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| Happiness is a mat that sits on the doorway; Tag: Illyana | |
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| Topic Started: Jul 1 2017, 04:04 AM (111 Views) | |
| Baron Mordo | Jul 1 2017, 04:04 AM Post #1 |
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Not the Sorcerer Supreme
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Where: A New York penthouse apartment When: June 25th, sunset Mordo filled the electric tea-kettle and plugged it into a nearby outlet with an amused smile. The modern contrivance wasn't quite as convenient as setting the water boiling with a word, but he had to admit the mundane world had come along quite a considerable distance since he'd brewed his first pot of tea. Then he sat cross-legged and picked up the calligrapher's brush, dipped it into the thick red fluid he'd prepared. It had been a busy month since he'd made contact with the alien witch-children, a month filled with preparations both mundane and magical. But Mordo had done what was needful, and now he finally had some free time to work on projects of his own. Among those projects being one Illyana Nikolaevna Alexandria Rasputina, who had adopted the pretentious use-name of "Magik"... a young mutant whose innate interdimensional connection to Limbo fueled an arcane talent that far outstripped both her wisdom and knowledge. Mordo approved of that; it made her potentially quite useful. Mordo had been planning to reach out to her ever since their paths had crossed at the Bar With No Name, months ago. She was chasing after Strange then, seeking training, seeking answers, seeking knowledge... much as he had sought the Ancient One, a century earlier. And Mordo had no doubt that Strange would string her along indefinitely, as the Ancient One had done to Mordo himself. Though Mordo had scried the girl multiple ways to ascertain her history and nature, certain elements of it were still mysterious. His spells had proven unable to access her thoughts and memories, for example, which was particularly annoying when it came to the "week" she'd spent in Limbo. Some things he could infer from the nature of Limbo's residents and current master, but it chafed not to have specific knowledge. Still, it ultimately didn't change anything. The summoning spell he'd chosen to use to bring her to him hardly merited the name; it was more of a lure, an invitation of sorts. As such, he'd given a good deal of thought to the material focus of the summoning: something that would appeal to her on a deep level, an essential level. He'd been inspired, ultimately, by her search for knowledge, so the red leather surface on which he painted the intricate runes that spelled out the girl's name was the cover of a grimoire, a book of magic dedicated to her use. He'd written a few lessons in the first few pages... just fundamentals of how to invoke and manipulate magical symbols. It was nothing of any significant power, a preliminary lesson for any novice mage... on Earth. But for a mage trained in Limbo he suspected they would be of great value, once she'd had the chance to study them. He finished painting the runes that spelled her name in a language that had been ancient before the first human had walked on the Earth's surface, blew on the book's cover to dry them, and placed it carefully in the center of the circle he'd painted on the floor as he invoked the spell. Ordinarily he'd have opened the door to his apartment, and called down to the doorman that he was expecting a visitor, since the spell he was using didn't provide its target with any extra mobility... but in Illyana's case, it would not be necessary. Instead he poured two cups of tea, placed one across the table from himself, and sat down with the other. "Right on time," he observed when she finally appeared. "Please, have a seat. Let me introduce myself... Karl Amadeus Mordo, Baron of Varf Mandra, at your service." He didn't quite stand, but he lifted from his chair to give a brief nod. "I suspect the title that interests you more, however, is Master of the Mystic Arts." |
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| Magik | Jul 1 2017, 05:01 PM Post #2 |
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Stepping Discs/ Armor Manifestation/ Magical Weirdness
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“A title held by Stephen Strange, unless you have bested him and the arcane community has yet to hear of it.” As ever Illyana’s appearance was sudden, a flash of golden light followed by her own body dropping onto a seat and picking up a cup of tea. It was also intrinsically slow to her own perspective. Teasing out the location of the spell that touched her and triggered her constant wards, shifting her own definitive position in case the spell was a trap, cutting other wards apart as she sliced through “reality” and went from one place to another. Magik liked to meet other mystics, liked to see the mix of traditions and power levels and so on. In Limbo all magic was of force and emotion, of war and survival, and the only power level that mattered was still alive. So she smiled as she looked across her tea at Mordo. She held no title, made no boasts about her own arcane aptitude. Illyana knew her power on Earth was exceedingly tiny without an earthly power source. However her knowledge was vast, her learning as deep as it was painful. As she grinned she let her mind drift back to things Strange had taught her, control, patience, and moving with the flows. Magic worked differently in this realm, perhaps in all realms, but why was that? Illyana was clad in her normal off duty lazing about garb, a hugs tee-shirt from her brother and yoga pants. As she so often preferred her hands and feet were uncovered and her hair was a mess. She had been planning on a rare night in, a boring idea that had been interrupted happily. Seeing that her destination was a residence she had brought a gift, it was only polite, and she lay the bottle of red wine from 1536 upon the floor and rolled it towards the ancient man. “Illyana Nikolaevna Alexandria Rasputina, of many places, though born in what we thought as the harsh land of Siberia. I am sure you know far more about me then the other way around though, Baron of Varf Mandra. How fares your little town these days?” Yana switched to hospitality, she felt a little guilty about her earlier jab. However Strange had been very good to her and a student should defend their master’s name, even when a guest of another man. “I suppose I should be grateful that you do not yet know how to inscribe my true name upon a grimoire? If that is for me it is very nice regardless.” |
