Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Shiverquill >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Shiverquill >>

[Cut with Archfey]

Loschen leans forward, intrigued, as he takes in the death magic timeline. 'I see...I hadn't considered that that would be the typical process, but now that makes perfect sense. It is effectively an advanced form of transmutation, targeting the body and leaving the soul. But yes, you'd be correct; what I'm looking for would be a spell that uses the soul as fuel to annihilate the body; certainly a complex procedure, seeing as targeting a soul with a spell directly is a challenge in the first place, but nothing that can't be achieved. From there I would imagine the unravelling of the soul and its energy decay would take the body along with it into nothingness, provided that its kickstarted with some additional magical energy to fire those furnaces...'

 She grins. “Well, soul magic is a sister school to the arcana of death… Perhaps-…” she holds out her hand, casting a simple illusion spell and summoning a mote of vibrating, shifting blue light. “While the structure of a soul is more complex than this in reality, this is simply for a demonstration-… as you said, the soul is effectively a specialized form of magical energy-… what if we were to… effectively destabilize the soul?” The light turns a sickly green and begins to vibrate more intensely. ”we turn the soul into metaphorical firewood, effectively making it temporarily more susceptible to the rest of the spell, which would use the volatile soul in order to create a burst of energy to rend the body to nothingness, taking the soul in the blast?” The mote of light pops.

”of course, we’d have to study the inner workings of the soul to most effectively convert it, and we would have to decide what spell composition would most effectively burn away a soul… what do you think?”

 (For Shiver, in case you missed it :>)

 [Thanks I missed that lol]

Loschen grins 'That's...an excellent theory.' He leans back and says 'To destabilise a soul, how about a specialised form of something like memory magic? That works by imbuing magical energy into a person's psyche to impose arcane blockades on certain triggers, or, more relevant in our case, cut sections of the mind loose altogether.' He then mimics a pair of scissors with his fingers, summoning his own ball of light in the other hand to demonstrate, 'If we instead targeted the soul, not the mind, we could effectively 'cut' away the outer layers that hold the soul together and then the magical energy within is released, to then be manipulated more easily so we can destroy the body. It's like a ball of yarn. Whilst it looks perfectly round, a few snips in the right places can destroy the whole structure. Then, with our magical energy source already implanted in the now-corpse, we can easily annihilate what is left. We'd of course have to roll those two arcane processes into one, but effectively what we need is a spell to convert the soul into free and easily manipulated, ordinary magical energy, and one that can then tear a body apart due to the presence of that magical energy in the first place. I think we're on to something.'

 She nods along. Leaning forward. “Yes, yes… this could work. And, using such a method as memory magic, but on the soul… we could minimize the amount of initial energy needed from the caster to start the spell… and then they would simply manipulate the released energy from the soul into the death spell, which could easily be something akin to a modified blighting spell… remade to work faster and stronger with the extra energy granted… this… this is very interesting.” With a flick of her wrist, she summons a piece of parchment and a quill and begins to sketch out the basic structure of a soul, with it’s many intricacies and threads binding everything together.

 Loschen also leans forward, and says 'Yeah, they're usually low cost but high effectiveness spells, so the effort we put in will be miniscule compared to the results...' He then points down at the diagram and says 'I say that we should try and target the Epidermis Visualis with the spell,' he says, pointing at the round, encapsulating shell that keeps in all the other components. 'When a soul is formed, it forms from the outside in, and the Epidermis Visualis is the most basic part of it; it effectively acts like the soul's ID, identifying the body's appearance and unifying it with the spirit. From there, it can fill in the rest of the parts accordingly, so it basically makes sure that a human doesn't end up getting the soul of a cat, or visa versa. What I'm getting at is, that although it's fairly residual magical coding, it acts as both a container and a tether between soul and body. If you remove it, the rest of the energy is going to struggle to communicate key concepts with the body, so the creature might start losing its typical traits as the specialised magic fades; they could forget how to walk, talk, etc, as their encryption breaks down. In fairness, it doesn't matter much when the rest of the magic will implode within milliseconds from a lack of container, but it makes sure the target is definitely incapacitated and the magical energy is more 'loose' and less encoded.'

