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  1. Of Magic and Might

    His opposition had all the makings of a beautifully executed attack, however the measures and ingredients while correct are grossly under measured. Bull was a far bigger cake to Bake, metaphorically and literally. The Avatar had little to fear from a beheading----That wasn't sufficient enough to end it's artificial life. Still there was a reputation to keep, and there was nothing wrong with having an opponent think otherwise by defending against it diligently. At 14' in height Many attacks like this unfortunately (for the attacker) have to come MOST of the way and inside Proteus' range which was never a good place to be. Once committed to the act, changing direction or intent at the last moment often resulted in failure or drastically reduced success. Bull would be content with either. So when the short-sell of blindness seemed to have created enough confidence in his opponent that they'd commit. Inspired him enough to forget the minor details---Like how much LONGER Bull's reach is then a normal person and that, his TOTAL reach was arguably greater then the combined length of his opponents arm and sword. Finally, just maybe coaxing enough "Do-it-Fluid" out of his opponent for them to undermine just how physically prominent the musculature of his neck just might be. The charade was dropped and he'd finally take some action, the first beginning with that previously mentioned and appropriately timed step back just at the birth of the swing, ----creating more distance. That rock mask would fast atomize nothing, this armor, while beautifully constructed and engraved wasn't for show. Celestium---An scientifically and mystically engineered by product of Celestial Slate energy. Its given physical shape and alloyed with Adamantine and Mythril for conductive purposes, strength and malleability. More importantly it serves as a regulator for each and every Avatar's innate Solenoid function and the fraction of empowerment taken from their creator. That sword wasn't the only "Ravenous" creature afoot. The Celestial's Solenoid function allowed for the innate absorption of matter (Regardless it's type, nature and matter state), which is then harmonized and added to their own reserves, this armor Regulated that both ways, the give and get. (2)A Pulse---A timed act of purposely triggering the solenoid function, allowing the Avatar's body to consume all matter within a limited space (4sq ft) that wasn't already his own, and process and add it to his own being. For the rocks that saw to control his head, their ultimate end. For the air, the light, free flowing atomic actions occurring on a microscopic level--theirs as well for a duration of 2 seconds, the same. How does this translate to his highly skilled, high speed opponent? Well, there was the environmental hazard of having things such as light, and relative wavelengths spontaneously absorbed by someone acting as a singularity if even for a moment---Darkness. For those sparse moments that would be the case, total obscurity all the while, the energies of that sword, and minute matter contributions such as his armor and clothes could very well be fed to the cause. None of this however posed any significant threat. What did was bull teetering just beyond the swords range all the while his opponent being well within his, especially since his arms were already up and feinting an attempt at freeing him of the skull cap. The swordsman was swinging, committed, and understandably air-borne if he was attempting at Bull's neck. And Scant INCHES away from Bull's right palm (Which was probably big enough to grab his entire torso) prior to it BLITZING to left to meet with the youth's body with terrible force, all the while bringing his again, already raised left arm up much like a boxer would as an obstruction. This of course occurring right at his opponents point of total commission to his own actions, where change could result in total failure or now, even greater harm to himself. Bull sought to spike the man to the ground as if he were an annoying insect with enough force to crater where he'd impact the ground and devoid the man of air in his lungs from possibly broken ribs on impact from where his hand would land----if successful. All the while should he still have the gusto to be hit and force the swing, provide a fairly resilient armored limb to protest the blades tip and eager edge. Meanwhile a faint POPPING could be heard, something akin to a Sonic Boom. (3)Unbeknownst to anyone save for the Titan, something approached and did so very quickly.
  2. Of Magic and Might

    There is a machine like commitment to his actions when Bull fights. These Avatar's are brilliant constructs that are a seamless symmetry of sorcery and technology. They are for all intents and purposes perfect copies of the Original Proteus Rauz, albeit drastically limited and weak by comparison. Still, they do possess most if not all of his physical and mental innate attributes. WEAK in contrast to the original, compared to anything else nearly unstoppable and amazing. His senses, and how they work for example. The standard 5 are all hyperkeen, but few fail to notice the unique "Pits" located on the sides of the bridge of his nose. These olfactory cavities are highly developed electro-receptors, as mutant of the Celestial Race, the emphasis on "Highly" is particularly significant. They allow him to literally "See" the Bio-static Field generated by any and every living creature, through objects regardless of whether he can see them or not. The emphasis part previously spoken of comes apparent in the fact that Bull can even see or detect beings of a different spectrum and wavelength. Astral for example---Spirits and Ghosts, other worldly creatures things of the metaphysical, if he concentrated. It was a particularly nifty attribute. His eyes could shuffle spectrums, this worked without any extra effort. This is why he didn't bat an eye, or change action (the clap)---or lose track of where his speedy opposition was even as his head was stone-wrapped. He didn't require air, water, or sustenance. So he didn't feat suffocating. The pressure from the wrap itself wasn't significant, there was no pain. AT BEST, it was comical and an annoyance, however unbeknownst to his opposition who may be assuming he's blinded BULL (And Proteus was selling it that way), who would have taken a step backward, while reaching and clawing frantically at surface of the stone wrapping on his head. Meanwhile, two brands on his back, beneath the mass of cloak billowing around him would come aglow (2 & 3)....
