Once upon a midnight dreary . . . [complete]

[Tobias Moriarty]

It was a cold and bleak night on Coruscant. Beneath the surface, while denizens slept, something stirred. Within the Canon Temple, the acolytes of the Subryn conducted their silent midnight sermon, offering up praise to their personal Gods. While the prelates and pastors tended to their worship, the Elders and their most entrusted wards stalked out into the bitter chill of one the temples courtyards. The moon bathed the group as they exited an archway into a circular enclave, dimly lit by braziers. The head of the party, Magister Kismet, held a torch aloft, it’s flame flickering as he turned on his heel to address his peers.

“You have been chosen to be a part of our most sacred of rituals.” Where they stood now was the sole place in the Temple that was open to the world. Though it was veiled by a constant illusion, where someone to become curious and bold enough to venture into the great slagheap, they would find themselves in the very heart of the keep. Kismet turned his eyes skywards.

“Tonight, we draw upon the powers of the west Gods and welcome Acolytes Darmok, Moriarty and Dumah into the Circle of Elders. You three are our most promising students,” the Magister continued, “and it will be an honor to consider you all my equals. Now… each of you take your place.” The man motioned out to three identical stone circles, each containing a phial of liquid. Tobias, quietly confident as always, moved to his. It was indicated by the ruin of the sect he followed, the Timestreamers. He knelt within it and waited for Darmok and Dumah to do the same.

[Zachariah Darmok]

Darmok of course was adept in the arts of weather and elements and so Zachariah moved swiftly towards the ancient stone that related to that arch of power.

Darmok had been within the Coven for a number of years as a student but this moment in time was of the most respected he had ever had. His life had been a long stream of torment and hatred, pain and suffering, revenge too. But never had he felt so alive, so powerful.

Kismit smiled grimley ' Long have i served the gods of Time, Power and Element, long have we, for hundreds of generations, been worthy to worship the Shadowed Lord and his brethren and now, now my trusted students, so will you...'

Kesmit waited for the last of 3 to take his place, unsheathed a ceremonial knife from his belt and began to cut his palm lightly with the razor sharp tip.

[Onkanon Dumah]

Dumah was the last to assume his place. As a student of the darkest of all arts, Necromancy, he fell to his knees at the symbol of Death. His white eyes, void of any pupil, turned to the sky. From the folds of his crimson robes, those of the death sect, he withdrew the ceremonial blade of the Subryn. The edge of the knife was pressed into his palm, as he curled his three clawed fingers around the full width of the knife. The Arkanian smiled thinly, seemingly taking some small satisfaction in the pain, as his blood oozed out into his palm. He extended his palm and turned it over, so that drop by drop his lifeblood began to fill the phial. As he watched the cup fill, his eyes occasionally flitted to the other two involved in the ritual, the infrared vision his species was gifted with marking out their sharp and often cruel features in the darkness…

[Tobias Moriarty]

Tobias disliked this portion of the ritual, but was forced to cut his flesh as the others had. His human blood spilled out in spits and starts, splattering the inside of the goblet. While he detested the method of bonding, Dumah seemed to take pleasure in it, while Darmok was indifferent as per usual. Once the Magister saw they had drained enough for the ritual, he commanded them all to stop. “Now rise… bring forth your phials and we shall meld together your blood beneath the new moon.”

They stood in union and strode to the central cup. It was guilded and gleamed in the light of the torches, worth thousands of credits no doubt. Jewels were embedded on its outer surface, while the interior was clean, soon to be stained red. One by one, they emptied the contents of their chalices. Moriarty came last, watching his blood slosh together with the others. Finally, Kismet approached the chalice and cut his own palm, letting a single drop fall from it into the concoction.

“Zachariah Darmok, step forward. You are the first to sip from the Goblet of Life. In doing so, you will be reborn…”

[Zachariah Darmok]

Stepping forth Zachariah bowed his head towards the Magister for a few moments waiting for the mans blood soaked palm to touch his forehead. He did so and smeered the symbol of the Subryn, a weeping eye, with a blood stained fingertip onto the the Warlocks brow and then stepped back with form.

Taking his honor the indifferent Darmok dipped his chalice into the thick liquid of the four mens blood and filled it a quarter of the way. it looked sickning and to be frank hidden behind his careless nature Darmok did not care for this at all, but it was honor and it was of life and he would take his place next to the elders.