![]() All of the things we're taking 'Cause we are young and we're ashamed Send us to perfect places All of our heroes fading Now I can't stand to be alone Let's go to perfect places | |
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| Baron Mordo | Jul 1 2017, 08:03 PM Post #3 |
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Not the Sorcerer Supreme
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The girl's performance on arrival was utterly delightful: knowing almost nothing about the situation she'd ported into she went immediately on the offensive, challenging his right to the title of Master with her first breath, and following up with just barely polite commentary on his birthplace and his gift. Such wonderful arrogance! He could hardly have managed better himself at her age. "Oh, is Strange claiming to be the sole Master, now?" Mordo raised a single eyebrow at that, remained still otherwise, but permitted the annoyance he felt at the man's name to show on his face for a long moment. "Typical," he continued, non-commitally. That she'd opened with an offensive thrust had taught him a great deal, and he was curious to see how far she would take it. He took a long sip of his tea before continuing. "There are many Masters who would be surprised to hear that he was denying their status," he added after a beat, "but I suppose it's a natural enough claim from the sort of man who would style himself 'Sorceror Supreme'." The bottle she sent rolling towards him appeared upright on the table, and he nodded in acknowledgment of the gift, such as it was. "My 'little town' fares quite well, thank you for asking. I miss it greatly, as I always do when my business takes me away from it. But New York has its merits as well... not least of which, the 'arcane community' you referenced earlier. Which is one reason I wished to speak with you, actually," he continued smoothly. "I'm a visitor in your city, after all. It would be rude not to at least introduce myself to the local practitioners." He gestured out a nearby window to the view of the city, currently grey and wet. "I gather that a Norse storm deity has taken up residence not far from here; perhaps later we can prevail upon him to provide us with more pleasant skies." He regarded the bottle for a moment, then moved his hand in a smooth flowing gesture that ended with two bottles and the cork held in his fingers. He sniffed the cork curiously, then set all three near the bottle. "Though as you say, you are no more native to this region than I. In more ways than one, yes? You may be a daughter of the Siberian wastes, but your magic does not stem from there, does it? Nor indeed from anywhere else on Earth?" |
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| Magik | Jul 1 2017, 08:59 PM Post #4 |
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Stepping Discs/ Armor Manifestation/ Magical Weirdness
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“Master of the mystic arts implies singularity, a unique title. A master implies part of a community, acknowledging that you have peers and fellows. Strange is undisputed as the chief practicer or the arcane in this realm, no? If not then I apologize, that is what other have told me. As for being supreme, I believe that is a title handed down for a reason. Or not, I confess politics and titles bore me.” The blonde reclined more in her seat, letting her wards reconfigure for her new resting spot. The one category of spells that she could perform well on Earth, mainly due to her wards being powered by her life force. As she worked she watching Mordo with a keen eye. The man was handsome, polite to a fault, cultured, and by all accounts very powerful. He walked in darker circle then her mentor and much quieter ones. Like herself he seemed to step away from the broad general practice of magic and instead focus on smaller, more powerful pursuits of power. “I hope very much to one day met Thor. He is incredibly handsome and thinks with his fists. Like my brother but both royalty and a God. I have however met Ororo, who commands the weather itself, not just thunder. She was a goddess of Africa yet gave it up to serve Xavier. Strange and powerful man, that Xavier. He seems even more divisive than his chosen rival Magneto. However this is neither here nor there.” With the snap of her fingers Illyana summoned a stepping disc and expanded it until it obscured the entire ceiling. Through the faintly glowing edges of the disc was the vast beautiful always dark skies of the north pole. The view shifted slightly every 30 seconds or so to provide a new angle. “If views are what you wish I am uniquely qualified to provide them. However I doubt you brought me here for my travel agent capacities. Yes, I learned my magics in the realms of Limbo when I was but a child. Yes I am one of the very very few who escaped the dread realm. Yes this means my arcane abilities are all but worthless on this sphere. If you know all this, what is there for me to tell?” As always when Yana felt she was being pressed to tell of herself she because defensive and snippy. The Russian liked to hear other people’s stories, to learn and engage and fantasize. Her own life was a heavily walled mystery and with her immunity to psions it was easy to keep it that way. |