  3. Of Magic and Might

    A fight is it? How odd a circumstance. Even the Red Queen was quite familiar with "BULL", the King of Taurus, who's tales of prominence were well traveled, even beyond Genesaris limits were they began. This is said only to stress the fact that so few invited this Royal Engine of Destruction into their domain for the soul purpose of, well, being an engine of destruction. The gift of combat wasn't something he ever stingy with, and gave it freely to any in need or demand. The ground protested at the steps taken to turn himself around and his opposition, his arms spread wide and his fingers as well as if inviting the would be aggressor closer----Not the rock projectile tagging him squarely in the face. That thoroughly annoyed him and otherwise ruined a fairly cool intro into a first move. That was about as successful as it would be considering. Were it clearly visible, that aggravation was present on his face. His body language and position hadn't changed as his opponent clipped off the dozens of meters between them ---Not that it mattered. The closer the better, and the more embarrassing it could potentially be for the red-hair. (1) Who'd be greeted by the force equivalent of a thermobaric bomb going off, A terrible sound preceding a wave of force that comes rushing toward him at pace. Disheveling pieces of of wasteland earth, debris and scant ice present, a wall of force more then a 3 meters tall and triple that in it's width; birthed from the act of slamming his hands together in a maneuver known affectionately called a "Thunder Clap". How damaging this force would be hitting him squarely, was based soley on his own physical resilience, but considering he was no where near the size and weight of a small vehicle, he'd reckon being hit squarely and sent a ways, wouldn't be to easy on the body. Afterward, the King of Taurus could be seen striding forward toward him still, an obelisk, obscured by dust and debris and a dark voice lancing through the veil "Joking here will get you killed, Comedian.." A Fair warning.
  4. [Quest] To BECOME DEATH...

    Bull has always had a stubborn nature. As this insurmountable weight was set upon him he faltered none and staggered little beneath it. This was a decision made long before this conversation too place and the hardest part about it, had just transpired. Was it easy to make the decision? Hardly. No decision made by a king is an easy one, but he had things far more thought out then even his mother had assumed. He took pride in few things. His mother and his kingdom were two priorities on that list and in his absence----One would do an exceptional job looking after the other. This is why he had no regrets. Had no qualms or hang ups. Nor was he going to ask permission to be what he was intended to be, after all-----Kings do not beg. Son's do heed their mothers, there was that, and it was the son in him that permitted the remorse that seeped it's way into his heart now. Slowly, as she expected he turned and would follow his mother. This was a formality she was quite fond of---eating. He neither required it or took much from it, even from birth her child was indefinitely sustained by the prominence within him, outside of the flavor indulgence or the occasional desire to be a glutton in his mothers presence, there was nothing he took from "eating". It was something SHE enjoyed doing in an attempt to humanize him and teach him manners and etiquette. The kitchen was one of the more pleasing areas of the castle though. The scents. The colors, and the tastes. It was always a positive stimulation to him. Something he welcomed and why at times he found himself drawn to this place which was why int he grand design of his this castle it received so much attention and work. The kitchen space was huge. It's ceilings were some of the highest in the castle. The appliances had brushed metal finishes. Obsidian marble counter tops and floors, ornate accents, his mothers design was nothing short of immaculate. They were accompanied by a primer staff in conjunction with the normal servant roster, one of which being one of the elder attendants who, like their chef, had fond memories of their King as a child being escorted into this place by his mother much like he is now. It was as if the entirety of the staff were made aware that their King would be setting himself on a path that would take him from them, and couldn't help but to notice the long face on the elder attendant who had saw to him even as a youth in his cradle. She said nothing, which in turn said so much. Bull stood there.....silent.
