Completed The Black Marks[Dreadlords]

[Ivan Skender]

It all happened so fast.

First the vines and their rotten foulness, then the gutted gorgon, and finally the ominous voice of the ghoul. No sooner had it ceased speaking however, than it would find itself on the receiving end of the initiate's attack. Ivan had been trained to react to such surprises, and so when his gaze first met the cloaked figure with its ominous skull crown, his instincts kicked off with the only reasonable response a Dreadlord could give in such a situation: Attack.

Reaching down to his belt he pulled up a small knife - usually used to help out the healers - and hurled it through the air, aimed at the stranger's heart.

This though was when something else happened.

As he was throwing the knife, a searing pain shot through his left arm. The knife was blown completely off of trajectory, however, Ivan's focus quickly shifted towards his arm. Could it have been magic? Maybe this was a sorcerer placing a curse on him. He knew there was no way the ghoul could have attacked him physically, which just left--

Another spike of pain shot through his arm. This time so strong his mind forgot all about his surroundings; all about the gorgon, the vines, and the hostile sorcerer. Afflictively, he tore at his sleeve, though what he saw was more terrifying than a curse, or a throwing knife.

The few veins that popped out of his forearm - and usually bore a green-blue hue, as normal - were tinged black, with countless dark spills raying from the larger vessels. What really caught his attention though, were the large black pustules all throughout his forearm, and from which all the pain seemed to fan out of.

His eyes widened as he pieced the obvious together; the pustules, the blackened veins, the sporadic shivers and migraines he'd endured while getting here; he'd been infected by the Blackrot.

A flurry of emotions and thoughts swirled around his head, as he - still completely oblivious to the imminent threat of the cloaked figure before him - tried to make sense of what happened. It couldn't be; he had always been so careful around the sick, there was no way--

His jaw tensed as he finally reached the conclusion he was looking for; the only time in Epiri he could possibly have gotten the disease:

"Fucking Macy."​

 

[Amos]

"Oh no." The words slipped from Amos' lips the moment he saw the spots on Ivan's skin.

Almost instantly he ran a dozen different scenarios through his mind, none of them particularly good. He hadn't even come close to a cure for Blackrot. Finding this place was supposed to have lead them to that, but if Ivan was infected now?

It would take days, maybe weeks before he could figure this out, which meant...

"Ah." The man, the creature, spoke again. His head was turned, staring at the knife that had embedded itself a few meters to the left of his head. Slowly he shifted until the skull once again peered at the two Anirians. "We were not trying to fight, but we suppose the reaction is natural."

As the creature spoke, it's voice seemed to overlap with itself. As though a dozen voices spoke at once.

For a moment there was a pause, then it's head shifted forward as if observing Ivan more closely. "We see you are very acquainted with our work. Interesting, we did not think it would spread so far, and so fast. A delightful success."

Amusement flickered through the tone. "Why did you do this?"

Amos demanded almost instantly, but the creature only stared, looking towards the Gorgon hanging suspended above the fountain before looking back.

"Experimentation." The creature said. "We must continue to grow. It is within our nature."

Confusion flickered over the researchers face, bewildered as he glanced towards Ivan with both concern and panic. He took half a step forward, nearly retching at the stench."If you made this, then you must know how to cure it."

"Cure?" It asked inquisitively, as if not understanding.

 

[Ivan Skender]

Amos and the ghoul spoke. They spoke at length, and yet Ivan did not listen. To him, their conversation was nothing but a passing footnote; white noise against the backdrop of his mind. His attention was, for that whole time, focused on the black pustules that rose out of his ruined flesh.

His mind sped through all the scenarios it could possibly imagine, still somewhat incredulous that he really had caught the plague. Subconsciously, he had always believed the disease to be something that only happened to someone else; to careless peasants and villagers whose life was not that impactful to anyone but themselves or their families anyways, but not to him; he was a Dreadlord, the Pride of Vel Anir, the scourge of the enemies of the Republic. To him, dying of a country disease had not even truly been a possibility when he'd been assigned to Epiri.

As he looked at his arm though, he realised that was now the most likely outcome of this foray. In all the time he'd spent there, he had never actually seen anyone beat the Blackrot, and even if - by some miracle - someone, whether Amos, Belkor, or any of the others, managed to eventually find a cure, it would be too late for him.

With each desperate, far-fetched scenario he ran in his head, he started to realise however that the only possibility, the only hope - feeble, and unlikely though it may have been - for him to make it through this was standing in front of him, sporting a skull helmet, and a dark cloak.

