Graded [Frontier][Jareth]Chapter 1: Metamorphose

[Clyvelle]

There is but one goal: escape or perish in the place where they tortured you, changed you. Each moment is dragged on for countless hours. How long you have been in their clutches stopped mattering shortly after the pain stole your reason. Perhaps you wish for vengeance, but that is neither here nor there. Flee if you wish to live again!



Cast
Jareth Fletcher
Michael​

 

[Clyvelle]

When the mist enveloped Michael and Jareth back in Aslan, they lost consciousness. When they awoke, they would see no familiar face, much less each other. Their only company would be white robes occupied by nothing but the occasional puff of smoke. Even though they appeared to lack physical bodies, they spoke well enough. Brief, cold, unfeeling observations passed from one hood to the next as they poked and prodded at their new play things.

Among the robes, there was one that would enter with a sense of grandeur and always bore a scepter in one hand. He, for like the others, his voice was masculine in nature, always spoke as a collective with 'we', 'us', and 'our'. It was this particular robe that first introduced the 'we' as the Font. He was the Font's "Sceptre" for, as he put it, he directed the Font's energy with a wave of his hand. Dispatching some to this country. Examining some new discovery in that country. The Font was an unfeeling collective that pursued knowledge of the material plane and held an extreme curiosity for all entities possessing flesh. Thus was the reason for Michael and Jareth's presence in their custody: to satiate their curiosity about their particular flesh.

Michael found himself continually strapped to a table in a windowless room with one door. The walls, floor, and ceiling were made of stone. The table to which he was strapped was a pure slab of orichalcum. The cuffs binding his arms, legs, torso, and neck were mithril. Above the table on which he sat was a crystal that seemed to apply magic to the cuffs binding him to the table. Magic orbs mounted to the walls provided ample light to the room. The door, made of a gray metal, had a mithril locking mechanism that was presumably magic in nature. Around the room were tanks for various creatures used in the experiments. Cabinets for storing various supplies. Floating trays used for resting implements of torturesurgery were positioned near the table.

Jareth found himself in a similar situation, but the table on which he laid was a mundane metal. There were also fewer cuffs used to restrain him. Finally, next to his table was a tank that had been gradually filling with liquid since his arrival.

 

[Clyvelle]

Jareth Fletcher
|Human|Eyeglass Adept|Scorned|​

Jareth lay on the table as he had since he awoke in this sterile place. His glasses were gone, so everything was blurry. The flesh underneath the cuffs which bound him had turned raw from his struggling, but now it had mellowed into a sickly brown. He had been stripped naked at some point and had spent his tenure nude. A crystal floated above him next to the mithril one locking his binds. The second crystal glowed white and Jareth had developed quite a thirst since it was first put in place. The tank next to his table had also been filling with liquid.

In the beginning the Font would come in regularly to force him to drink. At some point they offered Jareth his last bit of water and emptied the tank of fluid next to his bed. Whenever they came after that, they no longer gave him anything to drink. Instead, they removed thin strips of flesh from his thighs and upper arms. Congruent, thin stripes excised manually from medial to lateral, surface nearly all the way down to the bone, sealed with some adhesive substance that closed the wounds. Amidst Jareth's hoarse screaming, the surgeons made cold commentary on the level of dehydration in their latest biopsy.

Jareth's head lulled to the side as he breathed deeply from the pain, unable to escape. His vacant stare passed through the tank, the clear liquid therein presently bubbling as the level of the fluid increased slightly. This caught his attention, and Jareth stared at the tank, realizing for the first time what it was.

That's me...That's my life filling up that tank...! They're going to watch me shrivel up!

Panic grew but all was vanity. Food had been just as sparingly offered as water. When the water stopped, so too did the food. His energy was depleted. When he dared to look at his mutilated limbs, he noticed that the blood lining the top of the incisions was already brown. Jareth's blood no longer flowed as freely, nearly coagulating as soon as it touched air.

This is it...I'm really going to die here....All for what...? Was my family cursed...? What could we have done to deserve our fates?

Jareth would no doubt have cried, but alas he literally had no tears left to cry. This is however, where his coughing began...and ended. His throat had been burning for awhile now due to thirst. He suddenly felt debris materialize in his throat, which caused him to painfully cough. To Jareth's horror, the cough caused a small cloud of sand to issue from his mouth. The particles lined his mouth and lips. Apparently, the sound attracted the Font's attention because a couple of them entered the room.

Spoiler: Stats

Stats:

Strength - F​

Precision - B​

Intelligence - C​

Vitality - C​

Speed - D​

 

[Novama]

Michael The Blue Knight​

At first, Michael would struggle against his restraints. He would pull, twist, and torque his limbs and body until everything was red and sore. He would yell. Any robed creature that got close enough to he would attempt to bite or grab with a hand if he could. His efforts were in vain. It was quickly made clear to Michael who was in charge, and it was not him. Any time he struggled, he was punished. Any time he made undo sounds, he was punished. Any defiance was meant with pain. Any mischief was met with consequences like reduced food and drink. After his attempts to struggle were consistently and mercilessly met with unpleasant outcomes, Michael stopped trying. He was not a hero. There was nothing in his mind that told him struggling at that point would get him anything but worse outcomes, so he quit. Had a scrappy, young, comic book protagonist appeared suddenly at his side to try fighting back, Michael would have grown irritated with the person and despised them. Such thoughts frequently passed by his mind during the beginnings of his treatment.

"..fake crap..."

Michael murmured to himself through chapped lips and dry mouth. He had been thinking about the many hopeless situations heroes had found themselves in in fictional media back on his home world. It was in such bitter memories he was forced to take his mind for solace. Despite making him bitter when reflecting on them critically, they were at least better than the exploratory surgeries the smoke men started performing on his body. It was unclear when the smoke men wanted or were looking for, but they started regularly opening him up without anesthesia. Despite not caring much about Michael's severe levels of pain, they did give him something to chop down on. Like a bit you might give to a horse, Michael couldn't break his teeth nor bite off his tongue during the explorations of his inner tissues as he bit down and released muffled yells. With eyes wide and pain too shocking to breath through, Michael started withdrawing into himself more and more to escape it all.

Michael was in primary school. Not even 10 years old, he really liked to run and learned early on it was a talent of his. He liked the feeling of the wind rushing against him and the ground disappearing beneath his feet as he raced across track or field. Even kids years older than him and bigger found him difficult to catch. This only became more apparent as Michael grew and became stronger and taller. His parents saw it as a means of college tuition and other opportunities, so they pressed Michael to train and participate in athletic events competitively. Michael didn't have any other strong passions and did like running, so he went with the flow. Memories of himself training in all weather flashed before his eyes. He watched as his seniors became rivals and then faded to the background as he continued to improve. Life was so simple then.

Michael couldn't eat anymore. Was fortunately he didn't feel like eating anymore, but he literally lost the means to eat during their last probing of his body. Was unclear what all was tinkered with or removed, but it seemed as they sufficient healing magic kept him alive despite the loss. Realizing they no longer needed to feed him, keeping him conscious and alive was not just a matter of pumping him with rejuvenation magic whenever they wanted. On the bright side, he no longer soiled himself and needed daily cold, flesh scraping, hose downs to cleanse himself. It was around that time Michael began to have hallucinations brought on by lack of food and meaningful rest.

Michael was in college. His legs he had trained for so long were paying dividends though. His tuition was paid in full. Despite his short height, he even had a chance at college athlete stardom. Pressure was high, however. Everyone around him was similarly driven and talented. Some were even more talented with greater natural talents than his. Running was no longer fun for him. He had to train longer and harder than most to keep up. His social life was gone. His fun was gone. He would have to sacrifice sleep to finish his college assignments only to do moderately okay. Running was his talent, not academics, but that didn't matter much anymore as his talent was failing him too. His growing frustration and resentment for running led him to push people away. In his delusional mind, he couldn't recall who were his friends and who were enemies. All this time he had been struggling to find a way home, but in the state he found himself in, he could no longer remember why he wanted to get back there so badly.

Michael eventually found it hard to breath. Strapped to the table as he was, making out the details of what was being done to him was difficult, but he could swear he had seen one of his lungs going somewhere without him. Wasn't long after this that Michael started to feel cold and the numb to most things. The pain he had to hide from greatly subsided. He didn't even recall breathing anymore. Vaguely, it occurred to him they were having to more frequently surge his body with magic to keep him conscious. Eating, Sleeping, and even breathing was now optional as what was left of Michael's body on that stained table was forced to continue clinging to life by magical force.

The adventurer and knight had long since wished for death. Before it was end the pain, but it eventually turned to ending the boredom. His mind had grown unhealthy and he no longer looked back on his previous world or current world with any reason to go back. He didn't have much left of himself to go back with anyway. Without pain, there was no other sensations to let him know he was still alive anyway. It was as his eyes started to dim for what felt like the last time, the smoky robes came in again. Bringing a pot of liquid, shimmering blue, they get Michael prepped for another procedure. Michael recalled that moment as the last time he properly saw the world as it was and not through a veil of blue. To accompany that memory was pain greater than all before, introduced at a time when Michael thought there was nothing left to feel or a life sturdy enough to endure it.