  5. Of Magic and Might

    An invitation that transcended the planar boundaries, first hitting it's embassies in Alterion before being touching the ears of the Taurus Ruler in Xaengri-La. There was disinterest at first, even a disregard. This gave way to plausible interest in advertisement and diplomatic gain. They would not be awarded his actual present but an Avatar, a Low-Dominus at least would be expended. His sheer will sets forth a rift in spatio-temporal fabrics on two ends, which the Dominus steps into and through. He emerges from the dark aperture a physical representation of the younger version of "The Source". A Towering 14' figure, tons in weight, donning the "Royal Combatant" armor, a full body layered carapace that was constructed of Celestium, and in total symmetry with the M-Body of the Dominus. Around his shoulders, head and much of that impressive physique was an equally paramount mass of hooded cloak the likes of which billowed and flowed around him as if it were sentient. It veiled the hard features of a stern face in darkness, although his eyes as intense as they pierced that said veil with their bright dynamism. He was here-----and seemed far from excited about it. This place simply lacked anything to compel his interests, and visually seemed to be a place where things come to simply be tortured and die at the whims of these horrible conditions. As a Dominus, an Avatar and a M-Body, the conditions here posed no threat. He had no need for Air, Water or sustenance, could not feel temperature extremes or most forms of stimuli, yet couldn't be spared the discomfort of how hot air feels in his nostrils, or the toll this place took on senses as hyper-keen as his own. The Dominus possessed limited independent personality, with it's core traits and memories being those of the Prime itself, however what interactions and stimulations experienced from this point on, and the results there after would be all his own. He'd exhale in disappointment, before crossing his arms and awaiting some form of greeting party.
  6. [Quest] To BECOME DEATH...

    He knew what was to come and accepted it. The physical pain was non-existent but there was a scarring of his pride. This was accepted as well. Disciplining someone such as he wasn't a light task---the very gesture of slapping him and turning his head so, would have likely killed someone of significantly lesser stature. The Queen, Priscilla was no slouch in the strength department. He'd have closed his eyes. Restraining further urges of protest yes, but more so to avoid eye contact with her, fleeting the sure to come dialogue that always followed when she found herself pushed to this point. The way her hand rested on his face, how it transitioned from a disciplinary instrument designed to express her discontent to a more subtle one now designed to express her love. It wasn't until she began to inform him of the specifics of the past that his eyes opened and he slowly degree'd his head partially to look at her. One pupil sliding from center to rest in it's corner. A Pulsating gem that radiated like a star. He drank in the entirety of her dialogue and even as she drew back and away there wasn't much change to the stone-etched expression crafted onto his face at the moment. He had been informed, at least of one side of the story and this had been the first he'd heard from his mothers and he had no doubt of it's accuracy, it paralleled much of what he had already discovered himself not just from the Celestials he felled in that domain but from the Infinity Well itself. Even as she questioned his own capacity to rule, equating whether he could sacrifice her for the greater good of the kingdom did nothing to fascia or his outlook or aspiration. IF it was a fools errand----He be a fool then. He allowed her words to linger. At that very moment the air released it's hold of the sound of her voice his own filled the void. "You misunderstand father. By leagues..." He'd stand, slowly, and the massive cables that latched to his back began to snap one by one. Hissing a loud pneumatic protest before slamming to the ground behind his throne one after the other, cutting him off from the infinite feed of incalculable planar energies provided to him by this realm. As she once did, he now descended these steps. Heavy. Massive, footfalls once by one carrying him closer and closer to her at steady pace. His voice, drawing nearer, low, with heavy bass but clear. "Of the two of you, the only one who truly wished for me to strive as a normal child into adulthood, was you mother. I've no blame to lay on you. I've no blame to lay on him either. Father was given a task, he set forth to do it, and completed it. He saw the ill intent in his people, and favored the warmth of his beloved. I wiped my slate clean with him the moment they Put the Celestial Son in me, and I lived, only to kill every single one of them, and their world..." At another one of the windows she had free'd of obstruction he stood and stared. Mere meters from her, his eye not affixed to any one aspect of the outside world, more so scanning the length of his kingdom, he spoke. "I was made....to Destroy. Not just anything, but The Absolute Authority. All. Lord Omni, if such a thing was possible that means im to be DEATH itself. As much as you LOVE me, and want me to be something else, in your heart of hearts you know this to be true, and I am what I am. I have a task to accomplish. A purpose to see through and fulfill. What I do once I fulfill that purpose, rests squarely on me. You've meddled enough with fates intent, you've raised your son. That same mother in the wild, eventually leaves her young to fend for themselves after having passed on all she knows and can teach..." He'd degree his head to face her and finalize his statement, "Provide me with the last of what I need to know...so that I may fend for myself and be what I was meant to be. Or do you fear that once you let go, I stop being your son?" His eyes returned forward. His arms folded behind his back. This was a prideful stance of a king, who's chest rose and fell one time as he took in and relinquished his breath. Between the two of them would be a long moment of silence before he broke it with a simple statement..."Non-sense. I'll always be your son..."