- "A cure." - He said as if confirming the question. The tone with which he spoke the words though, seemed eerily out of place. It was not desperate, not loud nor angry, and certainly not hysterical. It was a tone neither Amos, Belkor, or anyone else in Epiri would ever have heard before, but one that those closest to him back at the Academy - as well as a few not-so-close to him, like that Lothar loser, for instance - would be fairly familiar with:

Pure rage.

Though Ivan could hardly be described as a temperate, calm individual - indeed, the contrary would have been more accurate - he was not angered easily. When someone did manage to trigger his fury though, his wrath was something beyond scary. This was because he did not explode; he did not rage nor overtly lash out at people. Instead, his ire was cold and cutting, it was calculating and incisive, but certainly not any less destructive.

- "We are well-acquainted with your work, yes." - He said, keeping the same low menacing tone, with nothing but a slight tensing of his jaw to accuse how he really felt inside. - "Now allow me to introduce you to ours." -

He extended his right arm forward. A number of black rays materialized around his forearm and all the way up his shoulder, twisting and turning around his limb, before condensing on a small sphere before his palm. He then unleashed the power contained in the sphere, which projected itself as a dark beam. As the magic was unleashed, the beam seemed to darken the atmosphere in the ruins, as it sought its target.

Ivan did not, however, aim at the ghoul. The thing was more useful alive than dead, so instead he aimed it at the impaled corpse of the gorgon. In the face of his raw power, the cadaver did not last long, and in the blink of an eye, its already decayed flesh was rotten into oblivion, as were its bones, leaving nothing behind as a trace that the dead creature had ever even been there, to begin with. Indeed, the demonstration was so strong that the magic did not just stop at the corpse. The stone fountain beneath was also caught by the magic, the rock whitening and cracking before its base was eroded into nothing and the entire structure collapsed right before the ghoul.

It was at that moment, that Ivan turned his forearm so that his palm faced upwards. At once, all the remains of the dark magic left the remains of the fountain it had just ruined to come and rest by the feet of the creature in the form of black mist. It twirled around it menacingly, seemingly only waiting for the approval of its caster to offer the ghoul the same treatment as the gorgon's cadaver had just had.

- "You seem to enjoy your diseases - your decay" - He said, with the beginnings of a sickening smile tugging at the corners of his lips - "how would you like it, I wonder, to have your flesh corroded out of your bones?" -

He slightly flexed his fingers at the end of his extended arm, causing the black mists to spike upwards as they inched closer to the mysterious figure.​

 

[Amos]

The man, the creature, whatever in the hell it was did not seem the least bit scared.

Just the opposite, as Ivan's magic tore through the Gorgon and ripped into the fountain below, the creature watched with utter fascination. It seemed entirely to lose track of the two boys, paying no mind to either of them as it witnessed every passing second of Ivan's magic. Taking in the desiccation of it's own works with nothing short of utter rapture.

Then, slowly, it's head began to turn.

Ivan's taunts rang out, the sickening smile that tugged on the corner of his lips seemingly ignored. His words entirely tossed to the side as the creature spoke with that odd overlapping voice. "A child of rot!"

It spoke almost in exuberant.

No threat or ultimatum seemed to have reached the creatures ears. Instead it seemed pleased with what Ivan had done.

Instead, the fear that Ivan had intended found only Amos. The sickly boy took an unconscious step back, moving away from his companion, face a pale white as sweat beaded on the back of his neck. He'd known the Initate was dangerous, of course, but this was something else entirely. Something he didn't understand, and was at once fascinated and repulsed by.

The creature had no such hesitation, and flowed forward, through the mist which lingered at it's feet.

"A day of discoveries! A day of brotherhood!" It declared as it began to move towards Ivan and Amos, voice sounding filtered with nothing less than a thousand joys. "We have searched long, we have created so much, always seeking, never knowing what we will find."

It proclaimed. "We need not to be enemies."

"We need not fight." It continued. "We must not fight, my Brother in Decay."

 

[Ivan Skender]

It was all a blur as his mind tried to process what was going on: That the ghoul was unfazed by his show of strength was not entirely unexpected, though it moving forward towards him was more so. Faced with this surprising development, his instincts kicked in and his fingers closed in on themselves, and into a fist.

The arcane fogs at once scurried forth, their intensity as great as they had been before, with the full intent to corrode this new enemy into non-existence, as they had done with the gorgon's corpse before. Its effects however, fell well short of what the initiate had hoped. Indeed, his magic seemed to not have an effect at all.

As the creature moved through the mists Ivan could feel his powers at work; the ghoul had no barrier, it was not protected in any way that he could sense, and yet his decay magic did nothing to it.

It was then that the creature's words rang out, their meaning suddenly sinking into him.

