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The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
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The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Venus January 9th 2014, 10:07 pm
The air was filled with remarkably fine rain - which fell as if it were a mist, not a droplet. The ground had become soggy and akin to that of mud and everything was covered in fine layers of water. The air smelt of damp, and was equally as moist and it had an irritatingly cold pinch that just made you want to shiver. The Giant's Causeway was quite a miserable sight but it was to expected for the start of winter. All seemed to be at a rather odd sense of peace however, despite the misery the weather had wrought. Perhaps it spawned from the fact the rain had driven away most of the tourists and those that remained were too focused on getting their pictures taken with the various statues and volcanic rocks which made the area a notable landmark for any form of sight seeker. Yes all was normal... except for a single thing.
On top of the damp, soggy grass lay a brown grimoire with various ornaments of gold sunken into it's cover, which jagged outwards like and star and in the center of the bright display lay a blue gem, which stood out the most. Words were inscribed into a plaice near the bottom. The same dew that covered everything else which lay under the overcast sky, except it's cover did not grow wet. Nor did the pages. Whatever water landed upon it seemed to simply roll off from it's dirt colored cover. It stood out among it's surroundings like a diamond amongst a pig sty. Another thing different about the grimoire was that it was clearly not Irish in origin - meaning that it did not belong in Ireland. It must have come from.... elsewhere.
The peace that the wet weather had brought with it was soon disturbed however. First by a quiet hum which seemed to send shivers through the misty air. The humming quickly intensified into a deep noise - a kin to that of fabric being torn. The fabric of time and space that was. Shortly afterwards a vertical slice of purple energy was formed above the ground with purple smoke twisting from it, before the line was widened into what looked like a gigantic crack with teeth at the sides. It lowered from mid-air and the violently withering energy settled down and became a very neat hole. After a moment's silence, thick blue smoke began to weave from the portal - making may for the man who was producing it. His golden boots made an audible squelch when they touched the floor, as did every other footstep he took. His scrying had picked up on an phenomenally powerful magical signal coming from the area and it appeared to take the form of the grimoire. His eyes scanned from under his dome, flickering between it's many settings while trying to ignore the water beginning to accumulate around it and glide downwards in tiny streams from the fine rainfall. The helmet was able to locate the intense amount of energy which was located somewhere around the area - god knows why, if such a powerful item was going to appear why on earth would it choose this wet little island where no-one would ever look.... Or was that the beauty of it? To hide here where no-one would ever think to look. A rather solid protection now that he had taken a moment to think about it.
Taking a moment to inhale, his helmet filtered air through it allowing him to smell the damp air and fill his lungs. It was surprisingly pleasant. He was more accustomed to the dusty dry air of his libraries and archives in his mountain top mansion, where he would spend hours revising his current supplies of knowledge - in fear of becoming.... rusty.
The tendrils of smoke which grew from his arms and legs were blown in the cold wind which danced through the air as if it were carefree and oblivious to the miserable weather that was surrounding it - infact the wind almost looked as though it were celebrating the wet weather. When it pulled at the smoke and dragged it into the sky it didn't take long for the smoke to lose it's density and disperse into nothing. He began moving once more, towards the book which lay face up on the mud. Tilting his head he began to extend a hand towards it; the color of the smoke changing from a light blue to a dark purple. His golden gloves touched the cover and he attempted to heave the book from the floor: The book would not move. Traydor was certain that there was nothing anchoring it down, and there was no force on top of it which was keeping it down. Traydor sighed while his cloak wafted in the breeze. "Odd... ' he mused, folding over his arms - his finger tips now dripping slightly from the water on the cover. 'I shall have to try something different."
Animating his cloak, the slithered between his legs and over his shoulders like snakes, snapping and whipping around wildly before wrapping around the grimoire. When he caused them to pull upwards the book gave the same response. It did not budge. Irritated, he thrust a hand to the side and the cloak followed, all of it hovering to the left of Traydor while attached to his back. He canceled the animation and it had once again succumb to the effects of physics once again. "Perhaps..." he continued to ponder outwards. Allowing his body to hover about 2 inches from the ground he levitated backwards and landed, causing a louder squelch this time. The golden fingers of his gloves were both extended, and had slowly began to emanate a pure black energy. It quickly shrouded the area infront of him in a cone and twisted around the grimoire. Success. He thought, as he used the darkness to hoist it from the ground. What a fortunate find. he was about to start laughing at his own triumphed but remembered that that was usually one of the first signs of insanity. Something he wished to avoid.
Turning to face the portal, which had remained open, yearning for someone to stride through it's gaping passage, and Lord Traydor obeyed - levitating towards the portal with the grimoire levitating behind him, still surrounded in what looked like an orb of black liquid.
-----
The effects of stepping through the portal would easily confuse those who were not used to it. The sudden adjustment from the wet and damp atmosphere of Ireland was entirely different to the warm fire lit air of the Traydor Mansion. The portal repeated the hum that it had spewed when it opened as it was pulled close by unseen forces. The noise and smell of the wet and the wind vanished, and were replaced by the crackling of a fireplace and the silence of a library. While it would be peaceful to most but it was merely infuriating to Traydor. He had read every book within these halls at least twice and had drained all the knowledge from them he could. But that was all the change.... he had found a nice new experiment. He continued to walk, aware that the spell he had over the book would not last much longer. While he paced through the halls he could do nothing but wonder; what was in this book? What was keeping it shut? Why couldn't he hold it with his hands? All of them were questions which he desired to know, and was determined to find out.
He turned a corner with his cloak swishing, the black orb still hovering behind him at head height. His pace was a quick one, and he knew exactly where he was heading. His study. He walked up the spiral staircase continuing to ponder about the book and it's potential. For a brief moment he was distracted by how barren the halls looked now that known of his family where living there. Books were strung here and there, as well as various other weaker magical trinkets - which would have normally been tidied up by the maidservants that his father had hired but they had passed away in the massacre too. His only regret; not saving the cleaners. The cobwebs agreed, as if they too had become annoyed at their own existence.
When he finally reached the smooth oak doors to his study, he allowed a finger to glide down the door before wrapping his four fingers around the knob and twisting. The seemingly heavy door opened as if it were a feather - thanks to a very handy enchantment placed there by his brother. Glancing around his eyes laid upon a stone alter. He could feel his hold over the shadows slipping so quickly held his hand in it's direction and caused the orb to soar over and gently place the book on top of it. Exhaling in relief when the book landed on the stone, he tried to imagine the difficulty it would have been if the book had of hit the floor and possibly fallen through. That would have been most irritating.
On top of the damp, soggy grass lay a brown grimoire with various ornaments of gold sunken into it's cover, which jagged outwards like and star and in the center of the bright display lay a blue gem, which stood out the most. Words were inscribed into a plaice near the bottom. The same dew that covered everything else which lay under the overcast sky, except it's cover did not grow wet. Nor did the pages. Whatever water landed upon it seemed to simply roll off from it's dirt colored cover. It stood out among it's surroundings like a diamond amongst a pig sty. Another thing different about the grimoire was that it was clearly not Irish in origin - meaning that it did not belong in Ireland. It must have come from.... elsewhere.
The peace that the wet weather had brought with it was soon disturbed however. First by a quiet hum which seemed to send shivers through the misty air. The humming quickly intensified into a deep noise - a kin to that of fabric being torn. The fabric of time and space that was. Shortly afterwards a vertical slice of purple energy was formed above the ground with purple smoke twisting from it, before the line was widened into what looked like a gigantic crack with teeth at the sides. It lowered from mid-air and the violently withering energy settled down and became a very neat hole. After a moment's silence, thick blue smoke began to weave from the portal - making may for the man who was producing it. His golden boots made an audible squelch when they touched the floor, as did every other footstep he took. His scrying had picked up on an phenomenally powerful magical signal coming from the area and it appeared to take the form of the grimoire. His eyes scanned from under his dome, flickering between it's many settings while trying to ignore the water beginning to accumulate around it and glide downwards in tiny streams from the fine rainfall. The helmet was able to locate the intense amount of energy which was located somewhere around the area - god knows why, if such a powerful item was going to appear why on earth would it choose this wet little island where no-one would ever look.... Or was that the beauty of it? To hide here where no-one would ever think to look. A rather solid protection now that he had taken a moment to think about it.
