02-29-2016, 09:00 PM
In a burst of light and a wave of nausea, the One Above All was thrust, stumbling, into the endless void of the Nexus. Magus was alive, and what was more, he could instantly feel the familiar buzz of black magic coalesce inside of him. The roar of the Black Wind came crashing in, too, howling loud. The cacophony nearly drowned out the actual noise around him, and a lesser, more experienced magister may have succumbed.
Magus, ever as always, was no such wizard. Though he had to close his eyes and blot out the world to retain his focus, soon, he was able to push through the violent howls of the Black Wind. Something horrid was coming. The Nexus would soon be host to great suffering.
No matter. The plight of a few Primes didn’t bother him, and the Secondaries were so far beneath his view as to not be accounted for in the slightest.
At the very least, a quick inspection showed that his wounds had all healed. Even his clothing had been restored. Refreshed and restored, Magus was back. Teucer be damned; he didn’t even care what had gone on after he’d been felled. He only hoped Crowley was still alive.
He struck out toward the Camelot gate. The ever-changing Fountain stood between the wizard and his destination, altering its shape and constitution even as he strode toward it. A simple red-brick fountain was soon replaced with an ornate, multi-tiered fountain, cascading water over what appeared to be solid sheaves of diamond.
If only the concept of scarcity meant anything in the Omniverse, the glittering stone would have made Magus unfathomably wealthy.
A group had massed itself near the Fountain, and every step he took toward them, the Black Wind grew stronger. The epicenter was here, then. One of these people seemed to be the focus of it, but there was an enormous amount of energy scattered here, clashing and swirling about like a burning fireworks factory.
A colossal, foul-smelling atrocity towered over a strikingly well-dressed, unsettling man. Though the enormous tin can looked – and smelled – much more obviously upsetting than the man in the suit and the sunglasses, something seemed odd about him.
There were others, too. A rudimentary machine zipped about, talking incessantly in a ferociously annoying voice. Whatever. The mobile noisemaker seemed preoccupied with some bizarre genetic abomination – an enormous worm-like creature with arms and legs.
There were others still, all much more unremarkable than the rest. A large man in what seemed to be plate mail and a billowing cape, some young and over-exuberant whelp, and a swordsman. And, he noticed, a man had positioned himself many paces off, using the Fountain as partial cover. He was hidden behind robes, but was undoubtedly watching the events as they happened.
Magus hummed to himself, contemplating his options. Whatever was happening here, it wasn’t his problem. But then, the Black Wind had found a focal point in the well-heeled man. It swirled around him, tore against him, in a maelstrom. An unseen tornado stretched from him up into the expanse above.
He was the catalyst for whatever was to happen. Magus’ curiosity compelled him to at least find out why. His insatiable hunger for knowledge suddenly compelled him to move one foot in front of the other, until he was nearly standing between the two unnatural creatures. The horrible stench that emanated from the hulking monstrosity was utterly overwhelming from this distance, and Magus sustained an aura of translucent Shadeflame around him, simply to keep the wretched stench at bay. The ghostly tendrils of flame that lazily lilted from his frame were a nice addition to his entry, however.
The… thing… introduced itself as ‘Okor Paleblood’, of some organization called the ‘Institute’, and extended its diseased hand in offer of greeting to the balding man-in-the-suit, who regarded Okor from behind a pair of expensive designer sunglasses.
“Who are you?” Magus interrupted, addressing the less fragrant of the two. Okor swivelled his head toward the Demon King with the metal-on-ceramic shriek of worn and rusted joints. The horrible machination seemed to glare down at him while noxious fumes continued to pour from him.
Magus shot a quick glance to the staring colossus from the side of his eye, before finally turning to face him directly. “Do you see something you like? Or are you just trying to annoy me?”
The juggernaut rumbled its response, but took a step back, apparently indifferent to Magus’ caustic tone.
“I am… Smith,” the uncomfortable man responded, extending his hand to Magus, who pointedly refused to reciprocate, until the man who called himself Smith withdrew the gesture. “But if you didn’t know that already, then… why are you here?”
“You’re up to something. I wanted to see what.”