"A child of rot!" , "My brother in decay"

Could it be, then? Another decay mage? It was not entirely a shock. After all, the only reason Ivan had been able to help around Epiri was that his own powers resembled those that powered the plague so closely.

He relaxed his fingers, opening, and waving his hand in front of him. The gesture caused his enchantment to collapse, and the black mists to dissipate as quickly as they had appeared. He then took a step towards the creature, the beginnings of his feral smile replaced with a neutral expression.

- "We do not have to fight." - He assented to the creature's offer. - "However, a show of good faith from us deserves another one in return." - He said.

As he got close he extended his infected arm, showing off the pustules to the ghoul. - "Heal it," - He commanded firmly. - "and we can yet come to an understanding." -

This was something he personally would be happy to make happen. Back in Epiri, the entire reason he had even made an effort to be helpful to Belkor and all the other healers was so that they could teach him something useful to enhance his power. As those nerds had failed in doing that, maybe this sorcerer would be more receptive to that end.

All the dead peasants be damned.​

 

[Amos]

Amos did not like this.

This man, this creature was something else entirely. Ivan's magic was powerful, that much was clear, but at least he was human. The young researcher was not entirely sure that the same could be said of the thing that was now standing mere steps away from them.

It's odd skull mask seemed to tilt slightly, staring down at Ivan and the putrid infection that had taken hold there. "Heal?"

The voice rang out, sounding once more like a dozen men and women speaking all at once in unison.

A chill ran down Amos' spine, and suddenly an involuntary cough began to rack his chest. It echoed hard, and loud, the skull turning towards him to watch as the researcher half doubled over and continued his fit, clutching at his chest before finally the attack subsides.

"His blight is one we cannot touch." The creature said before slowly turning back to Ivan. "But this one we have made."

Slowly, terrifyingly spindly and strange fingers began to reach out towards Ivan. "Yet."

The voice echoed. "We need not take it, Child of Rot. For you may hold it within yourself."

Amos pulled himself up, the taste of blood now on his tongue as he struggled for a breath. He hook his head fervently at the Initiate.

"Ivan, don't listen to this thing its..." The skull did not turn, but simply stared at Ivan. "We don't understand it."

He implored.

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "You're a researcher." - He shot back dryly at Amos. - "I thought understanding was your job." - He continued, glancing over his shoulder to see Amos barely standing after that cough attack. Instead of making any effort to help though, he instead turned back to the ghoul, taking a step in its direction.

- "My friend there does raise a good point, though." - He said nonchalantly, seemingly unperturbed by the entire situation unfolding. - "Why should we trust you?" - He insisted.

- "As I told you, a show of good faith deserves another one in return." - He tilted his head slightly, his grey gaze fully fixated on the creature heading towards him. - "We're not asking you to... fix Amos' lungs." - He continued with a raised brow, making a small break in the middle of the sentence as he realized that he did not even know exactly what his partner's affliction was. - "But promising me that I can hold the disease just seems like a convenient way to let me die." -

He took another step forward.

- "If you want me to trust you, you need to prove to me I can trust you first." - He added, somewhat redundantly. - "If you say I can hold the disease, you need to show me how." - He paused, his gaze unflinchingly fixated on the empty sockets of the skull, subconsciously hoping to meet whatever devilish stare might be peeking behind the mask.

- "Show me how the power works." - He said, in the same assertive tone as before.​

 

[Amos]

"Yes, keyword, Research." Amos insisted.

He was all for experimentation, he knew that it needed to be done. There were things that simply could not be put forward without...bending the rules a little. Amos and Kaeden had done it practically their whole careers, if they hadn't they would still be at square one.

But this?

This was something else entirely. This man, this creature was speaking to Ivan as though disease itself was a living thing. They had no idea what this being was capable of, what it would do to Ivan or even what its intent was.

They needed time, more understanding, but Ivan seemed hellbent on pushing forward.

For it's parts, the creature seemed to muse for a moment more, it's head tipping back and forth as though it were a dog. Puzzling through the words offered by the Initiate. Then, slowly, the creature began to move forward once more.

It seemed to float, not ever bobbing as it took a step. Slowly a spindly and gnarled hand began to reach out towards Ivan. "Very well, Child of Rot. We will show you our understanding."

The Creature again spoke in that odd, resounding voice. Echoing through the clearing.

"Come." It said, holding out it's hand. "Come and see."

(how you want to interpret this I think is best up to you. I figure this creature can 'show' Ivan a new stage of his magic.)

 

[Ivan Skender]

He rolled his eyes at Amos' response.

- "You can't research without experimenting." - He responded, rather oblivious to the point Amos was trying to get across.