![]() All of the things we're taking 'Cause we are young and we're ashamed Send us to perfect places All of our heroes fading Now I can't stand to be alone Let's go to perfect places | |
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| Baron Mordo | Jul 2 2017, 03:47 AM Post #5 |
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Not the Sorcerer Supreme
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" Or not, I confess politics and titles bore me.” "As they do me, I assure you," Mordo replied, letting the subject drop. Under other circumstances he might have continued the argument; the idea that there could be no more than one Master in existence was absurd, but she was committed to it confidently in a way that suggested her ideas about the nature of magical community were unusual, and perhaps therefore informative. Limbo was a mere pocket dimension, after all; it did not have the expansiveness of the material realm. It might very well be that in Limbo, there really was room for only one Master of the Mystic Arts. Which raised the question of who had trained the young girl... Limbo's ruler? Or someone seeking to challenge its ruler's hegemony, as she assumed was necessary here? One more question to add to the pile. Not that she seemed eager to answer any of them, at least not directly. But she couldn't help but provide answers through her behavior, her choices, her nature. She possessed knowledge but lacked the ability to manifest it: this tended to confirm that her magic was not attuned to Earth, just as he'd thought and she later confirmed. “I hope very much to one day met Thor." "That may well happen... he works not far from here, after all," Mordo replied dismissively. As gods went, Thor was not all that impressive from Mordo's perspective... a typical warrior-deity who, as Yana had said, thought with his fists insofar as he thought at all. His brother Loki was a far more significant player. And the so-called "African goddess" Ororo was nothing of the sort, though Umar had influenced her lineage... merely a mutant, like the men Illyana mentioned, Xavier and Magneto. Powerful, yes, enormously so... but ultimately irrelevant. Ultimately, mortal power would not save humanity. "Divisive? I suppose so. However, I'm surprised to hear you speak so about Xavier," he mused, "given that one of his students leads the team you fight alongside." He allowed the question of her loyalties to remain implicit, for her to address or not as she saw fit. Ultimately he didn't really care whether she was loyal to her X-Factor compatriots or not; on the other hand, he was curious about how she viewed and justified herself. "If you know all this, what is there for me to tell?” "There are many forms of knowledge, Illyana. There is that which I observe with my own senses, that which I am told by others, that which I infer from related facts, that which I intuit directly from the epistemological aether or the Akashic records." He shrugged, decided to spell his point out more clearly. "Yes, I've heard the accounts of others, of your disappearance and return, older and with Limbo's magics at your fingertips. I've heard the speculations of others, both that you escaped the emnity of the Lord of that Realm, and that you were trained and returned as his agent." Admittedly, the only person who'd considered that possibility, as far as Mordo knew, was Mordo himself, and he didn't think it likely. It was what he would have done, had their places been reversed. "But that's merely knowledge learned from others. I would rather hear it from you." |
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| Magik | Jul 3 2017, 12:14 AM Post #6 |
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Stepping Discs/ Armor Manifestation/ Magical Weirdness
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The Baron was handsome, urbane, undoubtedly powerful if his reputation was even ½ correct, and wealthy. He was well know in the magical community, if mostly for so called “negative” reasons and if parts of the lore were correct, he and Illyana should have a lot in common. In most circumstances the young Russian would find him a good match and make a move. However Mordo had cold, calculating eyes that his things behind them instead of inviting one in to share secrets. His mannerisms were on point, he played the part of human well, however Yana had grown up in a land of death, dark magic, and despair. The blonde was a horrible judge of what people would do or why they would do it, however she was a past pro at knowing if an individual held her own interests close. All that said and decoded however, Baron Mordo would either know things Strange did not, or perhaps knew things Strange did, but would not share. In this realm the routes of magic were all but endless, the avenues for learning seemingly infinite. Who was she to scoff at a left handed path when for years that was all there was for her? “Xavier stole much from me. Though his students, at times, work to give some back, there is no way to even out the costs he laid upon my family. The fact he willingly and knowingly will use mutants in his crusade to achieve his ends is a powerful statement to his character. Him being among the most powerful psions on Earth attests to it further.” As ever thoughts of Xavier brought out some of the darkness in Illyana. The young woman blamed the wheelchair bound man for most things that had gone wrong in her life. Piotr had been happy as a farmer, she had been happy as his shadow. They had both loved their home and their parents. All of that was gone now and in it’s place was one new life, and two shattered siblings. This made her bitter, though much like