The Haven of the Magi, The Arch Mage's return to Geffen...

[Malygos]

THE HAVEN OF THE MAGI…


“What a lovely day.” Yvellios said to himself as he crossed the iron gates at the entrance of Geffen; his voice overflowed with bothersome sarcasm. Geffen, the great city of the Mages had been his home for the past three hundred years, and after an absence of almost half a century, whose reason was a prolonged journey to Álfheim, he came back to find it overpopulated with crooks and conjurers of cheap tricks. The elite seemed to remain in, though; relentless, as they usually were, to welcome any of these alleged sorcerers into the Coven. The hooded guards standing by the gates were evidence of this undeniable truth. “It’s nice to see that some things have managed to stay the same. It means there’s still hope for this hectic human city.” He concluded after glancing at the guards; they glanced back and greeted the Arch Mage with slight bows. Even though he was cloaked by one of his most powerful illusionary magics, and to the world he was just another old man wearing robes, Yvellios was still recognized by those who knew him, most of them Elves like himself. The Grand Magi bowed back and smiled as he passed by their side.

Another smile was drawn on Yvellios’s face as he turned his head, withdrawing his sight from the guards and placing it back on the city. Even though it was overcrowded with unwanted visitors and wannabe Mages, Geffen had managed to maintain its majestic elegance and beauty; the marble used to build most of the buildings still retained its illustrious white hue, the watchtowers and astronomical observatories still looked astonishing as they were bathed in sunlight, but most of all, the great Ivory Towers for the central Palace of Ihrluin and the sacred beacon rose towards the heavens more gloriously than ever before. All that beauty could have easily driven Magus away from all those bothersome thoughts about the charlatans and impostor sorcerers; but peace was not something the Arch Mage was meant to acquire just yet. No, these petty burglars that called themselves Wizards had found yet another way to increase his annoyance; and this time, Yvellios wasn’t going to take it.

Both Yvellios’s walk and wondering were abruptly halted by a young man who tripped and rushed upon his body; to prevent an utter fall, the boy held on tightly to the Arch Mage’s clothing. He looked up and watched an angry old man looking down at him. “Ugh! I’m very sorry, sir, please forgive me clumsyness.” He said as he regained his poise, followed by a bow and the resuming of his wandering through the streets of the city. Yvellios didn’t bother to give the boy a reply, yet he stood in silence for a few second as he walked away. “Stop!” Yvellios shouted in a tone of anger and turned. The boy’s body was immediately halted; it was almost involuntary, as if the words of this old man carried power within each syllable. “Give it back…” The Arch Mage muttered, yet this mutter turned into a roaring echo that drew the attention of everyone present to the events unfolding; each person first glanced at the old man, then his eyes wandered through the scene until they reached the paralized boy. Some of them let go a giggle or two as they watched; all Mages who had recognized Yvellios and felt pity for this young man’s fate.

“W-Wha-t… S-i-r…?” The boy struggled to articulate, but it was impossible; the Arch Mage’s words were indeed powerful, and they carried intense magic within. Yvellios let go a slight laugh. “I said give it back, boy… You know of what I speak…” The boy looked down at his pocket; in appearance it was heavy and it carried a big amount of something, judging from its bundle shape. “Yes… That’s it.” The Arch Mage stated with a smile. “Apparently you’re not as stupid as it seems… And yet your degree of idiocy was enough to drive you to steal form a Wizard. Now you must answer for having committed such an act of utter vileness.” Yvellios raised his left arm and fixed his gaze of the boy. “The this light be the bane of every injustice you’ve committed…” He whispered coldly at the boy as he lowered his left arm to aim at him; his hand wide open. An aura of golden light emerged from Yvellios as a small sphere was formed in front of his open palm. He looked at the boy one last time, and then he closed his eyes and released his spell.