Without hesitation he extended his infected arm towards the creature, the rest of his body remaining in place as the ghoul's touch came closer and closer.

To be in its presence was, truly, something else. The air grew fetid as it approached, the aroma of decay overwhelming his nostrils, all the while the pustules on his arm seemed to burn stronger, as if they sensed all the magic, the rot, all the power that seemed to emanate from that strange form.

He looked down, only to see the grass wither by the creature's feet.

"Kress, what is this thing?"

His expression was impassable, his demeanour serene, and so - at last - he extended his arm to make contact with the creature's twisted fingers.

- "Show me." -
​

---

OoC: Sure, sounds good!​

 

[Amos]

Amos opened his mouth in objection. He spoke words of progress, but they were lost upon the whirlwind of decay which surrounded his companion.

Any objection he might have offered was lost. Anything he might have said was already forgotten. As soon as Ivan touched the creature the connection was a solid bind, a great lattice which wove the two of them together and bound them in the knowledge of rot.

Within the span of a second.

Within a breath, what Ivan had sought settled into his very soul.

Not the knowledge of academia. Not the understanding of reading books or studying novel upon novel, but a knowing that could only lay upon the very soul. The Black Rot was not a thing of science, but a creature of the primordial force of decay.

I settled within the very soul, calling out, digging. Setting into Ivan's magic as it might have into stone. "Ivan!?"

Amos' voice rang out in the dimness.

"Ivan!" The researcher called out again, desperately. "Get away from him!"

The hobbled scientists said desperately, stepping forward to force the two figures apart.

 

[Ivan Skender]

For Ivan, it was nothing but a moment; a flash before his eyes. He saw the whirlwind surrounding him, he felt the ghoul's rotten touch upon him, and heard Amos' afflictive calls in the distance, but in an instant it was over.

The vortex of decay spiked as Amos came close, unintentionally involving the researcher as well in its pitch-black embrace. As opposed to enveloping or overwhelming the two Anirians however, the mass of dark magic instead parted before them, as if it were a veil being lifted before their eyes.

Beyond the dark shroud, they would find that which the ghoul had meant to show Ivan.

Before their eyes unfurled what was easily one of the most desolate landscapes the initiate had ever seen: A cloak of white covered the land as far as his eyes could see, glimmering with a ghostly hue against a blackened red sky. Quickly, he realised this cover of white was actually ash; an entire world of ash. Somehow, and even though he had never been in this place, Ivan had the feeling that this white ash was the remnant of a long lost past. A paradise decayed into nothing.

Indeed, wherever he looked, he saw marks of this decadent ruin: Half-crumbled towers and minarets littered the otherwise smooth landscape, while the broken remnants of intricate facades could be seen half-buried in the ash; the stone itself eroding before their very eyes into the same white ash which enveloped it.

Of course all of these paled in comparison to the one structure that caught his mind:

In the distance, glimmering brightly against the dark sky, was the palace. Though grand in its design, the detail of its intricate carvings and decorations had long been corroded into oblivion, with its colonnades and facades slowly being withered into ash much like every other structure in that strange place. A chunk of the palace’s main dome had also broken off of the main building, hovering over the structure, as if being pulled away by an invisible force above. These pieces of stone, he realised, were also perceptibly being eroded into dust before his eyes.​

​

From this vision, he understood that here time was a construct. It both existed and didn’t. It went by both very fast and very slowly, with the weight of the centuries corroding stone in the span of what felt like mere seconds for him. It seemed a place apart from reality, and one which felt very much real.

- ”It’s a dream.” - He muttered to himself, finally understanding the nature of this apparition. - “A memory.” -

- “Yes.” - A voice out of his field of sight clamoured. Ivan turned to face the direction from whence it came. He saw two figures standing alone in a pool of crimson. A man lay slain, supported in the arms of a woman. They lay there, prostrated in that sea of red… that sea of blood.

Looking down, Ivan realised he too was standing in that red mire, the blood sinking into his boots, and dyeing them crimson.

- “This, child of rot, is our end,” - Looking at them, Ivan understood that somehow the dead man was the one speaking. His voice somewhat resembled that of the ghoul. Or better, it sounded like one of the many overlapping voices with which the creature had spoken just moments ago.

- “and our beginning.” - This time the woman spoke as well, the two of them speaking in unison, in a tone which slowly started to match that which he knew of the creature.

- “And this,” - They said, causing a gush of wind to lift the ash all around the three of them. - “is our dream. The reason we experiment.” -

Getting closer, Ivan could see that both of them - the man and the woman - were no more than piles of bones and decayed flesh; nothing more than two rotten corpses.

