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The Dancer

"Without your morals and inhibitions you are all monsters of vice and decadence..."

0 · 59 views · located in The Alneh Sanctum

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by Rulke

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So begins...

The Dancer's Story

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dancer Character Portrait: Vitimiar the Summoner

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The purple skinned elf ran a hand through his short, slightly tangled viridian hair, stifling a yawn. He was getting too far away from the swampy homelands of his people, having traveled far from the coast and towards the western edge of his Lord's territory. The world looked so small from up here. So fragile. No wonder The God-King was going to take it all so very, very easily. Like a bountifully juicy grape begging to be plucked and eaten, the Lord Highmourne would say no, with but a whisper, and instead turn the grapes into wine. Something more luxurious. Something long and painstakingly painful for those that opposed the Sanctum. When the time came.

With a calm and steady breath, he withdrew the tome from within his robes and yawned once more. The preparations would take hours, and the ritual itself had to be performed at just the right moment. He had to get to work fast. Mustering every ounce of knowledge and discipline he had learned over his many, many years of tutelage, the world began to spin in his eyes. Leveling out the ground, about a thirty foot in diameter circle of barren ground. Salves and incantations defiling the natural energies until the ground bled out violet tendrils of light, to those whose eyes were attuned to the right wavelength. The sun was rising.

The Alneh took the time to wash his robes. Not a spot of dirt must remain. Ever. His eyes stung from the sweat that dripped down his face. A thick, viscous, white ink was used to make the correct runes, markings, and symbols. Every third and eighth symbol was dotted with his blood. Every second and tenth rune was mixed with his tears. Every sixth mark was combined with his hair and spirit. This had to be perfect. His family had no idea what he was attempting. The Royal family...if they knew...well...it would probably be better if they never found out. However, once his plans were complete, they would praise him, and his Family would rise in status, and would be loved by the Highmourne Royals! Maybe he'd even be allowed to apprentice under the God-Kings very daughter. The Kir-Arcana Maxim! Vitimiar could only dream...The sun was halfway in the sky. He was ahead of schedule.

The land and circle was complete. He took his place in the center of the circle and drew the knife from his hip, its green-metal blade shimmering in the setting sun's light. Slipping the edge of his ceremonial tool under the upper skin of his left arm, he began to peal...The pain was nothing. He'd been trained to ignore such things from now until the end of time. A six inch segment of his forearm had been sliced away. To the bone. Panting, he quickly applied the goopy salve to his damaged limb and screamed out of sheer exhilaration as the pain and bleeding subsided, replaced with a euphoric, mind-focusing high. He then began to consume the flesh, his own tissue, as the sun shed its last ray of light on the home land of his people. He could already feel their love for him growing.

And now, he began to chant. The air screamed, as did the natural forces around him. However not a hair on his head moved. Green, violet, orange, cyan, and ebony energies swirled and played at his finger types, a gasping hole in reality appearing outside the circle. His laughing only grew more mad as he began to pull the unwilling Outsider into his realm, binding it to his voice. "Come to be! Serve me! The Alneh require The Dancer!" Vitimiar all but thundered, his voice backed with the power of the Arcane arts.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dancer Character Portrait: Vitimiar the Summoner

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#, as written by Rulke
A sudden shock would erupt from the ground and unearthly terrifying screams would sound. The whole world would begin to spin and the summoner would be thrown back as the very reality around him would begin to deteriorate, each minute difference would claw at his very mind, trying to rip it apart, trying to destroy his inner cortex and perform a grueling ebony dance over his very form, it would mentally eviscerate. The tangible dreams which protected the sanctum would belch out in desperation as the whole entire hall would begin to shatter. Anyone who would dare watch this spectacle would be blinded by the utter magnificence of what was to behold, but the overwhelming sight would be too much for them to handle, as their whole body would be ripped in twain by the imaginations of the cosmic no being should ever witness.

Then would begin a tornado, a large swirling maelstrom collecting each ripped piece of furniture and walls in it's very midst. The whole thing would cease as music began, before continuing.

