Memories of Ice, memories of fire and darkness. Above that, memories of nothing, thoughts of the eternal darkness that is the void.
In the forgotten spaces, Kanda existed. An age old force awoke the sleeping monster, and inside of him, he answered. The night of his arrival was fitting. On a night dark with clouds, on a night bright with the lightning, a storm cloud fell and blew the mage into this world. He stood upon the edge of a cliff, and stared down at the world below him. A man steeped in symbolism, this turned his lips up in a cruel grin. When had a world not been below him' When had he ever walked on level playing fields" Never.
He stood, wrapped in darkness and ignored the driving rain. Such things, such petty annoyances had long since been forgotten by the ascendant. Instead, his mind reached out with an effortless ease and sent probing thoughts to those who might answer. Always, he'd know the ground that he walked on. As a sorcerer, his order was red. An evoker he is, a powerful, dangerous one. Therein lies the secret, however. As a sorcerer, he holds tainted blood. Humanity waged war with an Elder Elemental, a creature of the void. Thus, psionics found a balance between magic. One hand, lazily, reached for the ground at his feet. He knelt and allowed his fingers to toy with the muddy soil. When he stood, he held his hand out before him and let the silt drain through his fingers. His hand, gradually, rose yet again. Though he had made contact only for a moment, the link had been established.
When his hand moved again, his left fell to his knee while his right started to slowly circle, almost as if he was drawing the residual power closer to him. He spoke, he began to offer sibilant hisses into the night. The inflection was always the same, the emphasis fell on the final syllable. At his feet, the very ground began to shake. At first, it was hardly noticeable, but slowly, a large fissure opened behind him. It grew and it grew, the seemingly limitless maw made of dirt began to consume the mud around him. He stood on an island amidst the gaping hope. Finally, he spared a glance down and smiled that chilled expression. Hidden behind the ancient mask, he laughed to himself. "And so the world consumes the world, and in death, we find new life, no?"
His island trembled, it shook and it rattled, though his feet never once shifted. Instead, his island began to grow. The dirt hardened and aged, as if a thousand years had passed with one blink of an eye. When it crumbled beneath him, he merely floated in space. The hem of his robes danced in the wind, the very manifestation of such eldritch power. With nary a motion, he began to hover higher and still higher. When he'd stopped, he stared down into the gaping hole he'd rent in the world's surface. Again, his hand lowered, and when he was pleased with the location, he balled his fingers into a tight fist. The fist slowly rose, and with it came a tower of ebony. The dark colored monstrosity began to rip itself from the bones of the world, and when it stood, it towered over the area around it. The ruined ground should not have been able to support the immense weight, but stand it did. It reached into the clouds, twin spires brushed the storm's primal calling. Lightning danced around the windowless obelisk, yet there it stood, an open challenge and a physical product of the Arts Arcane. Kanda's will alone held it in this world, this odd structure ripped from reality, yet displaced from his old home. Thay had come to Rhy'din, it would seem.
A set of jagged stairs extended over the rift, and when contact was made with the slick metal, a door formed. Kanda's feet touched the stone at the point, and the door, as so many had before, opened before him with no touch and no command. The door slid open on ethereal hinges, and though the tower was dark on the outside, Kanda stepped into a well lit room, a room with no walls. Each and every floor was circular, as was the tower, and each and every floor was the width of the structure itself. Slowly, his gaze panned across the room, and he nodded. The finely cut ends of his robes danced across the floor as he stalked towards the far end. Of all things, the floor was his masterwork. Under a layer of glass, molten rock had been frozen in place. To all who would see, it would appear as if the mage walked in jagged obsidian spikes, twisted and frozen flame itself. When the light caught the floor, it shined and glistened with an unholy glow. When, finally, he stopped, he sat at a desk carved from the same black stone, and his fingers lovingly caressed the ancient and archaic runes burned into the table. He glanced down into a cut out in the middle of the table and again, nodded. His hands rose slowly, and when they had found purchase on the sides of his mask, he removed the frozen face and placed it into the hollow. When it touched, the lights flickered and died, and a perverse chill spread through the room. From the mask itself, a glow originated in the eyes, and those flickering orbs glared up at the mage.
