Nebula Gravis

[LagunaX1]

Wood splintered as chains dashed through the air smashing the structures that attempted to crush Markus. He casually walked through the hail of debris as he searched for the source of the magical power, countless chains spiraled around him grappling and beating back the towns living buildings. It seemed that all of which were hell bent on dragging him into their open doors which now were lined with sharp wooden teeth. Markus carefully looked around him, which was becoming increasingly difficult as he was forced to fend off more and more threats. His eyes settled on something static among the constant and wild movement of the world around him. A churches steeple towards beyond the buildings that had been visible for a mere second before structures moved in front of it to attack Markus. The church seemed the logical place to head to, it provided a high steady platform within it's steeple and from what he could gather the Church seemed fairly central within the town. There was no better place to cast magic over the town.

The chains set a light with flames as Markus channeled fire magic along them, giving them the added effect of setting their wooden targets alight. Now that he had a target he had no need to hold off using attacks which could impede his own vision. He would create as much smoke as possible to blanket his approach to the church, with any luck the smoke would get in the way of whomever was casting this spell.

[Pherione]

[OOC @Angel: I have a town named after me ^^ or is this just because the meaning of Itzal is "shadow" in Basque? Yer I did my research with this :p
Either way, yes, the torn gap lies in U-10 mountain range.]
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[Itzal - Undran Tomb of Nigerautumnus ~ The Torn Gap ~ U-10]
Itzal tried to open his eyes, the Undran Crystal had been surrounded by turmoil and violence. Were those who fought over it really that foolish? The victor's spoils would mean the downfall...lucky be the loser...the loser of...
a dream presented itself once more.

[Itzal - Falaryn Court ~ Grand Undran ~ The depths of history]

Lord Alçia stood on the Falaryn Court before the prince of Undran. Several guards were patrolling the court as well, among them, Itzal.
'...The loser of the war. You will lose this war, Prince Fear. The humans have landed on the coasts of Grand Undran and are taking down the Shadow Beacons as we speak. Soon we will have no more space left for us to live in and the parliament...'
'I could not care less about the parliament. They are frightened, are there any proud Undran left who desire to fight for me?!'
'The parliament demands you relinquish your throne, sire. There is no one left who defends you. If you would please hand over your crown, your ruling days are over.'
Itzal watched guards drag away the prince who had stuck his sword into the stone tiles of the court and created a cut through the court, what would later become a symbol of a divided Grand Undran. Itzal woke up from his pondering as he was leaning against the shadow beacon. All of this had happened not that long ago and now the final battle of a losing war was about to begin.


The current civilization of Nigerautumnus had been built upon the ruins of an ancient kingdom, the kingdom of Undran, a forgotten past.
Its forgotten history has started to resurface. Old ghosts of the shadow beacons are darkening the skies once more and in the depths of the continent fear spreads.

[MetalRenard]

- Reynard -
He put his hood back on before leaving through the hole in the wall he'd made.
"Now to head for Itzal... It shouldn't be more than a day's walk from here..." He thought out loud. Apparently the town was named after a monarch from long ago, and the Undran tomb was connected somehow... At least, that's what he'd heard.

He went to an open market stall and bought some vegetables. Most of the ones for sale were warped and glowed, so he avoided those, taking only the normal looking ones. Of course, that cost him more and he had to relinquish his mother's pendant in return for them and some clean water. He did so only with the knowledge that his quest could soon be over.

He left the small town that afternoon, and began his trek to Itzal, the wind bellowing and dust flying in his face.

[ClockworkAngel]

[???]

The white-haired man entered a large hall, anceint carvings adorning the walls, but worn and faded to barely recognisable shadows of their former selves. He approached a thick, stone altar at the far end and sat upon it, looking back towards the entrance. The building reminded him of something from long, long ago...

[Frozen Temple - Arctacia - Northern Continent - Several millenia ago]

"We will tolerate this no more. There is no need for your wanton desctruction any longer. The world is at peace and it's people are learning from their mistakes. We ask you to step down now, or we shall remove you by force." Said a tall woman, with flaming red hair. She wore heavy, golden armour, emblazoned with crimson designs. In one hand, she held a large, slender axe of white and red.
"My dearest Procella, what do you think you can do?" Said the man to whom she was addressing. He stood at the far end of the frozen hall, an arrogant, hateful gleam in his eyes. "You don't surely believe you can fight us?"
"Us? I am sorry, but you're friend has been... Distracted, shall we say, by Eruditio. It is only us here." Procella said, noticing the slight fall in the man's expression. "I am sorry, but this is the end for you."
"I think not." The man said. With a wave of but one finger, he sent a torrent of ice hurtling towards the woman, but it was engulfed in a ball of flame. Steam began to fill the room. "I am sorry, old friend."