Taking a moment to inhale, his helmet filtered air through it allowing him to smell the damp air and fill his lungs. It was surprisingly pleasant. He was more accustomed to the dusty dry air of his libraries and archives in his mountain top mansion, where he would spend hours revising his current supplies of knowledge - in fear of becoming.... rusty.
The tendrils of smoke which grew from his arms and legs were blown in the cold wind which danced through the air as if it were carefree and oblivious to the miserable weather that was surrounding it - infact the wind almost looked as though it were celebrating the wet weather. When it pulled at the smoke and dragged it into the sky it didn't take long for the smoke to lose it's density and disperse into nothing. He began moving once more, towards the book which lay face up on the mud. Tilting his head he began to extend a hand towards it; the color of the smoke changing from a light blue to a dark purple. His golden gloves touched the cover and he attempted to heave the book from the floor: The book would not move. Traydor was certain that there was nothing anchoring it down, and there was no force on top of it which was keeping it down. Traydor sighed while his cloak wafted in the breeze. "Odd... ' he mused, folding over his arms - his finger tips now dripping slightly from the water on the cover. 'I shall have to try something different."
Animating his cloak, the slithered between his legs and over his shoulders like snakes, snapping and whipping around wildly before wrapping around the grimoire. When he caused them to pull upwards the book gave the same response. It did not budge. Irritated, he thrust a hand to the side and the cloak followed, all of it hovering to the left of Traydor while attached to his back. He canceled the animation and it had once again succumb to the effects of physics once again. "Perhaps..." he continued to ponder outwards. Allowing his body to hover about 2 inches from the ground he levitated backwards and landed, causing a louder squelch this time. The golden fingers of his gloves were both extended, and had slowly began to emanate a pure black energy. It quickly shrouded the area infront of him in a cone and twisted around the grimoire. Success. He thought, as he used the darkness to hoist it from the ground. What a fortunate find. he was about to start laughing at his own triumphed but remembered that that was usually one of the first signs of insanity. Something he wished to avoid.
Turning to face the portal, which had remained open, yearning for someone to stride through it's gaping passage, and Lord Traydor obeyed - levitating towards the portal with the grimoire levitating behind him, still surrounded in what looked like an orb of black liquid.
-----
The effects of stepping through the portal would easily confuse those who were not used to it. The sudden adjustment from the wet and damp atmosphere of Ireland was entirely different to the warm fire lit air of the Traydor Mansion. The portal repeated the hum that it had spewed when it opened as it was pulled close by unseen forces. The noise and smell of the wet and the wind vanished, and were replaced by the crackling of a fireplace and the silence of a library. While it would be peaceful to most but it was merely infuriating to Traydor. He had read every book within these halls at least twice and had drained all the knowledge from them he could. But that was all the change.... he had found a nice new experiment. He continued to walk, aware that the spell he had over the book would not last much longer. While he paced through the halls he could do nothing but wonder; what was in this book? What was keeping it shut? Why couldn't he hold it with his hands? All of them were questions which he desired to know, and was determined to find out.
He turned a corner with his cloak swishing, the black orb still hovering behind him at head height. His pace was a quick one, and he knew exactly where he was heading. His study. He walked up the spiral staircase continuing to ponder about the book and it's potential. For a brief moment he was distracted by how barren the halls looked now that known of his family where living there. Books were strung here and there, as well as various other weaker magical trinkets - which would have normally been tidied up by the maidservants that his father had hired but they had passed away in the massacre too. His only regret; not saving the cleaners. The cobwebs agreed, as if they too had become annoyed at their own existence.
When he finally reached the smooth oak doors to his study, he allowed a finger to glide down the door before wrapping his four fingers around the knob and twisting. The seemingly heavy door opened as if it were a feather - thanks to a very handy enchantment placed there by his brother. Glancing around his eyes laid upon a stone alter. He could feel his hold over the shadows slipping so quickly held his hand in it's direction and caused the orb to soar over and gently place the book on top of it. Exhaling in relief when the book landed on the stone, he tried to imagine the difficulty it would have been if the book had of hit the floor and possibly fallen through. That would have been most irritating.
"Now... let's see here." he said, leaning over the book and placing a hand at either side.
A smile formed across his lips.
It was time to learn.
A smile formed across his lips.
It was time to learn.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
click image for bio
"Men are from Mars but they all belong to Venus"
Venus- Post Mate
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "We're a lot alike you and I, except I'm rich and you're kind of a loser."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 162
Job : Bad Bitch
Humor : Seagirl's career
Registration date : 2013-04-21
Re: The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Zell January 10th 2014, 4:26 pm
. It was once written "To be, or not to be. That is the question." The man who was accredited for the penning of these words was one Sir William Shakespeare in his works of Hamlet. The story was a rather grand piece, and in this Soliloquy the child Hamlet continues on a rant. When he first read the words they poured form the pages, a masterpiece of both brilliance and creativity. The young child was tormented as he began to view his life in perspective, he was forced to look at everything and choose his fate. Would he simply allow hardship to overcome him, would he oppose the destiny placed out before him? Would he die in opposing his fate...if he died would he dream? Would he dream upon his Death? Never before has a book spoken to him, other than that of Hamlet. Perhaps he felt a certain familiarity to the fictional prince of Denmark. Perhaps it was the struggled of the child, his course of actions that were so similar that kept him wanting to uncover the fate of his literary Doppleganger
"For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life;" The words struck him to the heart. Throughout the book, young Hamlet had begun to obsess over revenge, as He had once obsessed over the protection of his family. He then began to hide himself behind a veil of feigned insanity. To many it would seem that young Hamlet had fallen from the jagged fringes of sanity and salvation, bringing forth concern for him, though it was not the intent. This Insanity was nothing more than a cover, a guise to make him seem nothing more than 'harmless' ... something to get the treacherous usurper Claudius to lower his guard, for even should hamlet know of his treason his insanity was far too 'whimsical' thus making Hamlet incapable of bringing about revenge. However, upon hearing of Ophelia's death...one could easily question. Had Hamlet truly fallen to insanity? Had HE fallen into insanity, all in the name of loves' sake?
"Be all my sins remember'd." He said as he put the book down. He hummed as he set it softly upon the side-table. He looked to the book, glowing emerald eyes fixated upon it. He had spent years of his life reading every dusty tome and god-forsaken scripture of the magical society he could get his hands upon. He might have said it was wasted, though he had long ago shuffled off his own "Mortal Coil", he had ascended from the body of Zell Atterrius...the one who bore the mark of his Father, and suffered for the sins of his predecessor while the magical families were content to banish his powers in fear. While they would sit upon their thrones in comfort, Ouroboros would forever be at the throes of power, pressing the folds of reality itself and forever surpassing the pathetic ignorance they surrounded themselves with. If they wished to feel "secure" in their intellect by surrounding themselves with the deaf and dumb then so be it, for men such as him...he would always suffer the scorn of defeat, he would rise and fall...and each time he would learn. Like the very symbolism of the Ouroboros itself. He was eternal, and would continue to be there form the moment of his existence, until the end of all creation.
Though there was a certain...uncertainty about this all. Though he would be eternal, could he truly bring things with him unto the end? Would he have his family and his friend with him in the end? When the would has gathered for the final hour, will there be another there beside him or one to believe in him? None of it mattered. Family, while a thing he loved dearly, was also one of the things he had come go understand as fleeting privilege, not eternal entitlement. He would not dwell on the inevitable losses he would suffer and endure, but rather he would live to enjoy them while he had them....or while he could at least watch them. Since his resurrection, Ouroboros had been going under the alias of "Robert Soros" a prominent business man with connections throughout the world, and while the direct nature of his business was not entirely public domain, he was notable due to his more than generous donations to the Genesis Vi project. After all...he had billions upon billions of dollars...that he did not need, nor have interest in hoarding. But in all these things...there was only ONE who knew his true identity as the resurrected Ethereal King. He had chosen, for now, that he would keep his resurrection from his beloved children, as to not place their lives in any further danger.
He cleared his throat as he stood up. The Penthouse he was currently residing in was located in Los Angeles, California. Close enough to be around when certain people would need him. Though while he wished for a quiet evening, that was rather interrupted. He walked, footsteps silent as a predator, eyes shifting and taking in every detail. He made his way towards the bathroom, only to find himself doubled over, his fingernails digging into his scalp, threatening to tear through it like a Mohican Tomahawk on raiding day. His knees buckled, but he refused to fall, instead he staggered back, he looked ahead into the blue expensive bathroom, only to find that his entire vision had lot all sense of color. There was simply a pale heavenly light that blinded his eyes in an oval shape, fragments of someone's eyes appeared. They were glowing faintly, but their skin was spectral and nearly too transparent to make any note of. Nothing of them showed beyond that of their eyes glowing and stray hair occasionally.