her family, Yana would still put her shoulder to the plow and carry on for the ideas of others. “Boss Alex had trod paths the others have not and offers me a place without judgement, a home without questions. A rare thing indeed in any realm.” Magik scooped up the prepared tome and flipped through it rapidly. It was the “basics” however it was created by unfamiliar magics and possessed a foreign energy. If nothing else it was a tiny drop of Earth realm power she could shannel and exploit as needed. That was the true barrier between her magics and earth’s, power. The teleporter needed an Earth based energy source to force her spells to work here. Billy did nicely, but using him left her feeling guilty. Wanda would be even better, however even the impulsive blonde was not foolish enough to tie herself to raw chaos. Trange knew so much, had access to so many things, one day he would help her solve this problem, but when would that day arrive? “The Akashic records? I would wager that there is little written of me there past my childhood. Though others continue to assert I am of this realm, we both know I am not. Perhaps I was, perhaps I will be, but for now, even you are more tied here then I, no?” Illyana lay back in her seat and hummed some syllables from a language that had no need of words and drew power from her gift. The portal above them became solid and the edges turned crimson. The view also shifted, now showing the Baron’s town with his new home embossed into the image. “As it is, as it was, as it ever will be. We have exchanged gifts and names. You know the rules, you have been hospitable and I have repaid that. Everything else is with cost. Knowledge for knowledge my baron, knowledge for knowledge. Complete the spell, render us both unable to lie, and ask what you will. Of course that means I may ask as I will.” This was one of the oldest spells of Limbo, a simple circle that connected two people to each other and united their pasts without revealing anything until engaged. Each person who partook of the spell would answer a question with complete truth, then the other until both agreed to stop. It was perhaps, the only way for spell weavers in the cursed dimension to trust each other or have even a temporary peace. |
![]() All of the things we're taking 'Cause we are young and we're ashamed Send us to perfect places All of our heroes fading Now I can't stand to be alone Let's go to perfect places | |
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| Baron Mordo | Jul 3 2017, 03:20 AM Post #7 |
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Not the Sorcerer Supreme
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"That's the way with idealists, I've found," he agreed. "They're always willing to sacrifice others' interests to their ideals." Her explanation of her relationships with Xavier and Summers was consistent with what he knew of her personality and history, though he hadn't anticipated it and was in fact rather surprised by it. In Mordo's limited experience the mutant mentalist tended to inspire quite a bit more... devoutness... in his followers, but then again Illyana didn't strike him as much of a follower. In that much they were quite similar, and the girl's disaffection with her would-be mentor reminded him a great deal of his own relationship with the Ancient One in years past. She gave the frameworks captured in her gift a cursory inspection, but her interest was ultimately compelled far more by the power it represented, trivial though it was, than by what it had to teach her about Earth magics. Whether that was because she considered herself to already be an expert on Earth magics, or whether she more generally eschewed deep knowledge in favor of power, Mordo was unsure, but either way he approved... he too was ultimately far more interested in power for its own sake than the often-meandering routes to it that superficially disinterested mages insisted were necessary, or at least beneficial. Mordo had always suspected that they were primarily "beneficial" to those mages themselves, who preferred to tie their apprentice's hands with constraints that they themselves had not had to navigate. Strange was a prime example: he might strut and posture like the Ancient One himself now, but unlike his enraptured coterie Mordo had known him when he first arrived in Tibet. He had not been impressed then, and had grown no more so with the intervening years. He'd been granted power by the Ancient One, but much as he patted himself on the back for his "enlightenment", as far as Mordo was concerned he was the same arrogant Westerner he'd always been. “The Akashic records? I would wager that there is little written of me there past my childhood. Though others continue to assert I am of this realm, we both know I am not. Perhaps I was, perhaps I will be, but for now, even you are more tied here then I, no?” Mordo nodded. "I am indeed." The rest of her assertion he left unchallenged. There were errors in her thinking, errors that lay in treating the akasha as a pattern unique to the material plane or to the present, rather than seeing the fullness of its pattern connecting present to past to future, connecting things present to things past, connecting one plane to another. Without the framework of akasha connecting them there would be no travelling between Earth and Limbo in the first place. But he saw no reason to correct her misapprehensions. It was a subtle distinction, to be sure, and it was rare enough for a student of her youth to be prepared to work with akasha at all; the remaining gaps in her knowledge would no doubt be filled in time. Or not. Either way it made little difference to Mordo. Besides, he had more important goals for this meeting, and the girl's impatience made it clear that she understood that well enough. "Very well, then," he agreed, bringing the middle and ring fingers of both hands together, then pulling them slowly apart to reveal a silver glowing thread spun between them, then spreading them to form a rectangular frame. Turning his hands at the wrists, he pinched the upper thread between thumbs and forefingers, looping it around itself, then repeated the exercise with the lower thread. He continued in this fashion, quickly and efficiently, until he'd woven a complex ring out of that thread, which he released with a silent word that set it slowly spinning. He reached through it with his right hand, extending it to her to complete the spell by taking it. "What would you know, then?" |