The procedure ended, the smoke men left Michael. His body, cut up, opened up, and missing several components was cold and still despite the solidifying molten mithril slowly oozing from mortal wounds. Michael's eyes stared at nothing, glazed over and unblinking. His face, like the rest of him, was opened up and left agape with molten mithril seeping from the crevices. The smell of burnt flesh filled the room and the only sound was the hum of the machines that still bound him and the drip of mithril onto the floor.

 

[Clyvelle]

Jareth Fletcher
|Human|Eyeglass Adept|Scorned|
"You're always so filthy, Jarhead!" Osman once said. "No respectable person would adopt a child that always tracks dust in the house. Maybe someone would consider you if we shoved a broom up your ass so you could at least clean up your own messes!"​

Jareth's throat was on fire as he stared in horror at the thin layer of sand that now settled onto his torso. The grainy texture of the sand coated most of his mouth, which was only made worse as his parched tongue slid around looking for somewhere where the sand was not. Raw pain in his throat and overall discomfort caused him to grit his teeth, which crunched as they met from the sand in his mouth. Another jolt of irritation in his throat caused a forceful cough to erupt through his clamped teeth, creating more jets of sand over his chest and accumulation in his mouth.

"Which ones should we choose?" A hooded figure stands over a huddled group of frightened children, studying them with eyes hungry for blood.

"Does it matter?" answers a second like figure. "They all fit the parameters. Pick five and kill the rest."​

The two Font attendants watched apathetically as Jareth tried and failed to refrain from coughing as the sand became more and more profuse. One turned to the other.

"We must observe."

"But we are busy." said the other turning to the first.

"So we shall observe." said the first.

"And we will tend to our business." answered the second, turning and exiting the room, while the first fixed its gaze upon Jareth.

"Sand is the cornerstone, so to speak, of our trade, young Jareth." Master Nolan had told him once. "It lays the foundation for our work and allows us to breath life into the glass we shape. Sand is our very livelihood."​

A drawn out, rattling breath swelled Jareth's chest after a vigorous bout of coughing. As his lungs were inflating, there was a sudden internal collapse within his chest. Jareth looked down at his chest to see the last of his air jetting out from a pile of sand occupying what used to be his chest cavity. His ribs poked out along the sides, but he could see their ends falling away into sand. He laid there in shocked limbo, having the impulse to breathe but lacking the structures to do so. Without internal air pressure, his mouth silently mimed the motions for breathing...or choking...or screaming.

"Does it bother you, Jareth? The sand that haunts your nights and afflicts your days?" said Mr. Boris one Ryken evening while the pair were lounging outside Boris's home.

Jareth thought long and hard about his answer.

"No, it's not the sand that bothers me, Mr. Boris...It's what's in the sand...." replied the young apprentice.
​

Jareth's body was now actively turning to sand all over. None of that registered due to Jareth's horror-stricken gaze being affixed to a new development on his abdomen where the sand was churning strangely. A cyclone had formed there in his belly as the remaining tissue blended into the particulate. A mound formed in the center that began to rise. When it reached a certain height, the surface morphed into a pair of eyeless sockets that stared at Jareth. It continued to rise as a skeletal grin formed underneath. A neck came up underneath that, followed by a shoulder. An upper arm and elbow wrenched itself free from the sand consuming Jareth's torso. His arms had been wrenching against the restraints, but now broke free as his wrists disintegrated into sand. His feet did likewise. His handless arms curled inward perhaps to shield him or claw at the sand now forming this wraith. The apparition's free arm batted away what remained of Jareth's arms, dispelling them into sand. Jareth's head turned this way and that, trying to get away from the hand of sand that now reached for his face. He felt the rough texture flattened his nose as the hand pressed firmly into his skull. The fingers splayed around his eyes, leaving them free to catch every last moment, as the hand sank into his skull turning everything beneath it into sand. The eyes bulged and eventually popped up through the fingers as the skull descended on what was left of Jareth's flesh.

The tank of fluid next to Jareth's table, bubbled slightly as the level increased again. The Font attendant remained where he was for a moment before approaching a table with a mithril rod laid upon it. Picking it up, he began to dictate to an illusory page that sprouted from the rod:
"Subject expired as predicted. Dehydration via enchanted crystal produced valuable data for future experiments. Fluid collected exceeded what had been administered to the subject, showing great efficiency in fluid extraction. Samples taken periodically during observation showed the crystal's dehydrating effect accelerates at intervals over prolonged exposure. More tests needed to zero in parameters for dehydration crystal.
"Additional observation: An unknown phenomenon occurred approximately an hour before expiration where subject's body gradually began to disintegrate into a sand-like substance. Eyes remained wide and the body tremored slightly for the duration, justifying the speculation that some kind of vision had captivated the subject's mind in its final moments."

The illusory page disappeared as the Font attendant returned the rod to the table. Opening a lower cabinet, he withdrew a hand broom and dustpan. Turning around, he walked over to the now sand covered table and began sweeping it off.

"Jareth, when you find you don't have the time or the ability for something, be sure to rely on your comrades. It's what they are there for, afterall," Michael once said.

Yeah, Michael...? Well, where were they...? Where were YOU?!​

The attendant rhythmically swept the broom across the piles of sand as he coaxed them into the dustpan. It was a practiced motion, and the attendant barely paid any attention to where his hand was as it methodically swept the sand along. That is, until the broom suddenly became stuck. His gaze, which had drifted elsewhere, now snapped to the broom in his hand. The sand had bunched up around it, binding it to its current location. The attendant tugged on it a few times and eventually pulled it free. He stared at the sand a moment, then studied his broom for another moment. Eventually, he went to sweeping again. The sand suddenly launched itself at him and filled the room in a cyclone of particulate.

Spoiler: Stats

Stats:

Strength - F​

Precision - B​

Intelligence - C​

Vitality - C​

Speed - D​

 

[Novama]

Michael The Blue Knight​

The dull blue mithril began to shimmer and a light filled the observation room. It was unclear whether the magic metal was interacting with the ambient mana in the air or the magical devices active in the room, but the liquid metal started to flow and solidify into channels. Straight and coupled, the channels ran throughout Michaels body. The channels were eventually enclosed by flesh, regenerated and healing, before leaving a blue marking on the skin, reflecting the network beneath the skin. It was not long before Michael's tattered form was fully restored and stronger than before. Michael's eyes blinked a few times open before actually seeing his new world cast in a shade of azure blue.

Michael couldn't do much other than frantically breath and look around as a rush of feelings and sensations flooded into his almost dead self. He no longer felt like too little jam being spread on too much toast. He felt alive more so than he had before getting strapped to the table. Michael flexed against his restraints. They were still present, but he no longer felt discomfort by the effort. The mithril shackles would be difficult enough to deal with, but to have them embedded in orichalcum on top of it was overkill. His suffering behind him, his mind was much more clear and new knowledge flooded into him as he looked around.

Michael's shimmering blue eyes could see the heat of his body in waves of yellow, red, and everything in between. He could see the ethereal tendrils of blue that moved through his own body as well as the shackles and device overhead. He noted the details of his dark cell, now able to see even after the shimmering mithril was sealed away within his body. He also noted he was covered in dry blood and only had a pair of tattered pants to his name. Lastly, he saw the bands of blue that wrapped his skin. His appraisal eye still worked and with it, he gained some additional insights into his new body.

He now knew his body was no longer a normal earthly body. It had artificial mana channels that could facilitate the storage and passage of mana in his body, mana he could now generate within himself as well as absorb from the environment. His suddenly changed mana status was immediately doing work on the magic shackles binding him. Within an hour or so, they would no longer be able to hold him. Might not even take the hour. Michael utilized his new body's abilities toward breaking free of his restraints as quickly as possible. He clenched his jaw and got to work, eyes alight with new willingness to be free and live (or at least not feel pain anymore).

Mithril Breakout - B grade -

• Duration Reduction B
• Regeneration B
• Resilient F (fatigue)
• Sixth Sense: Mana Vision F - can view mana in its many forms in Michael's surroundings
• Feature: Darkvision F
• Supersense: Infrared Visions E - 100ft radius - can perceive the world in various degrees of hot and cold
• Energized B
• Lucky F
• Appraisal C
• medical f
• arcane f
  - cooldown 3 posts - Michael utelizes his new eyes, knowledge skills, and regeneration to struggle as much as he wishes and note the state of his body, the cuffs, the magic in the air, and his overall progress while his reduction on the duration of his capture works against the magic fastening the cuffs. Energized reduces the cooldown on his effort. Lucky will ensure the best outcome possible for this particular post. Resilient will ensure he never tires for the duration of however long it takes.

 

[Clyvelle]

Jareth Fletcher
|Human|Eyeglass Adept|Scorned|​

Amidst the sandstorm, there was clattering as the attendant stumbled around. The broom and dustpan were crossed in front of him as he attempted to shield himself from the pervasive sand. The sand eventually concentrated as its diameter centered upon the white robe and shrank. Particle density increased as the robe began to fray imperceptibly in places. Within the robe, the opaque breath that ebbed and flowed within the form started to mingle with sand as the latter began encroaching on the core of the robe. As the sand condensed, the smoke became displaced and the robe rippled unnaturally as the chaotic swirling entered the robe. With a sound comparable to a large, prolonged sigh, the smoke finally dispersed as the robe fell limp against the sand, which also seemed to lose momentum as the cyclone gradually descended to the floor. When it was finished, an empty robe lay upon a pile of sand.