"King of MY Kin. Blood of MY Blood." The voice came like a harsh wind, the whispers felt like that of doom itself and creeping death breathing down his neck. The light receded and the pain in his body stopped wracking with pain. He cleared his throat as he stood up and looked around. He knew exactly what had happened. There was only one creature within the entire Ethereal Nexus that would be able to contact him upon a whim...and that one creature was imbedded into a part of his very consciousness. Godbane was calling out to him. He walked over to the window, looking out upon Los Angeles at the tiny human insects whose lives were laid out before him. His eyes began to glow even brighter, and as the intensity became greater, so was the harshness and the glare turned to sheer white. He was beginning to re-trace the summons. His mind connected to find every Ethereal being throughout the known world, even stretching out into the dimension where he had stolen the Godsbane from. He found no Ethereal...but he did find his Grimoire. Someone had just touched it. Ouroboros smiled, he had found exactly where his Grimoire was...
* * * * * * *
The Grimoire snapped with Ethereal energy, smacking anything that would have dared to touch it. The Emerald colored gem in the center began to glow, the golden bindings shot out and became jagged, each one of the jagged edges was glowing a different color, each one was a different magical element. Aether, Fire, Wind, Earth, Water, Nether all glowing on all the edges. The grimoire opened, but the words on the pages were illegible to all who was not it's master, the pages had ink that bled, as if the book were badly damaged through water stains. Fire, lightning, ice and dust blew around the Grimoire, forcing back anything that was within an arms reach, the immolating blaze was nearly all-consuming, though all abiotic things in contact remained unhamred. The ink bled towards the crack of the book, leaving the pages bare.
The book seemingly repelled all invaders, but it was not finished. It was simply suspended there...sitting there silently and unmoving. Suddenly, the ink seemed to manifest in the air, blotching and forming out of the Grimoire until it was nothing but a floating book, whose ink now seemed to become alive. The ink began to peel away like the flash on a rotting corpse of the deceased, and revealing an ungodly looking eye. The eye was of darkness, though bright Ether colors burned on the interior, it was surrounded by blood red and magma orange, only to be touching the blackness that was the almond shaped pupil that resembled that of a predator.
"You are not Ouroboros." The Grimoire spoke, yet when it spoke it sounded as if it were a demon fresh form the abyssal plain the humans called Hell, and it was echoed and reverbed by a chorus of darker and unholy entities that boomed and bellowed. The voice had a rather mechanical "Flang" to it, and the blackness narrowed around it, as if the Grimoire were glaring at the creature whom had tried to touch it. There was an irritated "sigh" that came form the Ethereal item as it floated in air, it's breathing echoed by dark growling voices. To even the magically trained and experienced, the presence of this grimoire was truly a dark and foreboding one, one to match the nightmares of ages past. It's glare pierced the foolish creature before him, allowing him to see the cowardice that was Traydor. The demeaning glare of the Grimoire was one that could even make the experienced devils of the world shiver. Soon, the very Darkness Traydor would have claimed as his own began to crawl, as if the darkness were 'spreading' into the light, mouths of fangs and smiles appeared as it slowly began to consume the room, stopping only for Darkness to erect beneath it, creating and solidifying into an unholy podium for the book to rest upon. The shadow vanished, and the book itself now rested upon a pale blue stone that was cracked and seething with purple nether energy.
"For in that sleep of death what dreams may come When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause: there's the respect That makes calamity of so long life;" The words struck him to the heart. Throughout the book, young Hamlet had begun to obsess over revenge, as He had once obsessed over the protection of his family. He then began to hide himself behind a veil of feigned insanity. To many it would seem that young Hamlet had fallen from the jagged fringes of sanity and salvation, bringing forth concern for him, though it was not the intent. This Insanity was nothing more than a cover, a guise to make him seem nothing more than 'harmless' ... something to get the treacherous usurper Claudius to lower his guard, for even should hamlet know of his treason his insanity was far too 'whimsical' thus making Hamlet incapable of bringing about revenge. However, upon hearing of Ophelia's death...one could easily question. Had Hamlet truly fallen to insanity? Had HE fallen into insanity, all in the name of loves' sake?
"Be all my sins remember'd." He said as he put the book down. He hummed as he set it softly upon the side-table. He looked to the book, glowing emerald eyes fixated upon it. He had spent years of his life reading every dusty tome and god-forsaken scripture of the magical society he could get his hands upon. He might have said it was wasted, though he had long ago shuffled off his own "Mortal Coil", he had ascended from the body of Zell Atterrius...the one who bore the mark of his Father, and suffered for the sins of his predecessor while the magical families were content to banish his powers in fear. While they would sit upon their thrones in comfort, Ouroboros would forever be at the throes of power, pressing the folds of reality itself and forever surpassing the pathetic ignorance they surrounded themselves with. If they wished to feel "secure" in their intellect by surrounding themselves with the deaf and dumb then so be it, for men such as him...he would always suffer the scorn of defeat, he would rise and fall...and each time he would learn. Like the very symbolism of the Ouroboros itself. He was eternal, and would continue to be there form the moment of his existence, until the end of all creation.
Though there was a certain...uncertainty about this all. Though he would be eternal, could he truly bring things with him unto the end? Would he have his family and his friend with him in the end? When the would has gathered for the final hour, will there be another there beside him or one to believe in him? None of it mattered. Family, while a thing he loved dearly, was also one of the things he had come go understand as fleeting privilege, not eternal entitlement. He would not dwell on the inevitable losses he would suffer and endure, but rather he would live to enjoy them while he had them....or while he could at least watch them. Since his resurrection, Ouroboros had been going under the alias of "Robert Soros" a prominent business man with connections throughout the world, and while the direct nature of his business was not entirely public domain, he was notable due to his more than generous donations to the Genesis Vi project. After all...he had billions upon billions of dollars...that he did not need, nor have interest in hoarding. But in all these things...there was only ONE who knew his true identity as the resurrected Ethereal King. He had chosen, for now, that he would keep his resurrection from his beloved children, as to not place their lives in any further danger.
He cleared his throat as he stood up. The Penthouse he was currently residing in was located in Los Angeles, California. Close enough to be around when certain people would need him. Though while he wished for a quiet evening, that was rather interrupted. He walked, footsteps silent as a predator, eyes shifting and taking in every detail. He made his way towards the bathroom, only to find himself doubled over, his fingernails digging into his scalp, threatening to tear through it like a Mohican Tomahawk on raiding day. His knees buckled, but he refused to fall, instead he staggered back, he looked ahead into the blue expensive bathroom, only to find that his entire vision had lot all sense of color. There was simply a pale heavenly light that blinded his eyes in an oval shape, fragments of someone's eyes appeared. They were glowing faintly, but their skin was spectral and nearly too transparent to make any note of. Nothing of them showed beyond that of their eyes glowing and stray hair occasionally.
"King of MY Kin. Blood of MY Blood." The voice came like a harsh wind, the whispers felt like that of doom itself and creeping death breathing down his neck. The light receded and the pain in his body stopped wracking with pain. He cleared his throat as he stood up and looked around. He knew exactly what had happened. There was only one creature within the entire Ethereal Nexus that would be able to contact him upon a whim...and that one creature was imbedded into a part of his very consciousness. Godbane was calling out to him. He walked over to the window, looking out upon Los Angeles at the tiny human insects whose lives were laid out before him. His eyes began to glow even brighter, and as the intensity became greater, so was the harshness and the glare turned to sheer white. He was beginning to re-trace the summons. His mind connected to find every Ethereal being throughout the known world, even stretching out into the dimension where he had stolen the Godsbane from. He found no Ethereal...but he did find his Grimoire. Someone had just touched it. Ouroboros smiled, he had found exactly where his Grimoire was...
* * * * * * *
The Grimoire snapped with Ethereal energy, smacking anything that would have dared to touch it. The Emerald colored gem in the center began to glow, the golden bindings shot out and became jagged, each one of the jagged edges was glowing a different color, each one was a different magical element. Aether, Fire, Wind, Earth, Water, Nether all glowing on all the edges. The grimoire opened, but the words on the pages were illegible to all who was not it's master, the pages had ink that bled, as if the book were badly damaged through water stains. Fire, lightning, ice and dust blew around the Grimoire, forcing back anything that was within an arms reach, the immolating blaze was nearly all-consuming, though all abiotic things in contact remained unhamred. The ink bled towards the crack of the book, leaving the pages bare.