- “A world of death and decay.” -
​

---

Art credit: Here

 

[Amos]

Amos understood magic.

Rather, he understood the laws, rules, and constraints within which magic operated. For the last five years of his life he had studied it like no one else. Taking the ethos of the ethereal piece by piece and learning what he could.

Unfortunately, he understood it from a scientific point of view.

He could take magic, he could place it within his crystals, and with those crystals do great and wondrous things. He could do that because he understood the form and function, because he used science and the tools he and Kaeden had created to manipulate it.

When it came to something like this, when the vision flashed before his eyes and suddenly an entirely different world was presented to him that Amos found himself utterly lost.

He stood in silence.

His throat feeling choked by the very air.

Horror flickered over his features as he watched Ivan slowly walking through the desert of ash. Ears seeming to prickle in a strangely painful way as the creature that had brought them here, or was showing them this, spoke of death and decay.

The scientist felt panic in his heart, and through his throat managed to croak. "This isn't what magic is for."

He managed to object meekly.

 

[Ivan Skender]

Suddenly the atmosphere seemed to grow even more sombre. The little crimson that dyed the sky darkened, and all around them the ash was lifted by a strong gust of wind, being swept against both of their faces. Ivan understood the sudden change. The creature had only now realised Amos was also there with them. It now reacted with the same anger-infused contempt one would show towards a stain on a shirt, or a fly on one's food.

Suddenly, the woman's head shot backwards, its spine twisting over itself, as her mouth opened at an unnatural angle. It let out a scream so shrill, and otherworldly, that it gave even Ivan goosebumps.

That however, was not all.

From beneath the ashes, a veritable horde of undead rose from their ashen tombs, their flesh as rotten, their bodies as decayed as those of the couple prostrated in the bloody lake. They started to converge on the two Anirians, and when the woman next spoke, they all accompanied her in a single voice, their tone now fully resembling that of the ghoul, back at the ruins.

- "We ARE magic!" - They roared. Not only were the voices almost perfect in their overlapping syntony, their pitch had also grown graver in they undoubtedly growing fury. - "WE DO AS WE PLEASE!" -

The wind around them seemed to grow stronger with each word, lifting more and more ash into their faces. As the white whirlwind grew in intensity, Ivan found it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open, or even to breathe without feeling choked.

Then, as soon as it had come, the storm passed.

In the place of the couple, and the rest of the dead, the two Anirians would find the same ghoul with the skull mask staring them down.

- "We have shown you what you sought, child of rot." - It spoke to Ivan, seemingly ignoring Amos. - "And as you said, one show of trust deserves another." -

The creature pointed one of its spindly fingers to Amos.

- "Kill him." - ​

 

[Amos]

Amos found his mind fractured, his thoughts scattered by fear and fascination. This place, these magics were utterly terrifying. It seemed the world itself was constantly shifting and changing, the storms like a dour net cast over the whole of the world. There was no denying the terror in his heart, no denying the fear that bled into the whole of him.

Yet there was a part of him that was utterly transfixed.

The Scientist and the boy who had grown up with a love for magic watched every change and shift. Took in every little detail. Studied as though he might live beyond the next day, as though he might actually have a choice to dissect everything that was happening.

Then even that part of his mind came to a thunderous stop.

With it’s skull-like face, the creature appeared once again.

Yet this time there was something wicked within it’s eyes. This time it’s voice seemed to become the very air. Resonating and resounding to such a point that it nearly brought the young scientist to his knees. Terror wrapping, and taking him wholly as the creature demanded his death.

Eyes popped open, and he offered an objection. ”No!”

Amos was no fighter, no warrior, but he would not die a fool either. Almost immediately he reached into his pocket, scrambling for what lay there. His eyes flickering to Ivan as he scrambled back.

”Don’t!” He said. ”This thing, this creature, it is insanity.”

The scientist argued. ”It wants nothing.”

Nothing but endless rot.

 

[Ivan Skender]

Ivan heard the words, and he understood them as their meaning sunk into his mind.

It was time. His decision had already been made sometime ago; now it was just time to put it in motion.

His head turned to Amos, as the scientist offered his weak objection. His features offered Savren a neutral expression, utterly inscrutable, without feeling nor emotion.

Ivan motioned his arm forward, causing the ash that lay at his feet to swirl upwards, twisting around his arm. The beauty of this world - at least as far as the initiate was concerned - was that, in this world of decadence, he could control whatever he wanted; everything was decay. The ash obeyed his command, as did the eroding stone, and the blood of the lake as it sifted into its surroundings. In the distance he could even feel the palace as it collapsed into a multitude of floating shards of stone.