I...can't feel my body....

The pile of sand rippled and shifted despite there being no breeze. Occasionally a mound would rise up but quickly descend. Each motion moved the pile of sand collectively, as though it were a sheet being moved by someone wallowing around underneath. A tendril rose and laid across the robe spread across the sand.

They are like me...formless....

The particulate bunched up then spread out as it slunk a few inches across the floor.

I'm so thirsty...

The pile rotated slightly. The table holding the tank of fluid was near. The pile suddenly contracted as a tendril shot up towards the tank but was repelled by the containing glass.

My water...give me back...my water...!

The sand slunk underneath the table and surrounded its base. Piles bunched up around the feet of the table, while another tendril rose and flattened against the wall of the tank. Slowly but surely the tank and table began tipping, eventually toppling over and crashing against the floor. The water spilled onto the floor as the sand rushed to consume it. As the water engulfed the sand, the particulate began loosely clumping together.

I...can't feel the water...the thirst isn't slaked....

The sand wailed inaudibly as it slowly began to take form. A hand reaching for something that it could feel clenched into a fist as the sensationless appendage realized there was no such thing. Slowly a partial face appeared in the sand, the teeth clenching then opening as a silent cry went out. As it seemed like the form was about to solidify, it dissolved into a puddle of sand once more.

Are you going to lie there in your ditch and die, or will you crawl your way out and get free?

A shudder went through the sand as a mound sprang up suddenly then fell. Then it rose again. A third time it rose, now beginning to look like an arm. Now the arm was on the surface of the sand, fingers defining themselves at the end as they dug into the sand for leverage. Another arm rose out of the sand in tandem with the first as they drug a central mound to the surface between them. Sand fell from the form even as it clung to it, defining its features. With great effort the arms pulled as Jareth's torso emerged. Clawing, reaching, striving.

Focus. You are the potter, not the clay.

His waist had surfaced and the forms above the sand were becoming sharper. The pool of sand was becoming smaller as it collected into the form rising out of it. Now a thigh rose, followed by the other. Legs rose and fell as they took steps, each footfall sharpening their form. At last, a humanoid figure stood in the midst of the experimentation chamber. Fine details still evaded him, but Jareth at least had some semblance of his former self. Didn't have to worry about his lack of clothing like this either. Speaking of, the sandman turned and grabbed up the robe that lay in a pile on the floor. Not knowing what else to do, he put it on. At least he had a covering now.

-----

Michael
Michael's strain produces a noticeable result. His eyes see as his effort sends a counter current of mana into the cuffs. It takes a moment for him to fully grasp how to direct the current, but eventually his mana meddling activates an "off switch" of sorts that releases the cuffs. Focusing his attention and efforts on individual cuffs eventually releases them all, gaining the patient his freedom. The cuffs close again once Michael retracts his mana from them.

Aside from Michael's own grunting, the escape was relatively low-key. Attendants aren't drawn immediately, however it's logical to assume they will return as he hadn't been disposed of. These particular modifications are also of a permanent and costly nature, so the conclusion could be drawn that they had plans concerning him and would return in time to collect.

The room is stained with splashes and streaks of blood around the orichalcum table. Michael's organs have been placed in jars and suspended in fluid for his viewing pleasure. The vat containing molten mithril still sat near the table mostly empty save for a glistening bit of blue at the bottom. Cutting implements, among which was a small handsaw and a mallet, laid bloody on their respective tables.

There was only one door out of the room, which was locked with even more mithril locks. The room has the appearance of being reinforced, as though it was reserved for more dangerous procedures/experiments. This lent itself to the idea that the Font were not ignorant of the dangerous forces with which they tampered.

​

Spoiler: Stats

Strength - F​

Precision - B​

Intelligence - C​

Vitality - C​

Speed - D​

​

 

[Novama]

Michael The Blue Knight​

Cooldowns: B grade 3/3

*click*

"Yes!"

Michael declared as he was able to get the first shackle off. With the method for freeing himself now know, Michael systematically went through the rest of the locks on his body. Free of the table he had been strapped to for unknown lengths of time, he was unexpectedly light and nimble as he maneuvered off. Getting a better look at the scene and himself, he visibly cringed and stepped back as the atrocities done to him became clear.

"Smoke men..."

Michael mused at his situation as he looked around the room more for ways to get free or deal with his adversaries. He would check the room over for his equipment, clothes, or other victim's clothes or equipment. If he couldn't find anything of use, he would turn to the tray holding the implements of his suffering.

Michael had skills in smithing and enchantment. He would consider the sliver of mithril remaining and try to select a surgical utensil or other that looked like it could hold up to the enchanting treatment. Carefully, conservatively, and burning himself some to ensure best results, Michael would give the utensil's blade a mithril coating. Selecting another fine toothed implement, he would then etch the enchantment script into the blue metal. Having enchanted a few quality pieces and several pieces of junk before them, Michael's hand was efficient, concise, and flowed like the looping script he etched.

At the end of the process, Michael would hold up the implement. Assuming it didn't shatter into pieces or otherwise break, the tool would begin to glow as the mana in the air would get sucked in by the mithril and infuse the weapon with magical energy to power the enchantment. Whether it failed or not, Michael would pocket more of the tools he could carry just in case they would come in handy. Equipped and ready to fight his way out, Michael would move to the side of the door, so as not to be seen as soon as the smoke men opened the door, and await their return. He had all the time in the world.

Abilities:
Appraisal F , blacksmith F, Enchant F, Energize F - find a utensil, tool, weapon, or other he could enchant with the remaining mithril. Can be used multiple times until he finds something or determines there is nothing thanks to energize F.

Blacksmith E, Enchanting E, Energize E - convert found implement (if one suitable was found) into mithril weapon with the following enchantment: Multidemensional F - attack defies the boundaries of reality allowing attacks to be capable of hitting ghosts, vapors, energies, and other nearly invulnerable targets and hurt them just as effectively as normal attacks. Will hopefully allow the smoke men to take damage if encountered. Energize helps the job quickly finish.

 

[Clyvelle]

Jareth Fletcher
|Human|Eyeglass Adept|Scorned|​

Despite having no eyes formed in the sand, Jareth found he could still see. Even as a puddle of sand, his sight was always present. It only occurred to him now that his eyesight no longer needed corrective lenses. Somehow this new body had been renewed in a sense. Or reset perhaps?

Which it was mattered not as Jareth was reminded of his thirst. The water...his water, made no difference once it was restored. He would need more. Surely if he drowned himself in water he would feel it? It was an all pervasive thirst that seem to originate in the very sand that now made up his body. It was all-consuming, ever present, regardless what state his body was in.

It was this strong desire within him that took him to the door. Trying the handle, Jareth found his door wasn't locked, which spoke volumes of the Font's views on the chance of escape. He cracked the door a little. Outside was a corridor leading left and right with several doors at regular intervals on both sides. No doubt more experimentation chambers. Along the ceiling were more orbs of light for illumination. To the left currently walking away were two attendants. Approaching from the right was a single Font member carrying a slender, white stick in one hand.

Jareth ducked back into his room, but remembered that he was wearing the robe. Additionally, he saw in the vague reflection of a metal tray that he was currently a faceless, featureless humanoid composed of sand. The Font were observant, but perhaps being found wasn't immediate cause for concern in this state. Composing himself, he emerged from the room into the hallway as the wand-bearing attendant drew near.

It was motionless as the white smoke that was its...body(?) undulated underneath the hood. Jareth could feel its vision analyzing him.

"One returned." It finally said cryptically.

Jareth would no doubt have a dumb expression on his face if he had one as he considered what that phrase could possibly mean. "One returned"? Who or what was "one" and where exactly did they return to? Out of the corner of his eye he happened to see the mithril rod housing the attendant's report on his "death". Maybe a status update was in order here? Jareth went to reply and made a horrific realization: he had no mouth. He could feel what must be his jaw moving, but there was only solid sand where his throat and mouth should be.

C'mon! Don't choke now! Well...choking might actually be an improvement. Think! Uh....

Jareth stepped back and gestured into the room. The attendant examined him another moment, then entered the room. The smoke-filled hood panned around the room. Moving further in, a gloved hand picked up the mithril note taking device. The illusory page of notes appeared. The attendant was still as it apparently read the notes. Finally, the page was dispersed and the rod returned to the table. The attendant glanced around the room again briefly before turning back to the sand-filled robe.

"The Sceptre will be pleased. Prepare the next experiment with the proposed adjustments to the dehydration crystal." the attendant said authoritatively.

With that, the attendant departed in the direction the other two attendants had went ealier. Jareth stood for a moment, flabbergasted how that had actually worked. Quickly recovering, he began to move in the opposite direction of that wand-bearing attendant. Hopefully there was an exit in this direction.