  7. [Quest] To BECOME DEATH...

    She was an anomoly as of late. Systematically his greatest source of support, doubling as his greatest source of anxiety and concern. During his tenure as a Gladiatorial Prisoner within the the Celestial Annex, her dark deeds were forced to light. However, darkness is perspective. Was it ever easy for a son to view anything his mother does as Dark, when the intent was to safeguard him? Or was it easier to resent her for the darkness she kept him in? Halving his potential, never answering the questions as to why he was different and looked upon by would be authorities (Council) as a liability? Best to be held captive or contained and not allowed to prosper? How many times as a child, did a lie accompany the kiss as she assured him that he would he'd follow his fathers footsteps? His father was INSTRUCTED to create an answer to the problems of an entire race. His father was told to create a vessel capable of harnessing the power of "The Celestial Son", the only instrument that allowed them to challenge the power of The Absolute Authority head on. His father did just that----and allowed emotion to cloud his judgement, and FLED his people. Leaving them defenseless against the wrath of a Deity, THE Deity of all Deities whom annihilated all but a handful of them. That handful sought revenge, and in doing so claimed the life of the former king while never being made aware that the vessel---was in fact successfully made. When you're a KING....Your emotions come SECOND to your DUTY. But how could Proteus fault his FATHER for loving a SON and his WIFE to much to subjugate them both to the will of many? How could he fault his mother for deciding to be a MOTHER to that said son, rather then surrendering him to become a Weapon? As a MAN now, while he is understanding of their intent. As the CURRENT KING---He is wholly displeased and in disagreement with the BOTH of them. However, his love for his mother, surpasses his LOVE for the Throne and the weight it places on sturdy shoulders. As his mother rends the shudders open, red, glowing pupils stare unflinchingly. Until she would address him, his fingers digging into the metal that composed his throne. thought to be virtually indestructible but against the insurmountable might of a man who's returned thousands of times more paramount then he last sat---it was faltered. The sound would lash at his mother first before the voice that boomed from the darkness---that fleeted once those eyes became alight with anima, exposing the much older, more chiseled appearance and in possession of an asbolutely VAST mane of a beard. He leaned forward spouting "CEASE YOUR CONDESCENDING...." He stopped. His lips tightening and resealing the gritted teeth behind them, slowly returning his back to it's throne before exhaling a breath of frustration. He internally chastised himself----that was his mother. But they BOTH knew why Proteus had such animosity at the moment. Proteus had made a decision, and his mother was in possession of knowledge on how to obtain a said goal and for ONCE he'd want her to be forth coming with something instead of continuing to put him in the dark. Tihose eyes settled some. There was now light present in the room that was ensconced in blackness. If she was here he assumed it was to discuss what he requested, and he wasn't reluctant to share what he himself had learned from his gaze into the Infinity Well. "The path to becoming Death itself, requires many things and the spilling of Blood....Godly blood."
  8. [Quest] To BECOME DEATH...

    [Recap] In these past events, the Kingdom of Taurus and it's Ruler has seen much change. Seeking answers in regard to his origins and his fathers legacy, Proteus Rauz found himself exiled to the Celestial Realm---Where the Absolute Authority, confines and contains the remaining progenitors of his race. Time stood still there... he was subjected to their test, trials and tribulations and experimentation, meanwhile the kingdom and home he knew would be devoid of his presence for over 1,000 years. Proteus' liberation came at the expense of the captives lives. Destroying the last remnants of his bloodline, retaking prized possessions destined for his ownership and flinging himself back across the planes of existence and back home where he emerged anew. Proteus Rauz had emerged Anew. Changed. Different. Not only was he far older, hardened even, his powers had grown exponentially as did his control over them. His views and outlooks on his path and those of his people had also been altered. Having established a relationship with the powers that be in the lands of Alterion, Proteus, under his own power had moved the entirety of his kingdom from the Lands of Genesaris, to the Spirit Realm of Xaengri-La. Where he would be free from mortal observation. Where his prominence could have neither positive or negative effects on the lands surrounding his kingdom, so that no balances could be tipped or disturbed and that no other governing body could benefit nor suffer. However, even as he established his kingdom, and their outer realm territories, Proteus Rauz' ideals and goals have widened and expanded. He had become somewhat of a Nihilist, embracing what he had discovered what his original intent and reason for being was. TO BRING ABOUT DEATH AND DESTRUCTION, TO ALL. His re-emergence , and return to the throne under this new ideology has put many of his closest ally's and family at an unease, Even the Queen, Priscilla---His birth mother, and the one who worked the hardest to bury the secrets of Bulls origins and true nature, has found herself at her absolute wits end as to how to guide or manager her son, and after his re-emergence, far to under-powered to force anything upon him. So silently she has watched, ever so diligently as Proteus sets about procuring the knowledge needed to accomplish his goal. His one true ideal, his one