"My Herald, my Herald! What a joy it is to see you once more! Planeswalker, time stepped. He who walks through the gates of space and reality, is that not what they call you? Tell me of your new home, of our new home. Will you spread the Church of Chaos, or do you seek a new power, something that will turn Ascendant into Deity?" The mask spoke, an arcane voice that reaked of raw power. For this voice, men died and worlds fell upon bent knees.
"My Dread Lord, Liege, I think not. I think this place needs no preaching, at least, none that I can offer. I think this world needs little, but as always, where men stand, a puppet master pulls upon strings, does he not' Time will tell me these things, but at the very least, it is an entertaining place, do not doubt that, not for one second. We can find our pleasu-..."
The mask, the voice of a God, snickered. "Pleasure, Kanda" You have found a woman, and I am sure that she had her pleasure while thoughts of you rippled in her mind, I made myself quite sure of that. She is most beautiful, First Son of House Rhal, that she is. Most....amusing."
"I assure you, Lord, should you play a part in her life, I will ascend at the feet of your ruined body. You and I both know that I would destroy the cosmos themselves should we wage war upon each other, but do not doubt, Tel'ma, that I will ruin you should you lay your chill fingers on her body or her mind. Upon my Art, I swear this, before the Circle." Before, the mage had spoken with an easy tone that spoke of long companionship, but this time, with these words, his voice became the rattler's deadly hiss, the voice of death itself.
"You amuse me so, Kanda. You would lay your protection on this one, but deny me my amusement' Mortals are toys, Kanda. You would make an awful God, really. I thought I had taught you better, oh great one. Legendary battle mage, untouchable master of the arcane, and yet you would lay your magic at the altar of a mere mortal" You always surprise me, Herald." Even though the voice was that of a God, the intangible force knew that Kanda spoke no empty threats. Instead, it deferred and allowed the point to die, but not with a verbal jab or two.
"Recall this conversation, hold it within the depths of your infinite mind. You, at some point, will be replaced. Understand that." With a burst of mental power, Kanda severed the link and locked his Lord back into the mask. He stood, slowly, and began pacing through the room. With an annoyed gesture, he faded out of sight, only to surface again on the very highest level of his tower. From there, he surveyed the world below him. His eyes, always, were drawn back to one point, a certain house that had just been around the corner. There, and only there, did his amber gaze lost itself. "I surprise myself, Tel'ma
In the forgotten spaces, Kanda existed. An age old force awoke the sleeping monster, and inside of him, he answered. The night of his arrival was fitting. On a night dark with clouds, on a night bright with the lightning, a storm cloud fell and blew the mage into this world. He stood upon the edge of a cliff, and stared down at the world below him. A man steeped in symbolism, this turned his lips up in a cruel grin. When had a world not been below him' When had he ever walked on level playing fields" Never.
He stood, wrapped in darkness and ignored the driving rain. Such things, such petty annoyances had long since been forgotten by the ascendant. Instead, his mind reached out with an effortless ease and sent probing thoughts to those who might answer. Always, he'd know the ground that he walked on. As a sorcerer, his order was red. An evoker he is, a powerful, dangerous one. Therein lies the secret, however. As a sorcerer, he holds tainted blood. Humanity waged war with an Elder Elemental, a creature of the void. Thus, psionics found a balance between magic. One hand, lazily, reached for the ground at his feet. He knelt and allowed his fingers to toy with the muddy soil. When he stood, he held his hand out before him and let the silt drain through his fingers. His hand, gradually, rose yet again. Though he had made contact only for a moment, the link had been established.
When his hand moved again, his left fell to his knee while his right started to slowly circle, almost as if he was drawing the residual power closer to him. He spoke, he began to offer sibilant hisses into the night. The inflection was always the same, the emphasis fell on the final syllable. At his feet, the very ground began to shake. At first, it was hardly noticeable, but slowly, a large fissure opened behind him. It grew and it grew, the seemingly limitless maw made of dirt began to consume the mud around him. He stood on an island amidst the gaping hope. Finally, he spared a glance down and smiled that chilled expression. Hidden behind the ancient mask, he laughed to himself. "And so the world consumes the world, and in death, we find new life, no?"
