a jester of sorts
WHO: Magic-type folks, friends of magic-type folks. Anyone who signed up or forgot to sign up but wants to join anyway.
WHAT: Restore the Sanctum Sanctorum.
WHERE: Greenwich Village, New York
WHEN: Early in the week.
WARNINGS: TBA
SUMMARY: Two Sorcerer Supremes and a whole lot of magic. What could go wrong? Or rather, what could not go wrong?
The Sanctum Sanctorum stood on a corner in the very centre of Green Village. It would have been an impressive sight, had its walls and windows not been cracked and twisted in ways only partly perceptible to the human eye, splinters of dimensional enchantments causing impossible shapes and the odd patch where the physical building had worn away to expose the seething magical barriers beneath its mundane shell.
And they meant to fix it.
Stephen was quite ready to admit that they were about to attempt something that was both unbelievably dangerous and unbelievably unlikely to succeed, but he was just as ready to point out that such things were the job of a Sorcerer Supreme, and with two of them there, they really didn't have a choice in the matter.
Nevertheless, it couldn't hurt to take every precaution possible. He and Nico had arrived hours in advance of the time they had arranged privately with those she had thought trustworthy, and had spent those hours painstakingly getting the magic circle and supplementary wards perfect to the last rune. Paint, chalk, wax and, in the case of several crucial sections, blood decorated the warped pavement around the crippled Sanctum, with smaller circles set into the arcane design as foci and shields in which the various contributers could sit and remain safe from any magical effects generated by the ritual. Within the building, mystical flames burned green in sconces that he had shamelessly appropriated from a home decoration store, and the lines of the circle flashed a bright, many-hued light whenever one of them had to enter its boundaries to adjust a marking.
"That should be sufficient," He straightened from nudging a candle a vital few millimetres and brushed the chalk dust and wax from his hands with a brisk motion. "Though admittedly I have missed several years of magical progress. Would you like to add anything to the wardings?"
WHAT: Restore the Sanctum Sanctorum.
WHERE: Greenwich Village, New York
WHEN: Early in the week.
WARNINGS: TBA
SUMMARY: Two Sorcerer Supremes and a whole lot of magic. What could go wrong? Or rather, what could not go wrong?
The Sanctum Sanctorum stood on a corner in the very centre of Green Village. It would have been an impressive sight, had its walls and windows not been cracked and twisted in ways only partly perceptible to the human eye, splinters of dimensional enchantments causing impossible shapes and the odd patch where the physical building had worn away to expose the seething magical barriers beneath its mundane shell.
And they meant to fix it.
Stephen was quite ready to admit that they were about to attempt something that was both unbelievably dangerous and unbelievably unlikely to succeed, but he was just as ready to point out that such things were the job of a Sorcerer Supreme, and with two of them there, they really didn't have a choice in the matter.
Nevertheless, it couldn't hurt to take every precaution possible. He and Nico had arrived hours in advance of the time they had arranged privately with those she had thought trustworthy, and had spent those hours painstakingly getting the magic circle and supplementary wards perfect to the last rune. Paint, chalk, wax and, in the case of several crucial sections, blood decorated the warped pavement around the crippled Sanctum, with smaller circles set into the arcane design as foci and shields in which the various contributers could sit and remain safe from any magical effects generated by the ritual. Within the building, mystical flames burned green in sconces that he had shamelessly appropriated from a home decoration store, and the lines of the circle flashed a bright, many-hued light whenever one of them had to enter its boundaries to adjust a marking.
"That should be sufficient," He straightened from nudging a candle a vital few millimetres and brushed the chalk dust and wax from his hands with a brisk motion. "Though admittedly I have missed several years of magical progress. Would you like to add anything to the wardings?"