true intention----TO BECOME DEATH ITSELF. [And now....] His throne room used to bathe light. Every square inch of it, illuminated from the free flowing light from yonder. That has drastically changed. Large metal shutters existed where windows once were. They kept this place devoid of light. It was insulated, sounds were equally scarce save for that of the constant HUM of raw unbridled power flowing through 4 massive umbilical cords that ran beneath the ground up behind his throne and into a custom fitment that affixed into hard points on his back. The ONLY light present within this rume was from the Rune Brands aglow along his body in a blood red hue. It was there that he sat. His body constantly absorbing and harmonizing the seemingly limitless ebb and flow of spatio-temporal-anima present in the limitless expanse of this spiritual realm. Disconnected from his people. Departed from a society that he helped to sculpt and once coveted, but nowadays, feared him as they never have before. The Council had long been killed and disbanded by his own hand save for one who squandered away still within the confines of their prison. In truth there was only one thing that could keep Proteus situated as he was now. He had no intent on moving, nor a desire to do so because simply put he was waiting on something. That something was coveted. Desired and favored above anything at this time and it was the only thing that eluded him these days. It was pure. It was valued by anything and everyone be they Man, King or God. There was nothing exempt from it's benefit and there in it lied no TRUE face value for it, but there was also no limit to what would be expended for it. Knowledge. Plain and simple. He needed the means and understanding as to how to go about achieving his goal---which for the most part was thought to be inconceivable and impossible, however, when the Absolute authority. The Omnipotent one. "The Creator" himself, assures you that such is NOT beyond the realm of a being such as himself----You take that notion for what it's worth. There was one individual who had such knowledge, or at least could point him in the direction. This being, is and always will be favored. His most beloved. One to whom he trusted the most. Covets the most. Priscilla...The Queen, and his mother. Despite who she was to him she has also coincidentally been the greatest source of obscurity and deception. The understanding of these facts and the dynamics of them all has left Proteus shifted in stance. Wavered, somewhat unsure. As a child he clung to her every word. She molded his beliefs, directed his ideals and aspirations, All for what?? To lie? To keep the truth away from him? For what purpose? Some selfish ideal of goal of her own? It was to much for him to understand. To much for him to process, and whenever his mother was around the King was nothing short of contrived. However....she held the keys, she knew the ways, and his current goals and aspirations although no favored by her, were goals she could help him achieve. So he sat....and waited. For her.. @Lacernella Rubra
  9. Meanwhile back on Taurus.... The stellar figure had spent every bit of 15 minutes ascending stairs. A grand construction composed of gold accented marble, over 1/4 mile long ascending more then several hundred feet from ground level to the point of entry where two massive metal doors are shoved open to reveal a grand entrance way, of the same material and regal appearance. The halls were tall enough for even him to leap in, the walk way wide enough for him to promenade in full stride, the copious amounts of cloak draped over his shoulders flowing for what seemed to be eons behind him. These halls were lined with Imperial Guards, shoulder to shoulder, each saluting and leaning their lances forward as "The Avatar Main" proceeded into the main Throne room---Where something, no, someone else sat. Several steps in, Proteus Rauz--The Construct, would step up to a platform then kneel. Placing a fist over the left side of his chest before speaking. "The objective was completed, as instructed. The mines were procured, the Dark Elves inhabiting now serve our cause and we now control the production of the rare materials present there, as well as the technologies they have at their disposal. We have only to present the masons with a percentage of our earnings. Everything was carried out as you instructed....Lord Prime." Seated atop a massive Throne, a MORE prominent being then even the obelisk kneeling in this rooms center, was seated. Like the construct he was to was armored. Like the construct, he to was armored. However, his features were more chiseled. Defined. Aged and hardened. Around his head was a hearty mane of obsidian hair and a beard that was just indescribably thick and flowing. Massive Cables, running the length of the entire gap between the chair and the floor, attatched to hard parts of his armor--feeding his already insurmountably prominent form--MORE energy. He is PROTEUS RAUZ---PRIME. The True, King of Taurus and The One Exalted Celestial. His eyes were ensconced in raw energy, his body, a massive Super Solenoid continuously feeding--absorbing, processing and harmonizing the abundant planar energies of this plane and adding it to his own already expansive and seemingly unfathomable might. He is TO MUCH for the outside World Of Valucre, but through his avatars---his will is carried out. Procuring the Mines of Sern, is just a single stepping stone for what was to come! His voice---was cannonade of 100 bass and baritones. "Exellent...proceede to use the Mythril as intened. Direct further resources from the mine to Taurus II in Alterion, and be sure that the Masons are paid, I am in no need of their power. Not with mine own Titanic might...but their influence and co-operation would best facilitate our goals......now go." And so, the task reaches it's conclusion, and the next begins.