“Justice,” Smith responded, matter-of-factly. “I’m gathering some like-minded Primes to correct a great injustice. Soon, a man named Sasuke will appear here, and I intend to repay him for his betrayal in the Graveyard.”
Magus arched an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
“The pursuit of justice? The Black Wind nips at you like a vortex, and the only thing you care about is righting some personal injustice? You’re not even dead anymore,” Magus stifled a scoff. They were many and he was one, and all he wanted was to return to his business. “No matter. This place will run red with blood soon. You might see justice yet.”
The wizard continued on his path without another word.
“Artefacts,” Smith quipped. It was hardly much to go on, but it froze Magus in step as though he’d been struck with paralysis magic. Magus slowly turned back to Smith, crimson eyes burning into the black, mirrored voids where Smith’s eyes ought to have been. “The man I want to bring to justice… Sasuke, has… artefacts. I’m led to believe that these are items of great power in the Omniverse.”
“Why tell me this?” the wizard hissed.
“Some people aren’t as motivated by… altruism, as others. Some prefer more tangible rewards.”
“You’re saying you’ll give me an artefact if I help you.”
“Perhaps. This is a potential opportunity for an enterprising…”
“Wizard.”
“Wizard,” Smith responded. He’d have sounded more incredulous when he first arrived, but the Omniverse was hardly as predictable as the Matrix had been.
Magus narrowed his eyes. “Then, perhaps you have an ally. I’ll leave you to the trash can,” he gestured to Okor. “You let me know what you decide before this place goes to hell.”
The Demon King strode away from the crowd that had gathered, leaving the endless chatter behind. There, unfettered by the noise, Magus worked to channel some of his Omnilium. Soon, it stretched out before him, taking shape, and then texture.
He manifested a throne like the one he’d sat upon at his castle: a tall, wooden chair, topped with ornate spikes inscribed with runes of all types. The wooden spines spilled down along either side of the chair, swooping out and then back toward him, like wings, meant to shield him from any would-be assassin who might try to approach from behind.
Satisfied, Magus plopped down atop the comfortable cushions of the chair, positioned to watch the actions of Smith’s militia. He reclined lazily, resting his ankle on his knee and stretching out. He set about summoning a cold drink as he watched the events unfold.
Magus, ever as always, was no such wizard. Though he had to close his eyes and blot out the world to retain his focus, soon, he was able to push through the violent howls of the Black Wind. Something horrid was coming. The Nexus would soon be host to great suffering.
No matter. The plight of a few Primes didn’t bother him, and the Secondaries were so far beneath his view as to not be accounted for in the slightest.
At the very least, a quick inspection showed that his wounds had all healed. Even his clothing had been restored. Refreshed and restored, Magus was back. Teucer be damned; he didn’t even care what had gone on after he’d been felled. He only hoped Crowley was still alive.
He struck out toward the Camelot gate. The ever-changing Fountain stood between the wizard and his destination, altering its shape and constitution even as he strode toward it. A simple red-brick fountain was soon replaced with an ornate, multi-tiered fountain, cascading water over what appeared to be solid sheaves of diamond.
If only the concept of scarcity meant anything in the Omniverse, the glittering stone would have made Magus unfathomably wealthy.
A group had massed itself near the Fountain, and every step he took toward them, the Black Wind grew stronger. The epicenter was here, then. One of these people seemed to be the focus of it, but there was an enormous amount of energy scattered here, clashing and swirling about like a burning fireworks factory.
A colossal, foul-smelling atrocity towered over a strikingly well-dressed, unsettling man. Though the enormous tin can looked – and smelled – much more obviously upsetting than the man in the suit and the sunglasses, something seemed odd about him.
There were others, too. A rudimentary machine zipped about, talking incessantly in a ferociously annoying voice. Whatever. The mobile noisemaker seemed preoccupied with some bizarre genetic abomination – an enormous worm-like creature with arms and legs.
There were others still, all much more unremarkable than the rest. A large man in what seemed to be plate mail and a billowing cape, some young and over-exuberant whelp, and a swordsman. And, he noticed, a man had positioned himself many paces off, using the Fountain as partial cover. He was hidden behind robes, but was undoubtedly watching the events as they happened.