Zachariah sipped at first but then accuired a swift taist for it and spilled the goblet back so that the rich flavor of the blood filled his throat, the Magister smiled warmly, knowing that Darmok liked what he drank.

' Well done Darmok, Welcome to the Order of the Elders....'

Darmok bowed his head and turned to kneel infront of the alter.

[Tobias Moriarty]

“Tobias Moriarty, step forward. You are the second to sip from the Goblet of Life. In doing so, you will be reborn…”

Following his comrades motions, Tobias came forwards and knelt before the chalice. He scooped himself just enough of the awful potion, leaving behind plenty for Duman, before bringing it to his lips. Nausea swept over him as he inhaled the metallic scent of the dirty blood. With a deep breath, he threw the whole lot back in one, choking back bile that threatened to rise in his throat.

“Well done, Moriarty. Welcome to the Order of the Elders.” Tobias bowed his head in reverence, clutching his throat with one hand as he came to kneel beside Darmok, the two of them now almost officially Magisters…

[Onkanon Dumah]

“Onkanon Dumah, step forward. You are the third to sip from the Goblet of Life. In doing so, you will be reborn…”

Last to drink, Dumah ladled the dregs of the blood into his goblet and without thought of regret, drunk it all. It was repulsive, but he paid little attention to the taste. All of his attention, all of his energy, was focused into the ritual. Soon he knew they would all be tried with a great test of power, to summon down the energies needed to imbue them with the divine right of the Elders. The beginning of this was signified by his kneeling before the alter. The Magister stood as though giving a sermon.

“I call upon the powers of the Shadow Lords, of the Western Gods and all patrons of the Subryn,” he said, his voice strong and full of confidence.

“Come, come this night. Let the great Shadow eye open and see these three, these loyal servants, and let them be honoured as we were before them.”

Above in the Coruscant sky, a star flickered. Oros, the shadow eye, blinked open. Elsewhere, other eyes watched. Cloaked in black, they moved like wraiths, silent as the night. The illusion to them was nothing, for they had the gift of further sight, that stripped away the veil surrounding the Canon Temple. One by one, they began to file into the halls. Though they did not yet know it, the Subryn would soon be receiving guests.

[Zachariah Darmok]

*swivt*

A jet of red light, as hot as the sun shot through one of the Dark Priests swiftly and silently, it was so hot that the ray of light had burned through the human without a sound and had killed him instantly.

Hails of black robes jossled for positon within the main reception of the Subryn Covens temple, eatch hooded and cloaked. Some weilded great staffs others carried swords and metal some even entered unarmed and used only their magic as a weapon and defence. The Temple was dimly lit with red and dark green glow lamps and so the visibility was only poor a few feet yet it was bearible.

'Carson take your people and search the exterior of the Temple, you men shall search the interior with me, all will die, spare none, anything that moves, kill it. These Subryn, given the chance, could take out numbers of us at a time.' A small troop of shadow like figures vansihed back outside while a larger sect stayed within.

' Follow me Gentleman...' Rivermortis said.

[Tobias Moriarty]

One by one, acolytes were culling, in complete silence. The intruders moved like a plague through the halls, taking out cloister by cloister, slowly absorbing the power of the fallen brothers so that their final confrontation and victory with the Elders could be assured. Sadly for the Magister, the group were so engrossed in their ritual to realise. Their chanting, in the lost tongue, drowned out any small sound that might escape through to them.

<center>Aru-ach su-nami, Aru-ach su-lack!</center>

The three looked up into the Magister. His staff was raised, the orb pulsing with a powerful light. The snake that curved around the weapon looked as though it would come alive at any moment. Tobias was entranced by it as he continued to speak the words they had been instructed too, and was sure he could see the serpents eyes glowing as the light of Oros, the shadow eye, shone upon Magister Kismet.

<center>Aru-ach su-nami, Aru-ach su-lack!</center>

Thundering footsteps approached the clearing as the Magister swept his staff downwards. It was lowered upon Darmok’s head, as an invibsle yet palpable force uncoiled itself. The serpent unwound for Zachariah to see only, hissing as it tested his scent with its forked tongue. It snapped out towards him and when he did not recoil seemed to disappear entirely into his body. When he blinked, the snake appeared not to have moved from the staff. Light now was coming from it, pulsing energy that dove into Darmok’s chest and sent his heartbeat soaring.