As the ash converged on Ivan, Amos would be able to see a faint shroud of ghostly white enveloping the initiate as he cast, as if the very essence of the magic became visible as he prepared to launch his attack.

Then, he unleashed the spell.

The ash projected itself forward, furiously scurrying towards Amos' position in a display that would remind the researcher of Ivan's demonstration against the gorgon's corpse back in the ruins, in what felt like an eternity ago. As it converged onto Amos, the ash condensed into two beams of gray, twisting under and over themselves as they darted towards their target.

As the swirl of decay came within a hair's breath of the scientist however, it changed its trajectory, instead bypassing Savren and scurrying towards the ghoul. It was at this moment that - if Amos had kept his focus on Ivan - the researcher would have seen the initiate already preparing his next attack; a luminous veil of ash consolidating around him.

- "Savren!" - Ivan called from the distance, his gaze never leaving the ghoul as his surprise attack carried forth. - "Get ready! Make yourself useful!" - ​

 

[Amos]

Panic, fear, abject horror shot through Amos.

He was sure of it. His fingers wrapped around the small gem in his pocket, the only hope for protection that the scientist actually had. It was meager, it was small, but it might do something. As the ash waved rushed towards him, Amos pulled out the gem.

It glowed softly within the dim light of the odd world around them. Glowing brighter as the ash rolled forward. Amos pulled forward, intent on throwing the gem at the rolling magics. A crapshoot, nothing less, that would likely have seen all of them dead in a burst of concentrated arcane might.

Yet as the magic shifted, as the trajectory changed, Amos caught himself at the last moment.

His eyes opened wide, shock flickering through his chest.

Yet his mind, though unfamiliar with battle, was still quick. He heard Ivan's call, and in an instant the young man rushed forward. He moved as quickly as he could, hobbling in what was a pathetic approximation of a sprint. Heading towards Ivan as quickly as he could even as the second wave of magic revealed itself.

"Catch!" Amos called to Ivan, throwing the gem as hard as he could towards the lone Initiate.

As soon as Ivan caught it he would feel the virulently powerful magic. The crystal was like a battery, except instead of holding a small charge, it seemed to hold an ocean. One that could be used to great effect, if properly handled.

 

[Ivan Skender]

As soon as the gem landed on his palm, he felt its power course through him. His fingers collapsed around the stone, his hand clenching into a fist as he used the talisman to grant even more power to his attack.

In the distance, the ashes coalesced into an opaque front, as if somehow the initiate had managed to give something in that world of decay some consistency, against the backdrop of endless rot. As soon as the ghoul understood what had happened, it was almost too late. With the attack upon it, the demon let out a shrill cry, its pitch piercing even to Ivan in the distance.

At once the attack seemed to grind to halt, the ash merely held in place, a few meters away from the ghoul.

- "Disappointing." - It said, its tone more of surprise and confusion than anger. - "You had potential, child of rot." - It stared at the suspended ash, studying it as a child would a strange bug it had never seen before. - "Shame." - With a twist of the creature's arm, Ivan's attack imploded, the ash collapsing onto the ground and spreading like a sandstorm in every direction, as though no longer bound by magic. It took but a few moments for it to envelop both of the Anirians in its embrace but when it did, Ivan and Amos would find themselves back at the ruins, the sight of the rotten world and the collapsing palace nothing but a memory.

In front of them though, now stood a very real demon whose demeanour seemed as though rather easy to guess. A strange aura emanated from its body, as though it was channelling magic onto itself; as though it was preparing its attack.

- "Uhhh, any ideas on how to kill this thing?" - ​

 

[Amos]

"No." The answer was short.

Terse.

It was not meant as insulting to Ivan, though it might have come off that way. But in the moment Amos was far too busy trying not to simply keel over and die.

His heart was racing within his chest, his lungs and esophagus burned. Everything in his body hurt, and it felt as though the disease that ravaged him had somehow in an instant worn it's way through the whole of his form within moments.

All of what had happened, what had occurred.

Amos wasn't a soldier. He wasn't a fighter. He was sickly scientist, slowly degrading and ro-"Oh."

A realization struck him, and his lips pressed into a thin line. Slowly he looked at Ivan, his entire body seeming to sway ever so slightly. He shook his head, and then looked to the demon standing before them. His hand reached out, Amos seeming to catch himself on Ivan's shoulder. His voice a low whisper. "It is disease."

The scientist whispered quietly.

"Rot." He felt so tired. "The thing is a representation, a manifestation of-"

He stifled a cough, drawing into himself. "Of disease itself."