  10. Proteus' arms had crossed and his brows furrowed deeply as he eyed each worker, stacking the material he had come for. It was at this time that his voice would rang out and he would address not just the Elves that stayed, but those far and wide, trying to flee the mines. Who like Moth's to a flame would find themselves drawn back from where they ran. Power is like gravity, it binds and holds. It keeps things centered around itself. It does not relinquish those holds easily. "From this day forth, you, Dark Elves, are under my RULE. My POWER. MY PROTECTION. You will serve, MY PURPOSE. You will do, MY BIDDING. These MINES, are MINE and you are now designated as citizens of my kingdom, and these territories, along with you, stakes of my claim. " Proteus would stare to their former leader, "I can be a kind King. Fair. Just. Honorable. Or I can be CRUEL. I can be ruthless. I can be a murderous son of a bitch. I can be a BLESSING or a PUNISHMENT, which is for you to decide, but as my Avatar it will be THROUGH YOU that my Will is convey'd and i will NOT tolerate a misconscrew on my instructions or orders, are we clear?" Bull smiled some, turning his gaze upon the growing pile of mythril. "Besides, why would we have any problems? You're about to be made rich beyond your wildest dreams doing what it is that you've been doing, save for now....you'll be doing it FOR ME." He'd have pointed a finger at the bag of gold, ordering one of the stray soldiers to retreive it and ADD it to their personal reserves. A token, an artifact that symbolizes an ATTEMPT at behaving like a man, a humane and civil being, that was met with such callousness. Yet hey earned it this day, and that gold has just brought him twice his own weight in Mythril and so much more. One by one, those fled elven, should be returning. One by one, their numbers should be growing. Power....was gravity. At the conclusion of the building pile, Proteus would approach it and place a single device on the top and activating it. This was a simple transporter device, key'd into a location within his own kingdom. The entire molecular structure of the mass before him was broken down into transferable energy and then reconstructed at the point of origin. Leaving Proteus....and his people. "I will be sending engineers to aid you in rebuilding this place and fortifying your defenses, and to train you men, and upgrade your weaponry. You will defend this mine, and continue to produce the valuable materials, for 1 purpose.....MY, PURPOSE. In my satisfaction, you will find warmth and stability in my favor. You' will find WORSE should you fall out of it....I leave the floor open for any inquiry, if any..."
  11. Proteus' brow furrowed deeply and he borderline snorted at the notion. "Yea because you've been so trustworthy up to this point..." He had turned around and surveyed this room that they were in. It was fortified, somewhat detatched from the rest of the mine which explained why it didn't cave or suffer any real structural damage from either him or the attempt at closing him in. Proteus' eyes scrutinized details on the walls, machines, systems, and such. The technology present here, in this very room by contrast to the rest of the mine was somewhat amazing. These Elves are truly something else n regard to what they did with the former Dwarven stronghold, and it aroused his curiosity. Proteus' gaze returned to the Dark Elf, "You open it." Thumbing over toward the Vault. "You're probably wondering at this point why Im keeping you alive and that part of it is simple enough. Killing you would be to easy, you've got short comings, obviously but you have gifts as well. The lot of you are resourceful, and you've been producing some of the finest materials in Alterion. The only downside is that you've been hoarding it all, and killing anyone that comes to do anything but YOUR bidding. Well that shit stops now.." He'd have expected the Vault to have been opened right now. "Have your men....or at least those that remained, Stack the entirety of your Mythril reserves right here, and im going to carry it out. Also, as of this instance and right now, You are under the employ and control of the Kingdom of Taurus, and you answer directly to ME.." It would be at this very moment that Proteus would advance on the Dark Elf once more. A single hand outstretching and reaching QUICKLY to seize his entire head in the palm of his hand. A manuver best ALLOWED and not avoided as further frustration could lead to his impending death---instead of him getting filthy rich. If such an action was successful the Dark Elf will unfortunately meet with a painful, burning sensation as The King Proteus performed a rite known as SPELL Branding. The crimson hues of the Quasi-Mystical Arcane flowing through him, utilized to force the same metallic brands that run along his entire body, ONTO this mans forehead, isolating a single spell-brand the likes of which could be used to envoke a NUMBER of spells if needed. Proteus would step away, the palm of his hand still trailing smoke, while he spoke on, "You protest. You try to jerk me. You try to run. You try ANYTHING other then what I tell you to do from this point on, I use this spell-brand in a manner that I can only describe as uncalled for and borderline-inhumane. You GO with the flow...under my leadership and order, you will GAIN wealth and influence. That's the deal...this is why you're alive. Do we have an understanding?"