<center>Aru-ach su-nami, Aru-ach su-lack!</center>

The same was done to Tobias. He wheezed as it felt like his lungs were filling up with blood. He began to splutter and cough, and saw that Darmok was doing the same. Finally, the staff came to hover above Dumah…

[Onkanon Dumah]

Onkanon looked up into the eyes of the serpent. It uncoiled from its perch and weaved through the air towards him. Logic dictated that this should not happen, but then the Subryn were never ones for logic. The chimera coiled around his shoulders, seemingly not convinced that Dumah should receive the same gift that his brethren had. Through the haze of light, Dumah could see the Magister stood waiting for the spell to become finalized. The others had received their impartment and within moments, he too would. That is, was it not for the interference of traitors.

They washed like a tsunami over the gathering, their numbers at least treble those present for the Subryn. Lesser minions shackled the helpers in telekinetic bonds, while the leaders of the groups moved towards the three initiates. The Magister bellowed a curse that took one man from his feet, hurling him into the old stone walls with a sound crunch. Unforuntately, another took the chance to attack Kismet, and the old man fell to the ground in a blaze of flames, shrieking. Tobias, getting to his feet, snatched the staff away and felt his hands burning at the woods touch. It was not on fire, but it seared hot. It seemed to control him, and he felt the orb directing itself at the traitorous mages, his tongue somehow speaking spells he’d never even heard of.

Onkanon lifted his hands and began an incantation that would revive the Magister, hoping that his newfound strength would give him the power to do so.

[Zachariah Darmok]

'TO YOUR FEET, WE ARE UNDER ATTACK!-...' Shouted an aid but she was quickly dispatched by a blade to her chest, her blood was first spilled across the stone like a red waterfall, it splattred against the ground with a sickning plopping sound.

In turn no less than 15 black clad figures swarmed into the ritual site, their staffs pulsating, their swords weilded. Any number of wards and aids were taken down effotlessly with swift momentum and now blood carpeted the grass and stone like a veil of red cloth, bodies littered the ground and just in a few moments the Subryn had been cut down. By the time the 4 Masters had come to their sences they had been surrounded.

Rovermortis swept back his hood and stepped forward.

' So...this is the great elder Order?' He spoke with every ounce of sarcasem he could muster...' pitty i was looking forward to a better fight....a better ending...' Some of Rivers friends laughed.

Zachariah rose from the ground as did Warlock.

[Tobias Moriarty]

The Magister was dead. Tobias now held his staff as though it has always been his own. His lips curled into a snarl as he looked upon the leader of the rebels. “Fools!” He swept the staff outwards, and a ripple of energy passed through the air. One of the traitors was frozen in mid-attack, long enough for Moriarty to hurl an energy ball at him and shatter him into a thousand pieces.

“Did you truly think you could overcome newly risen Elders? We who are driven by the power of the Eye? Your timing is impeccably bad!” With the power of the Eye, the staff and Tobias’ own skills in Time streaming, it become effortlessly easy to stop and start time. Although he could not affect the whole area, he could create pockets, vacuums, where nothing could occur but death. Then it was only a matter of destroying the fools. He was a conduit for raw energy, and the thought that it would eventually have to run out didn’t even cross his mind.

[Zachariah Darmok]

' ATTACK, KILL THEM NOW!' Roared River and every single figure surrounding them converged on the 3 Warlocks at the very same time, even the sect that had gone outside had joined in the fight. it was not just 15 or more now, with the added group the fight had turned into 40 over 3 and it looked just for a split moment that the 3 mages would be cut down.

A blast of bolts had ben created a sent speeded towards the surrounded Warlocks but Zachariah was a master of Element, with his hand up raised a light burst from the tips of his fingers and a sheild suddenly errected around the the allied party and the bolts fizzed and crackled against the glow of the ball around them and then just as quickly it was gone.

The first figure that come up against Darmok was met with a powerfull blast of light at Zachariah touched his chest, the man was sent fly over the heads of the rest of the cloaked humaniods and landed smack bang on his head snapping it and making it angled funny.

' Come on Dunmeh!....Get up!

