Fantasy a wrongful summoning | private

[sxperhuman]

There’s something ethereal about those touched by magic.

The elves that emits a small amount of light as they rewrite the weave of the universe; or the halfling that barely makes a sound as she dances with her partner. Such was the nature of magic.
Even the humans, arguably the most mundane of the races that inhabit Cirrane, when blessed with magic exhibit celestial qualities that separate them from others of their race. A hint of divine beauty, or a lilt to their voice more commonly associated with the fae. There are rules to the universe, and as far as this realm was concerned, that was one of them.

So when the youngest daughter of the Tremaine family was born, plain as day, there was concern. An old family, one rich with magic and coin, the Tremaine’s were a staple in the capitol of Aeston. The monarch of the family sat on the King’s council as an adviser- while her husband was the headmaster of the most prestigious mage academy on this continent. Greatness ran in this family. To have any less was disgraceful.

Which was a lot of pressure, to say the least.

There were moments of magic in wilhelmina’s childhood, sweet moments of hope that she was finally going to impress her family. But they were short-lived. A burst of light emanating from her hands at bedtime because she was throwing a tantrum was hardly a call for celebration. Magic was simply not something that came to her all that easily, until she found a discarded spellbook in the depths of her father’s library while in her late teenage years.

Grimoires were ancient in this time, magic had evolved past it- most mages had no need for a book with the written spells- nor a need for the many components that come with them. Despite the frowns she received from her mother, and the strange looks she got from anyone watching her study, she dug deep into the book. And finally found her magic- albeit primitive.

Now, a grown woman, we find Willa not so elegantly climbing down the side of her parents house. It wasn’t stealing, really. her mother certainly wasn’t going to miss the parchment she had snatched from the large oak desk, not when it was piled high with similar requests. It was a call for aid from a small town a few day’s journey from the capitol. Willa had only taken a quick look at it before deeming it suitable, but from what she remembered it had something to do with missing children, and some mumbo jumbo occuring in the woods skirting the town.

It seemed like a job that would land her on the map, and potentially gain her entry to one of the many guilds in the capitol. Something she had dreamed of since she was young. She’d be on her way to being a great mage, a hero, someone her family would be proud of.

She snatched up her satchel from the ground, packed full of rations and things she thought she might need for the journey, then left the city brimming with excitement.

It was an hour or so later when she thought to take a better look at the parchment she had swiped. What she saw at the bottom of the page stopped her in her tracks.

Due to the nature of this assignment, any mage willing to go forward must do with a familiar present.​

Well, shit.

Willa pulled out her spellbook from the leather holster around her waist and frantically fingered through it. A familiar, a familiar… she’d definitely seen a spell for it. It wasn’t one she had attempted before, how hard could it be.

There.

She got to work, finding herself a clearing just off of the path and arranging some of the components from her pouch in a circle in front of her. She took a deep breath in, and knelt before the circle, grounding herself. She took notice of the sound of the leaves rustling above her, and the feeling of the grass beneath her, then murmured the incantation written on the page.

 

[DatCorn]

The runic writings etched within the tome lay inert, the pages lazing about without a hint of magic across the crease. While nothing seemed to happen outwardly, it was within the astral sea, where the journey begins. Like a spark traveling through the landline, a font of magic traveled from the base of the etched circle and connected to the outer realm of Cirrane. Within the sea, it dutifully traveled between crystalline waymarkers till it reached a particularly crimson realm and its sections lands. Here, the Nine Circles of Hell can be found, a world where stability is wrought through chaos. The font of magic would ping across the atmosphere, searching for the entryway. And finding the conduit needed to access the inner coils of Hell, it unleashed a burst of nebula to find the lucky familiar.

O'thrun Dragmal had just finished with the last of his duties. Per the orders of his overlord, the roaming undead was laid to rest once more. Their soulless husks proved an unsatisfying meal for a demonic warrior and keeper of the Ruinic Lance. Yet a vassal does not question, only obey. Hoisting the blood-soaked lance across his shoulders, the man clad in hellforged armor surveys the land once more, ensuring that the world was crimson and chaotic. Yes, all was right with the world.

ZING! A throbbing headache suddenly overtook, O'thrun. The world he knew began to spin and churn, knocking him to one knee. What was happening? It was as if, he was being split in two. And just when the pain became unbearable, he felt a mighty pull, dragging his consciousness to the sky. Traveling at rocket-like speed to hell knows where O'thrun wanted to scream and claw. Yet the magic that portals he ensured he could do naught but be beckoned by the whims of the calling mage, who would soon find her answer as a focused explosion around the circle's radius. As the dust settled, the ironclad warrior from hell can be seen lying upon the scorched earth. Using the lance as a means to regain footing, he looked around with complete confusion. Noticing Willa's presence, he crested the lance towards her direction. "Who are you! Where am I! Explain yourself quickly or be impaled by my hellforged lance!"

 

[sxperhuman]

willa was well near discarding the spell book and attempting the entire thing again when the smell of brimstone assaulted her senses. next came the wave of intense heat emanating from the center of her magic ring. she brought a gloved hand up to shield her face from the sudden sensation, and peaked between her fingers when the environment returned to a relative norm.