The book seemingly repelled all invaders, but it was not finished. It was simply suspended there...sitting there silently and unmoving. Suddenly, the ink seemed to manifest in the air, blotching and forming out of the Grimoire until it was nothing but a floating book, whose ink now seemed to become alive. The ink began to peel away like the flash on a rotting corpse of the deceased, and revealing an ungodly looking eye. The eye was of darkness, though bright Ether colors burned on the interior, it was surrounded by blood red and magma orange, only to be touching the blackness that was the almond shaped pupil that resembled that of a predator.
"You are not Ouroboros." The Grimoire spoke, yet when it spoke it sounded as if it were a demon fresh form the abyssal plain the humans called Hell, and it was echoed and reverbed by a chorus of darker and unholy entities that boomed and bellowed. The voice had a rather mechanical "Flang" to it, and the blackness narrowed around it, as if the Grimoire were glaring at the creature whom had tried to touch it. There was an irritated "sigh" that came form the Ethereal item as it floated in air, it's breathing echoed by dark growling voices. To even the magically trained and experienced, the presence of this grimoire was truly a dark and foreboding one, one to match the nightmares of ages past. It's glare pierced the foolish creature before him, allowing him to see the cowardice that was Traydor. The demeaning glare of the Grimoire was one that could even make the experienced devils of the world shiver. Soon, the very Darkness Traydor would have claimed as his own began to crawl, as if the darkness were 'spreading' into the light, mouths of fangs and smiles appeared as it slowly began to consume the room, stopping only for Darkness to erect beneath it, creating and solidifying into an unholy podium for the book to rest upon. The shadow vanished, and the book itself now rested upon a pale blue stone that was cracked and seething with purple nether energy.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
- Spoiler:
"Gone from light, lead astray. Soul turned to darkness in a single day. Lead me back to the light. Killing me...the only way to set things right."
Zell- The Once and Future King
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Online Offline
Quote : "A villain is just a victim whose story you haven't learned yet."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 1417
Location : In my room...or a coffee shop.
Age : 28
Job : Existential Crisis Manager
Humor : [19:57:45] @ Spirit Corgi : In order to produce minions we require you to find two minions who love each other.
Registration date : 2013-05-07
Re: The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Venus January 10th 2014, 8:53 pm
Traydor's golden fingers rested milometers away from the surface of the book, anxiously desiring to explore it's depths - almost irresistibly so. The ideas of what it could be slithered through his mind. What was within it's pages? How did they get to the Giant's Causeway... All were things that he would find out. As he had as much time as he needed to examine it, to learn it's tricks and traps and ultimately to read it. Traydor kept his finger inches away from the surface of the leather, and even being that close to it gave you a rather distinctive feeling of... trespassing. A feeling that Traydor quite enjoyed if he was honest. It was one of the most common feelings he had for technically he was trespassing in his own home and the sense of defilement it gave him made him feel... strong.
However something quickly changed the book's neutral appearance. The golden spires which jutted out from the center violently expanded into spikes and began to glow different colors which were the generally accepted symbols of elements. The book swung open with almost a furious temperament which caused Traydor to instinctively pull his hand away in fear of losing it. Without warning the book then released a burst of energy which sent Traydor staggering backwards, his cloak blowing backwards in a strong wind. "What the deuce?!" Traydor's gloved hand moved to cover his eyes and he turned away from the light which was coming from the book before it began to emanate darkness, taking different shapes and forms which let out inaudible hisses. He lowered his arm from his face and his eyes widened in a mixture of fear and awe of what he saw.
A gigantic burning eye met his gaze and sent a shudder down his back. The bright red and magma orange stung his eye but he could not bring himself to look away from the intimidating display. His figured slouched over and he tentatively raised his fingers. His shoulders shivered when the words stuck him. "You are not Ouroboros." the voice filled his study with a demonic monotone voice. Infact, the tone made his body take another step back. He almost fell over in modesty but managed to retain a scrape of his dignity and remained standing. After several seconds of silence he finally brought himself to stand up properly and slowly began to inch forward, reaching out a hand - but still keeping his distance. "W-.... what are you?" he asked - his voice wavering like a child who had been scolded.
However something quickly changed the book's neutral appearance. The golden spires which jutted out from the center violently expanded into spikes and began to glow different colors which were the generally accepted symbols of elements. The book swung open with almost a furious temperament which caused Traydor to instinctively pull his hand away in fear of losing it. Without warning the book then released a burst of energy which sent Traydor staggering backwards, his cloak blowing backwards in a strong wind. "What the deuce?!" Traydor's gloved hand moved to cover his eyes and he turned away from the light which was coming from the book before it began to emanate darkness, taking different shapes and forms which let out inaudible hisses. He lowered his arm from his face and his eyes widened in a mixture of fear and awe of what he saw.
A gigantic burning eye met his gaze and sent a shudder down his back. The bright red and magma orange stung his eye but he could not bring himself to look away from the intimidating display. His figured slouched over and he tentatively raised his fingers. His shoulders shivered when the words stuck him. "You are not Ouroboros." the voice filled his study with a demonic monotone voice. Infact, the tone made his body take another step back. He almost fell over in modesty but managed to retain a scrape of his dignity and remained standing. After several seconds of silence he finally brought himself to stand up properly and slowly began to inch forward, reaching out a hand - but still keeping his distance. "W-.... what are you?" he asked - his voice wavering like a child who had been scolded.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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"Men are from Mars but they all belong to Venus"
Venus- Post Mate
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "We're a lot alike you and I, except I'm rich and you're kind of a loser."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 162
Job : Bad Bitch
Humor : Seagirl's career
Registration date : 2013-04-21
Re: The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Zell January 11th 2014, 5:54 pm
"Fallible creation of off-handed chance. You who stumble upon my codex and stutter, fumble about in ignorance, you stand before one that is infinitely your greater. You stand before one who exists upon a plain of existence so far beyond that of your own that you are oblivious to it, even as it shapes the very world you persist in. I am too far beyond the comprehention of such a rudimentary sack of bones. I am The Godbane." The voices echoed slightly, ominously as it glared upon Traydor, complete and total indifference within the voice of the monster whom manifested from the old tome. The Darkness seemed to snake through the room, the doors were filled with the endless darkness, almost as if the creature itself had just assimilated all exits into its very being. The book's glare was ever fixated on the pathetic lower life form before him, letting out little growls as maws of the abyss opened in the darkness that was the manifestation of The Godsbane.
* * * * *
Ouroboros was still far from the scene, still in California. He was moving as quickly as possible to the "Safehouse" where he established an Ethereal Arc to allow him an easy entrance to the Ethereal Isle, or FROM the Isle...should fate ever tried his paranoia. Once he was to the Arc he would easily be able to place himself close to the location of the evil tome of power.
* * * * *
Ouroboros was still far from the scene, still in California. He was moving as quickly as possible to the "Safehouse" where he established an Ethereal Arc to allow him an easy entrance to the Ethereal Isle, or FROM the Isle...should fate ever tried his paranoia. Once he was to the Arc he would easily be able to place himself close to the location of the evil tome of power.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
- Spoiler:
"Gone from light, lead astray. Soul turned to darkness in a single day. Lead me back to the light. Killing me...the only way to set things right."
Zell- The Once and Future King
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "A villain is just a victim whose story you haven't learned yet."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 1417
Location : In my room...or a coffee shop.
Age : 28
Job : Existential Crisis Manager
Humor : [19:57:45] @ Spirit Corgi : In order to produce minions we require you to find two minions who love each other.
Registration date : 2013-05-07
Re: The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Venus January 12th 2014, 6:56 pm
Lord Traydor stepped backwards from the booming voice but listened attentively to every word it said, and dared not move for fear that it would lash out with the godlike power he assumed -rightly so- that it possessed. In fact he was so intimidated by it that he only seemed to nod ever so slightly whenever it insulted him; calling him nothing more than a sack of bones. He glanced over his shoulders through the open doors of his study to see they lead out into nothing. Nothing but the yearning darkness which also looked as if it had arms that were reaching down - desperate to drag anything into it so that they may never be seen again. He returned his gaze to the book and slowly began to stand from his slouch.