 

[Ivan Skender]

He raised an eyebrow at the scientist.

- "Thanks, genius." - He said sarcastically, clearly oblivious to whatever point Amos was trying to make. While Ivan did not mean to offer any sort of disdain to his erudite companion, nor was he bent on playing the part of pigheaded brute, there was the fact he had a demon of rot to face, something which required his attention more than Amos' cryptic words did.

Across the clearing they had landed on, the ghoul continued with its channelling stance, the decay magic spiking out of its carefully constructed weaving every now and then to crash against a broken pillar, or a decayed arcade. When it did, its effects were about as spectacular as those Ivan's magic had brought upon the gorgon and fountain, in what seemed like an eternity ago, which shed some light on the reckoning the two Anirians were about to face. In addition to this, given the palpable magical intensity, it could be inferred that the demon would be ready to launch its attack soon.

Ivan grunted. If he waited any longer, they'd be done for - that unless Amos suddenly revealed himself to be a star-class warrior, but somehow the initiate doubted that very much - and so he elected to follow one of the Academy's most treasured mottos: That attack is always the best form of defence, and in a situation like this, it was better to not let one's enemy take the initiative.

And so it was that Ivan lunged at the ghoul, a hailstorm of blackened flames being sent against - and colliding with - the ghoul's magics. The crashing of powers broke the delicate balance the demon had been trying to set and so suddenly the ruins were lit up in a terrifying barrage of unchecked arcana that corroded everything it came to contact with as it was projected in every direction from the impact.​

 

[Amos]

Amos eyes opened wide as Ivan lunged forward.

He couldn't believe the Initiate would actually attack! The every notion seemed absurd? How did one fight a magical manifestation of disease itself? It seemed impossible, entirely so! There wasn't any physical thing that Ivan could do to actually dam-

Something seemed to snap into place for the sickly scientists, and in a sudden whirlwind of activity he began to dig into his satchel. "IVAN!"

He shouted desperately.

"KEEP IT BUSY!" Amos shouted desperately, his voice already hoarse from the sickness. The swiftness of his movements sending wave of exhaustion and exertion through him as he began to pull out dozens of those odd crystals, though not glowing. Along with them, Amos dragged free a strange golden cube, and what appeared to be several small tools. "AND AWAY FROM ME!"

His voice half broke as he called, but his fingers were already working on the disparite parts he had pulled from his satchel.

 

[Ivan Skender]

The aftershocks of the clash of magics were felt for a few moments more after impact. From his surroundings, Ivan was seemingly assaulted from all sides by waves of conflicting stimuli; hot and cold, light and darkness, blaring blasts and deafening silence. He felt lost, his senses overwhelmed by the cacophony of emotions that overwhelmed his body with every step he took as he relentlessly pushed forward.

He took a step onward while, opposite him, the ghoul unleashed yet another attack against him. Holding Amos' stone close, Ivan ground the magical onslaught to a halt by unleashing a storm of black flames against the oncoming assault. The opposing forces collided half-way between the two combatants, causing yet another wave of loud explosions and luminous blasts which themselves interlaced with dark aftershocks from Ivan's magic.

As his and the ghoul's magic played to the same powers - those of decay - it meant their magical battle boiled down to a shock of arcane energy. When their attacks came crashing down on each other this energy was released, causing the aftershocks the three of them were now witnessing. Indeed, Ivan's and the creature's powers were so similar, that the only foolproof way to distinguish them was by the aesthetic of their magics; Ivan's attacks were always dark - in alternating shades of black and gray - while those of the ghoul were launched involved in a ghostly white hue.

The fight dragged on for what seemed like an eternity, the two children of rot being seemingly evenly matched as they unleashed their fury on the other. At some point, Ivan remembered taking a knife and hurling it at the creature; it hit its mark... only for the metal to corrode a few seconds after impact. Predictably, this was to be a combat of magic and arcane powers, not one of knives and blades.

He shook his head as he launched yet another attack. While none of them seemed to be getting the upper-hand, Ivan knew he couldn't keep this up forever. In addition to the toll all the casting was taking on him, there was also the damage all the aftershocks, and raw magical energy were inflicting upon him.

Kress, he hoped Amos would finish whatever it was he was doing soon.​

 

[Amos]

Panic had well and truly set in.

Amos had never been so scared in the whole of his life. Terror suffused him from top to bottom, every ounce of him threatening to simply...not work anymore simply due to sheer amount of fear coursing through him.

Yet somehow his hands still managed to work.

Perhaps it was desperation, pure and simple, but the varying components that Amos had pulled free quickly came together. It was an impressive display of intelligence and the deftness of his sickly hands as he assembled...well, it was hard to tell at all what he assembled.