His island trembled, it shook and it rattled, though his feet never once shifted. Instead, his island began to grow. The dirt hardened and aged, as if a thousand years had passed with one blink of an eye. When it crumbled beneath him, he merely floated in space. The hem of his robes danced in the wind, the very manifestation of such eldritch power. With nary a motion, he began to hover higher and still higher. When he'd stopped, he stared down into the gaping hole he'd rent in the world's surface. Again, his hand lowered, and when he was pleased with the location, he balled his fingers into a tight fist. The fist slowly rose, and with it came a tower of ebony. The dark colored monstrosity began to rip itself from the bones of the world, and when it stood, it towered over the area around it. The ruined ground should not have been able to support the immense weight, but stand it did. It reached into the clouds, twin spires brushed the storm's primal calling. Lightning danced around the windowless obelisk, yet there it stood, an open challenge and a physical product of the Arts Arcane. Kanda's will alone held it in this world, this odd structure ripped from reality, yet displaced from his old home. Thay had come to Rhy'din, it would seem.
A set of jagged stairs extended over the rift, and when contact was made with the slick metal, a door formed. Kanda's feet touched the stone at the point, and the door, as so many had before, opened before him with no touch and no command. The door slid open on ethereal hinges, and though the tower was dark on the outside, Kanda stepped into a well lit room, a room with no walls. Each and every floor was circular, as was the tower, and each and every floor was the width of the structure itself. Slowly, his gaze panned across the room, and he nodded. The finely cut ends of his robes danced across the floor as he stalked towards the far end. Of all things, the floor was his masterwork. Under a layer of glass, molten rock had been frozen in place. To all who would see, it would appear as if the mage walked in jagged obsidian spikes, twisted and frozen flame itself. When the light caught the floor, it shined and glistened with an unholy glow. When, finally, he stopped, he sat at a desk carved from the same black stone, and his fingers lovingly caressed the ancient and archaic runes burned into the table. He glanced down into a cut out in the middle of the table and again, nodded. His hands rose slowly, and when they had found purchase on the sides of his mask, he removed the frozen face and placed it into the hollow. When it touched, the lights flickered and died, and a perverse chill spread through the room. From the mask itself, a glow originated in the eyes, and those flickering orbs glared up at the mage.
"My Herald, my Herald! What a joy it is to see you once more! Planeswalker, time stepped. He who walks through the gates of space and reality, is that not what they call you? Tell me of your new home, of our new home. Will you spread the Church of Chaos, or do you seek a new power, something that will turn Ascendant into Deity?" The mask spoke, an arcane voice that reaked of raw power. For this voice, men died and worlds fell upon bent knees.
"My Dread Lord, Liege, I think not. I think this place needs no preaching, at least, none that I can offer. I think this world needs little, but as always, where men stand, a puppet master pulls upon strings, does he not' Time will tell me these things, but at the very least, it is an entertaining place, do not doubt that, not for one second. We can find our pleasu-..."
The mask, the voice of a God, snickered. "Pleasure, Kanda" You have found a woman, and I am sure that she had her pleasure while thoughts of you rippled in her mind, I made myself quite sure of that. She is most beautiful, First Son of House Rhal, that she is. Most....amusing."
"I assure you, Lord, should you play a part in her life, I will ascend at the feet of your ruined body. You and I both know that I would destroy the cosmos themselves should we wage war upon each other, but do not doubt, Tel'ma, that I will ruin you should you lay your chill fingers on her body or her mind. Upon my Art, I swear this, before the Circle." Before, the mage had spoken with an easy tone that spoke of long companionship, but this time, with these words, his voice became the rattler's deadly hiss, the voice of death itself.
"You amuse me so, Kanda. You would lay your protection on this one, but deny me my amusement' Mortals are toys, Kanda. You would make an awful God, really. I thought I had taught you better, oh great one. Legendary battle mage, untouchable master of the arcane, and yet you would lay your magic at the altar of a mere mortal" You always surprise me, Herald." Even though the voice was that of a God, the intangible force knew that Kanda spoke no empty threats. Instead, it deferred and allowed the point to die, but not with a verbal jab or two.
"Recall this conversation, hold it within the depths of your infinite mind. You, at some point, will be replaced. Understand that." With a burst of mental power, Kanda severed the link and locked his Lord back into the mask. He stood, slowly, and began pacing through the room. With an annoyed gesture, he faded out of sight, only to surface again on the very highest level of his tower. From there, he surveyed the world below him. His eyes, always, were drawn back to one point, a certain house that had just been around the corner. There, and only there, did his amber gaze lost itself. "I surprise myself, Tel'ma