" oh... "

a sheepish grin began to creep onto her face, and a nervous laugh bubbled up from her throat. now, willa wasn't the most familiar with the outer planes of existence but it didn't take a scholar to work out that she had somehow managed to summon a demon. or demonic-like entity. she was pretty sure the spell wasn't meant to do that. she was hoping for a quasit ! or a psuedo-dragon ! something that she might befriend and maybe walk around with it perched on her shoulder.

somehow she didn't think that was going to happen with the behemoth of a creature standing before her, aiming his ( very sharp, and bloody ) weapon at her throat. slowly, carefully, the young woman rose to her feet and stood before the flaming creature

" well- ahem- i am the mage: wilhelmina. " she said, straightening her posture and speaking as smoothly as possible. " and i've summoned you across the planes to be my familiar. "

that sounded confident, right ? like this was absolutely what she meant to happen ? yeah, sure.

willa tugged at the fingers of one of her gloves, eyes flicking back to her new companion every other second, until it had come free. if she had done this right there should be- yes ! right there.

" this mark is binding- though i promise to release you from this service when my task is complete. " she raised her hand up to the warrior, proudly brandishing the mark that was burning into her wrist. it glowed a reddish-orange, not unlike the embers of a fire, and read his name. " o'thrun, huh ? pleasure to meet you. "

 

[DatCorn]

A heavy silence hung over Willa's explanation. The tension behind the demon's lance not faltering for a second. Then a scoff, from behind the mask. He had no reason to believe a neophyte like herself could summon him from between the realms. Without his consent! And he was yet unaware of the completed familiar binding upon his soul.

"The tales weaved by your kind grow more comical by the passing days. So comical, I will deny you the grace of falling upon my lance. Farewell, foolish creature."

O'thrun proceeded to thrust the lance through her heart without further care or concern. Or so he thought. But his movement hesitated. His muscles rebelled. And despite mounting frustrations, he remains locked in place. It wasn't until he had finally abandoned the idea of stabbing her, was he freed. Falling backwards, allowing the spear to stab the ground.

Oh no. No, this cannot be. The gauntlet was tossed aside to inspect the scales of his right wrist. The branding had just finished as they confirmed the bindings of his new host. He mumbled the name in distant tones, then looked upon her.

"No." A firmly singlular word, but the tone was wavering. A denial of his grand predicament. "Your mild candor masks the significance behind our binding. I cannot be evoked, much less branded, by a fumbling neophyte like yourself." But O'thrun knew the significance of the familiar binding, and the consequences of breaking them. Even hell required order, and to break the law means punishment beyond death. He would have to acquiesce until more of the matter came to light. Picking himself up with the hoisted lance, he looked down upon the squishy wizard with a dismissive grunt.

"I am not bound to serve, but to assist." He pointed out in a grumbly tone. "What task would a shriveled soft-skin as yourself would even require one forged from fire and brimestone?"

 

[sxperhuman]

willa's muscles locked as the being before her moved to attack. theoretically he wouldn't be able to do her any harm - but then again she shouldn't have been able to summon anything more powerful than a lizard the size of a housecat.
she watched as he struggled, and the side of her lips twitched up in a small, mischievous smile.

" having a little trouble there, o'thrun ~ ?" she quipped, taking the smallest of steps closer. this wasn't so bad, any fears from the danger she had put herself in ebbed away with the realization that the spell was holding. that the spell was successful. she was overjoyed. this mission was going to be a breeze with this behemoth by her side !

" yes, okay, assist ! fine fine. " she grinned, pulling out the folded scroll from her pouch and holding it out for him to read. could he read common ? did denizens of hell have their own written language ? granted, the few things he had said to her so far she'd been able to understand.

" a few days travel from here is a town whose children are going missing. there's something about the forest thats stealing them, or drawing them in. so ! we'll go, sort out whatever is hiding in that forest, save the children and return them to their homes ! "

if there are any children left to be saved...

wilhelmina waved off the dark thought, and returned the scoll to her pouch. " it doesn't sound terribly difficult, and we'd be doing a bunch of good for those families. then you can return to - uh - where ever you call home. what do ya think ?"

 

[DatCorn]

Under the metal mask, his eye twitched as he was forced to listen. He pretended to read along the scroll, then balked at the presumed notion of their venture. Saving children? Such an act of unmistakable kindness would be a blemish on his records of misdeeds conducted in the mortal realm! And yet, try as he might, this binding thread proved unbreakable. Absolutely infuriating.

"Hrmph. So vulnerable and easily displaced are your tenderlings. Why you never cage those little... Things until maturity, I shall never understand." After all, O'thrun was raised in a cage and he turned out great! Skewering the earth once more, the demon hoisted himself up once more while gazing towards the horizon. "Very well. The sooner we sort this debacle, the sooner I may return to the Nine Circles to investigate this summoning folly."

Nearby, an unassuming merchant's cart ferries a joyful man and his plethora of magical goodies towards the bustling city. The creaking sounds of wooden wheels upon the earth flashed the memories of the screaming matrons, sounding the call of engagement. Does someone dare challenge O'thrun of the Dulmeleth Legion?! From out the bush where the duo resided, O'thrun's lance pierced towards the cart, spooking the beast of burden to a stop. As the merchant turned, he finds himself faced with the demon clad in burning armor. "I am O'thrun Dragmal, keeper of the Ruinic Lance, and I accept your due-". But before he could finish, the cart had already begun to flee with the merchant frantically whipping the beast to save their life and their profits.

"Hmph. Your kind are quick to flee. But worry not, the next individual will have their head piked upon my lance."