-----

Michael
A search of the room uncovered no clothing, neither his or another's. His enchantment endeavor was a resounding success. Michael's new eyes would see clearly the mana now emanating from his empowered tool, a bonesaw doused in his own blood now shining a glowing blue. Michael is naked so all items taken are in his hands, teeth, or clenched in his ass. Waiting by the door takes some time but eventually two attendants do walk in unaware of their hidden assailant. Neither are armed.

Spoiler: Stats

Strength - F​

Precision - B​

Intelligence - C​

Vitality - C​

Speed - D​

 

[Novama]

Michael The Blue Knight​

Cooldowns: B grade 2/3

The bonesaw held tightly in Michael's fist shimmered faintly with mithril along the teeth and his own drying blood along the broad side of the metal face. The handle was stained with a bit of both. Held in his dominant hand, Michael altered his grip just enough he would slash with the saw, but keep his strength in his hand so if it got caught he could pull it through the target.

Pale skin close to a marble statue and now with blue highlights, Michael was not hidden very well and he knew it. He would have but a moment. When the two smoke men entered the room, there was nothing that stood in his way and no need to delay. Despite his crouched position, he felt no stiffness in his joins or muscles. Despite no clothes, he did not feel chilled to the point of impeded action. Focused, his eyes were filled with hate, vengeance, and desperation as he lunged at the two smoke men, bringing the bonesaw around with his dominant hand.

Assuming the smoke men were magical beings of some kind, Michael used his new, enhanced eyes to spot the point in the smoke men where their mana congregated. He would attempt to slash and saw through the point on the first smoke man in hopes his specially enchanted saw would hold up and deliver desirable results. If saw, he would try to attack the 2nd one in the same way. His eyes flared an intense blue and the blue ribbons along also came to life with a faint shimmering as he moved into action.

Mana Eyed Eater x2 - F grade -

• Sixth Sense: Mana Vision F - can view mana in its many forms in Michael's surroundings
• Supersense: Infrared Visions F - 30ft radius - can perceive the world in various degrees of hot and cold
• Energized F - let's him use it multiple times in same post
• Multidimensional F - can damage things generally damage proof like ghosts, energies, elementals, etc
• Fast F - quickly close the gap with the move portion of his turn as part of the attacks
• Acrobatics F - stay balanced and light on his feet as he threw his weight around to try and hack the men apart.

Bonesaw - Mithril F grade

Strength E - used just enough strength to wield the weapon and not break it.

 

[Clyvelle]

Jareth Fletcher
|Human|Eyeglass Adept|Scorned|​

The hallway Jareth had taken ended in a T at the far end. To the right, the new hallway extended to a corner before doubling back to the right. Still no windows in the walls, so whether or not this was an exterior path remained unclear. The left branch of this new hall continued to a doorway at the far end, which appeared to open up into a larger chamber. There were no doors along the walls in either direction. Presently, a wandless attendant rounded the corner to the right. Jareth instinctively pulled back out of sight.

I really need to stop doing this. What's the point of camouflage if I always hide?

Even as he thought this a door in the hall he had come from opened. With no alternative, he marched out into the new hallway as the attendant came up beside him. Jareth fell in step beside the attendant as they both walked in silence towards the archway.

-----

Michael
The saw bites into the fabric of the first attendant's robe. The force is carried through and tears a gaping hole as the sound of a deep sigh issues out of the being's core. The second attendant is surprised but turns to try and run away. The saw catches this one in the back, likewise tearing the robe asunder. A second sigh escapes as all goes quiet. Michael would be able to see briefly that the mana within the attendants collects in the abdomen about the level of the solar plexus.

The robes are mostly good for wearing. No blood makes for clean loot. Be that as it may, the teeth of the saw make for a poor tool to use against the robes. A more standard blade or even a bludgeoning weapon might work just as well if not better.

Once Michael collects himself enough to peek outside, he will find himself in a corner room. The hallway outside goes either to the right or straight out from the door. These paths are illuminated by torchlight. At the far end of the path straight ahead, an archway opens into a larger room where firelight dances along the far wall. A bizarre sort of giggling can be heard echoing down the hall.

Spoiler: Stats

Strength - F​

Precision - B​

Intelligence - C​

Vitality - C​

Speed - D​

 

[Novama]

Michael The Blue Knight​

Cooldowns: B grade 1/3

With his enemies dispatched, Michael would look their clothes over for anything to loot. Gathering up whatever he could, he would take the least damaged robe and attempt to use his incredible, craftman's precision (A grade precision. No tailor skill though) and some of the surgical implements (hoping for means of sowing victims back together) in the room to repair the robe some. After doing what he could with it, he would put it on. He didn't have much in the way of insecurity about self after being on display for so long, but he could still feel a cool draft.

With saw in hand, Michael made his way toward the arch straight ahead. His hand tightened on the saw blade at the sound of giggling. He had a toothy smile but his eyes were more malicious than merry. It seemed slaying the robed men had done something other than ignite his need to escape.

Contrary to how Michael held himself prior to capture, the Michael of now stood tall and open. His stride was aggressive and confident. He did not make any special effort to conceal his passage. He even started waving the saw blade around, spinning it between and on his fingers. At times, it whirled fast enough to look like a circular saw.

Assuming he reached the end unmolested, he would look into the larger room ahead and look for opportunities to deliver revenge/justice upon more smoke men. He would also be on the lookout for weapons. He would be his most lethal if he could get a sword, but his own equipment would be preferred. Just in case he found someone more solid than smoke, he would take a torch off the wall also. No harm having multiple damage sources available until something else came along. Michael would also hold the saw by the back of the blade rather than the handle for the time being. While the handle gave him reach, he had more control of the blade keeping it in hand and bracing it with his forearm. It would allow him to better chop and dig the blade in before ripping it through the target.

 

[Clyvelle]

Jareth Fletcher
|Human|Eyeglass Adept|Scorned|​

Passing through the archway, Jareth found himself in a large space. There were several attendants moving about purposefully. Some carried things, a few were sweeping, and many were congregated on a raised platform just off-center of the chamber. The platform was off center because the actual center was a large vacuous space that ran up and down a handful of floors.

Jareth had paused a moment to take it all in as the attendant beside him continued on without hesitation. Other attendants were joining the crowd on the platform, so Jareth decided to see what was going on. A large staircase rose to the platform, which was about ten feet above Jareth's current level.

At the top, Jareth could see that the platform was positioned on the very edge of the atrium. There was a central table above which floated several puffs of smoke, each with a moving picture inside. Jareth moved closer and saw that they were all experimentation rooms. Their designs were much different from his, however, and each table in the rooms was occupied by various mutilated bodies and horrific forms. Jareth had to look away due to the grotesque disfigurement of the forms, some actively thrashing against their restraints. Then a particular puff of smoke caught his eye: one room appeared to be empty save for a crumpled white robe in the corner. As Jareth was pondering what that meant, a figure approached the table of smoke from the far side.

"Bring up level 3, cell 9." said he as attendants bearing wands gestured to the smoke.

The puffs of smoke coalesced into a large image of the empty cell Jareth had spotted.

"Seems like our friend is enjoying his new improvements." said the pale skinned man. "Bring up the Jailer's station."

More waving of wands brought up a view of an open space illuminated by torches. Straight ahead there was a hallway where a figure was currently approaching. In the foreground off to the left of the hall stood an enormous humanoid gruffly handling what appeared to be a body. As the sea of white robes watched, the head popped off and rolled into view of the hallway.

"Shall we intercept him, sir?" an attendant said in monotone.

"No, no! There's no fun in that at all!" said the man irritated. "The Sceptre wanted experiments to see how these forms we're modifying hold up, right? So, let's experiment! Hold back and let the Jailer intercept. Let's see if that stolen mithril helps him any!"

-----

Michael
As Michael approaches the chamber ahead, the laughing gets louder, closer. There's a slight echo but it seems to be coming from the right side. As if to confirm the direction of the sound, a head came rolling into view from the same. This was followed by more giggling that suddenly choked and morphed into a growling cry. Heavy thuds and rustling were heard as a large shadow stretched across the floor followed by a hulking figure moving towards the head and into view of the hallway.

"It brokes!" uttered the figure as it gingerly picked up the head. "They always breaks!" It growled as it began crushing the head in its grip.

Assuming Michael entered the chamber, he would see a workshop of sorts to the right, heavily stained in blood. Various tools, body parts, as well as banged up armors and weapons were strewn across and around the table. Hooks suspended by chains hung from a few rafters above the table, some being occupied by limbs or one hook had an entire body hanging from it. The chamber was entirely lit by torches but more light could be seen above as the atrium is directly overhead.

Michael will be seen shortly if he strolls into the room.

Spoiler: Stats

Strength - F​

Precision - B​

Intelligence - C​

Vitality - C​

Speed - D​

 

[Novama]

Michael The Blue Knight​

Music:
Cooldowns:

The stones were blue. The torches were blue. The fires as they flickered and danced were blue. Had Michael been his normal self, it may have concerned him or agitated him some, but the new vision was the least of his concerns or focus. He was drawn to the lights and the giggling emanating from down the hall. His heightened perception only making him move faster as he grew anxious with the new energy he sensed. It was like a feeling one gets in a crowd of people verses an empty room. There is a palpable something there in the air even if everyone is being dead silent. Kind of like the quiet before the proctor for a race shoots off the gun that releases the runners to race. However, there was no proctor here. Michael immediately bolted down the hallway and into the large room.

