Break it down and tear away the spaces in-between
WHO: Illidan Stormrage
WHERE: BLACK TEMPLE His Church
WHEN: Wednesday night; LATE
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: Who has two horns and likes magic? THIS GUY...
FORMAT: Solo
What was in his hand was power. Pure and unadulterated. There was no marring of the sensation as he held it in his hand, his long nails grazing against the smooth, polished surface of the stone. It was beautiful in it's simplicity, and it was all that was left of the girl. Terra. This was all that remained, and what a remainder! He could feel the power shifting underneath the hard surface, and incandescent glow from the piece, and he wished to just lap it up. Drain the magic from it until there was nothing left but a husk of a shard.
Could he drain it? He didn't know, and while the temptation was great, his other hand still gripped another artifact of power. This one, however, whispered to him, and cajoled him. Insight. The spirit of Gul'dan still resided in the bleached bone, and it whispered of another way. A way to get more power.
Or at least to not burn this out so quickly. A year in a magic-starved world, and the small amounts he could leech from others were not nearly enough. Not even when he had spent 10,000 years beneath ground, for his land was still the land of magic. He had never been deprived of what he needed. Yet here he was, and it starved him, he relied on using less and less magic over time. Even the flames that curled in his wake were dimmer than they had been. They dissipated to the air quicker than they should have.
Without magic to draw on...
The skull had a point. If he could use this, then perhaps there would no longer be a need for conserving what power he craved. But how was the question.
And Gul'dan answered once again. There were possibilities with this. The remnants of the girl, a touch of his own power and...
His hand dropped the skull, the bone thudding against the silent stone floor, before reaching a pew and stopping. The hollow thud of it's impact echoed through the chamber, in the silence of an empty church. He ignored it, his hand swooping down to his pocket, fingers picking out a small vial. The last vial.
He inhaled, his fingers tightening around it. Even through the clenched skin, he could see the reflection of the water, glowing, escaping in any way it could through whatever break in his flesh there was. He let a split come to his lips, teeth bared in an almost smile. This had resulted in 10,000 years underneath the ground. This had been worth it. He had held seven of them, and this was the last. The last chance he had, but should he squander it on this world?
But then.
If he were to use this, coupled with the magic in the stone, as well as his own, he could create more vials, take them back home with him. He had held onto it for a reason.
He strode out of the church, each step leaden with purpose and driven by desire. He flung the doors open and into the night he went, standing before the long pathway to the church. The night was filled with the calls of birds, the ambience of the city in the distance, the 'car' vehicles a constant sound of horns and screeches.
First was to temper the earth. He reached in, and let his magic flow through him, his hands now outstretched after placing the precious items in his pockets. The earth quaked before him, trembling before his feet, and then the ground beneath him shuddered as it formed a ledge, much of it dropping into a ditch. Then it was a valley. Then after several moments of shuddering and moving, what was left was a pit.
He breathed, examining the residue emenating from the earth. It was just enough energy, just enough residue that he could see the remnants of his handiwork. His lips split, before he raised his fist before his face, allowing energy to convalesc in his fist, and he drove it to the ground. It was symbolic in nature, of course. The ground resisted his punch, but with the force of his fist, he released energy, and it drove downwards, further and further down, before it hit water, and he released the force, working within the small reservoir to pull it upwards, enough to get the flow started.
and with that, the water began to seep, following the small incline he'd crafted, and he waited.
It took hours, but with his forced hand, he'd filled the large pit, it wasn't a pit of course anymore. It was a lake.
And with that, he first pulled the shard of stone, and with a release of energy, he flecked a piece off of it. Not much, but he didn't need much. The rest of the stone would be his and his alone. The rest would not be just his, but he controlled it, and that was enough. With what else he would do to the lake, it may even benefit him. He held it in his hand, and ignited it, reducing it to a hot resin, but the heat was inconsequential enough that he didn't notice it. He pulled the cork off the vial with his teeth, and let the remnants of her magic seep into the vial.
It was only then that he flooded the remnants of his Well of Eternity with his own magic, feeding it, and letting it grow, enhancing it.
And then he released it. It fell into the water, the resounding rumble not one of earth, but instead of energy. The lake bubbled, the waters sloshed, and from deep within it started to glow. And slowly, it reached the surface, until it was the entire lake before his church that glowed. Not the bright, pure light of the well of his world. Even now, after so much time, he remembered it. No, it still had an ephereal light, but it was only slightly tainted. Enough so that the once blue undertones were a brilliant, fel green. The light of an ooze, glowing from within.
All Illidan could do was stand back, and reap the rewards of his handiwork.