The woman held both her hands before her and a shining, golden pentacle appeared around the man. He staggered back as his form shifted. He felt his power drained and a heavy weight appeared upon his body. He looked down to see golden shackles fixed firmly around his wrists and ankles, a bright red ruby set within each.

"Those are the Sun Shackles. They will absorb your power indefinatly. You will be no more powerful than an average mage of the mortal world. You, who could not see the wrong in your actions, I have condemned to an eternity of powerlessness. But warned though, old friend. You may still have your everlasting life, but you can be killed by wound and illness. Struggle on in the mortal world and maybe one day, you will find the answer to restoring your former glory."

The woman vanished in a burst of flame, leaving the white-haired man staring at the place she had been stood, anger filling his heart.
"Curse you you bitch... CURSE YOU PROCELLA LAPIS!" The man roared.

---

[Lily - Noxville Town]

Lily followed the man into a dark, grubby building and, once inside, she followed him through a concealed doorway, down a long flight of stairs and into what appeared to be a small cathedral. Lily recognised the place as she herself had served the Cult of Umbranox here for some time. The priests of the cult wore black hoods and with shootsleeved, black robes. Protruding from the short-sleeved robes were the elongated sleeves of a black under-robe, that fell far passed their hands, concealing them from sight.

Lily followed her guide up to one of the priests, who turned and acknowledged her presence.

"Lillith, it is a pleasure to see you again." The priest said. Lily recognised the man as Siryon, once an underling of the cult.
"Siryon. You've risen up over the years." She said. The man nodded.
"I hear you disposed of our messenger. Still have an unhealthy dislike for people that waste your time I see. So, probably best I cut right to the chase then. As our messenger informed you, we have located an anceint tomb and within it referances to one that could only be yourself. We have been unable to proceed within the tomb however, and believe that only one such as yourself is capable of doing so."
"Where is this tomb?"
"The Church of Umbra in Ciniria. You can find it at the back of the churchyard. I will warn you though, there is some great malevolence around the tomb now. We are unable to even get close to it at the moment. Be careful Lillith."

Lily nodded before making her way out of the cathedral and back to the town. She left as quickly as she arrived and started heading south towards the former capital of Nigerautumunus, Cirilia.

[Pherione]

[Itzal - Undran tomb of Nigerautumnus ~ The Torn gap ~ U-10]

Itzal didn't know whether he had managed to open his eyes or not...there was darkness in either case. A throbbing head ache pushed away the faint dreams he had before he could hold on to them and grasp their meaning. He didn't know which was worse: the agony of the waking curse and the chains that ran through him or the inability to comprehend the dreams that were tormenting him more and more as the Undran Shard came closer. He didn't have much time to think about this as the pain in his head caused him to pass out again.


[Itzal - Falaryn Court ~ Grand Undran ~ The depths of history]

Itzal tried to guard a border which he could barely see. The impenetrable light beyond the realm made things difficult to see. He believed he saw the backsides of swords glittering in the sun. Could make out the shadow of a banister in the wind. He knew he was going to die, last defender on the walls, last of the royal guards with no prince to protect. The prince had been executed silently after the throne had been taken from him, and had been buried under the court behind him. A horn sounded and disturbed Itzal's thoughts, they were coming; the last war.

By the time the other races had reached Grand Undran, it had near fallen by discord and distress. Nearly all had fled and the free armies found Itzal guarding a near empty city.


The fall of the Undran Kingdom lived on as a Faerietale to frighten children.
Mythical creatures that were out to get those who were naughty.
A proud race, degenerated to mere folklore.

[Zackwell]

Zackwell's theme 1

Rain falls thick and fast on the small port town.
Not a soul in site, they all have taken refuge in their houses.
Zackwell leans up against the wall of a house, breathing deeply.

"What kind of poison did that guy use...?"

Every fibre in his being aches with pain.
He coughs hard into his hands.

"And why can't I remember his name...?"

As he thinks, a pain shoots through his skull.
He coughs again.
Splatter.