[Onkanon Dumah]

The cries of the others were going mostly unheeded. Dumah was absorbed entirely in his own ritual. The serpentine murmur that passed his lips was a resurrection spell, intended to bring souls back from beyond the grave. Truthfully, it was not an entirely selfless endeavor. The ritual had not been completed and he had not been bestowed his power. He was still a mere acolyte, while the other two – blazing and victorious in their combat against the rebels – were elevated. He felt bitter and cheated, but this helped fuel his spell. The sound of Darmok calling him was distracting him though. Hissing through gritted teeth, he snapped his head up.

Immediately, his eyes widened. The Arkanian was looking up into the face of a quartet of young warlocks, with their hands all held together. A ball of dark energy swirled in their collective palms. Before Dumah had time to react, the ball – suddenly exploding with green light – was careening towards him. He threw up his hands, attempting to draw a shield up around his body, and felt time slow down as Tobias spun and began to exact the power of the staff upon the spell. Alas, though it slowed it, it did not stop it. The blanket of time affected Onkanon too and thus the sphere crashed into his head, throwing him backwards. His body snapped into the air like a rag doll. The spell on the Magister was lost, and with it, any hope of reviving him.

Pain seared through Dumah’s body. He was blinded, he could see nothing but white. The heat of a thousand flames ravaged over his face. He let out a bloodcurdling scream as he writhed on the floor, clawing at his eyes.

[Zachariah Darmok]

' RIAH TILF'ELEY!' Roared Zachariah and those who loomed over the fallem Warlock were now set in flaimes with no means of extinquishing them. Screams spat from their mouths but it was no good screaming for there was no way to escape the ever burning of the fire. There boddies quickly started to char and melt away adn were then pushed back amoung the gathering crowned aorund the 3 men.


Darmok turned his attentioned once again to those who are opposing him, Dumah would have to take care of himself for a while. Another spell was casted from Darmoks figer tips and a red light splashed to those in his immiedite area...

[Tobias Moriarty]

The spell that Darmok had cast engulfed the whole circle. Any who tried to flee were marred by invisible shackles, created by the serpent staff. Tobias held it high as a beacon amongst the maelstrom. Little attention was paid to the writhing Dumah, who had resigned himself to silent torment whilst his peers dealt with the attackers. The red light scorched the skin first then immolated each warlock, one by one. Their deaths were slow and immeasurably painful thanks to the slowing down of time. A sadistic laugh passed Moriarty’s lips as he watched them turn to dust one by one.

When the final flames died away, he let out a long sigh and looked to Darmok. Both of them were damp with sweat, and breathing heavily, tired from their exertions. Tobias looked around, to count the numbers of fallen Subryn. It seemed some had managed to escape, others lay wounded, and some were dead. He turned to see the Magister, fallen, and let out another sigh… yet somewhere e in the back of his mind, put together the pieces of a puzzle that told him with Kismet fallen, the position of leader was now open to the remaining Elders.

He looked then to Dumah and frowned. The man was not moving.

[Onkanon Dumah]

What the Subryn did not know was this. The four acolytes who had attacked Onkanon were part of a team assigned to the destruction of the future leaders of the Subryn Coven. The spell that they had attempted to cast upon Dumah was one that would take his life. Unfortunately for them, the mage’s powers in Necromancy cancelled out some of the effect of the spell. Instead of wiping the Arkanian off the face of the planet, it had taken on a different effect. The dark arts are such a volatile material that if one spell combines with another, there can be disastrous results. It is impossible to predict the outcome of mixing too things together, and it is doubtful that the turncoats ever knew or would know what terrible curse they had put upon Dumah.

As it was known, The Veil was a powerful hex. It was a binding spell, that made it impossible for the one cursed to use any form of dark magic. In ‘blessing’ Onkanon with this curse, they had rendered him entirely powerless. Not only this, but unable to concentrate. An aching pain throbbing in his mind constantly. His vision too was marred, though was beginning to clear. Despite all of his anguish, he sat up, groping blindly for something, anything to let him know where he was. It felt like he’d been thrown half way across the world.

[Zachariah Darmok]

Darmok smiled grimly, his soul had been untouched by all of the death and destruction, infact he was in the feeling of quite the other end of the spectrum. Blood was splattered up and down the stone, across the floor, chared bodies lay dustily upon the sodden floor and half melted body still twitched as their nerves contracted and shivered upon the cold wind.

' Fools...' Darmok muttered to himself as he looked around, the floor completely covered in nothing but death and meaningless destruction. They had given their lives to something that had eveidently fallen before them not knowing what would face them at the end of the story...two extremely powerful mages.