[ ooc; And magic users are free to notice! The Well of Eternity has been brought into the city! ]
WHERE: BLACK TEMPLE His Church
WHEN: Wednesday night; LATE
WARNINGS: None
SUMMARY: Who has two horns and likes magic? THIS GUY...
FORMAT: Solo
What was in his hand was power. Pure and unadulterated. There was no marring of the sensation as he held it in his hand, his long nails grazing against the smooth, polished surface of the stone. It was beautiful in it's simplicity, and it was all that was left of the girl. Terra. This was all that remained, and what a remainder! He could feel the power shifting underneath the hard surface, and incandescent glow from the piece, and he wished to just lap it up. Drain the magic from it until there was nothing left but a husk of a shard.
Could he drain it? He didn't know, and while the temptation was great, his other hand still gripped another artifact of power. This one, however, whispered to him, and cajoled him. Insight. The spirit of Gul'dan still resided in the bleached bone, and it whispered of another way. A way to get more power.
Or at least to not burn this out so quickly. A year in a magic-starved world, and the small amounts he could leech from others were not nearly enough. Not even when he had spent 10,000 years beneath ground, for his land was still the land of magic. He had never been deprived of what he needed. Yet here he was, and it starved him, he relied on using less and less magic over time. Even the flames that curled in his wake were dimmer than they had been. They dissipated to the air quicker than they should have.
Without magic to draw on...
The skull had a point. If he could use this, then perhaps there would no longer be a need for conserving what power he craved. But how was the question.
And Gul'dan answered once again. There were possibilities with this. The remnants of the girl, a touch of his own power and...
His hand dropped the skull, the bone thudding against the silent stone floor, before reaching a pew and stopping. The hollow thud of it's impact echoed through the chamber, in the silence of an empty church. He ignored it, his hand swooping down to his pocket, fingers picking out a small vial. The last vial.
He inhaled, his fingers tightening around it. Even through the clenched skin, he could see the reflection of the water, glowing, escaping in any way it could through whatever break in his flesh there was. He let a split come to his lips, teeth bared in an almost smile. This had resulted in 10,000 years underneath the ground. This had been worth it. He had held seven of them, and this was the last. The last chance he had, but should he squander it on this world?
But then.
If he were to use this, coupled with the magic in the stone, as well as his own, he could create more vials, take them back home with him. He had held onto it for a reason.
He strode out of the church, each step leaden with purpose and driven by desire. He flung the doors open and into the night he went, standing before the long pathway to the church. The night was filled with the calls of birds, the ambience of the city in the distance, the 'car' vehicles a constant sound of horns and screeches.
First was to temper the earth. He reached in, and let his magic flow through him, his hands now outstretched after placing the precious items in his pockets. The earth quaked before him, trembling before his feet, and then the ground beneath him shuddered as it formed a ledge, much of it dropping into a ditch. Then it was a valley. Then after several moments of shuddering and moving, what was left was a pit.
He breathed, examining the residue emenating from the earth. It was just enough energy, just enough residue that he could see the remnants of his handiwork. His lips split, before he raised his fist before his face, allowing energy to convalesc in his fist, and he drove it to the ground. It was symbolic in nature, of course. The ground resisted his punch, but with the force of his fist, he released energy, and it drove downwards, further and further down, before it hit water, and he released the force, working within the small reservoir to pull it upwards, enough to get the flow started.
and with that, the water began to seep, following the small incline he'd crafted, and he waited.
It took hours, but with his forced hand, he'd filled the large pit, it wasn't a pit of course anymore. It was a lake.
And with that, he first pulled the shard of stone, and with a release of energy, he flecked a piece off of it. Not much, but he didn't need much. The rest of the stone would be his and his alone. The rest would not be just his, but he controlled it, and that was enough. With what else he would do to the lake, it may even benefit him. He held it in his hand, and ignited it, reducing it to a hot resin, but the heat was inconsequential enough that he didn't notice it. He pulled the cork off the vial with his teeth, and let the remnants of her magic seep into the vial.
It was only then that he flooded the remnants of his Well of Eternity with his own magic, feeding it, and letting it grow, enhancing it.
And then he released it. It fell into the water, the resounding rumble not one of earth, but instead of energy. The lake bubbled, the waters sloshed, and from deep within it started to glow. And slowly, it reached the surface, until it was the entire lake before his church that glowed. Not the bright, pure light of the well of his world. Even now, after so much time, he remembered it. No, it still had an ephereal light, but it was only slightly tainted. Enough so that the once blue undertones were a brilliant, fel green. The light of an ooze, glowing from within.
All Illidan could do was stand back, and reap the rewards of his handiwork.
[ ooc; And magic users are free to notice! The Well of Eternity has been brought into the city! ]