His lips began to part, dry - until he nervously dragged his tongue across them. His fingers were shaking, the golden shine on them had been dullened by the darkness slithering along the floor. He kept his hands close to his chest just in case something from the darkness reached out and yanked them away and his purple cloak became smaller so that it was less prone to being dragged and used against him too.
"M-mighty Godsbane....' he paused, both for dramatic effect and because he had to straighten his voice so he sounded less like a child. 'W-.... who is 'Ouroboros'?" he asked, shuffling a few cetermetres backwards with each word, just so he would have a greater distance between him and the maelstrom of black that had invaded his study. It had been so long since he had been on the opposite end of trespassing and felt the fear that the other side usually felt. His eyes had narrowed under his helmet, unseen - awaiting his answers. There were of course many questions which he did not dare ask. What exactly is the Godsbane. Why was it in Ireland. How can he defile it, learn it's secrets and ultimately take the power which it seems to have. It would be less... suicidal to keep those questions to one self.
His lips began to part, dry - until he nervously dragged his tongue across them. His fingers were shaking, the golden shine on them had been dullened by the darkness slithering along the floor. He kept his hands close to his chest just in case something from the darkness reached out and yanked them away and his purple cloak became smaller so that it was less prone to being dragged and used against him too.
"M-mighty Godsbane....' he paused, both for dramatic effect and because he had to straighten his voice so he sounded less like a child. 'W-.... who is 'Ouroboros'?" he asked, shuffling a few cetermetres backwards with each word, just so he would have a greater distance between him and the maelstrom of black that had invaded his study. It had been so long since he had been on the opposite end of trespassing and felt the fear that the other side usually felt. His eyes had narrowed under his helmet, unseen - awaiting his answers. There were of course many questions which he did not dare ask. What exactly is the Godsbane. Why was it in Ireland. How can he defile it, learn it's secrets and ultimately take the power which it seems to have. It would be less... suicidal to keep those questions to one self.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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"Men are from Mars but they all belong to Venus"
Venus- Post Mate
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "We're a lot alike you and I, except I'm rich and you're kind of a loser."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 162
Job : Bad Bitch
Humor : Seagirl's career
Registration date : 2013-04-21
Re: The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Zell January 13th 2014, 8:22 pm
It watched as the pathetic creature, oh so horribly mundane in it's mannerisms as it seemed to try and recede any part of it's frail humanoid construction. How pathetic, how futile, that the creature would believe by a simple recession of his cloak and extremities would save him form the wrath of the superior entity before him. he Godsbane, however was pleased by the reverential fear that it was shown, and as such it allowed the pathetic inferior to persist in it's existence. For now.
'W-.... who is 'Ouroboros'?
[/color] The creature would ask, though the more he shuffled backwards the closer he got to the Darkness behind him, though Godsbane would not move. For this creature was beneath his need to even enact anything upon "his" own accord. Godsbane gave no indication of any emotion, or regard for the human before him...other than a sheer superiority complex. A justified superiority complex.
"To the frailty of the flesh, he is a father, a warrior and a champion. To one such as myself He is the King of my Kin, The Blood of my Blood. It is he who can se the Nexus which binds us. He is the Fallen...the Resurrected...and the Slayer of Immortals. He is, and will be forever more. He is so much more than you could fathom, just as I... one so unaccomplished and underdeveloped such as yourself could never understand." Godsbane answered the question regarding the Ethereal King, though he soon began to wonder. Where was the Ethereal King? How long was he to be subjected to this foolish morsel of a creature.
'W-.... who is 'Ouroboros'?
[/color] The creature would ask, though the more he shuffled backwards the closer he got to the Darkness behind him, though Godsbane would not move. For this creature was beneath his need to even enact anything upon "his" own accord. Godsbane gave no indication of any emotion, or regard for the human before him...other than a sheer superiority complex. A justified superiority complex.
"To the frailty of the flesh, he is a father, a warrior and a champion. To one such as myself He is the King of my Kin, The Blood of my Blood. It is he who can se the Nexus which binds us. He is the Fallen...the Resurrected...and the Slayer of Immortals. He is, and will be forever more. He is so much more than you could fathom, just as I... one so unaccomplished and underdeveloped such as yourself could never understand." Godsbane answered the question regarding the Ethereal King, though he soon began to wonder. Where was the Ethereal King? How long was he to be subjected to this foolish morsel of a creature.
Last edited by Corgiboros on January 14th 2014, 3:05 pm; edited 1 time in total
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
- Spoiler:
"Gone from light, lead astray. Soul turned to darkness in a single day. Lead me back to the light. Killing me...the only way to set things right."
Zell- The Once and Future King
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "A villain is just a victim whose story you haven't learned yet."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 1417
Location : In my room...or a coffee shop.
Age : 28
Job : Existential Crisis Manager
Humor : [19:57:45] @ Spirit Corgi : In order to produce minions we require you to find two minions who love each other.
Registration date : 2013-05-07
Re: The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Venus January 14th 2014, 2:38 pm
"To the railty of the flesh, he is a father, a warrior and a champion. To one such as myself He is the King of my Kin, The Blood of my Blood. It is he who can se the Nexus which binds us. He is the Fallen...the Resurrected...and the Slayer of Immortals. He is, and will be forever more. He is so much more than you could fathom, just as I... one so unaccomplished and underdeveloped such as yourself could never understand."
Despite the words stinging his ego, Lord Traydor did learn one important thing about the Godsbane. It answered questions. His smirk grew unseen, under the dome draped over his head. His demeanor became a little more relaxed, sure this book talked the talk: But it was just a book. What is the worst it could do. He glanced over his shoulder and realized that he had nearly backed into the dark abyss that was now the hallway. Exhaling with relief that he hadn't done so he took three steps forward and tilted his head to the left a little. "I could never understand?" He echoed, his arms folded over and his fingers formed a musing pose. He leaned backed on his leg as if to be out of reach from someone's fist and eyed the avatar up and down, before his arms slithered down to his sides. Perhaps he could get away with some of the witheld questions... he might cause offense but it seemed helpful enough: In a way. Nervoulsy his lips peeled apart "What exactly are you? And why were you in Ireland of all places..."
Normally if someone had of been as rude to him as this book had been he would have escorted them from the building but the fact that this book was untouchable and that it could more than likely obliterate him with a thought... a... a book thought? Whatever it's equivalent is, frightened him. His magenta remained waist length and under his dome Traydor lower lip began to wobble in fear - just in case this book had had enough of him. Infact, he felt himself lowered down into his slouch once more.
Despite the words stinging his ego, Lord Traydor did learn one important thing about the Godsbane. It answered questions. His smirk grew unseen, under the dome draped over his head. His demeanor became a little more relaxed, sure this book talked the talk: But it was just a book. What is the worst it could do. He glanced over his shoulder and realized that he had nearly backed into the dark abyss that was now the hallway. Exhaling with relief that he hadn't done so he took three steps forward and tilted his head to the left a little. "I could never understand?" He echoed, his arms folded over and his fingers formed a musing pose. He leaned backed on his leg as if to be out of reach from someone's fist and eyed the avatar up and down, before his arms slithered down to his sides. Perhaps he could get away with some of the witheld questions... he might cause offense but it seemed helpful enough: In a way. Nervoulsy his lips peeled apart "What exactly are you? And why were you in Ireland of all places..."
Normally if someone had of been as rude to him as this book had been he would have escorted them from the building but the fact that this book was untouchable and that it could more than likely obliterate him with a thought... a... a book thought? Whatever it's equivalent is, frightened him. His magenta remained waist length and under his dome Traydor lower lip began to wobble in fear - just in case this book had had enough of him. Infact, he felt himself lowered down into his slouch once more.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
click image for bio
"Men are from Mars but they all belong to Venus"
Venus- Post Mate
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "We're a lot alike you and I, except I'm rich and you're kind of a loser."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 162
Job : Bad Bitch
Humor : Seagirl's career
Registration date : 2013-04-21
Re: The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Zell January 14th 2014, 3:36 pm
The ancient tome awaited to hear the creatures response. The response this time was equally as insignificant to him as the creature itslef, the creature simply echoed it's response. The Godsbane remained there, it's near all-seeing eye keeping Traydor in sight. The fool believed that he could hide himself beneath a suit, keeping his face hidden behind a dome of mysticism. The Godsbane simply persisted as the creature continued into a new line of questioning. This new line of questioning was one of a more useful nature. Godsbane would entertain these questions, merely because this was as he chose to do...because he knew that while knowledge is in fact power... sharing this was of no consequence within the scale of reality.