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| Baron Mordo | Jul 4 2017, 02:03 AM Post #8 |
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Not the Sorcerer Supreme
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Joint post Illyana/Mordo Illyana chuckled at the mention of idealists. Her brother was one, Mikhail perhaps as well. Most of the people she knew were such in one way or another, not so this child of Siberia. Ideals were tricky things of little value and unlimited cost. They did not keep you warm at night nor allowed you freedom so she simply had no use for them. To serve a cause, to tie yourself to someone else’s agenda, to lessen yourself to raise another, these were not her ways. “It is the way of weak men to attach themselves to others, to men they see as greater than they could be. It is the way of strong men to use such devotion to further whatever they think best at the moment. It is the way of the world to continue this until there is a conflict and the cycle grows to critical mass as sides clash. Then, once the deities have sated their desire for blood, things quiet again until the next useless cause arises.” “Indeed,” Mordo agreed, a thin smile on his lips. In his experience, such deep wisdom about the state of the world revealed more about the speaker than it did about the world; that said, he certainly didn’t disagree. The will to power was the engine that drove the world, and those unwilling to embrace that drive would sooner or later end up sacrificed to it. “Strong women, as well. But in my experience true deities are never quite sated.” “Good for us then that true deities are rare and seldom native to where they are found, da? Do you know Russian my dear Baron?” The question, so small and quant hit the parameters of the spell like a bullet and caused the room to flash silver for a moment. Baron Mordo was free to stay silent, the magic never forced one to speak, however any question posed must be answered truthfully or ignored in silence. Illyana’s own mouth would be silenced from any other questions until the Baron answered and asked one of his own in response. “<Small knowing, I>,” Mordo replied in that language. “<Learning from witch in Novosibirsk, 1970s, to invoke Svarog.>” Not that he needed to explain that much; her question had been a simple yes-or-no one and his answer could have left it at that. But he didn’t mind sharing. Of course, it was also true that mastering any language was usually a simple spell away if the need arose, but that was a different question. “And you? What languages do you speak?” A greedier question than hers, to be sure, but there was little value to dancing around the edges, here. If she chose not to answer, that was up to her. <”The little brown dog was no match for the wicked fox who had made friends with the bear.”> Illyana repeated this statement in French, then German, then Spanish, then English before repeating it one more time in Russian. “Mikhail taught it to me when I was little. I am unsure what he meant by it, however I have always been a little wicked and my brother as big as a bear.” Illyana’s smile was warm and actually genuine. Her memories before Xavier were happy times, things gladly shared with any who would listen. Memoires outside her childhood were of course far more screened. “So it would appear we have little in common besides perhaps German. I believe that is spoken in parts of your country, although I had thought Russian, or at least Slovak had made paths to the land of the Dracul. No matter, English shall suffice as needs must.” “Yes, German is popular.” She hadn’t asked a question, but he wasn’t reluctant to volunteer this information. Also Hungarian and Ukrainian. I speak all three poorly, along with Russian and several dialects of Romani... and Romanian, of course. And restaurant French.” Restricting himself to human languages, for the moment, and living ones, and ones he felt like mentioning. “So, if you are the fox and your brother the bear, who is the dog?” Not that she was obligated to answer; it was her turn to ask. He merely enjoyed embroidering the ritual. Before speaking again Magik raised both hands in the air and seized hold of the lines of the spell. There was an advantage of being of both Limbo and Earth and this spell, a fusion of both realms responded to her slightly differently then to other spell weavers. For a moment the room glowed red, then displayed a series of infinite circled pentagrams filling the walls and ceiling before fading away all together. “I thought perhaps moving forward we would both appreciate privacy from other ears. Forgive me if i assume we shall be asking deeper questions. For instance, why did you summon me here?” “To learn what use I could make of you,” he shot back without hesitation, “and whether you posed a threat to my purposes.” Not the most polite answer he could have given, to be sure, but the truth was rarely polite. “Whom do you serve, if anyone?” “I serve myself, though boss Alex believes I work for him and Strange believes my heart follows his own. In some ways both are right, Alex deserves what support I can grant him and Strange does wish good for me in his own way. But then Baron Mordo, who do you serve?” “My arcane oath of fealty is held by