Magus hummed to himself, contemplating his options. Whatever was happening here, it wasn’t his problem. But then, the Black Wind had found a focal point in the well-heeled man. It swirled around him, tore against him, in a maelstrom. An unseen tornado stretched from him up into the expanse above.
He was the catalyst for whatever was to happen. Magus’ curiosity compelled him to at least find out why. His insatiable hunger for knowledge suddenly compelled him to move one foot in front of the other, until he was nearly standing between the two unnatural creatures. The horrible stench that emanated from the hulking monstrosity was utterly overwhelming from this distance, and Magus sustained an aura of translucent Shadeflame around him, simply to keep the wretched stench at bay. The ghostly tendrils of flame that lazily lilted from his frame were a nice addition to his entry, however.
The… thing… introduced itself as ‘Okor Paleblood’, of some organization called the ‘Institute’, and extended its diseased hand in offer of greeting to the balding man-in-the-suit, who regarded Okor from behind a pair of expensive designer sunglasses.
“Who are you?” Magus interrupted, addressing the less fragrant of the two. Okor swivelled his head toward the Demon King with the metal-on-ceramic shriek of worn and rusted joints. The horrible machination seemed to glare down at him while noxious fumes continued to pour from him.
Magus shot a quick glance to the staring colossus from the side of his eye, before finally turning to face him directly. “Do you see something you like? Or are you just trying to annoy me?”
The juggernaut rumbled its response, but took a step back, apparently indifferent to Magus’ caustic tone.
“I am… Smith,” the uncomfortable man responded, extending his hand to Magus, who pointedly refused to reciprocate, until the man who called himself Smith withdrew the gesture. “But if you didn’t know that already, then… why are you here?”
“You’re up to something. I wanted to see what.”
“Justice,” Smith responded, matter-of-factly. “I’m gathering some like-minded Primes to correct a great injustice. Soon, a man named Sasuke will appear here, and I intend to repay him for his betrayal in the Graveyard.”
Magus arched an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“What do you mean?”
“The pursuit of justice? The Black Wind nips at you like a vortex, and the only thing you care about is righting some personal injustice? You’re not even dead anymore,” Magus stifled a scoff. They were many and he was one, and all he wanted was to return to his business. “No matter. This place will run red with blood soon. You might see justice yet.”
The wizard continued on his path without another word.
“Artefacts,” Smith quipped. It was hardly much to go on, but it froze Magus in step as though he’d been struck with paralysis magic. Magus slowly turned back to Smith, crimson eyes burning into the black, mirrored voids where Smith’s eyes ought to have been. “The man I want to bring to justice… Sasuke, has… artefacts. I’m led to believe that these are items of great power in the Omniverse.”
“Why tell me this?” the wizard hissed.
“Some people aren’t as motivated by… altruism, as others. Some prefer more tangible rewards.”
“You’re saying you’ll give me an artefact if I help you.”
“Perhaps. This is a potential opportunity for an enterprising…”
“Wizard.”
“Wizard,” Smith responded. He’d have sounded more incredulous when he first arrived, but the Omniverse was hardly as predictable as the Matrix had been.
Magus narrowed his eyes. “Then, perhaps you have an ally. I’ll leave you to the trash can,” he gestured to Okor. “You let me know what you decide before this place goes to hell.”
The Demon King strode away from the crowd that had gathered, leaving the endless chatter behind. There, unfettered by the noise, Magus worked to channel some of his Omnilium. Soon, it stretched out before him, taking shape, and then texture.
He manifested a throne like the one he’d sat upon at his castle: a tall, wooden chair, topped with ornate spikes inscribed with runes of all types. The wooden spines spilled down along either side of the chair, swooping out and then back toward him, like wings, meant to shield him from any would-be assassin who might try to approach from behind.
Satisfied, Magus plopped down atop the comfortable cushions of the chair, positioned to watch the actions of Smith’s militia. He reclined lazily, resting his ankle on his knee and stretching out. He set about summoning a cold drink as he watched the events unfold.
![[Image: Magus.jpg]](http://rpnexus.com/sig/miscsig/Magus.jpg)