A small cube, with three of the odd crystals within it. An odd prong had been affixed to the top of the cube, and Amos shifted the metal housings of the device, as if 'programming' something. He moved quickly, and tipping his head up to watch Ivan every now again until finally. "It's done...ITS DONE!"

He shouted, and then realized.

"Ivan!" Amos called, fingers fiddling with the device as he desperately shifted the last metal piece. "Touch it with this!"

There was a click, and then a subtle glow snapped into the three crystals. Barely light enough to see as the cube began to draw in some of the ambient magic around them.

Without another moment of hesitation, Amos reared his arm back, and threw the device towards Ivan.

 

[Ivan Skender]

A current of darkness crashed against a beam of light in the centre of the ruins, causing enormous amounts of magical energy to spew out from the impact point and cause loud explosions around the two combatants. He was beginning to tire, launching more and more desperate attacks, one after the other, as he unsuccessfully sought to best his opponent in this match

But that was when Ivan heard the call.

"Touch it with this!"

He turned around just in time to catch the cube mid-air. He had but a second to take in the what it was that he'd just caught before he had to deflect yet another one of the ghoul's attacks. His opponent seemed to remain inscrutable across from him, as if neither the cube, nor the two Anirians, meant anything to it.

This was it; it was time to end this. Ivan took a deep breath, and then he lunged at the demon, cube in his left hand, and a black blaze on his right, his magic at-the-ready to deflect and counter whatever the creature still had in store for him. Try to halt him it did, unleashing yet another unrelenting attack against the initiate, however to no avail, as Ivan was already too close to stop.

The cube then made contact with the primordial body of the creature.​

 

[Amos]

Magic was a curious thing. It did not work in many ways that people assumed it would. Many wizards, sorcerers, and Dreadlords had found the Arcane to be an ever changing flux. Something that could be controlled, and shaped, but not easily predicted or warped.

And there was a truth to that.

But like every fundamental force of nature, magic followed rules. At least within their world, and if one was clever enough those rules could be exploited.

As the golden cube struck the strange monster, the metal upon it seemed to shift. It clicked and pulled apart, revealing the glowing gems within. They seemed to spasm, and then suddenly Ivan would feel it. A powerful rent within the decaying magics in the air all around them.

The golden box became a void, more than that, a chasm.

As soon as it touched the horrid creature it began to chain and drag it forward. The arcane energies, the pure rot, decay, and disease which made up the creature, the very magic which it's essence allowed it physical being were ripped away within a matter of minutes.

Ivan would even feel his own magics snapped away. Drained as the cube took and took, a loud scream echoing out as the masked demon found itself torn from reality and bound within a prison of gold. The cube suddenly snapping shut as the demon disappeared fully inside of it. A pulse of blue running over the crystals, before slowly the light faded to a dull throb.

Amos breath caught in his throat. "It…it worked."

He breathes, tumbling to his knees as relief washed over him.

 

[Ivan Skender]

- "Y-Yeah." - He muttered, still somewhat struck with stupor at how that whole fight had turned out. In truth, Ivan had only expected - in the fraction of a second he had spent with the cube - for the object to weaken the demon, if it even did that. Instead, there they were. Victorious.

He picked up the cube, examining it as the light emanating from the crystals slowly dimmed to nothing. From his pocket, he also took out the single crystal that Amos had thrown him first, comparing the two objects on the palm of his hand. Though - again - he had only held each for a mere, few seconds, while in combat he'd well and truly felt their power.

- "Can I keep one of these?" - He asked suddenly, his tone coming with a particular shade of sarcasm that hinted that - while joking - he really hoped Amos would contemplate gifting him one of the talismans. He kept on contemplating the objects, still somewhat transfixed by the raw power he'd just experimented with, as he walked over to Amos.

- "Well, in any case," - He said, somewhat begrudgingly handing over the arcane items back to their creator. - "I'd call this a tremendous success." - He looked around. The ruins - already deserving of that denomination before the Anirians' arrival - were now even more destroyed than they'd been before, having been on the receiving end of most of the collateral damage that had been unleashed as a result of Ivan's combat with the demon.

- "We found the source of the disease, AND...!" - He showed his forearm to Amos, the black pustules of the pestilence still visible on his skin. With a gesture of his hand, a black aura momentarily enveloped his wounds, receding a few seconds later. As it did, it revealed his forearm restored to its healthy paleness. - "We found a cure!" - He declared triumphantly.

- "What did I tell you?" - He continued, a friendly - even if slightly smug - smile drawing across his features. - "If you want results, you gotta take some risks." - ​