"I am the harbinger of doom to all immortals. I am the codices yea all to one codex. I am individual, yet an entire nation past and an entire nation to come. I was here before the creation of the realm, I will persist when your nations have crumbles and my people have conquered your pathetic races. I am the tome of eternal knowledge...it is I who knows how to slay Gods, it is I who knows the truths and lies of the multiverse. I shake the very ground you stand upon, and I will persist when you have long gone. It is I who see and exists in all present, past and future. I am the Godsbane, and I am the nations of past, present, and future." Godsbane answered the question regarding who he was, however he did not exactly answer the question regarding why he was in Ireland, perhaps delaying the inevitable from happening. He then moved on to speak with Traydor more directly, exercising his superiority over him. "You hide your face behind a glass of pathetic craft in which you call 'mysticism' and you smirk upon my answering of your questions, yet you turn to nervousness and keep when you think to ask another. There is nothing you can hide from me, Ambrose Traydor. Your smile is courage, born of the womb of ignorance. You seek to collect information, in the desire of hording the power that knowledge brings to you, yet still you are not even wise enough to admit you know nothing. Just as your Father knew nothing, and your mother along side him. Fools to a fool's fate. Understand this Ambrose Traydor. I answer your questions...because you are not a threat. One such as I has been forever, and will be forever more. In the concept of eternity you are but a speck of dust within the desert spanning the infinite cosmos. With this you will now understand how insignificant you truly are.... horde your knowledge little mage...in the end it will serve you no good." He growled, warning Traydor, whilst still trying to lure him in with every vigilant curiosity. Maws of nether fangs formed within the shadows as the Darkness ever encroached, the Godsbane had not completely enveloped the room yet, but soon he will have enough time bought to enact his full plan. The ground was entirely encased and was not part of nothing more than the nothingness of Godsbane.
Ouroboros stepped from the Ethereal Arc looking upon the Manor not so far away. He smirked as he walked towards it, knocking upon the door. This place apparently belonged to the "Traydor's" he knew nothing of this family, not that it mattered. Woe to whomever opened this door, at this point Ouroboros expected it to be a personal guard or a servant. No matter...it was the same fate either way.
"I am the harbinger of doom to all immortals. I am the codices yea all to one codex. I am individual, yet an entire nation past and an entire nation to come. I was here before the creation of the realm, I will persist when your nations have crumbles and my people have conquered your pathetic races. I am the tome of eternal knowledge...it is I who knows how to slay Gods, it is I who knows the truths and lies of the multiverse. I shake the very ground you stand upon, and I will persist when you have long gone. It is I who see and exists in all present, past and future. I am the Godsbane, and I am the nations of past, present, and future." Godsbane answered the question regarding who he was, however he did not exactly answer the question regarding why he was in Ireland, perhaps delaying the inevitable from happening. He then moved on to speak with Traydor more directly, exercising his superiority over him. "You hide your face behind a glass of pathetic craft in which you call 'mysticism' and you smirk upon my answering of your questions, yet you turn to nervousness and keep when you think to ask another. There is nothing you can hide from me, Ambrose Traydor. Your smile is courage, born of the womb of ignorance. You seek to collect information, in the desire of hording the power that knowledge brings to you, yet still you are not even wise enough to admit you know nothing. Just as your Father knew nothing, and your mother along side him. Fools to a fool's fate. Understand this Ambrose Traydor. I answer your questions...because you are not a threat. One such as I has been forever, and will be forever more. In the concept of eternity you are but a speck of dust within the desert spanning the infinite cosmos. With this you will now understand how insignificant you truly are.... horde your knowledge little mage...in the end it will serve you no good." He growled, warning Traydor, whilst still trying to lure him in with every vigilant curiosity. Maws of nether fangs formed within the shadows as the Darkness ever encroached, the Godsbane had not completely enveloped the room yet, but soon he will have enough time bought to enact his full plan. The ground was entirely encased and was not part of nothing more than the nothingness of Godsbane.
Ouroboros stepped from the Ethereal Arc looking upon the Manor not so far away. He smirked as he walked towards it, knocking upon the door. This place apparently belonged to the "Traydor's" he knew nothing of this family, not that it mattered. Woe to whomever opened this door, at this point Ouroboros expected it to be a personal guard or a servant. No matter...it was the same fate either way.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
- Spoiler:
"Gone from light, lead astray. Soul turned to darkness in a single day. Lead me back to the light. Killing me...the only way to set things right."
Zell- The Once and Future King
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "A villain is just a victim whose story you haven't learned yet."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 1417
Location : In my room...or a coffee shop.
Age : 28
Job : Existential Crisis Manager
Humor : [19:57:45] @ Spirit Corgi : In order to produce minions we require you to find two minions who love each other.
Registration date : 2013-05-07
Re: The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Venus January 17th 2014, 2:22 pm
This book... 'twas extraordinary. Remarkably annoying but it seemed to know a lot. Too much almost. It knew things that Traydor had never said out loud to anyone, as if it could reach it's gaze into the past and eerily echo history once again in an attempt to haunt the present. It seemed like a cheap trick, he had had a Gypsy babysitter one evening who could do something similar. So the fact that this book declared itself some sort of knowledge Nexus was, while a unique talent for a book, quite unimpressive.
Traydor took a step forward and raised an eyebrow under his helmet. He'd decided that he was going to try and bleed more and more knowledge from the book - regardless to whether or not it knew he would. "What else do you know, Grimoire?" He asked, tentatively. His hands resumed their Tyrannosaurus like position, curled at his chest and he tilted his head. However while he was awaiting an answer he knuckle strike the wooden bone on his manor's door and he shook his head. "It would be so terribly rude of me to ignore the door." He smiled under his helmet, and suddenly forced his body apart. Now, the real Traydor stood to the side while the duplicate he had just created stood there patiently and awaited the book to continue, smoke dancing from it's finger tips.
Traydor turned, his purple cape swinging behind him. He slowed his pace when he saw the shadows that had crept across the floor and wafted a hand to them. He turned and walked to the wall - holding a hand before him he allowed his figure to magically wade through the stone into the hallway outside it. He descended through the ground and quietly levitated before his golden boots pressed onto the hard wooden floor. Turning to face the door he sent out another Duplicant to answer it. The fake Traydor peeled the old door open to see who was knocking on this old rickety home's door. "Hello...?"
Traydor took a step forward and raised an eyebrow under his helmet. He'd decided that he was going to try and bleed more and more knowledge from the book - regardless to whether or not it knew he would. "What else do you know, Grimoire?" He asked, tentatively. His hands resumed their Tyrannosaurus like position, curled at his chest and he tilted his head. However while he was awaiting an answer he knuckle strike the wooden bone on his manor's door and he shook his head. "It would be so terribly rude of me to ignore the door." He smiled under his helmet, and suddenly forced his body apart. Now, the real Traydor stood to the side while the duplicate he had just created stood there patiently and awaited the book to continue, smoke dancing from it's finger tips.
Traydor turned, his purple cape swinging behind him. He slowed his pace when he saw the shadows that had crept across the floor and wafted a hand to them. He turned and walked to the wall - holding a hand before him he allowed his figure to magically wade through the stone into the hallway outside it. He descended through the ground and quietly levitated before his golden boots pressed onto the hard wooden floor. Turning to face the door he sent out another Duplicant to answer it. The fake Traydor peeled the old door open to see who was knocking on this old rickety home's door. "Hello...?"
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
click image for bio
"Men are from Mars but they all belong to Venus"
Venus- Post Mate
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "We're a lot alike you and I, except I'm rich and you're kind of a loser."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 162
Job : Bad Bitch
Humor : Seagirl's career
Registration date : 2013-04-21
Re: The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Zell January 18th 2014, 9:20 pm
Godsbane's eye narrowed even further. The creature wanted knowledge? Perhaps he would be given it...and with the knowledge he would recieve the corruption that followed. Though the creature could play it's little game, continue upon the path that Godsbane itself had designed for him. The poor creature virtually bleonged to him now, while it strived to squeeze the Grimoire of secrets it would only serve to dance as the Grimoire pulled at his strings.