Then as it approached the figure who had summoned, a being faceless dressed in a leotard with claws for hands, it would stare at the crumpled form and laugh, "You fool. You predictable power-mad fool."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dancer Character Portrait: Vitimiar the Summoner

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A weak reply was all his could muster. His eyes, well the one that would open, hiding a malevolent grin. The barest, but audible whisper issued from his smiling lips. "Fool is correct." And with that, Viti canceled any and all energies he had summoned forth, fighting back the tides of madness and exhaustion that assaulted his body and mind. "Though...I doubt...that I am the fool here...You came...And now..." He pointed to the ground below the Being and began to cackle. He'd need to use a bit of his life force, but the core principality of the Summoner's Index was that if the creature, no matter how powerful, stepped into the proper circle...

Slowly, he got to his feet. Weakly. Fighting to do so. "Look..." A cough. It was blood. No matter, he would heal. "The circle...is unbroken...and undamaged...Now..." A fire came to his eyes, obsidian flames of dominance and power. His reserves were to be admired if, anything. "State your title and obey your Caller!" There was power behind that demand. Not irresistible, but damn near so. "You WILL obey!" He would not give his name yet. To give away your name was to transfer power. This was the crucial moment. "OBEY!"

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dancer Character Portrait: Vitimiar the Summoner

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#, as written by Rulke
The being would smirk if it could, but it simply laughed, cackling malevolently, "I am only trapped as long as you are alive, you have no idea what you wrought foolish boy, I am not someone you can trifle with or play games of control with. You are barely breathing and yet I am aware you wish to summon my companion, my kindred. You desire far too much, far too much." with that it would hover over to the form and appear to stare, though no eyes, it seemed to be deciding whether to let him live or die. Fortunately the circle was huge, so it could move about freely, but still the elf had really figured he could be within the ritual and not be in danger. It was cute if it a little pathetic.

"You hold little power over me elf, and your life holds little reign over yourself, quit your pretension and you may live to witness another sunrise. It rather humorous you believe you can boss me around and make declarations." the figure would clap it's hands and wait, clearly enthused by this entire experience.

"Your move elf, I could wait until you die, you can't."

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dancer Character Portrait: Vitimiar the Summoner

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"While I...yet draw breath...You will obey...And you will carry out those orders until I die." He lifted his hand slowly, pointing west. "Go. Take but a few steps, and you will be in Skyfall. Do your...deeds there...And never step foot in this land again. It is my command. And it will be ever lasting..." He grinned, maliciously, still oblivious to his own encroaching demise. "My people will be safe from you, one way or anything. Your power is Great Dancer, but The Landing is protected from things like you. Even if you retaliate against the Alneh, it will do absolutely no good." A laugh, mocking, interrupted by a somewhat, for his size, large gout of blood from his wheezing throat.

"Go...leave the circle and sow the chaos I so wish on those wretched beings known as humans." More blood. More laughter...until he collapsed.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dancer Character Portrait: Vitimiar the Summoner

0.00 INK

#, as written by Rulke
Just continuing to laugh it would say, "Very well, but you obviously are not aware the situation here elf, I shall elaborate and perhaps educate you on your mistake. By summoning with your own blood, you have made it so once you tie your circle dies and I can do what I wish, as to what you truly desire mass chaos you got your wish, but the Alneh are not going be to safe forever, I am older than than time, you are mere second in my sights, a useful second but a second nonetheless." with that it would bow and preform a spin, dancing around the interior.

After all it had no time it could waste, in the end it would rule and it would destroy, for now though it would let the piteous fool believe it had won, if only to let his name live down in infamy as the one who caused the fall of it's elvish kin.

Characters Present

Character Portrait: The Dancer Character Portrait: Vitimiar the Summoner

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The Alneh were a flurry of activity. The skies above had clouded over and turned pink, the Hearthwater Channel's elevation had been raised by a few feet, and in the distance to the north a giant was rumored to move about.