the Dread Lord of the Dark Dimension, Dormammu, who grants power in exchange for service. I am the last son of the noble house of Mordo, and thus bound to the service of my people. Other, lesser commitments I take with suitable weight, where they do not conflict.” He poured a glass of Illyana’s gift with his free hand, manipulating it without touching it, and it slid in the girl’s direction as he poured a second glass for himself. “You want power. What do you most seek to do with it?” Illyana took the glass as she pondered a few things. The Baron’s answer as to the purpose of this meeting saddened her a bit. She had hoped it would be a far deeper, more unique response. Upon learning her served the dread lord however the answer made more sense. A small sip, wine was not not her choice of intoxicant, and another slightly larger one fulfilled the bindings of hospitality and she set the glass aside. “Ah, see that is the best thing about this spell and the variation that is taught in Limbo. When you ask something that carries an incorrect assuming it is flexible enough to catch it. I do not ‘want’ power at all. Power is a transient thing, a concept dispelled even as it is grasped. I seek freedom, to owe no one, to live as I please in the time that I have. That such requires power brings the circle complete. Now of course I must ask you, what do you amass power to achieve?” Mordo dismissed the sophistry, but accepted the answer that came with it. “Like you, to live as I choose. Further, to preserve Varf Mandra and its people in their accustomed ways beneath my leadership, undisturbed by our nuisance neighbors.” He paused for a moment and, reluctantly, added “...as well as those who are more than mere nuisances, such as Doom and the self-styled High Evolutionary. And Ader, I suppose,” he added dismissively. Not that the Hungarian leader posed any sort of threat to Mordo’s borders, however diplomatic relationships with Romania went. “And Strange and his allies, when he chooses to interfere with me,” he added for completeness’ sake. “Who sought to prevent your return to Earth, if anyone?” “No one sought to prevent it, no they sought to use it. I was made and taught and tasked to crack a hole in the barriers between and allow Limbo to devour and remake Earth realm. I proved unequal to the task and was dismissed. Then destroyed and tested until I learned how to regardless of my abilities. To achieve freedom I dissolved the barriers just enough to step though and let the membrane erase any who wished to follow.” Yana leaned forward and placed her face inches from the Baron’s own, her eyes locked on his, the deep seated madness bubbling to the surface and reflecting the pain and loss that was as much of her as her own name. “You seek to know who I am tied to, who has their stings on me. You could have simply asked, I make no secret of such. One day the master of Limbo will find a way to drag me back and use me as his tool. On that day I shall use all I have learned to ignite Limbo and burn it and myself to ashes. This is pre writ, the time between is my own.” Interesting, he thought. He considered exploring a potential alliance with her against Limbo’s master; deposing him and taking his seat for himself would give him a valuable fulcrum with which to leverage the Dark Dimension’s magic. But the madness in her eyes left him uncertain; and that could wait for another day. “Now, let us cut to the heart of what we wish to know. What is your relationship to my mentor?” “Professional rivals,” Mordo replied with a smile. “He is ultimately a shallow posturer, though I don’t expect you to perceive that. Few do. I wish him ill and his death would delight me, but for the moment I have no plans to harm him.” Which was true enough, though ‘for the moment’ was admittedly not saying a great deal. His current plots did not have Strange as their target, though he would not turn down the opportunity if it came his way to take the arrogant sod down a peg or twenty. “For the moment.” The phrase brought a smile to Yana’s lips as she waited for his question. “The future is always in flux, after all” Mordo replied with a matching smile. “To whom are you loyal, if anyone?” In some ways this was redundant with an earlier question, but in other ways it wasn’t, and Mordo had learned decades ago to build cross-checks into his questioning in situations such as these. Magik paused for a moment, this was an unexpected question and the spell would make her speak truth whether or not she believed it. Her words would be bent and shifted until they were simple truth, no matter what she may wish. So she took a deep breath and let the arcane rules do their job, revealing things even to herself. “I owe William Kaplan-Altman a blood debt, as a spell I used nearly killed him. I owe my brother Mikhail any resources I can find so that he may be found and returned to us one day. I follow Piotr as I love him, though he long ago turned his back on any debt I could have owed. I owe Xavier a debt of pain that will also go unfilled as I owe Alexander Summers a greater debt. Jessica Vale holds my heart, though I hold not hers, and Strange shall hold his tie to me until there is naught more that can be gleaned from him or he realizes I am not a fit student for the path he walks. To Limbo I owe all the suffering of the storm and the blade. To those I have killed without intent I owe apologies.” The fact that in all that Yana could only speak of love once rattled around in the young lady’s head. She did not mention Nuya, that was beyond loyalty, but the rest, it was a bitterly small circle. Taking a deep breath she moved to what she hoped would be a difficult question for her host. “What has Strange done that you wish him ill and would take delight in his death?” Such complicated loyalties!, Mordo mused as she replied. He was, to be honest, surprised; most of the beings he