His hands are coated with blood.
It is gently washed away by the rain as Zackwell stares.
He slumps to the floor, leaning up against the wall.

The cold, hard air rips at his throat, like the very jaws of death were clasped about him.
As he feels his vision grow faint, he sits, resigned to his fate.
Would the gentle sound of rain be his final lullaby?
Though his vision has gone, he lays still in the rain, every drop that touches him ebbs away at his conciousness.

To die such a lonely death here. So far away from friends, family and home.
Would he find himself in an unmarked grave here?
Anguish overtook him. The thought of his entire life and memory being washed away as if by the rain, was an unthinkable and haunting idea.
Pick yourself up, he says to himself in his mind.

But no matter how hard he tries, it's as if his soul has gone from his arms and legs.

"Is this... Hopelessness...?" He says, in but a whisper to himself.

He falls to his side and coughs once more, blood trickles out from his lips.
"What... is this...? No poison could do such a thing..."
He stares blankly out into the rain, seeing nothing. He doesn't even have the energy to close his eyes, it seems.

A dark, sweeping cold begins to sweep over his body as the rain grows quieter, and eventually silent...


Bang!
He sits bolt upright.
Where is he...?
He looks around. Somehow he is in an unfamilliar room, in an unfamilliar bed.
Suddenly his back aches painfully, so he lays back down.
What could this be...? Is this the land beyond the clouds...?
"Am I dead...?" he speaks, in a hoarse whisper.

The door opens and a silhouette appears amidst the bright light.
Now that he thought about it. This room is incredibly dark.
The silhouetted figure comes into sharp contrast.
It seems to be... a woman.

A particularly fine woman. At first glance, Zackwell can see her shocking green eyes and delicate figure.
She steps over and sits on the bed beside Zackwell. She has a delicate face... One that could instill all the comfort and courage in the world.
"You okay there, boy?"
Zackwell tries to speak, albeit clumsy.
His words are no less clumsy.
"A-are you an... Angel...?"

The woman falls off of the bed laughing.
"Ohoho! Man! You really thought you' had it! Didn't you!"
She stands, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes.
"Aaaah. Forgive me. That's the first time anyone has called me an angel."

She pulls the sheets off of Zackwell and places her hands on his bare chest. Before her hands go down, he can see an ominous black bruise over his heart.
"What the...?"
Her hands glow with a light blue aura, and the bruise disappears. Her expression is a stern one as she surveys his 'injuries'.
"You're lucky I found you when I did. It's a particularly nasty curse, this one."

Zackwell's mind boggles.
"C-curse...? No no no... I was poisoned."

"It's a curse," she says. "Curse of a thousand swords. Linked to a memory..."
She stares pensively at the place where the bruise was.
"H-hey..." Zackwell interrupts her thoughts. "Mind explaining that to me in simpler terms?"

She stands up and rolls her eyes. "Fine."
She pulls a chair closer and sits on it.
"One. The curse of a thousand swords. A curse that threatens to impale it's victim with spiritual swords. It's a powerful one, nigh unbreakable. Not by me at least."
She crosses her thin, feminine legs.
"Two. It's linked to a memory. Whatever it was, you tried to remember something that someone doesn't want you to remember. Lucky you didn't actually remember it, else you would have kicked the bucket there and then."

Zackwell's stare returns to the ceiling. Furrowing his brow, he feels a strong anger deep within him. "So I was cursed... Great..."
He sighs.
How is he supposed to find this guy if he can't remember his name or appearance...?
"Who can break this curse...?" Zackwell asks, staring into her deep green eyes.

"Only three creatures can break this curse..." She says, still bearing a serious expression.
"The caster. An angel... Or..."
Zackwell listens apprehensively.
"... Death."

[Zackwell]

Zackwell is lost in thought as usual, as he pulls a set of oars to and fro.
It was a calm sea for this time of night; for that he was thankful. It made it so much easier to enjoy the twilight.

He laughs to himself while contemplating his reason for following this dangerous man.

"Petty little principals. I could be happy living my life having forgotten about him completely."

The sea swells up and down gently, as if the land were a living, breathing creature in deep slumber.
The moon, in it's gibbous phase, still shines a bright white light over the still waters.
The muscles in his arm feel like they are rippling with pain.

"If you go now, you'll regret it. You should rest up."

That's what she had said to him.
He almost felt bad for having ignored her advice.