  12. Gods are praised. They are Ethereal beings, empowered with a divine form of mysticism the likes of which correlates with the he abundance of masses having faith in that being. They say that the fall of gods came when man, their creation, began to replicate "Godly" accomplishments through science and their own practices of mysticism. The people stopped looking to the "Gods" to provide the wonders that they themselves began synthesizing and replicating. As running and raging rivers of prayer and belief dried up into trickling brooks and streams, the power of the "Gods" waned, and with the finality of their divinity, fortified themselves within the confines of the Ethereal---Never to be seen again. Godly, is often a term used to describe the LEVEL or the scope of ones own prominence when compared to that of man. Well, if MAN, has on many occasion became, played or demonstrated the power of a GOD...how can that perspective remain as it was? What is "Godly" when it is so easily obtained? No---Bull was no God. Bull personified a purpose, an ideal and a WILL, of a race long thought to be forgotten and no longer relevant. Like the "Gods" their time has long passed, and he, the sole survivor simple embodies an IDEAL instilled in him at his birth. Rage. Destruction. Resilience. Perpetualness. He was DESIGNED with ill-intent in mind---and the results simply performed adequately, nothing more. The massive sack of gold bullion in his possession had been dropped at the DarK Elf's feet. Whom he'd remain standing before, towering over. Proteus was quite annoyed and frustrated with the swindler, so there was still a thick, nearly palpable event of pure Killing Intent present in the room they were in. Bulls voice was deep, gravely. Ensconced in frustration he forced the words through gritted teeth, "I should kill you where you stand, but that isn't what im here for. I came to make a purchase, only difference now is you will give me alot more for my money after this stunt you tried to pull, and then some...." He crossed his arms to await the Elf Kings reaction..
  13. His first footstep was gradual. As if he was weighing his odds. Making a conscious decision. Committing to an action or ideal and somewhat attempting to think things through entirely. It carried most of his weight. It was a forceful one, causing the walls of the place to vibrate some even as the tremors from the explosions hadn't fully settled---You could still feel and hear that first step. His second step was everything that his first was but with more vigor. More pace. More commitment behind it, a transitional event from a static state into one of dynamism. It was heavier, and more forceful, creating MORE of a localized seismic event then the step that had proceeded it. It had significantly more thrust, the ground beneath the ball of that foot had broken and been sunken into under the weight and effort. This was the transition into a run, and the third step that followed was no less prolific and caused a sudden but sure boost in speed. Naturally Bull's posture had changed into that of a more forward leaning stance. His legs began to pump, and the act of running was occurring. The King was no slouch, for his size, his power to weight ratio assured that "Lumbering" or "Clumsy" were words surely to be left off the list of ways to describe his movements. His feet at one point were hitting the ground in machine gun like repetition all the while several runes had began to flare to 3life, all the while the metaphysical fabrics around his being seemed to become excited for lack of a better term. As he ran, and his speed increased, as did his momentum, as did the footfalls, and all other aspects of this BEAST in motion. It was as if-----the fabrics of existence around him were---Vibrating. Because of the spell?? More then likely. Quintessentially Encrypting an individual, so that they are empowered by the laws of that said existence, so that they superseded the laws of physics would bring about such visual phenomena. His body began to glow--becoming ensconced within the same white aura of Celestial Anima that pooled wildly within the rune brands on his body. At an inhuman pace----An Unstoppable Force, was moving head long into a presumably immovable object in the form of tons and tons of rock----And The ROCK, would lose. He ran through the Toxin filled paths---He didn't stop. As his eyes began to water, and sting, and annoy him---He didn't stop. As that stinging sensation turned into one of burning and out right FIRE fury, he did not stop. As his Body, a glorious body, far from the human standard and-resistant to toxins and poisons began it's process of fending off the intrusions effects. Causing his body's immune system and defensive attributes to trigger---spontaneously increasing his body heat to the point where the surface of his skin literally glows akin to red-hot iron---HE....DID...NOT...STOP! When he HIT the would be barricade of collapsed rock and still earth. BULL neither slowed. Staggered. Stuttered or Swayed. The entirety of that mass of obstruction didn't