worked with had much… simpler… motivations. “Taken what was --” Mordo paused, sensing the constraints of the spell rearing up against him. What was rightfully mine, he was about to say, but while the technicalities of the Ancient One’s inheritance were arbitrary and capricious, the old man admittedly had the right to dispose of them as he chose. “What had been promised to me,” he said instead. That much was true enough, though the promise had been made by his father, who’d had no power to enforce it. “And declared himself an enemy of Dormammu.” The Russian girl knew it was rude to laugh at a host, but she simply could not hold it in. A smile turned into a grin, a grin into a giggle, and a giggle into loud happy laughter. “I, I am , I am sorry. The dread lord calls all not himself enemy. It is his purpose to be against life that is not him itself. No one declares themselves his enemy, we are born that way. I do not mean to be rude or shame your master, you chose him you must know him better, but such a statement!” “And yet,” Mordo replied in what he’d intended to be a mild tone, though the heat that bled through into his voice was ultimately unmistakeable, “your mentor has chosen to stand in the Dread Lord’s path, and such choices have consequences.” He took another sip of wine to calm himself, and to consider his next move. He avoided the Kaplan youth as a topic, as it skirted too close to his actual plots, and decided to throw a different spoor across the trail. “What would you offer for my assistance in finding your brother? Your brother Mikhail, I mean,” he added. “Finding Piotr would be a cheap trick, after all.” “What ever I have to give that does not endanger my family or those I love.” This answer was the easiest yet, Mikhail’s loss had been and would remain a devastating blow to Illyana. With her parents dead, Mikhail and Piotr were indeed all she had left. To recover the missing piece? That was worth near anything. “Of course I do not volunteer to serve. You of course know by now I take no oath of bondage. Who was behind the demon attack upon my home and threatened the children of Billy?” This was what Illyana had come to learn. No one seemed to know yet, however Mordo walked in circles the others never would. Billy was owed a blood debt and knowing who meant ill for his children would absolve part of that. |
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| Baron Mordo | Jul 4 2017, 02:06 AM Post #9 |
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Not the Sorcerer Supreme
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That question, Mordo had been expecting from the beginning, and had prepared his answer with care. “In a sense, I suppose I was,” he replied easily, counting on a too-easily volunteered truth being uncompelling when she sought conspiracies. “After all, the artifact that served as Ikonn’s conduit to the material plane was a gift I gave Wanda, though I intended no harm to young William’s family when I gave it.” True, as far as it went; Dormammu’s plot was being revealed to him only on a need-to-know basis. Still, it was giving her more to work with than he would prefer. On the other hand, his connection to the conduit-artifact would surely be discovered sooner or later; admitting it up front would hopefully distract attention from him in the long run. “The demons were Ikonn’s servants,” he continued, “summoned across the gulf between worlds into your home… and disrupting illusion spells across half the Northern Hemisphere in the process, incidentally,” he added ruefully. “Annoying, that. Ikonn is an unreliable entity at best. As for what Ikonn’s purpose might have been? No doubt he was invoked by a sorceror, a simple exchange of power, like any spell… though what sorceror might have been involved in that particular contretemps, other than myself, I have no idea.” Also true. And disclosing far more than he’d prefer to disclose, in that Lord Ikonn could ultimately reveal Mordo’s involvement in summoning his demons. But the web of deceit he’d woven could never last forever; he’d accelerated its decay, perhaps, but he’d gotten more than he’d expected in exchange. Besides, while Ikonn was unreliable, it was also obscure; there was no guarantee the demon-lord would ever actually reveal the truth. That wasn’t its nature, after all. |
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| Magik | Jul 10 2017, 04:22 PM Post #10 |
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Stepping Discs/ Armor Manifestation/ Magical Weirdness
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Illyana’s face went dark as by sheer reflex she shattered their circle spell and summoned a long twisting sword of silver and an ebony. Many would call Magik crazy, insane, and simply not connected to normalcy in any real way. Though the blonde constantly fought against those words, they were quite true. Her eyes glowed gold as her ethereal armor twined up her arm and back to lend strength to any blows she may need to land. Her voice went from open and friendly to a hiss of rage and violence in an instant. “You brought Ikon into my home? Into a place of young life and conflicting magics? You have left my place of residence vulnerable to all who follow or fight Ikon and stained our walls with the purpose of a particular unstable entity. You may not have intended harm, however harm will surely come of its own.” To add an extra cry to her words Illyana portaled right behind her chair and sent it at Mordo with a savage armor boosted kick. Her anger, so fierce and hot, was driven as ever by fear far more than by worry for others. The Brownstone was her safe place, her haven, the place her friends and family could exist unmolested by the eddies and storms she caused with her own negligent behavior. “The rules of hospitality do not permit me to kill you where you stand and even if they did i would not do so. My