“Let justice be served.” Yvellios muttered as the sphere of pure light he had created burst into several beams that headed straight to the boy at an incredible speed, spiralling around each other as they did. They surrounded the young thief’s paralyzed body and started swirling around it more violently every time, until they turned solid, yet without losing their majestic glow, and intertwined, forming a spherical cage. The cage rose from the ground, carrying the boy within, and moved in the direction of the Arch Mage; it stopped when it was a mere two feet away from him. Yvellios opened his eyes and looked inside the cage; the boy had regained his mobility and was now sitting at the other side, scared of what the Mage might do to him. “Don’t worry, boy.” Yvellios said in an attempt to calm him down. “I do not intend to cause you any harm… Yet your crime should not go unpunished…” Having heard the old man’s words, the boy reached through his pocket and drew a small pouch of gold from it; it was the one he had stolen from Yvellios. He stretched his hand and handed it over to the Arch Mage through the golden bars. “How noble of you…” Yvellios stated with a hint of sarcasm as he grabbed the pouch. “But I’m afraid it’s a bit too late for that... Besides…” He hurled the pouch against a wall; the boy fixed his gaze on it, guessing it would split open and the gold inside would be scattered. What he saw turned out to be more than he could take. As soon as it touched the wall, the pouch turned to dust and was spread across the stone, painting it gold. The boy fainted after having seen that; he had gotten into all this trouble just for a fake pouch of gold created by a Mage.

“Now...” Yvellios said between giggles as he watched his prisoner faint. “What shall I do with you…”

[Innoreth]

It had been a sorry few nights. Wandering through the hills and forests that was the countryside of Midgard, Innoreth had only found two young men. He had sent them both to Hel, as he figured he would have gotten to meet with several other of their kind in short time. His guess had missed completely - he had found none. Most upsetting. This night would have to be different. Time was running out.

His slow wander came to take a turn as he laid eyes upon a city. Brilliant! An oasis, so to speak, filled with souls worthy of a trip to Hel's lair. A perfect opportunity to fill the quota represented itself. A fluent turn set his direction towards Geffen, the city of mages. Slow as ever, progress was made with an agonizing feeling of being stuck. However, it was one of those things he had learned to suppress. Rocks and trees he passed by, and after not too long, relatively speaking, he found himself not far from the iron gates that guarded Geffen.

His hood was as always tightly covering up any hints of what is face looked like. To enhance the image he wanted people to see him as, he leaned somewhat more on his staff as he walked. He retracted the unholy aura enough as not to freeze the surrounding flora. That would tip pretty much anyone off.

The city walls towered both himself and the couple of guards he was about to walk past. As he came up to pass them, he could feel their suspicious look. He was rather large, indeed, and such a thing would naturally spark an examining interest in guards of this great city.

"Halt, stranger.", he heard. "Who goes there?", one of them inquired with a stiff voice. Innoreth stopped and let his eyes visit both faces quickly. He spent a brief second figuring out how to lull these two punks into the depths of their own ignorant minds.

"I am but an old jester, boys. I am here to visit an old friend on my old days." With the softest and creakiest voice he could conjure, he served the lie of a lifetime. He raised a hand and looked as if he threw something up in the air. However, there came nothing. They guards looked back at Innoreth.

"Jester, hm? Looks as if your trick failed, old man." Both stared at him with a look of disbelief and disdain. A crackle above their heads got their attention. They found a blue imitation of a woman, dancing. The semi-transparent illusion was not made to be lifelike, but to convince them he was nothing more than a simple magejester. "Very well, old man, go on." With a smile, one of them shook his head as he watched how the old man limped into the majestic city.

To his surprise, there was still activity within the walls, despite the fact that it was in the middle of the night. From the tavern came a myriad of sounds, witnessing of the joyfilled nightlife the citizens of Geffen was able to enjoy. Even in the streets, people were walking to and from the tavern, or simply sitting on benches, having conversations over an alcoholic beverage. He made note of that - alcohol seemed to be customary whenever one was "relaxing", or doing pretty much anything besides working. Maybe it was just this night, but Innoreth had gotten the impression that it was pretty common, overall, to have an ale or three.