He pulls the oars up and into the boat and lays down, staring into the stars.
As he gazes into the infinite void, the events of the day just past come into clear focus within his mind.

---
http://bb.ohsk.net/uploads/SPRP%20Arcell...0Theme.mp3
The charter ships travelling to Nigerautumnus had been cancelled due to a missing ship.
Zackwell sighs as the mage girl hops onto a low wall.

"Arcell." she says with an innocent smile on her face.

"Huh?" Zackwell looks at her blankly. The sun is setting, casting a deep red glow over the already
beautiful countryside. Her bright green eyes shine through the crimson still.

"My name is Arcell."
She sits, perched on a wall, facing out towards the sea.

"I see..." Zackwell says as he pulls his waistcoat over his arms. He knew he had to make haste to
Nigerautumnus if he ever wanted to catch that guy.
He draws a deep breath. The smell of the sea air refreshes him greatly.
He turns to Arcell.
"Well, I can't thank you enough, Arcell, for helping me. But now I have to go. I've a score to settle."
He walks past her, down the road towards the docks to find a rowboat.

Her eyes widen and her pupils thin.
"Nonsense."
She shakes her head.
Zackwell stops in his tracks and turns to face her.
"I wont allow you to leave yet, not until you've rested for at least two more days."

Zackwell frowns. "You don't understand, for me this is a matter of utmost importa-"
Arcell leers at Zackwell with the face of a concerned mother.
He falls silent.
"Save your breath. I've heard it all before. You've got principles, and they're more important than
your life..."

She sighs and closes her eyes. The scowl on her face is more upsetting than intimidating.
Zackwell's heart sinks. Looking at her now, he sees her as the lady who was kind enough to save
him from the brink of death. Could he simply leave her all alone like that?
Perhaps it was the sudden look of sadness on Zackwell's face that flicked a switch in Arcell's head, for suddenly, she was warm and kind once again.

"If you go now, you'll regret it. You should rest up." She hops off the wall.
"You can stay at my house tonight."

[/font]

---

It's a cloudless night now, out on the still ocean.
It was awfully easy to sneak out, he thought to himself.
The boat sways gently from side to side, creating something of a rhythmical lullaby.
As tired as he is, he can't rest yet. He has a long way to go before he can sleep...[/font]

[LagunaX1]

The large church doors ripped apart as Markus made his way in to the church. The town behind him was clouded by smoke and raging flames and the grotesque buildings were collapsing into it. Compared to the chaos and darkness of the night outside the church was eerily calm and bright. It's bright white stoned walls seemed to light up the entire room despite there being no apparent source of light. The doors of the church suddenly slammed shut behind Markus, but he took no notice and kept walking along the aisle towards the alter.

There was no man stood behind the alter but he could feel some kind pf presence emanating from it. Besides, the entrance to the steeple should be located behind it so he may as well check it out on the way. As he reached the alter he could clearly see a dark aura that seemed to be leaking from within it. Perhaps he need not go to the steeple after all.

"You're powerful for a mortal..."


"And you're weak for one that is not." Markus retorted to the voice that rose our of the dark aura, "If you are even what you suggest."

The voice let out a booming yet empty laugh that shook the entire building. Markus waited calmly for it to end and the voice to respond to him.

"I am a spirit of Autumn... A minion of the Goddess that acted out of favour. Spirits are created as immortals, so while death she could not bestow, she sealed me away... Until the shackled man came by..."


"Mortal or not, it seems the bad habit of having to spew a life story is universal." Markus smiled, "Spirit, you are the actual entity known as Phantom that has claimed this town and plague all who come near it?"

"I have no name officially, but Phantom is what you're kind has taken to calling me. I was thinking of making you an offer and letting you live, but your insolent way of talking is really pissing me off..."


Markus ignored this comment and pulled out a scroll which he unrolled in front of him.

"Phantom, you have a bounty of... Not even one Lunarian Silver. To think I made you a priority." Markus sighed heavily before continuing, "You have been charged with mass murder and pillaging it seems, no grand escapades on your part. A bit sloppy for a rogue spirit I'd say... Unfortunately you're only wanted dead, but I'm afraid the King will just have to make an exception this time." Markus rolled the scroll back up and put it away and waited. For a while there was only silence but Markus could feel the rage building up around the alter. As Markus had hoped, Phantom was finally bringing his physical form before him, although despite his calm exterior he had absolutely no idea if he could even beat this Spirit.