Using his [Mana Vision F] + [Energized F], Michael noted the odd fluctuations in the room ahead which indicated living creatures or at least those 'touched' by mana which indicated they were denizens of the world unlike himself. Or perhaps they could just use mana. Michael didn't sweat the small stuff since it was only necessary to know what was in the room before he charged in. Rather than b-line for the big man or the table of weapons, Michael planned to make the most of his entrance and went for a wall closest to the big guy.

"Parkouring!...."

Michael declared as the energy and mana in his body surged, causing his tattoos, eyes, and hair to glow as the excess escaped his body. His legs suddenly blurred as they moved faster and his strengthened core tightened to keep himself from whipping back as his legs pulled out from under him. Hitting the wall, his feet kept running and his toes found purchase on the uneven stone. The momentum of his run would shoot him up the wall several feet, but just before gravity could catch up with him he leaped off the wall. Gracefully flipping in the air, his feet would come together in the opposite direction.

"Evading!..."

Michael shouted as he continued his ability name. His feet suddenly kicked off the air as it momentarily materialized in the presence of the mana Michael gave off from his body. Launching himself off the air, itself, he hurtled back to the wall, but not before flipping back around so his feet could catch him. Like springs, his legs immediately launched himself higher, caught himself on the air to leap back to the wall and repeated the process. Wall bouncing off the wall and the air, he ascended several feet before kicking off one final time into the air over the big man's hand.

"Enchanting!..."

Michael's teeth where bared as he clenched them hard while he tensed the rest of the muscles in his body. He was subtly falling but on a guided course toward the butcher of a man below. Meanwhile, the bone saw in his right hand began to glow blue and grow in size, or at least seem to, as a blue blade extended. Dark blue circuit board patterned lines coursed through the metal as the metal itself shimmered in an azure blue. 5ft long suddenly with gnarly saw teeth running a jagged pattern along the length of the instrument, it looked ready to take out a tree or giant, much more the brawny man below. But Michael was not quite finished.

"Bone Saw Special!"

The blue knight shouted at last, his eyes wide and snarl twisted smile with obvious strain. HIs hair and stolen, white robes whipped behind him as he kicked off the air a final time to turn his free fall into a rocketing plummet. His straining muscles suddenly vibrating sent the bonesaw in his hand, now several times its original size, into a circular rotation that went faster and faster until it looked like a massive, blue circular saw that Michael had to hold at arm's reach unless he risk losing his own limbs. The whipping sound of the saw through the air was similar to that of a helicopter's blades at speed. At the last moment of his dive bomb, Michael would yell as he brought his magical, azure saw forward to hopefully saw the jailer, his axe, and perhaps the stone floor in half on his way down. Metal dust and blue mana residue trailed after Michael making his descent look like a crashing blue comet. His rage had not yet been quenched from the torture he endured.

"AAAAAAaaaaa!"

[Parkouring Evading Enchanting Bone Saw Special] - B - cooldown 3
Fast E (24mph), Jumping E (30ft), Special Movement: Fancy Falling F, Special Movement: Wall Bouncing F, Acrobatics F, Artisan (Enchanter) B, Energized B

Strength - A

Mithril Bone Saw - F

(Attack will totally dust the bone saw)

 

[Clyvelle]

Jareth Fletcher
|Human|Eyeglass Adept|Scorned|​

"Sure likes showing off, doesn't he." said the pale man with a flat expression, his eyes watching the animated smoke unblinking.

Jareth couldn't look away. What even was this being zooming around in the smoke? He seemed unfazed by the bulky Jailer, even willing to take it on single-handedly. He envied that sort of fearlessness, but perhaps it bordered on recklessness?

It seemed like everyone was leaning in closer as they beheld what became of the clash of these apparent juggernauts.

-----

Michael
The Jailer turned after Michael had already zipped by. He gleefully gasped as Michael began glowing blue.

"It's pretty! You're my new toy!" bellowed the Jailer as he lumbered after the blue streak.

Michael had already begun scaling the wall when the Jailer trundled up to him. The Jailer tried reaching for him, but the blue man was out of reach.

"Get down here!" he whined, chucking the smushed head in his hand at the magic flying blue man.

The head missed as Michael entered his dive, powering up his saw as he careened back down towards the Jailer.

"Yay! Come here blue man!" said the Jailer as he held up his grabby hands like a child about to receive a toy.

The blue light screaming towards the Jailer was no soft teddy bear however. A flash of blue light delivered the saw's edge straight into the skull of the Jailer. Crimson splattered the stone floor as the Jailer's head gushed blood. The handle of the saw fell free as the blade disappeared with the blue light that had empowered it. In its wake was a massive vacuous wedge betwixt wildly walleyed eyes.

Despite the seemingly decisive blow Michael landed against the Jailer, the hulking behemoth did not collapse into the pool of his own blood now puddling the floor. Instead, the giant hands wrapped around Michael's legs as the neck slowly craned down to allow one of the opposed eyes to roll around and focus on Michael.

"I...got you....!" came the gurgling reply. "First...we gotta...stop you...from...moving!"

The Jailer spoke In between deep, haggard breaths. The blood now oozed down the Jailer's face as he suddenly wrenched his hands in opposite directions to rip one of Michael's legs off.

-----

A palpable silence had fallen over the crowd of white sheets as the onlookers waited to see what would come after the flash of blue light. Who would still be standing? Jareth's attention had momentarily flickered to his right where a bright, blue flash emanated from the depths of the atrium. When he looked back to the moving image, he now saw the smaller figure atop the Jailer.

M...Michael?!

On the far side of the smoke, the expressionless watcher suddenly became agitated as the smoke stained red with the blood of the Jailer. The pale man threw his hands up as he began walking away from the smoke.

"WILL SOMEONE PUT A GOD DAMN BRAIN IN THESE MEAT PUPPETS SO THEY USE THEIR FUCKING HANDS TO BLOCK?!?! [god] ALMIGHTY!!" screamed the man.

"You told us not to due to the emotional element complicating maintaining control." a nearby attendant said flatly.

"I KNOW!" screamed the pale man as he anxiously returned to continue watching the fight.

Spoiler: Stats

Strength - F​

Precision - B​

Intelligence - C​

Vitality - C​

Speed - D​

 

[Novama]

Michael The Human Blender​

Music:
Cooldowns: B 3/3

Michael's face, still snarling through his malicious smile, was splattered with his own blood before he even realized what had happened. His intensity quickly shifted from the intended kill to the pain that now wracked his body as blood spirted from his severed leg at both ends. His battle cry of earlier shifted to a cry of pain.

"aaaaAAAAA!!!"

His own severed leg passed by his eyes as he struggled and writhed in the air, held up by this behemoth's inhuman strength. Michael's pain suddenly became secondary to the rage he felt. Again, these 'people' were taking things from him. Hadn't they taken enough? Michael frantically looked around for a weapon to use. He had tossed the ruined bone saw's handle. It was useless now without a blade. Michael also wasn't interested in bludgeoning the meat man to death either. He needed something more 'visceral'. That's when he laid eyes on the meat hooks hanging form the somewhere up above. Michael finally noted the corpse and parts hanging from other hooks not far off as well. Perfect.

Sucking it up and ignoring the pain, Michael lunged as best he could for the closest hooks. It didn't matter if the bloody gorilla man claimed his other leg, Michael would see this guy dead. Little did Michael realize, his severed leg had already stopped bleeding after the initial gushes. A shrimpy leg gradual grew from the stump and took shape. It assisted as Michael kicked against the big guy to grab ahold of a couple of hooks.

Analyzing them with his [Artisan:Blacksmith] and [appraisal], Michael was able to discern the weakest points of the chain and torqued them with his A strength to break them free. With chains now swinging free from Michael's bloodied fists previously splattered by splitting the guys face, Michael would rise up in the jailer's grasp, center himself, and swing both chains around to try and lodge the meat hooks into the man before pulling as hard as the chains could handle. While his main intention was to get the meat hooks into the man's severed head so he could finish peeling the executioner's flesh like a banana peel, he'd settle for any meaty purchase at this point. He had wrapped the chains in both hands around his fists. He could afford to be a bit rough on his hands so long as he accomplished his goal.

Over the course of this, Michael's leg had fully regenerated. Pale and exposed, a bit slimy, and still covered in blue tattoos which were shimmering slightly, Michael's leg would be unknowingly used to help stabilize Michael has he pulled off his maneuver. Meanwhile, a lot of blood had pooled on the floor beneath them and continued to drip from the pair as both were or still are actively bleeding. The chains, already coated in dried remains, were coming alive again with a dark wet sheen like liquid chocolate syrup as they were recoated in blood.

Abilities:
[Smith's Eye] - appraisal of items with extra smithy specific detail and heat map within 10ft of Michael
Appraisal F + Super sense Infrared Vision F + Artisan: Blacksmith F + Energized F - F grade - 0 cooldown


Passive use: Regeneration B

[Hook Attack: Flesh Ripper] - hook hooks into targets flesh and pull...hard
Strength A
Hooks ???