Gigantic buildings stood like monuments of the greatness of the Geffen Magocracy. Much had they accomplished, and much were they capable of. Awe-inspiring marble towers cast their shadows far towards the horizon. Along with their lack of any garrison, this all showed the Magocracy's arrogance and power at the same time. They were powerful enough not to need any garrison, but just as arrogant as to erect such wonders and expect that their magic alone would suffice to uphold control and fend off intruders and invaders.

Soon, perhaps they would think better of the surrounding world...

[Himmelmez]

From deep within her inner sanctum, Himmelmez let out a sigh. She sensed something, a feeling of magic similar to her own. That could mean only one thing. A necromancer was within the city, and one powerful enough to trigger her wards at that. It was unlikely to be anyone but a servant of Hel, and if it was not then she would want to see the individual in question anyway. And Freyja would be interested in both also. It was quite a coincidence for another person of interest to come to Geffen today. Just an hour or so earlier, one of her servants had brought word that Malygos had been seen. Back in the city, after who knew how long. Well, she knew how long. Something in the area of fifty years, unless he had sneaked back in during that time. She had been putting of going on search of the Arch Mage until the next day, but now this new power changed things. She wanted no conflict in the city, and if those two encountered each other there were likely be conflict. The necromancer would have to be stopped and questioned now, and she would keep a watch for Malygos whilst she was doing that. She should be able to sense him from a fair distance.

A servant hurried to her side as she rose from her dark granite throne, stopping beside her and remaining silent. She spoke to him without turning her head. "Make ready my steed, I descend to Geffen tonight." With a swift nod, he had hurried off as fast as he had come. Himmelmez paused then, setting a hand back on the throne's armrest. Should she go armed, or rely simply on her magic? Armed tended to inspire more respect, so armed it was. She turned around completely, and lifted down her spear. It hung above her throne when not in use, seven feet of metal so black it seemed to darken the air around it. It was quite plain, save for the head, which was shaped like a stylised flame. A most unusual weapon. And enchanted, of course. Wounds it made bled more than they should, even with its unusual blade. That did not seem much at first, but in the heat of battle it could be deadly. She had destroyed small armies with just that spear and her powers of necromancy. She would pass through the enemy lines, a storm of destruction slicing anything that approached. And the warriors, weakened by loss of blood, would quickly fall to her undead. Not that she would need to use it like that tonight. But any who knew of it would be impressed. Blóðfrú, the Mistress of Blood, that was what mortals named it. She gave it no name. It was just a tool.

It tapped the floor as she walked, using it like a staff. The sound echoed along the corridors that led from her throne room, and all throughout her fortress servants stopped in their duties. They all knew what that noise meant. But they could not know why she had the weapon with her, and each and every one of them feared the worst. She ignored their questions as she passed, just as she ignored the silent glances of those less bold. The cold stone passageways echoed with their whispers now, in addition to the steady tapping. Just the same as every time she left recently. Something was coming, the servants could sense it as much as she could. Each time she left, they dreaded that whatever it was, it had come at last. Not tonight, thank Freyja. Tonight was just stopping something before it even had the chance to start. At last, she reached the vast doors at the front of the fortress. Her horse stood within them, and they themselves stood open. They were always open. There was little need to close the doors of a fortress that hung thousands of feet above the ground.

Her horse turned to her, flaring his nostrils. He had a name, but she did not know it. He was just one of her horses, a huge black stallion like all the others. With one advantage that normal horses did not have. Her powerful legs flexed, and she vaulted onto his back in a single bound, spurring him away. Away, and out of the doors. He ran as though he stood on solid ground, and yet his hooves trod only air. Truthfully, Himmelmez did not know how her horses were able to fly. It was another thing that was not important. So many things were unimportant. She sat low on his neck, and within a few minutes they had reached the ground. Geffen lay a mile or so to the east, as it would not do to land within it, or even too close to it. After a moment's pause, she set the horse to a gallop. She sensed that the necromancer was still just within the gates of the city, and had in fact entered through the same gate as she would. The horse showed his strength and stamina; they reached the gate in half as much time as it had taken to reach the ground. The guards had no time to move, she was through in a flash. A faint cry followed her, "Who goes the...?" It cut off suddenly, and her ears just caught the word that had made it do so. "Himmelmez," spoken in a tone of abject fear. And in the same moment her eyes caught sight of the one she sought. She had felt the power growing as she approached. It was incredible. And she had an inkling of who it was. There was a demon, a former Svartálfr, who was said to possess powers of necromancy unequaled amongst his kind. It had to be him.