just meet with the totality of a 4 ton object moving well over 100mph, it met with the Quintessential AUTHORITY, a Planar LAW of absolution that dictated, demanded and assured that the creature awarded it's blessing---Was Exempt from Physical Obstruction. The immovable object had been disheveled, and the Unstoppable Force Would have prevailed. The act was as reactive and as loud as the explosions that caused the collapses in the first place as He---BULL--Continued to press and run through tons and tons of would be fallen rock, UNTIL emerging from the otherside---without having been slowed even a little bit, and in FULL CHARGE for that same door that the Dark Elf Master cowardly conducted his defenses from. ONLY after shouldering THROUGH that door and sending them flying inward and off their hinges possibly maiming any would be soldiers in their way, would he come sliding to a STOP---SCANT INCHES FROM THE DARK ELF!! STARING HIM DOWN!! BATHING HIM IN THE HEAT OF HIS BREATH WITH EVERY HEAVY CHEST FALL!! EYES, ALIGHT WITH THE CELESTIAL ARCANE THAT EMPOWERS HIS VERY BEING... and afford him....only these words... "Im sure by now....we have the understanding that Im no FUCKING...DWARF. YOUR MOVE....ELF." Sink or swim Dark Elf. Sink or swim...Aye, King Proteus has arrived, and what would you know? Should they continue to pump that said Toxin, that to would be arriving just behind him.
  14. Proteus' began walking again, and continued to absorb the energies (Should they continue to be provided) being used in an attempt to cast an illusion. Skimmed as they are, it made it very easy to sense from which direction did things originate and so, ironically, his navigation through the mines would become increasingly MORE accurate. His pace was gradual. Intentionally un-rushed. Each footfall was an audible advertisement of his dimensions and mass on purpose to incite nervousness within anything or anyone within the confines of this maze seeking to do him harm or impede his progress. And then, the voice sounded off..and Proteus would have grinned wide at the inquiry.. "I must be making some progress, not to long ago I was simply a "BRUTE" and here now you finally address me as KING.." The illusion had ended, and the energy flow that had been providing him direction slowly receded but by now he'd have keened in on exactly where the leader was. His senses were also catching signs of movement, those electro-receptors, keying in on the bio-static fields of the little fucks skittering about the tunnels under orders. His interest had been piqued, "What kind of arrangement could you possibly have in mind, when you're already setting other obstacles in motion? You dark elves, you're a deceitful bunch. I came here to purchase materials from you as any consumer, materials YOU and your kind have killed others to obtain, and you greet me with malice and attempts on my life. WHY, Elven King, should I spare you from inevitable death? Because you've realized that You can't stop me?"
  15. There was some, iota of success to the ploy. Bull had in-fact started moving again, but not for long. No, not for any duration near what they intended. If the goal was to get him to aimlessly wander around and around and around until he exhausted himself---That was foolish. The main issue at hand was that the individual in charge constantly underestimated Proteus at every turn. He perceived him as some kind of "Oaf" when in truth, Proteus was anything but. Proteus wasn't the most prolific thinker, but he compensated for this with raw natural talent. Namely an affinity, and sensitivity to mysticism itself. He also possessed enough common sense to weave things together, enough comprehension for 1+1 to equal 2. See, this illusion focused on casting a farce based on perception, while it's users overlooked the method---flooding these mines with mysticism. It was a sensation that wasn't present before. Now, it surrounded him. It moved around him like waves and further still it all flowed from one direction, outward toward him. Maybe the Elven leader hadn't seen it---That moment when Proteus caught onto it. When his eyes flickered out of sheer aggravation which gave weigh to calm. "INSULTING......" Without further hesitation another rune brand set flared to 2life. Proteus himself stood at full attention and crossed his arms while staring intensely FORWARD at the direction of the source. The source of what?? This energy that ensconced every single inch of the Mines. This mysticism that flowed in a controlled manner, layering his surroundings and seeking to replicate them to the effect of directing him within an infinity maze of sort. No. Instead, whatever the Magi provided---Bull Took. An inflow. His body greedily fed on it. Adding it's contents to his own, causing the entirety of the network of brands on his body to glow, and soon create an aura of mysticism that permeated his very being. So long as the Magi continued to weave this spell, he would FEED on it and grow increasingly MORE dangerous to the Leader whom will soon regret NOT taking the Kings original offer.