Ulrich Craggenmoor
08-10-14, 03:22 PM
The wizard was beginning to spend more time here than in any other place. A worrying conecpt for someone who didn't enjoy the idea of being beaten and running for his life. The prospect of living through death wasn't exactly appealing either.
Of course he knew full well that whatever happened in the citadel had minimal repercussions on you personally, what with the monk's apparent power over life and death, but when a rolling ball of fire was screaming its way towards your bleary eyes you had a set of reeactions built into your instincts. In split moments like that, you still ran for your life. Regardless of whatever happened after you died, the knowledge that you would be put back together even caused some opponents to become sadistic, holding nothing back and tearing limbs off and using them as clubs until you were only a thick paste across the ground.
No matter the final outcome, having to live through that wasn't going to be plesant.
Ulrich wanted to live here. Not in the citadel, although that was a thought he had considered, but in Radasanth. The captial of Corone. The great citadel tower grew from it's centre and streatched high into the sky, overcasting the city in a shadow that could stretch beyond the outer limits whenever the sun touched the horizon. The building itself was awe-inspiring and even that was dwarfed by what was inside. The powers held by the monks. To create worlds on a whim. Powers held by gods were contained in that spire. Ulrich wanted all of it.
In a perfectly healthy, for the greater good, fashion. Of course.
So that Ulrich was here to experement wouldn't be a total surprise to anybody.
They frowned on the citadel being used for much else than an area. Asking for a good night with a handfull of elves got you a dirty look and a quick escort out. Then you had to go and get a real escort which was a pain in the ass since nowhere withing three hundered meters of the citadel would do anything close to lewd, let alone sexual. But with every failure was a lesson. The prime one here being: Dont go to an arena for a free shag. No, Ulrich was here for a different reason.
Training. He had had his arse kicked three too many times recently by petty thugs and it was something Ulrich was wanting to change. For a wizard, training means one thing. The citadel was, Ulrich hoped, the easiest way to go about it.
The monk at the gate, the same average looking half-ork as always, bowed his head slightly under the cloth hood of his robes upon Ulrich's arrival, as a sign of mutual respect; agreement to the many un-spoken rules that governed the place and to the level of trust that was placed with them each time someone passed over the ancient stone threshold and into the great belly of the beast. As Ulrich's sturdy boots squeaked onto the polished marble floor of the atrium, three older monks, deep wrinkles worn away into their brow and eyes hid age so effectively that you wouldn't be sure if they werent breathing when the tower was first built moved to greet and seek out his wishies for his chosen arena, or if Ulrich was simply here for an opponent. One who was waiting, perhaps?
-No, Ulrich replied. For he was here with an idea. one he wanted the Monks to bring to fruition. If they could. And Ulich described, In broad strokes, what he wanted.
-This is, an old idea. The monk who replied was clearly the oldest of the trio. His skin was white and paper thin, with nearly nothing obviously holding him together: the being was practically a corporeal ghost. But even being old and fragile, the old monk managed to slap his palm against Ulrich's brow, dropping the wizard into darkness as a bolt of energy passed between them, a power as old as the earth. His body fell to the ground and lay there for a few moment, the tails of his coat spread ut behind his back. Before the wizards body was moved from the recieving room.
Appearencies and all of that.
Ulrich's eyes were open almost instantly. The Citadel was gone and in it's place there was simply a featureless plane of grey with nothing to distinguish it. The ground seemed to stretch forever (It probably did) The sky above was a lighter shade of grey with a touch of blue and looked as though there was nothing in it. (There wasn't) The only landmark was a small castle twent yards away, A drawbridge was lowered across a dry moat leading into the vast expanse of the interior.
-My mind is a fortress. He muttered under his breath, the sound somehow echoing around him in a disjointed manner that forced a shiver up and around his spine. He cheked himself, still with all the attire and equipment which he had brought to the Citadel. Ulrich meandered towards the castle and over the drawbridge, considering.
-Needs water.
His footsteps echoed and bounced off the full moat beneath the wooden planks. The interior had a warm, comfortable feel. an ethereal light filled the plane he was on in an even, dim, grey light. Punctured every now and again by small fire torches, hung from the walls. A nice touch but not necessary. He concentrated and they remained. It seemed that what ever is here to begin with was here permenantly. The Professional wizard made it a point to check the library later. Maybe the Monks had used some of their own magical knowledge to fill the pages.