The horse's hooves clattered an uneven rhythm upon the cobbles, and his muscles bunched. She jumped him, clean over the figure's head. It was not quite a true jump, the figure was too tall for that. But it was impressive nonetheless. What followed was even more so. She wheeled the horse savagely, turning a half circle in a tiny distance, and stopped him dead. Steam rose from his flanks and from his nose, and his chest lifted and fell in great heaves. Himmelmez stood up in the stirrups and pointed her spear at the necromancer. She towered over even him like this, a figure of raw, unbridled power. "You," she said, and her voice was like thunder. "What is your business in Geffen, necromancer? I know you, even if your name escapes me. You will answer me."

[Innoreth]

An eerie wind presented itself. With a wailing howl, it swept through the city. As the sound the wind carried reached Innoreth, he halted to ponder. He knew that could be no ordinary wind. Without much action, save for a low grunt, he set off again, along the route leading towards the grandest of towers. That would be a logical place for the leader of this pack of conjurers to reside at, wouldn't it? At the very least, it would contain clues as to where he could be found. It would be a shame to tear this beatiful city apart just to find the mages that live in it.

The figure posing as an old man progressed in his own pace, passing taverns, tailors, bakeries and merchants of arms. Within the darkness cast by the man's hood, wondering thoughts boiled intensely. Could it be a coincidence, that the strange wind had come only an hour after he had arrived himself? Not likely, was the conclusion. Winds of such a nature were not common. They could not be, not here.

"Hmmmm, have I got a visitor, then," he asked himself, "That ought to be interesting, heheh." Creeping over the cobbleroad, the tower he had pointed out as his target was not far away now. The marble-white building stretched far towards the sky, and when beside it, seemingly all the way up to it. This was not the case, of course, but in all truth, it was a very large tower indeed. Majestic in stature, and hopefully the seat of the Magocracy's council, or something, Innoreth felt how hungry he was for the sight of death's embrace finding yet another soul.

Himmelmez closed the gap between them with abnormal speed. Quite aware, but still a little startled he hadn't noticed the brooding black energies she emitted somewhat earlier, Innoreth did nothing. After all, it would be unwise to fly in the face of someone whose power might rival his own. With a rather elegant jump, Himmelmez' steed flew high, but only high enough to barely have the cloves miss Innoreth's head. Quickly, she turned her unholy steed and hesitated not with her less than friendly inquiries.

"What is your business in Geffen, necromancer? I know you, even if your name escapes me. You will answer me," Himmelmez bellowed. Innoreth stood silent for long a moment, with his head lowered. Tendrils of black reached out from around the very lowest edge of the robe, grasping and writhing, as he with a slam of his staff let go of all deceitful illusions. His face no longer that of an old man, but unseen terror and helpless despair. Darkness engulfed the area around them, and screams of agony seemed to emerge from the very ground itself. A layer of frost spread quickly, making the cobble quite slippery.

With a rumbling voice darker than the empty pits of death, Innoreth tried not to conceal the malicious intentions he had set out with. "I am here, valkyrie, to suck the life out of these conjurers and con artists," he spat out, followed by a cackle. To make a point out of it, he whispered to himself, "Dauði, rísr át'atgangr," repeating it a few times over, standing put, waiting. Darkness seethed around his very body, and soon enough, cries of pain and horror erupted from a nearby house. "I hope my answer is satisfying, Hand of Freyja. Now, if you would, I have a few hundred mages to bestow ruin upon."