 

[Clyvelle]

Jareth Fletcher
|Human|Eyeglass Adept|Scorned|​

The fight had become unexpectedly interesting as Jareth recognized his former comrade in the clutches of the Jailer. This made it all the more gut wrenching as he witnessed the latter tear Michael's leg off with the ease of plucking a leg off a grasshopper. Jareth winced and looked away, but in doing so, he heard the faintest echo of a scream coming from the atrium. Chancing a small glance around, the other attendants were focused on the smoke still. Jareth casually turned and backed out of the group.

Making his way down the ramp, Jareth sidled over to the railing looking down into the atrium. One thing he did notice was that the levels beneath him were lit by torchlight while the level he was on and the three levels above were lit with magical orbs. An oddity to be sure, but Jareth's focus was drawn to the depths below where he could see the faintest shadows of the two agents locked in a death battle.

I...I could probably jump...and just disperse as I land--No, no, this isn't time for stupidity! Let's find a stairs or lift...."

Jareth began looking around but did not immediately see any sort of pathway to the lower levels. Across the chamber from him, however, he did see a rather large tunnel leading further away. Figuring he would find a stairs somewhere along the way, he crossed the chamber to explore the large pathway. Unbeknownst to him, two wand-bearing attendants followed him.

-----

Michael
The Jailer smiled, or at least it looked like he was trying to smile, as Michael's cries of pain echoed off the stone walls. The gaping hole in the brute's head seemed to have distorted his ability to emote slightly. Regardless, as Michael was reeling, the Jailer turned towards the workshop table, slipping slightly on the mingled blood beneath his feet.

He began moving towards the stained table, but his footsteps fell particularly heavy, each footfall appearing to take great effort and concentration, as the haggard breaths rattled from the Jailer's gaped mouth. Tendrils of saliva ran unabated from the corners of his lips.

Above the work table and its immediate surroundings was a grid of iron bars from which several chains descended. Hooks at the ends of the chains were mostly filled with body parts and a single complete corpse. Michael manages to lunge and grasp two empty chains, both just shy of five feet long. This action actually pulls him free of the Jailer, who took a couple more steps before he realized his new toy was missing.

The Jailer stares at his empty hands blankly until the hooks sink into him: one wrapped around and punctured into his eyesocket, the other found purchase on the chasm in the Jailer's skull. As Michael yanked, the Jailer's head snapped back and he began to stagger backwards. A final surge of instinct caused the Jailer to retrieve his axe as he tumbled backward, swinging it wildly as he turned towards Michael. The Jailer would fall to the floor afterward, gurgling incoherently as he breathed his last.

Spoiler: Stats

Strength - F​

Precision - B​

Intelligence - C​

Vitality - C​

Speed - D​

pale man

 

[Novama]

Michael The Human Blender​

Music:
Cooldowns: B 2/3

Michael's breath was even. He strained just as hard as he needed to and no more. His precision conserved his energy, but his headspace was more of a wonder. This was the first 'human' he had killed. Looked human enough to Michael to count as one at least. Up to that point he had only killed monsters for the guild. His glowing, blue eyes and clenched jaw remained tense as his bloodied hands continued to hold the chains tight even after subduing the jailer. His heart was pumping and adrenaline was feeding his nerves. Even when the fight was over, it was not over for him.

It was this tension running through Michael that allowed him to move when the frantic axe swings came. Even with what looked like a snapped neck, the jailer was still a threat. Rather than drag the jailer with him and keep him within axe range of Michael, he finally released the chains and nimbly dodged backward to let the finish his death spasms by himself. It was the sort of moment that allowed for celebration. While not free, Michael had overcome a dangerous and powerful foe. Had he been his old self, he may have died right then and there. But Michael did not celebrate. His eyes cooly surveyed the body one more time before leaving the jailer in his blood and guts.

Striding briskly and aggressively over to the butcher's table, Michael started looking around for more clothes and weapons. His current clothes were severely ripped and bloodied thanks to the executioner. The smell of bowel and bo had seeped into Michael's clothes during the bear hug with the jailer. While it wasn't unbearable, it annoyed Michael in the same way he was annoyed the white robed were gawking at him from above, their signatures lingering from Michael's last mana scan of the chamber. Finding new clothes whether from a victim or a spare set sitting around, Michael then armed himself with a couple weapons from the Jailer's torture table.

"Don't worry about coming down here! I'll come up to you!"

Michael called out his warning, now ready to deal with the droves of them he saw above. Just as before, he dashed toward the closest wall and immediately began running up it. Once he last the ability to keep propelling himself upward, he would jump off the wall into the open air. The air would partially solidify and let him jump off the air and back toward the wall. From the wall, he could propel himself even higher up. He could repeat the process so long as he had a high ceiling and a wall. While Michael didn't mind making his way up to kill the robed men that had been spectating his fight, his smile giving away his relishing of the thought, he hope they would come at him and make it even easier to kill them all. Better than hunting each one down individually.

"You better have my swords up here!"

Michael called again, more threatening than before, but with a smile on his face has he flipped back and forth, climbing higher yet, a tendril of shimmering blue trailing after him.

Abilities:
F grade dodge ability
E grade parkour with energized

Relies on previous scan he did of the chamber to know of the robes up top.

Is readying an ability with the weapons he found to intercept any bad guys they may try to attack him.

 

[Clyvelle]

Jareth Fletcher
|Human|Eyeglass Adept|Scorned|​

The pale man sighed as he pinched the bridge of nose, his eyes closing in quiet meditation. The opposite hand raised after a moment and gave a dismissing wave.

"Go...Just...go get him. I'm sure he'll know how to guard with his hands. Maybe we can even train him to hold weapons!"

At his word, several robes seemed to deflate then rise into the air as though being pulled along by an invisible thread attached to their hoods. Flying up and over the railing, they descended into the vacuous space of the atrium. Popping back into shape as they fell, several sewing needle catalysts were drawn.

As Michael rose to meet them, his mana vision would see several condensed air (mana) projectiles conjuring at the tips of their wands. They all drew back in unison and lobbed the first volley at him.

-----

Jareth's path had taken him into an observation platform overlooking an open chamber that was several stories tall. Thick chains extended from the surrounding walls to a massive entity covered in several sigil-inscribed wraps over top chains binding it from head to foot. Blackened wings faded in and out like passing shadows as Jareth stared in apprehension at the unsettling creature.

Footsteps behind him drew his attention. Two wand-bearing attendants were presently entering the platform behind him. They looked to the creature then to Jareth.

"You have obtained a body." said the first.

"Tell us how. Being one of us, you know how we desire bodies." said the other.

Jareth did not have time for this. Who knows how Michael fared back their with the Jailer? He needed a way down but--No time for that. Without another thought, Jareth turned and ran off towards the railing of the platform. The attendants were surprised but quickly drew their wands as they collapsed and flew after him like flailing sheets possessed of ghosts. Vaulting the railing, Jareth was in freefall.

There were brief flashbacks to his wild ride at the duchy. Funny. Without organs, the sensation of falling wasn't nearly as terrifying. What's more, he felt the wind whipping through him loosening his form. As the sheets closed in behind him, Jareth relaxed and let the wind have him. Dispersing in a cloud of sand, Jareth's now empty cloak flew in the face of his pursuers.

At that moment, however, one of the shadow wings wavering to the side of the large entity passed through the air where they were falling. The ethereal darkness enveloped all three of them briefly as it passed by. The attendants instantly burst with loud rushes of wind, but Jareth felt a force course through his immaterial body like a shock of lightning. Hot lightning. The sand began clumping and gathering back into his form without his consent. His slow fall began to accelerate as his mass reassembled itself, causing him to fall into one of the billowing cloaks of the dispersed attendants.

The initial shock was taking its time in ebbing, but the oddest thing happened when his face began to form: when his head began reforming, the sand cracked and separated at the approximate location of his mouth as Jareth audibly screamed for the first time since rising anew in his sand body. It was a dry, rasping scream, barely more than an exhalation of air in sound, but it was something.

Beside him, the blackened creature was shrouded in a red aura as it began to quiver. Two white lights could be seen disappearing into the general mouth area of the face despite the coverings over it. Jareth crashed into one of the thick chains before rolling off as it was suddenly pulled taut by the writhing form. As it strained against its binds, the portion of wall anchoring the chain began to give then finally break away as the chain was pulled free.

-----

The attendants attempting to kill capture Michael would collapse and reinflate as they zipped around the air trying to dodge his attacks and returning in kind. There are twelve of them in total. Michael might notice that they do not attack while in their limp flying state (the mana can be seen pooling into and ahead of the hood to facilitate flight). In the midst of this midair skirmish, a portion of a wall is suddenly torn away, giving everyone on that level a clear view of the enormous writhing entity in the neighboring chamber.