[MetalRenard]

[OCC - You can read this... Or you can listen to me tell it with background music and some SFX! Music by System Of A Down and Angra]

---

"Welcome to Itzal"
http://dl.dropbox.com/u/28025798/Welcome...0Itzal.mp3

- Reynard. The gates of the once glorious Itzal City -
A day and a half after leaving the ramshackle town, Reynard arrived at Itzal.
It had been rebuilt several times in the past, but none were as badly put together as the city folk's most recent attempt at replicating its former glory.
Lopsided spires, ruins scattered about the place, no form of waste evacuation in the lower town... And the skeleton of a castle, high above the town on the edge of the mountain.

It was apparent that this castle was the original, untouched ruin that, long ago, represented the power of the great Undran civilisation. Its spires were broken, but its might, its glory, were still more than apparent. He had a sneaking suspicion that it had not been rebuilt for two reasons. The first was that it simply could not be rebuilt by anything other than Undran hands. He didn't know how he knew that, but he just did, as sure as he knew the lines on the palm of his hand. The second reason was fear... The fear that trying to rebuild it could bring back the horrors of a time long since past.

Reynard picked up the pace now that he had his goal in sight.

He stepped over the invisible boundry that was the once the outside wall of the city, and the shard began to vibrate gently in his pocket next to his heart. He stopped, removed it from his coat, then examined briefly. "It knows it's home." he said, matter of factly. Once he'd put it back in its place, he pushed his shoulders back, stood tall, and began once again to approach the castle.

His treck took him past buildings of all shapes and sizes, but most of the people here were human. At least... What was left of them. They looked more dead than alive. Faces pale, dirty and drawn, their life here was not easty. Up and up he went, closer and closer to the castle. The city rose as the mountain did beneath, following its natural curve until...

He came to an abrupt halt. He'd been day-dreaming and had come to the castle's outer wall without even realising.

The place was deserted and the walls emitted a strange energy... No... It was the crystal giving off the energy. He took it out again and now it was glowing and positively shaking... He went through an arch way into the castle grounds. Nothing stirred around him.

He took a few more steps forwards. He raised the crystal over his head and the sky tore above him.

[Pherione]

[Itzal - Undran Tomb of Nigerautumnus ~ The torn gap ~ U-10]

Pain spread through Itzal as the chains suddenly became burning hot, skewering his skin. Someone had brought the Undran crystal to the old city, or where it once might've stood... Either way, the magic binding him was becoming violently unstable as it got closer. A hollow scream pierced the darkness of the tomb...whose scream? His own, not heard since aeons. No one heard it though as millennia of dust and shadows muffled every sound. It felt as if a million needles pierced his head and he passed out once more.

[Itzal - Falaryn Court ~ Grand Undran ~ The depths of history]

Itzal saw the armies march onto the walls and towers surrounding the Falaryn Court. He was now a small fleck of darkness on the face of the earth as day had risen beyond the realm and the troops burned the city and its last shadow beacons. An artillery projectile struck the tower on which he was standing and he drained the last bit of dark energy it emitted before the stone crumbled beneath his feet and he fell. He drew his blade and knives as he headed towards the ground and landed on his four limbs without getting hurt. Without the shadow beacon he would get burned quickly and the light agonized him; he closed his eyes and ran forward.

He reached a band of humans and angels not soon thereafter. With one thrown knife he felled the commander and his horse, the blood never gashed as it was a clean cut. One of the angels tried to bend the sunlight to drive him from the shade of the buildings, but Itzal pulled her to the ground, leaving it for the shadows to consume her. One of the humans drew something from his pocket however and revealed a case containing a mirror. He pointed it at Itzal who was blinded through his eye-lids instantly for not one creature of darkness could have stood against this mirror. Thus, Itzal, last of the defenders of Grand Undran, fell.

The downfall of Undran civilization was caused by one ancient relic, the mirror of Mas. It was forged with the frozen morning dew from a summer solstice by the sorcerer Thane, who had sought years for a weapon against the Undran. With the help of the mirror, the other races forced the Undran into submission. The current whereabouts of the mirror are unknown.

Itzal, last of the Falaryn Guards, was imprisoned by Thane to protect the tomb of the Undran Prince Fear and stop the unwary of ever awakening the Undran legacy once more...Pray that none stirs what sleeps there.