Now though. He would wait for his opponent, Curious to find out if they would know where they had been sent.
Of course he knew full well that whatever happened in the citadel had minimal repercussions on you personally, what with the monk's apparent power over life and death, but when a rolling ball of fire was screaming its way towards your bleary eyes you had a set of reeactions built into your instincts. In split moments like that, you still ran for your life. Regardless of whatever happened after you died, the knowledge that you would be put back together even caused some opponents to become sadistic, holding nothing back and tearing limbs off and using them as clubs until you were only a thick paste across the ground.
No matter the final outcome, having to live through that wasn't going to be plesant.
Ulrich wanted to live here. Not in the citadel, although that was a thought he had considered, but in Radasanth. The captial of Corone. The great citadel tower grew from it's centre and streatched high into the sky, overcasting the city in a shadow that could stretch beyond the outer limits whenever the sun touched the horizon. The building itself was awe-inspiring and even that was dwarfed by what was inside. The powers held by the monks. To create worlds on a whim. Powers held by gods were contained in that spire. Ulrich wanted all of it.
In a perfectly healthy, for the greater good, fashion. Of course.
So that Ulrich was here to experement wouldn't be a total surprise to anybody.
They frowned on the citadel being used for much else than an area. Asking for a good night with a handfull of elves got you a dirty look and a quick escort out. Then you had to go and get a real escort which was a pain in the ass since nowhere withing three hundered meters of the citadel would do anything close to lewd, let alone sexual. But with every failure was a lesson. The prime one here being: Dont go to an arena for a free shag. No, Ulrich was here for a different reason.
Training. He had had his arse kicked three too many times recently by petty thugs and it was something Ulrich was wanting to change. For a wizard, training means one thing. The citadel was, Ulrich hoped, the easiest way to go about it.
The monk at the gate, the same average looking half-ork as always, bowed his head slightly under the cloth hood of his robes upon Ulrich's arrival, as a sign of mutual respect; agreement to the many un-spoken rules that governed the place and to the level of trust that was placed with them each time someone passed over the ancient stone threshold and into the great belly of the beast. As Ulrich's sturdy boots squeaked onto the polished marble floor of the atrium, three older monks, deep wrinkles worn away into their brow and eyes hid age so effectively that you wouldn't be sure if they werent breathing when the tower was first built moved to greet and seek out his wishies for his chosen arena, or if Ulrich was simply here for an opponent. One who was waiting, perhaps?
-No, Ulrich replied. For he was here with an idea. one he wanted the Monks to bring to fruition. If they could. And Ulich described, In broad strokes, what he wanted.
-This is, an old idea. The monk who replied was clearly the oldest of the trio. His skin was white and paper thin, with nearly nothing obviously holding him together: the being was practically a corporeal ghost. But even being old and fragile, the old monk managed to slap his palm against Ulrich's brow, dropping the wizard into darkness as a bolt of energy passed between them, a power as old as the earth. His body fell to the ground and lay there for a few moment, the tails of his coat spread ut behind his back. Before the wizards body was moved from the recieving room.
Appearencies and all of that.
Ulrich's eyes were open almost instantly. The Citadel was gone and in it's place there was simply a featureless plane of grey with nothing to distinguish it. The ground seemed to stretch forever (It probably did) The sky above was a lighter shade of grey with a touch of blue and looked as though there was nothing in it. (There wasn't) The only landmark was a small castle twent yards away, A drawbridge was lowered across a dry moat leading into the vast expanse of the interior.
-My mind is a fortress. He muttered under his breath, the sound somehow echoing around him in a disjointed manner that forced a shiver up and around his spine. He cheked himself, still with all the attire and equipment which he had brought to the Citadel. Ulrich meandered towards the castle and over the drawbridge, considering.
-Needs water.
His footsteps echoed and bounced off the full moat beneath the wooden planks. The interior had a warm, comfortable feel. an ethereal light filled the plane he was on in an even, dim, grey light. Punctured every now and again by small fire torches, hung from the walls. A nice touch but not necessary. He concentrated and they remained. It seemed that what ever is here to begin with was here permenantly. The Professional wizard made it a point to check the library later. Maybe the Monks had used some of their own magical knowledge to fill the pages.
Now though. He would wait for his opponent, Curious to find out if they would know where they had been sent.