"Grimoire. A label created by the men whom sought to conquer my secrets. The secrets of my race...the secrets of my people. The secrets of eternity and all it encompasses, In the end, naming me Grimoire served nothing... What they called me is not of significance. You have found me, as so many before you has... and you, like them, are confident that you shall wield the secrets of Godsbane. Confidence, born from total ignorance. This has happened more times than you could beleive. I cna hear the very thoughts echoing form your hollow and under-developed mind...calling out, screaming that they will harvest my secrets. In the end, those voices are as empty as the spirits of the dead, whom will wail forevermore by the time our dance is done." Godsbane said still the low growl. The door was answered, as it pulled away, Godsbane spoke again, a narrowed eye and what appeared to be satisfaction it it's voice. "This introduction is over." The creature said, receding back into the pages of the book.
The door opened and a fist went through the fishbowl, his fingers wrapped around the base of the neck, a firm tug of the middle finger, snapping the neck of the clone before discarding it aside like a used rag-doll. Ouroboros stepped into the house and chuckled as he looked around, Ouroboros effigies in his eyes. "Now where's my Godsbane?" he asked himself silently, half expecting ninjas or undead to attack him.... or perhaps of this...fish-bowl man
"Grimoire. A label created by the men whom sought to conquer my secrets. The secrets of my race...the secrets of my people. The secrets of eternity and all it encompasses, In the end, naming me Grimoire served nothing... What they called me is not of significance. You have found me, as so many before you has... and you, like them, are confident that you shall wield the secrets of Godsbane. Confidence, born from total ignorance. This has happened more times than you could beleive. I cna hear the very thoughts echoing form your hollow and under-developed mind...calling out, screaming that they will harvest my secrets. In the end, those voices are as empty as the spirits of the dead, whom will wail forevermore by the time our dance is done." Godsbane said still the low growl. The door was answered, as it pulled away, Godsbane spoke again, a narrowed eye and what appeared to be satisfaction it it's voice. "This introduction is over." The creature said, receding back into the pages of the book.
The door opened and a fist went through the fishbowl, his fingers wrapped around the base of the neck, a firm tug of the middle finger, snapping the neck of the clone before discarding it aside like a used rag-doll. Ouroboros stepped into the house and chuckled as he looked around, Ouroboros effigies in his eyes. "Now where's my Godsbane?" he asked himself silently, half expecting ninjas or undead to attack him.... or perhaps of this...fish-bowl man
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
- Spoiler:
"Gone from light, lead astray. Soul turned to darkness in a single day. Lead me back to the light. Killing me...the only way to set things right."
Zell- The Once and Future King
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "A villain is just a victim whose story you haven't learned yet."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 1417
Location : In my room...or a coffee shop.
Age : 28
Job : Existential Crisis Manager
Humor : [19:57:45] @ Spirit Corgi : In order to produce minions we require you to find two minions who love each other.
Registration date : 2013-05-07
Re: The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Venus January 21st 2014, 6:07 pm
Glass shattered backwards when the hand struck the Goldfish helmet around his head. However shortly after his face broke the entire clones body exploded backwards in a blur of blue smoke which quickly withered into nothing. Lord Traydor's jaw dropped and he shouted with great alarm "What the duece?!" while he recoiled back from the door shutting of his intangibility and nearly tripping over his own cloak. The intruder stepped with into the halls of Traydor's mansion, and the Lord himself began to back up from the door extended out a hand in a spell-casting gesture. "S-stay back!" he shouted, in an attempt to seem fearless, and at his side the green smoke that descended from his body swirled and spired upwards to form two more echoes of his shape. Exact copies. All three of them extended their right hands in unison and they began to glow with a bright purple light, preparing to fire lasers at this intruder. How fortunate that he had sent a clone to open the door, for if he hadn't perhaps he would have had his head splattered like a watermelon.
"Where is my Godsbane?" asked the man who had just broken into his home. The original Traydor lowered his hand, but the other two kept their's raised ready to fire at a moments notice. "It's... it's yours?" Traydor didn't know what to do. Should he return the book and be left in peace... or should he. Should he dig deeper? The book said it was the nexus of all knowledge or something along those lines and it seemed to possess a lot of useful skills as well knowing an awful lot. Traydor thought back to when it retold the tale of his betrayal to his family. Traydor's clone's stance quickly changed and his hands raised into the air. His dome continued to expel any image of his face and he spoke in a humbled and obviously fearful tone. "You are the... owner of that book?" Traydor took another step back, in a mixture of intimdation and natural cowardice. "Y-you must be... Ouroboros? Ouroboros the Fallen...the Resurrected...and the Slayer of Immortals." Traydor flattered. Is it flattery when it was true? He knew not; all he knew was that he was reciting what the book had told him about Ouroboros.
-----
The Clone in the room with the Godsbane raised an eyebrow as the creature began to receed into the pages of the book once more. He narrowed his eyes after he heard the door open and a shatter. Traydor, secretly activated his belt and swapped places with the clone - leaving it snivveling in his place while Traydor was safe in the library. The transition was an invisible one as the two paired the same shape.
"Where is my Godsbane?" asked the man who had just broken into his home. The original Traydor lowered his hand, but the other two kept their's raised ready to fire at a moments notice. "It's... it's yours?" Traydor didn't know what to do. Should he return the book and be left in peace... or should he. Should he dig deeper? The book said it was the nexus of all knowledge or something along those lines and it seemed to possess a lot of useful skills as well knowing an awful lot. Traydor thought back to when it retold the tale of his betrayal to his family. Traydor's clone's stance quickly changed and his hands raised into the air. His dome continued to expel any image of his face and he spoke in a humbled and obviously fearful tone. "You are the... owner of that book?" Traydor took another step back, in a mixture of intimdation and natural cowardice. "Y-you must be... Ouroboros? Ouroboros the Fallen...the Resurrected...and the Slayer of Immortals." Traydor flattered. Is it flattery when it was true? He knew not; all he knew was that he was reciting what the book had told him about Ouroboros.
-----
The Clone in the room with the Godsbane raised an eyebrow as the creature began to receed into the pages of the book once more. He narrowed his eyes after he heard the door open and a shatter. Traydor, secretly activated his belt and swapped places with the clone - leaving it snivveling in his place while Traydor was safe in the library. The transition was an invisible one as the two paired the same shape.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
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"Men are from Mars but they all belong to Venus"
Venus- Post Mate
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Online Offline
Quote : "We're a lot alike you and I, except I'm rich and you're kind of a loser."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 162
Job : Bad Bitch
Humor : Seagirl's career
Registration date : 2013-04-21
Re: The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Zell January 26th 2014, 2:07 pm
. The effigies in his eyes made it able to view the essence of the creatures before him. Obvious clones. The middle one however, was not the same as one would expect. This was the authentic one, the bringer of the clones. Ouroboros smirked looking straight at the creature. He prattled on about how he was Ouroboros and how he was the fallen, resurrected and slayer of immortals. This was all true, but stating the obvious held little to Ouroboros. Then something happened...the essences of the target shifted. The new energy was different. The eyes of a predator never lied, this was different. Somehow the man left without even needing to move. Ouroboros' sick sadistic smile only grew as he noticed this. That talent would have been effective on just about anyone else in the world, this was a most interesting little toy indeed.
King of my Kin, I am not far...heed my voice. The hosue of books is where I'm kept. The voice of Godsbane echoed in his head, a trickle of blood spilling form the eyes of Ouroboros. He chuckled menacingly as he wiped the tear of blood away. He didn't even move, he simply used his accessory to facilitate a movement. He warped, The tome floated and shot over behind Traydor, being caught by the suddenly appearing hand of Ouroboros. Much to his surprise there was another "astronaut fishman" and it was then Ouroboros had placed his free hand on Traydor's shoulder plainly, not causing harm, nor damage.
"Nice trick..." He whispered with the same sick and demented smile, a malicious hiss under his voice. Now remained behind the Lord Traydor, eyes revealing that the energy the same as the one before the clone replaced him. He still wore the smile as he stood there now silently.
King of my Kin, I am not far...heed my voice. The hosue of books is where I'm kept. The voice of Godsbane echoed in his head, a trickle of blood spilling form the eyes of Ouroboros. He chuckled menacingly as he wiped the tear of blood away. He didn't even move, he simply used his accessory to facilitate a movement. He warped, The tome floated and shot over behind Traydor, being caught by the suddenly appearing hand of Ouroboros. Much to his surprise there was another "astronaut fishman" and it was then Ouroboros had placed his free hand on Traydor's shoulder plainly, not causing harm, nor damage.
