevu.”
A bright burst of light shined from beneath him, a spell-form that turned and twisted like the cogs within a clock. From seemingly nowhere, a six-foot tall human effigy appeared behind the speaker. It was a deep brown, its limbs and joints secured with a medium-thickness rope, its appendages ending in stumpy, unfinished clumps. It looked like an amalgamation of a voodoo doll and a scarecrow. It draped its arms limply over the robed man’s shoulders and leaned its head against his neck. The man lowered his arms and gently folded them inside his sleeves.
“Go.”
The straw and grass arms suddenly whipped up, and from the stumpy arms shot dozens of brown cord that glowed with a deep red hue. They whipped about wildly, randomly, until the fighters would realize, too late, the ropes were already within striking distance. The tip of a rope brushed lightly against each warrior’s neck, and with a sound like a large metal lock grinding shut, a black mark appeared that wrapped completely around their neck.
“Seal.”
With a sickening rush, each of those assembled would feel their power drain from their bodies, the strength flee from their limbs, and a sudden fatigue fall thickly upon them. Darkness and sleep beckoned at the fringes of their mind, even as the doll faded from sight. The man stepped back in line, just as another, thinner figure came forward.
“Warriors, do not be alarmed. This Seal is to ensure your safety as well as ours. Your abilities and faculties will be returned as soon as we can determine that you pose no danger to us or our people. With your co-operation, that shouldn’t take more than a day or two.”
He motioned towards a third person, who began to mutter in a strange, unfamiliar language. Slowly, small, floating runes could be seen floating amidst the dust and sunlight. They steadily grew in intensity and number, until it seemed the room simply couldn’t fit anymore. Without warning, they shot to the walls and plastered themselves to the stone, ancient lines of language instructing an unseen force.
“Rise, Gendo.”
Suddenly, the world went black, void of all sensation. The darkness was oppressive and made it hard for one to draw in breath, though it would be impossible to determine if this were true. How long would the warriors be subjected to this torture? In the spectral darkness, time seemed to have no meaning; seconds could have been days, and months may have been minutes.
Bright light burst upon the eyes, and the mind was buzzing with the sudden sensory overload. Sight, hearing, smell, touch, they were all returned at once, impossible to manage all at once. Cold stone, cool air, warm and dazzling light… where were they now?
The collected warriors and entities thereof stood still and tense in the darkness that had suddenly changed. The mood, the very essence of damp and cold that had pervaded the chambers was now gone, replaced completely by a dry warmth. The icicles and puddles that threatened harm had vanished, and in their place lay moss thick enough to sleep on and vines that hung from above and clung to the walls. Cracks in the ceiling allowed shafts of bright sunlight to pierce the darkness and illuminate the room, dust motes floated through them like little faeries to taunt and giggle in glee at the warrior’s predicament.
Though the change of atmosphere may feel welcome to most, present company had become a worry, at best. Not a single of the remaining combatants seemed harmed in any way, but with the strange energy gone, twelve strange figures had appeared. Each one was a different size from the last, though they all wore identical white robes that obscured their features. Each one seemed to stare at nothing in particular, as if the assembled fighters were instead interrupting their meditation.
Loki looked about with a mixture of confusion and anger in his eyes. Already he knew that something about this situation was out of the ordinary, even for Dragonia. For starters, anyone strong enough to assemble in this chamber should have been brought from the beginning by Tidus’ scroll. Secondly, with Guardinia under water, the sun shouldn’t be shining, no matter what kind of power these robed monks might have.
“Who the Hell are you?”
One of the figures stepped forward half a step, drawing the attention of each of the warriors. For a moment, the person did nothing, but then he raised his arms and revealed pale, white, thin fingers. They glowed briefly a dull blue, then the person’s eyes flashed brightly, but only for a moment.
“Rise, Scaevu.”
A bright burst of light shined from beneath him, a spell-form that turned and twisted like the cogs within a clock. From seemingly nowhere, a six-foot tall human effigy appeared behind the speaker. It was a deep brown, its limbs and joints secured with a medium-thickness rope, its appendages ending in stumpy, unfinished clumps. It looked like an amalgamation of a voodoo doll and a scarecrow. It draped its arms limply over the robed man’s shoulders and leaned its head against his neck. The man lowered his arms and gently folded them inside his sleeves.
“Go.”
The straw and grass arms suddenly whipped up, and from the stumpy arms shot dozens of brown cord that glowed with a deep red hue. They whipped about wildly, randomly, until the fighters would realize, too late, the ropes were already within striking distance. The tip of a rope brushed lightly against each warrior’s neck, and with a sound like a large metal lock grinding shut, a black mark appeared that wrapped completely around their neck.
“Seal.”
With a sickening rush, each of those assembled would feel their power drain from their bodies, the strength flee from their limbs, and a sudden fatigue fall thickly upon them. Darkness and sleep beckoned at the fringes of their mind, even as the doll faded from sight. The man stepped back in line, just as another, thinner figure came forward.
“Warriors, do not be alarmed. This Seal is to ensure your safety as well as ours. Your abilities and faculties will be returned as soon as we can determine that you pose no danger to us or our people. With your co-operation, that shouldn’t take more than a day or two.”
He motioned towards a third person, who began to mutter in a strange, unfamiliar language. Slowly, small, floating runes could be seen floating amidst the dust and sunlight. They steadily grew in intensity and number, until it seemed the room simply couldn’t fit anymore. Without warning, they shot to the walls and plastered themselves to the stone, ancient lines of language instructing an unseen force.
“Rise, Gendo.”
Suddenly, the world went black, void of all sensation. The darkness was oppressive and made it hard for one to draw in breath, though it would be impossible to determine if this were true. How long would the warriors be subjected to this torture? In the spectral darkness, time seemed to have no meaning; seconds could have been days, and months may have been minutes.
Bright light burst upon the eyes, and the mind was buzzing with the sudden sensory overload. Sight, hearing, smell, touch, they were all returned at once, impossible to manage all at once. Cold stone, cool air, warm and dazzling light… where were they now?