[Himmelmez]

The necromancer answered Himmelmez's question not with words, but by revealing his true self. She felt a spreading of his power, and shadows began to branch from his form. They groped about the floor eerily, twisting like living creatures. A sudden noise; he slammed his staff into the ground. His face changed. It was the face of an old man no longer. Instead it was the face of an ancient and fearsome evil. Darkness spread from the necromancer's frail body, darkness and a chilling cold. Frost soon covered the cobbles. It was all show, of course. And useful for Himmelmez to see. The changing of the face indicated that this necromancer also had some ability with illusion, an area in which she was greatly lacking. Subtlety was not her style. All it showed was weakness and cowardice. This necromancer would swiftly fall to her, if that was the way he did things. He chose that moment to speak, his tone dark and foreboding.

"I am here, Valkyrie, to suck the life out of these conjurers and con artist," he said, and laughed. Actually laughed at her. What he did next widened her eyes, and brought a snarl to her lips. He stood apparently in silence, but she could see his lips moving, and the darkness churning around his body. And, of course, she could feel the power. He was raising the dead, in the middle of her city. That could not be allowed. Could anger seethed through her, drowning out his next words. She would have to stop him from killing the mages, although he was truly foolish if he though he could stand against all of them. Especially with Malygos in the city, though he would not know that. But it was a secondary concern now. She could hear screams from a nearby building already. this could not be allowed. It would not be allowed.

"Cease," she said abruptly, in a voice even louder than before. The word echoed from the buildings around them, bouncing back and forth in a great tumult of noise. Windows were thrown open all along the street, only to be swiftly closed when the people within set eyes upon the scene. "Do you really wish to challenge me, you fool?" Himmelmez said at a more normal volume. She squeezed the horse's flanks with her knees, and obediently he trotted closer to the necromancer. "You may be a master of your art, but you cannot hope to compete with me in raw power. And yet it will not come to that, do you understand?" She span her spear between her hands. The air hummed, and she brought it to a rest leveled directly at his throat. "If you challenge me, I will strike you down with my blade. I wish no unnecessary damage to the city. And besides..." Her lip curled in a sneer, and she looked him up and down. "You have no physical strength at all, do you? The strength of my arm over yours is even greater than that of my magical power. We will talk when you obey me."

A soft rain began to fall, delicate droplets falling softly on the Valkyrie and her blade. She sat absolutely motionless, her spear arm never wavering, her eyes never leaving the necromancer's face. The rain continued to fall, steadily growing harder.

[Innoreth]

"Cease," Himmelmez shouted, and all was turned inside out. Innoreth would have chuckled to himself, if it wasn't for the radiant smell of overpowering might. It was true as she said - in terms of sheer force, he could put up no real game. He did however allow himself a snicker as she commented upon his lacking physique. "I will obey, of course. I apologize for my untimely and untasteful joke." Decieving people into thinking he was under their command was a skill he had grown skilled in - and fond of. For now, heeding the words of the powerful Valkyrie would hopefully produce a better outcome than opposing her. But the advantage she had in the status quo would not forever be there. It could not. Innoreth smirked to himself, already visualizing the currently unlikely downfall of Himmelmez.

"If I may ask, what is your errand here, Valkyrie? Surely, I can pose no threat big enough for you to come here in person... So I wonder, why have you come?" His voice had lightened some, only to fall back to its former depth in an ever so light growl - a growl caused by immediate regret of laying it on so thick. It had near slipped his mind that this was no mortal mindbender, and weaving a proper deception would require more cunning than overly proportioned flattery. "Nevermind my asking at all. It is not my business to sneak in. You wanted to talk?"

Slippery maneuvers had worked better than he could have hoped for in the past, but how would they fare against Himmelmez? In an attempt to come of as philosophical, Innoreth made way towards the grand marble tower. Althoug, his lack of speed made it somewhat awkward, and not exactly as graceful as he had intended. Still, avoiding the sharp spear, the tall form floated a few feet up the road, before stopping. "Ah, what a delightful city. I can see why you would set up fortress in this place. But why, oh why, do you put up with these falseplayers?"