Spoiler: Stats

Strength - F​

Precision - B​

Intelligence - C​

Vitality - C​

Speed - D​

 

[Novama]

Michael The Human Blender​

Music:
Cooldowns: B 1/3

Michael, with the aid of the walls and walkways lining the outer atrium, as well as the occasional chain, was able to meet the vapor men mid-air in combat. Using an E grade version of [parkour] with enhanced speed, jumps, and fancy falling, Michael continuously dodged and changed direction mid-air as his movements occasionally defied gravity in unexpected ways. He immediately started trying to chase down the ghost men as best he could while dodging their attacks against him enhancing his E grade parkouring with his new mana sense and [always outnumbered] skills. Together, he would prove to be very difficult to dispatch. Even were magical attack to hit him on occasion, his sturdiness was incomparable to how he was prior to his treatment at their hands. They had literally created a bane to their existence.

However, Michael could not fly no matter how much he danced around mid-air. He would spend too much energy and time chasing them down to kill them. He had collected 2 swords from the pile of tossed aside stuff along with his outfit. They were not his equipment, but they would settle this situation fine enough. Flinging his body toward the center space of the atrium while the vapor men circled him to try and shoot him down from all sides, Michael gripped his swords and wound his arms to ready the blades for use.

Michael's attack came suddenly and filled a large portion of the space. A blue light suddenly filled the area causing those looking from above or below to think blue sky suddenly appeared in the middle of the tower.

"Enchanted Buzzsaw Backfire!" (D grade - fighting style E, backfire aoe f, enchanter D, energize D)

Michael declared as the 20ft diameter sphere of blue encircled him as he released the pent up, mana charged blades to slice and spin within the space. Any of the vapor men would likely get shredded instantly if they were within the area or touched the area as Michael was mid-air when using it.

Michael would come out of the spin prior to making contact with the far wall as the opposite side caved in. Michael's mana vision wasn't sure what the heck he was looking at and neither was he. The young man grunted and a cold sweat beaded his brow. He thought he was beyond fear after all he had been through. Whatever that thing was made him have doubts. It made him angry to think about the weakness he was showing. Forgetting about what vapor men remained, if any were still alive, Michael charged for the opening, one to conquer his fear, and two to see if he could find a way outside and truly have his freedom back.

 

[Clyvelle]

Jareth Fletcher
|Human|Eyeglass Adept|Scorned|​

Michael's attack shredded four attendants caught in the middle of their own attacks. Incoming spells connected as Michael came out of his dervish attack, but the damage was negligible in the face of Michael's regenerative abilities. As Michael passed through the recently remodeled wall, the remaining attendants followed after him like a flock of ghosts.

Entering the chamber through the hole, it was a straight drop down. To his right, Michael would see a few floors above him the observation platform spanning the width of the room. Below the observatory, there was a glowing platform that Michael might guess is a lift going from ground floor to the observation platform. In the center of the floor beneath the shrouded creature was an octagonal platform inscribed with yet more sigils. Also below him were three robes fluttering through the air. One of which was oddly filled and surrounded by a cloud of dust.

Michael's aerial acrobatics could carry him to the closest chain still yet anchored into the wall he emerged from. The creature's thrashing was growing more violent by the moment. Its torso in particular was bulging and twisting against the magical restraints in an attempt to get an arm loose.

Presently, a group of white robes streamed onto the observation platform led by the pale man.

"Oh, shit! Oh, fuck! Oh, shit!" he was saying frantically as he ran rather effeminately in the room. A hand nervously touched his mouth then glided upward to rake through his frosty hair as he stared at the agitated behemoth. "Oh, this is way above my pay grade...."

"Your orders, sir?" asked one of the attendants standing by.

"Do I look like I have any idea what to do?!" screamed their pallid leader. "Look at my robe. WHITE. You see?! If I were wearing a BLACK robe, MAYBE I could actually DO something here!" His fingers tormented his scalp as they anxiously combed and tugged his short hair. "Everyone with a wand to Containment! EVERYONE! NOW!"

At his call, the attendants pursuing Michael stopped and flew up to the observation platform.

-----

Jareth was watching from below as he fell away from the chain as it pulled free of the wall. His body had been hardening and fusing together, but the impact with the chain had painfully shattered the forming shapes. After the impact and subsequent breaks the sand began fusing together randomly, but the effort quickly slowed to a halt as the foreign energy finally dissipated.

From his upward angle, he watched the freed chain whip towards the creature. Then a flash of blue light shone through the hole in the wall. As Jareth hit the ground, Michael burst into the room overhead.

Michael...he won't even...know it's me....

The sand lay still, abstract solidified forms of hands, arms, a broken lower jaw, and portions of leg littering the particulate. Thankfully Jareth had not been completely solid when he hit the ground, but despite his new form, he felt the impact all the same. As he worked through his pain, one thought kept repeating in his mind:

I'm not getting out of here without Michael.

As he thought this, motion from overhead caught his attention. The robes from the dissipated attendants came fluttering down around him. Then two objects landed on top of him: the attendants' catalysts. Jareth's vision now turned to the creature towering over him. The red aura was slowly engulfing the creature. Crinkling as the form underneath strained and contorted, the shroud over the mouth suddenly tore open, stretching wide as an inhuman wail shook the room.

Suddenly, the catalysts atop Jareth began glowing with the same red aura. The sand seemed to react and shift some in response to the sudden influx of magic. Jareth did not understand, but seeing what the wing did to him, he wasn't too keen on having these things linger on him. Concentrating on his arm, he tried to give it form so that he could bat the wands away. It was incredibly difficult, but Jareth managed to partially manifest his arm. The fused portions did not respond to his command. Even so, he was able to assemble enough of his hand to move over and begin pushing the wands away.

As soon as he came in contact, however, a surge of power coursed through his arm. The burden of trying to form his arm had decreased immensely, while its shape became crisper, defined. The fused portions still refused to respond. Jareth pulled away from the catalyst and his arm became misshapen and heavy feeling again. Grasping the catalyst once more, he formed his arm up to the shoulder. Looking up at Michael, Jareth braced himself then pointed the catalyst at his face. The pieces of jaw did not move, but the sand began forming a new jaw regardless. The rest of the tongue and mouth followed. His teeth clenched as he focused on the throat. Pretty soon he had the major structures involved in speech assembled. The jaw unclenched as a raspy, breathy sound escaped the uncertain form. Part of the form broke down as a cough erupted, creating a small cloud. Clenching the jaw again, Jareth brought the form back together. Looking down at the other catalyst, his other hand rose from the sand to grasp it as well and pointed it at his face as well. His face instantaneously formed as it once was, even if for a moment. More of his torso took shape as well as Jareth drew a breath and inflated it. Then as he released the breath, he screamed, "MICHAEL!!"

The voice wasn't his, but if he could get Michael's attention, maybe his friend could figure it out.

Spoiler: Stats

Strength - F​

Precision - B​

Intelligence - C​

Vitality - C​

Speed - D​

 

[Novama]

Michael The Blue Knight​

Mentions: Clyvelle
Music:
Cooldowns:

The adjoining chamber was not what Michael hoped. There wasn't an obvious way out. There were even more enemies present than before. The center of the room had a large creature giving off vibes that Michael couldn't help but pickup on. It was all very uncomfortable and undesirable. Even the chain he hung from was less than desirable.

The chain, which he grabbed hold of after kicking his way into the room, was old with rust and dried remains. Whether it was dust or otherwise was not clear to Michael. He had sheathed one of the blades mid-flight so his left arm could grab the chain. He then whipped the end of the metal links around his left leg with an audible and repeated *clink*.

Michael needed time to acclimate to the situation. Adrenaline was still pumping in his body, but his instincts were telling him to run more than stick around. If he was to accomplish his goal of finding his stuff and getting out, he would need to keep composure, kill all the bad men, and rip the place apart meticulously until he had what he wanted. Any chaos or panic would get in his way. That included the feelings in his heart driving him to conflict within himself. During his track meets in his former life, competitions where he foot raced against others, he remembered the anxiety he felt moments before a race. He wasn't sure if he wanted to throwup, pass out, run away, or get to racing. It was a bundle of multiple meanings in his gut and chest that threatened to paralyze him or hinder his best judgement. The knight would do what he did then, now. He would physically breath in deeply while mentally tucking all of his feelings and cares down deep into a sack. He would breath again until all the feelings were locked away. They were not gone, but contained. Once contained, the feelings Michael felt were only what he needed or wanted to feel and could freely use the bundled emotions as he saw fit to propel him forward when the time was right.

For now, it was time to get a better sense of the situation. Using his new eyes and senses, Michael probed the chamber for everything within 100ft of himself. His eyes suddenly glowed with an intensity as he scanned the chamber. To him, the room was like a sea of mana. Everything in the room was made up of mana or permeated by the mana. In the same way one might read the 20ft long bubblegum wrapper that comes with a large roll, Michael had a steady and constant stream of information flowing through his mind from his eyes. He could discern basic character information of anything C grade or less as well as basic medical or material information thanks to his knowledge skills.

Hearing it as his brain was making sense of all that was in the room, Michael dove from the chain. The racing gun had popped. His bundled emotions not fueled him into motion. He would use his fancy falling skill to try and avoid splatting into the stones below as he pulled his sword back out in time to give the two vapor men over Jareth a vertical split with a sword per vapor man. Michael would have to rely on his enhanced vision for clues on how he might help Jareth in his state. He was momentarily trying to ignore the big bad thing in the center of the room.