mentor has that right and responsibility. Violate my home again though, Baron Mordo, and I shall forget all rules and rights. Never without invite, weather by body or spell or device, or orders of another. That is how it is to be with us.” Also Yana had had her childhood destroyed, her innocence turned into something sickening that could never be restored. She might have lacked honor and compassion, however she would die many deaths before letting that happen to Billy’s children. She owed him a blood debt now and even if she didn’t, children were off limits, regardless of intention. “I will think on your offer of help. Mikhail is, as our spell highlighted, incredibly important. I am not a moralist, nor a hero. I do not proclaim you villian by a single act, nor care about your history. You keep your hands off my place of home and we can perhaps, work together. I pray the next time you surprise me, you do so in a nicer way.” |
![]() All of the things we're taking 'Cause we are young and we're ashamed Send us to perfect places All of our heroes fading Now I can't stand to be alone Let's go to perfect places | |
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| Baron Mordo | Jul 13 2017, 07:26 AM Post #11 |
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Not the Sorcerer Supreme
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Illyana's violent reaction was not entirely unexpected, given what Mordo had determined about her past, but startling just the same. A hastily-conjured shield, which he'd expected to face her conjured sword, instead blocked the chair she sent hurtling at him; it fell apart in a cloud of splinters and kindling. When nothing seemed to follow it up, he relaxed and allowed the shield to dissipate, though he kept the spell to conjure it ready to activate. Well, he thought, that escalated quickly. Her reaction was not without its value, though. For one thing, it gave him the opportunity to observe her volatile temper; for another, her magical blade and armor. He'd reviewed accounts of both, of course, but this was an opportunity to inspect them close-up with both his mundane and magical senses. And they were more interesting to the latter, by far: a veritable orchestra of eldritch notes invoked by, as far as he could tell, a simple act of will. The ribbons of occult energy twined around her soul much as the armor did her flesh, and in both cases it was difficult to say precisely where one ended and the other began. This, of course, was why sorcerors relied on spells and externalized artifacts in the first place. Yes, of course, the intimate bonding between her magical armaments and her personal energies had its advantages, including the speed with which she could summon them... but such bonds carried their own weaknesses and vulnerabilities, as well, and he made careful note of those as she completed her demonstration and returned to a matter-of-fact discussion. He gave a one-shouldered shrug at her comments about her brother, turning his palm up. Time would tell whether that would prove a thread worth pursuing. As for the rest of her little speech... "You don't need me to tell you how rare pleasant surprises are in the Art, Illyana. To pray for them is childish, as you know quite well, and to ask questions you are unprepared to have answered is folly. But perhaps your prayer will be answered, just the same. As for whatever villainy I may possess... well, we all have our shadows, do we not?" He smiled urbanely and traced a rune in the air in reddish-black flames, which reshaped itself into a similarly colored homonculus, which busied itself with cleaning up the mess. |
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| Magik | Jul 14 2017, 03:47 PM Post #12 |
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Stepping Discs/ Armor Manifestation/ Magical Weirdness
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Illyana remained standing, though the sword, a simple rapier from France with a truly staggering amount of wards layered upon it, was dropped into a stepping disc and returned to it’s hiding place. Her armor, the silvery liquid like metal that was not at all metal, remained, slithering across her form like a second skin. Mordo had revealed himself as a threat to her, and her powers would now be hard pressed to think of him as anything else. The Baron was not the only one studying here. Yana took note of his choice of deflection spell, how and where his eyes moved, even the gestures he employed to summon his automaton. Slowly though, she smiled. The Baron was what he was, a man seeking power and that was a type of person she understood well. “With that I believe business is handled in so much as it can be handled by two such as we. Let us move on to finer things.” The words, chosen when the spell was began, completed the circle and their twining spell flashed back into existence for a moment, filling the room with red stars. The ancient bindings of the spell checked both people for lies and finding none, fully ended the spell without harm to either party. Once again using the book as a battery Yana reached into the space between realms and pulled forth something she had hidden for years, a torn bit of red and yellow fabric from a person who was no longer living. She smiled at the Baron and laid it upon the table that had been between them. “A true gift for you then. It is not magical in and of itself, however it is from both Earth and Limbo. May our goals coincide and may we not be against each other. For the day we are, the realms will be deprived of at least one and likely two great practitioners of the arts arcane.” |
![]() All of the things we're taking 'Cause we are young and we're ashamed Send us to perfect places All of our heroes fading Now I can't stand to be alone Let's go to perfect places | |
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2:11 PM Jul 11