"Nice trick..." He whispered with the same sick and demented smile, a malicious hiss under his voice. Now remained behind the Lord Traydor, eyes revealing that the energy the same as the one before the clone replaced him. He still wore the smile as he stood there now silently.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
- Spoiler:
"Gone from light, lead astray. Soul turned to darkness in a single day. Lead me back to the light. Killing me...the only way to set things right."
Zell- The Once and Future King
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "A villain is just a victim whose story you haven't learned yet."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 1417
Location : In my room...or a coffee shop.
Age : 28
Job : Existential Crisis Manager
Humor : [19:57:45] @ Spirit Corgi : In order to produce minions we require you to find two minions who love each other.
Registration date : 2013-05-07
Re: The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Venus February 2nd 2014, 5:50 pm
Traydor's heart sank when the hand was placed upon his shoulder, he was perfectly aware that as of now if he so wanted too - this Ouroboros could simply crush his shoulder blade inwards and throw him aside like a rag doll. But he chose not to. Infact the hand on his shoulder was quite gentle and there didn't seem to be anything hostile about it. While his heart sank his body hair rose in tension and slowly his eyes moved to the left. When he tried to speak the words got caught in his throat as if they were asking 'are you sure?' he silently grunted before he turned around, stepping back from the hand placed on his shoulder.
"I assume you want your... book, back?" he managed to muster up a smidge of courage for the question - the tone was submissive so it was obvious that he knew there was nothing he could do if he wanted to keep it. The book itself would probably not let him. "Because, that's... completely acceptable." he said meekly, trying to avoid any form of conflict. Questions swimmed in his mind. Who was he? How had he never heard of an Ouroboros in all his years of magical study. Prehaps his hadn't been as extensive as he had thought. Mayhaps, if he were lucky; this Ouroboros would entertain his questions.
"I assume you want your... book, back?" he managed to muster up a smidge of courage for the question - the tone was submissive so it was obvious that he knew there was nothing he could do if he wanted to keep it. The book itself would probably not let him. "Because, that's... completely acceptable." he said meekly, trying to avoid any form of conflict. Questions swimmed in his mind. Who was he? How had he never heard of an Ouroboros in all his years of magical study. Prehaps his hadn't been as extensive as he had thought. Mayhaps, if he were lucky; this Ouroboros would entertain his questions.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
click image for bio
"Men are from Mars but they all belong to Venus"
Venus- Post Mate
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "We're a lot alike you and I, except I'm rich and you're kind of a loser."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 162
Job : Bad Bitch
Humor : Seagirl's career
Registration date : 2013-04-21
Re: The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Zell February 3rd 2014, 3:37 pm
Ouroboros smirked, letting a little sigh escape him before taking and tucking the old tome of forbidden knowledge under his arm. With an arch of the eyebrow to the coward whom kept he, Ouroboros turned and walked for the door, feeling rather merciful for the time being. Though, perhaps against his nature, Ourobroos found himself rather...curious at the moment. No man could move the Godsbane without being a relative to Ouroboros. He stopped, pivoted on a foot just as he reached the door and turned to the man, Traydor. He sighed and walked back up to the man, holding up the Grimoire.
"How, and where...pray tell.... did you happen upon my Grimoire...and more importantly, my interesting little friend, did you move it?" He asked, using his fingers to run slightly at Traydor's cloak in the front where t was clasped to his suit. The man was able to somehow move Godsbane, and that in itself was worth investigation. Not as if he were truly expecting Godsbane to have uplifted the man into an Ethereal creature...unless the Grimoire and the all-knowing deity within it had a more twisted sense of humor that even Ouroboros himself had.
"How, and where...pray tell.... did you happen upon my Grimoire...and more importantly, my interesting little friend, did you move it?" He asked, using his fingers to run slightly at Traydor's cloak in the front where t was clasped to his suit. The man was able to somehow move Godsbane, and that in itself was worth investigation. Not as if he were truly expecting Godsbane to have uplifted the man into an Ethereal creature...unless the Grimoire and the all-knowing deity within it had a more twisted sense of humor that even Ouroboros himself had.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
- Spoiler:
"Gone from light, lead astray. Soul turned to darkness in a single day. Lead me back to the light. Killing me...the only way to set things right."
Zell- The Once and Future King
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "A villain is just a victim whose story you haven't learned yet."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 1417
Location : In my room...or a coffee shop.
Age : 28
Job : Existential Crisis Manager
Humor : [19:57:45] @ Spirit Corgi : In order to produce minions we require you to find two minions who love each other.
Registration date : 2013-05-07
Re: The stolen grimoire... (Ouro)
by Venus February 3rd 2014, 6:03 pm
When Ouroboros began walking to the door, a relieved sigh slithered from Traydor's throat. Traydor stood still, watching every footstep Ouro made; praying to Dolum that he would have time to react if he suddenly changed his mind and decided to rush straight back towards him - punching him in half. When he stopped infront of the door his heart sank into a chasym.when the footsteps stopped. Ourobros had turned back to face him and then began to stride back to him again. He took a step or two back but before he could make any action Ouroboros held the Grimoire infront of him.
"How, and where...pray tell.... did you happen upon my Grimoire...and more importantly, my interesting little friend, did you move it?" he said, while running a finger along the metallic straps holding his cloak into place. A shiver shuddered down his spine before his lips found the valor to part. "I found it on the Giant's Causeway... In Northern Ireland. 'T-... 'Twas quite miserable.' he said, trying to ignore the fingers dancing on his chest. 'I found it with... ' he paused for a brief second and decided that he wouldn't give up his secret's of perception just yet 'With an occult sensory device, an Occulus Orb.' He motioned to a glowing white orb on the desk beside him. 'It seemed peculiar and I wished to learn more.' he stopped again, for a mixture of pacing and mystery...
"Moving it; was quite the task. It would not to move to my fingers. Not even inanimate objects could move it, but apparently it is susceptible to... outside magical forces. 'Technically, nothing moved it." he also decided it would be best to keep the mention of darkness out of it, the more secrets he could preserve the better.
He called him friend. Perhaps he could relax, a small amount. Something about this man and that book was like a siren. A siren that seduced the sorcerer's soul. He wanted to burst with questions and requests, but he knew to not push his luck. Doing so would most likely end badly.
He followed his speech with a small question.
"How does a book move without it's owner's knowledge?" he felt dumb immediately after. He knew this was no ordinary tome. It was the Godsbane, it had plunged his entire study into darkness and threatened to consume him and all it had done was open it's covers. "Although, this is no ordinary book I suppose."
"How, and where...pray tell.... did you happen upon my Grimoire...and more importantly, my interesting little friend, did you move it?" he said, while running a finger along the metallic straps holding his cloak into place. A shiver shuddered down his spine before his lips found the valor to part. "I found it on the Giant's Causeway... In Northern Ireland. 'T-... 'Twas quite miserable.' he said, trying to ignore the fingers dancing on his chest. 'I found it with... ' he paused for a brief second and decided that he wouldn't give up his secret's of perception just yet 'With an occult sensory device, an Occulus Orb.' He motioned to a glowing white orb on the desk beside him. 'It seemed peculiar and I wished to learn more.' he stopped again, for a mixture of pacing and mystery...
"Moving it; was quite the task. It would not to move to my fingers. Not even inanimate objects could move it, but apparently it is susceptible to... outside magical forces. 'Technically, nothing moved it." he also decided it would be best to keep the mention of darkness out of it, the more secrets he could preserve the better.
He called him friend. Perhaps he could relax, a small amount. Something about this man and that book was like a siren. A siren that seduced the sorcerer's soul. He wanted to burst with questions and requests, but he knew to not push his luck. Doing so would most likely end badly.
He followed his speech with a small question.
"How does a book move without it's owner's knowledge?" he felt dumb immediately after. He knew this was no ordinary tome. It was the Godsbane, it had plunged his entire study into darkness and threatened to consume him and all it had done was open it's covers. "Although, this is no ordinary book I suppose."
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________
click image for bio
"Men are from Mars but they all belong to Venus"
Venus- Post Mate
- Status :
Online Offline
Quote : "We're a lot alike you and I, except I'm rich and you're kind of a loser."
Warnings :
Number of posts : 162
Job : Bad Bitch
Humor : Seagirl's career
Registration date : 2013-04-21
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