"I'm here, Jareth. What the heck have they done to you!"

Michael shouted, not sure how well Jareth could hear in his current state. His vision would let him know he was alive at least.

ability use:
[High Appraisal] - mana vision f, darkvision f, infrared vision e 100ft radius, energized c, appraisal C, blacksmith C, enchanter c, arcana f, medical f - character starts to see the world in its component parts and gains a greater understanding of entities, objects, mana, and energy and how it all interconnects. cooldown - 2posts

 

[Clyvelle]

Jareth Fletcher
|Human|Eyeglass Adept|Scorned|​

Michael's assessment of the room procured some interesting insights. The creature in the center only gave him throbbing, red question marks when he looked at it. Above him, catching a glimpse of the pale man would also give question marks, but these were far less foreboding in appearance. Additionally, his name appears as 'Albedo'. The attendants are E grade and specialize in wind magic. There appeared to be more magic involved in their being, but this was obscured from Michael's current level of Appraisal. Below him, the pile of sand is identified as Jareth in addition to various details about his new sandy nature. After dropping down to ground level, Michael would see that mana is coursing through every bit of the sand, but the channels of mana are tied in knots within the clumps of sand that crystallized. The wands Jareth is holding are still radiating the red aura that is streaming out of the large entity.

"I'm...not sure," said Jareth in broken, raspy speech, "...I'm...having trouble...controlling the form...Those...wings touched me. Felt like...I was dying...again...." Jareth's head shifted upward, looking from the entity to the platform where several robes could be seen. "I...think the way out...is up there...where they are...."

Jareth attempted to stand but his form crumbled despite the wands. His awareness was drawn to the bits of sand that had solidified from the foreign energy. There was a feeling of attachment, like he could not leave those pieces behind or his form would never stabilize.

"Those pieces...they're a part...of me. I can't...leave them...but I...can't control them...as they are. Michael...you have to...crush them. Pulverize them...back into...sand...."

The sand bristled as Jareth braced himself for what he anticipated was going to be a very unpleasant sensation.

-----

In the upper half of the chamber on the observation platform, several attendants had gathered at Albedo's summons. Every one of them came with a wand shaped like a sewing needle. Albedo was grumbling to himself as the last of them got into place.

"No, no, take your time! It's not like there's an ENORMOUS FUCKING DEMON trying to rampage on this FLOATING ISLAND!! Do you have any idea what will happen if it gets free?! Make yourselves useful and mend those binds on him! NOW!"

Wands were held aloft as the attendants began channeling their magics at the demon. Another wail reverberated through the chamber as it jerked its torso and pulled another chain free. It whipped around and fell in an arc towards where Michael and Jareth were.

BLACK robe

Spoiler: Stats

Strength - F​

Precision - B​

Intelligence - C​

Vitality - C​

Speed - D​

 

[Novama]

Michael The Blue Knight​

Mentions: Clyvelle
Music:
Cooldowns: C 2/2

This whole situation was crazy. Smoke men doing medical torture. Giant, otherworldly, magical beings thrashing around. Psychotic albinos. People clawing their way out of piles of sand. Wholesale murder and blood sport. Michael's tense expression with grit teeth reflected the grip he had on his mind trying to stay on this side of sanity as it felt like hell was around him and perhaps he had died on that medical table. He had a foreboding feeling things would only get worse if that creature got free too.

He was not knowledgeable enough in magic to know what Jareth's situation was or how to fix it. The idea of punching or crushing bits of his sand sounded about as useful as hitting a computer with a baseball bat. Michael forced himself to swallow and step back as he tried to keep up with the madness happening around him.

"What are you talking about, Jareth! I can't just start punching sand..."

The irony of how it may be just like pounding sand was not lost on Michael.

"...what if you get hurt or loose whatever is left of you that's in the sand? We need another approach..."

Michael wasn't sure if debating with Jareth was anything but a waste of time. Did any of them really know what to do with any of this, but then Michael recalled his method for escaping the surgical table.

"I have an idea. The smoke men have changed my body. I can use just a bit of mana now. I'm going to try and force feed some of it to you and see if I can straighten out some of those blockages you seem to be having."

Michael said as he quickly moved back to Jareth's side and crouched down on his heels while his palms were face down on the lumps Jareth wanted broken down.

"[Mana Disruption]!" (mana disruption - E grade - E grade Duration Reduction, E grade Energized, F Arcana, E appraisal, F mana vision - forcefully reduce duration of skill effects active on character a number of levels equal to grade of skill. Uses mana vision to try and apply his ability in areas of high mana concentration.)

Michael intended to continue the treatment despite the noisy chaos around them, but situations changed. The massive chain swinging for them likely had too much force behind it. Even if Michael could stop it, he questioned if his body would hold together. Jareth didn't look to be a state where he could escape it and it wasn't clear to Michael what would become of Jareth if he was smashed into the floor. The knight had no choice.

Immediately taking up the swords he had placed on the floor next to him to perform his mana infusion, he spun in place intensely enough to disturb the debris and sand nearest him. As Michael rose to the occasion, his hand and arm tattoos glowed intensely as visible mana leaked out in an ethereal blue. His eyes were similarly flares of whitish blue. He was already channeling mana through his body to perform the disruption, so when he transitioned to attack, the colors and flickering only intensified and spread through the rest of the body. Bracing himself against the stone floor and using it as leverage to swing his blades, the blue knight's swords would also take on a series of blue circuit lines coursing through them. Slicing through the air, they whistled that brief moment as they passed. As the Blades met with massive, metal links barreling in, Michael attempted to hit the chain hard enough to make it miss them or sever it entirely. It was not clear to Michael whether his swords would survive the impact or not.

Ability Use:

Rapid Link Targeting Enchanting Shredder - Grade B - Fast E, Appraisal C, Fighting Style Buzzsaw Slayer E, Skin Breaker F, Enchanter B, Blacksmith B, Arcana F, Energized B - Character uses fast to increase speed immensely in a short space, then uses appraisal with smithing skill to find weakest link or point in link to hit. The hit will have a grade of penetration on it and be enhanced by enchanter and arcana to produce glowing magical blades. energize to reduce cooldown. - 3/3 cooldown

 

[Clyvelle]

Jareth Fletcher
|Human|Eyeglass Adept|Scorned|​

Jareth was bracing for an impact that never came. Instead Michael placed a hand on the crystallized pieces, and Jareth could feel something flow into him. It was reminiscent of a limb that had lost circulation and fallen asleep now beginning to regain sensation once more. It was tingly and feeling began to return as the solid parts began to break apart on their own. Jareth attempted to stand again, using the wands as necessary to help him shape up.

The chain came as Jareth began to rise. Michael bravely interposed himself and charged up a mighty swing that deflected the chain just enough to swing out and around them, sliding to a halt soon thereafter. His swords noticeably deformed after the hit, but they did not break.

"Thanks!" Jareth said as he took a tentative first step.

Up above, streams of mana flowed from the outstretched wands towards various sections of the large entity's restraints. The large chains that had been broken remained untouched for now, while a majority of the effort was put into repairing the veil that covered its mouth. The jaw flexed against the confining wrap trying to keep it from mending. Likewise, the torso continued to writhe and squirm against the remaining chains and additional sigils binding it. Unfortunately, it appeared to be fighting a losing battle as the veil on its face began forcing the jaw closed.

Suddenly, the creature became very still as a low growl gurgled up through the magical wraps. Michael would see a pulse come from the creature along the streams of mana to the wands that would proceed to envelope the bearers in the red aura. Above, the steady streams of presumably sealing magic being cast on the creature's binds suddenly stopped. As Albedo looked around in frantic confusion and demanded the attendants resume their containment measures, the robed henchmen instead began launching a barrage of offensive spells at the chains binding the creature.

Down below, Michael would see Jareth's back arch as the aura overcame him. The sand composing Jareth's body became a laser-focused replica of his former appearance, down to the smallest minutiae. His expression was blank as he turned to Michael holding his wands outstretched as his sands began swirling menacingly around him. As it looked like something was about to happen, both of Jareth's hands suddenly dispersed, causing the wands to fall to the ground. Jareth's head flew back as though he were suddenly struck in the forehead and his body collapsed into a pile of sand once more.

A particularly displeased growl rumbled from overhead as the shrouded head of the creature snapped towards the boys on the ground at its feet. The barrage of spells from the attendants had frayed the binds on one side of the creature as a shriveled arm ruptured free. Elongated fingers flexed for perhaps the first time in a great while before lashing out shattering several chains still holding it to the wall. Giant links and loose chains fell to the floor haphazardly. The hand reached up and tore the veil away from the mouth as the head arched back and bellowed once more.

A massive amount of mana began to coalesce in front of the creature's mouth before firing a large beam upward. The beam effortlessly pierced the roof far overhead. As the head lulled oddly to the side, the beam carved a large, continuous gap through much of the building before finally dissipating. As the smoke cleared, daylight could now be seen streaming in through the new skylight the creature had created. A shower of dust and mostly disintegrated debris showered down.


BLACK robe

Spoiler: Stats

Strength - F​

Precision - B​

Intelligence - C​

Vitality - C​

Speed - D​