[Himmelmez]

Joke was it? Even if she had a sense of humour, now was not the time for jokes, least of all jokes that endangered the lives of Geffen's citizens. Freyja had entrusted the city to her care, and no harm would befall them while she still held that trust. She snorted, blowing air through her nose in a manner not unlike her horse. It was not a joke anyway. If this necromancer truly thought she was that stupid, he would come to regret it. At least he was now acknowledging her command. Still, she prepared herself for what she felt sure was to follow, and nodded to herself as he resumed his speech.

It was always the way. Níðhöggr would let Yggdrasil be destroyed before a mage would give up his mind games. The way she dealt with them was simple. Maybe it was not the most effective way, but she would not lower herself to verbal sparring. Besides, the ones who engaged in this game were invariably arrogant. Not people used to being ignored. She would just continue as if she was being given the responses she wanted. In this case, the appropriate response was "You are quite right, and I apologise. Please continue." She remained silent and motionless, even as he moved away, and mentally replaced his words with the ones she had chosen. It was not long before he stopped and fell into silence.

With a sudden push, she swung herself from her saddle, booted feet kicking up a spray of water as they thudded into the cobbles. The spear found its place on her shoulder, a fairly casual looking posture, though in reality she was ready to whip it round in an instant. Not that anyone looking at her would fail to realise that fact. She was taller than most human men, and likewise better muscled. Her close fitting leather garments creaked with the pressure those muscles exerted at each movement. Yet even without such obvious signs, most would recognise her face as that of a grim and hardened warrior. It displayed no emotion, not in the twitch of a lip or the flicker of an eye. She was utterly impassive, not even blinking away the rain that ran down her face and dripped from her unnatural white hair. In three strides she reached the necromancer's side, choosing to ignore the distance he had moved just as she ignored his words.

"Now that you have stopped you idiocy, we can resume where we left off." She spoke in a flat tone, the one she always used when not shouting, and gave him no time to ask why she ignored his words. She scarcely knew what he had said, so complete was her adoption of the strategy. "I merely want an answer to my question. What is your business in Geffen. And do not try to lie. I already know that your kind do nothing I would approve of, there is no use in hiding your ill intentions." He would try to regardless of what she said, she knew that. She would merely continue until she had untangled the truth, or until he tested her patience too greatly. And though he did not know it yet, the outcome would be the same either way.

[Innoreth]

"Hmh hmh hmh." Innoreth chuckled to himself and turned around. Himmelmez was soon to follow, and it was obvious she was not going to answer his questions. Naturally, she wouldn't, as she hadn't heard any of them, by will. Innoreth caught on soon enough and did naught more than watch as the Valkyrie sprung of her horse and pressed her fit frame onwards, stopping right by his side. Innoreth pondered if there was more to her appearance than just the usefulness of an armor. Intimidation? Showing off physical attributes meant little to Innoreth. He had none, and needed none.

She had obviously not been very pleased by his explanations and justifications so far. "Very well. I am here for the sole reason of survival. I need food," he said, dropping the mask of a submissive underling. A last ditch attempt at lulling her into her own words, he hoped addressing her as he would an equal would have her swallow his partially true response. All else had failed, and while this wasn't -exactly- what she had asked for, it was all he had left. A wind came about the street, blowing into the hood, revealing once more the contorted flesh of Innoreth's long dead face.

What Himmelmez saw in men that was worth protecting so strictly, he could not understand. They were useless - weak and frail, unable to do anything mentionworthy with their lives. Peons, pawns, servants, beasts, playthings, meatshields. Some had more use than others, but in the end, they were all nothing worth to Innoreth. None performed a function he could not be without. Himmelmez' elegant dodging of his previous questions left little doubt that there was no use at all to even bring up that point. Her cold mind was impenetrable, probably filled with the nonsense of that hopelessly dumb figure Freyja.