Zachariah turned over a mutilated corpes only to find that it was their commander, Riverortis, his eyes staring blankly into nothing, he was dead and had been ripped into two by the initial red blast by the Red Pulse Spell, his lower half had been turned to ash and blown away.

Turning around Zachariah took hold of Tobias's stare. ' No worries brother, they have learned their lesson in dorwning in their own blood...' Darmok kicked Rivers remains away and walked towards a injured aid to help her up.

[Tobias Moriarty]

The staff calmed, but Tobias found himself unable to let go. It was still hungry, ravenous for blood and mayhem. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at once. As he moved towards Dumah to see what had befallen him, he was taken aback. An unearthly band of light was wrapped around the mans eyes; his normally solid-white eyes now a hot green. With a gesture of the staff, Moriarty attempted to dispel the glamour. When nothing happened, he saw Onkanon looking up at him with a sense of hopelessness. All at once, envy and anger swept over him, and the necromancer leapt to his feet.

“You bastards!” he snarled, “You have all the power in the world, and I have this!” he swept his hands towards his eyes, where the shrouding light of The Veil held still. The necromancer lunged out to seize the serpent staff, but with a light wave of one hand Tobias froze him in his path.

“Darmok,” he called, “the spell did not finalize… Dumah remains untouched, and under the effect of some curse that I cannot dismiss,” he explained as the lank mage approached, scrutinizing Dumah with an incredulous gaze. “His powers are bound… see how he could not raise the Magister.”

The two exchanged glances, as though knowing it was going to be one of them to replace the fallen leader.

[Zachariah Darmok]

Darmok shrugged indifferently and after helping an aid to her feet made his way over to the drinking goblet, or what was left of the gold. It had been semi-melted down to its base and the jewels had been thrown for the precious metal.

' There are ways of rekindling the flaim within you Dumah but we shall have to wait a full cycle to continue what was missed today.' Zachariah said tossing the now usless gold away from the alter that, luckily enough, was still intact.

[Onkanon Dumah]

Darmok’s words were little solace. Burning eyes turned to the other newly risen elder instead.

“Bound? Bound? My powers are gone, you witless crone!”

Tobias drew back slightly, arching a brow, “What do you care if my powers are gone, Moriarty? You have your precious elevation. Give me the staff, Tobias. Then and only then will we be true equals, as Magister Kismet intended,” with this, Onkanon reached out, his breathing ragged as his desperate eyes searched those of his peers.

“That, I am afraid I cannot do,” Tobias replied, drawing the staff in close to his body. “The staff has chosen me… see how it now bares the sigil of infinity, of the Time sect,” he said, motioning to the newly acquired mark that adorned the snakes head. “It is fate. What has taken place here did so for a reason… the death of Kismet, your damnation… it is all for a greater purpose. Take consolation in the fact that you have been a part of a greater plan.”

Onkanon went for his throat at this. The staff stopped him of course. “Though anger is more productive than despair, it will do you little good in this instance, Onkanon Dumah. Accept your fate. You have no choice.”

The hold on the necromancer vanished. He sighed. Though he hated to think it so, Moriarty was right. The man had seen the future, the present, the past and all else that existed. Dumah had his doubts as to whether he had foreseen this particular event, but of course seemed happy to play with the hand fate had dealt him. For now, he would abide. Perhaps Zachariah was right perhaps they could perform the ritual at a later date…

[Zachariah Darmok]

Brushing back his incredibly greasy hair, Darmok took a step beside Tobias and smiled mobidly, death had been the topic of the day yet the Dark Mage was in quite a joyious mood, rare for Darmok in so many ways. Tobias and he had just wiped clean no less than 40 dark troops no doubt from their rival clan the 'Demioris Society' a band of godless rebels that had tried to take the temple so many times before in the history of the Subryn, but even with the Subryns tragic loss of life today the Coven was still the most dominant of Coruscant.

' You will rise again Dumah, Tobias and i will most certianly help you, you are our brother in arms and in Magic and i for one will not let you fall to such a terrible fate as to loose you power, your essance...'

Turning towards Tobias he smiled horribly again and nodded in gesture 'It looks as if we also have a new Magister, the staff is yours, and thus you lead us...' Whipping his cloak around him like a Vampyre he stalked off to recover what was left of the Subryn staff.