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Thalia meticulously draws the summoning sigil, circle and all, on the floor of her room with her own blood. It takes quite a bit of time, as the runes and sigil are rather complex, but she manages to copy it with little issue. Once she’s done, she touches the edge of the circle with a bloody hand and the tome beside her roars to life with abyssal power, flipping from page to page to page to page with little to no direction, the singes and torn pages suddenly glowing with infernal embers. It eventually decides to rest back on the entry of Mulval, and the script begins to glow like fire. That glow transmits itself to the summoning sigil, spreading like blood through veins, until the whole circle is glowing red-hot. Slowly, starting at the circle’s center, an inky, fiery blackness spreads all the way to the sigil’s boundaries, creating a sort of hellish pool of demonic Ichor. She watches as wind picks up in her room, the temperature rises, and the shadows grow darker, as a figure rises from the pool of Ichor. That of a woman with raven-black hair, skin as pale as the moonlight, wearing blacksteel armor forged in the flames of Phlegthegos. Her form drips with droplets of molten black lava, cooling as soon as they slide off of her armor. She’s tall, taller than a mortal man, and as she rises to her full height, Thalia realizes she has cloven hooves. Unfurled behind her are a pair of feathered wings, wings like a raven’s, stained with blood. She wields a single scimitar, which she holds in her left hand.

as soon as she has fully emerged from the pool of Ichor, she lunges in Thalia’s directions, but is stopped just inches from her as the circle’s protective magic comes to life, a transparent, glowing barrier suddenly separating them. She sticks out a forked tongue, focusing her black eyes on Thalia. “Mortal-… you have freed me…” 

Thalia realizes that Mulval’s entry in the book is no longer there-… strange.

As she sits on the floor, covered in her own blood and too stunned to speak, Thalia begins to realize how big of a hole she’s fallen into. She tries to stutter out a reply, but only a choked “aaaaaghh” comes out.

Hello

* really want to see how this will turn out*

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Thalia meticulously draws the summoning sigil, circle and all, on the floor of her room with her own blood. It takes quite a bit of time, as the runes and sigil are rather complex, but she manages to copy it with little issue. Once she’s done, she touches the edge of the circle with a bloody hand and the tome beside her roars to life with abyssal power, flipping from page to page to page to page with little to no direction, the singes and torn pages suddenly glowing with infernal embers. It eventually decides to rest back on the entry of Mulval, and the script begins to glow like fire. That glow transmits itself to the summoning sigil, spreading like blood through veins, until the whole circle is glowing red-hot. Slowly, starting at the circle’s center, an inky, fiery blackness spreads all the way to the sigil’s boundaries, creating a sort of hellish pool of demonic Ichor. She watches as wind picks up in her room, the temperature rises, and the shadows grow darker, as a figure rises from the pool of Ichor. That of a woman with raven-black hair, skin as pale as the moonlight, wearing blacksteel armor forged in the flames of Phlegthegos. Her form drips with droplets of molten black lava, cooling as soon as they slide off of her armor. She’s tall, taller than a mortal man, and as she rises to her full height, Thalia realizes she has cloven hooves. Unfurled behind her are a pair of feathered wings, wings like a raven’s, stained with blood. She wields a single scimitar, which she holds in her left hand.

as soon as she has fully emerged from the pool of Ichor, she lunges in Thalia’s directions, but is stopped just inches from her as the circle’s protective magic comes to life, a transparent, glowing barrier suddenly separating them. She sticks out a forked tongue, focusing her black eyes on Thalia. “Mortal-… you have freed me…” 

Thalia realizes that Mulval’s entry in the book is no longer there-… strange.

As she sits on the floor, covered in her own blood and too stunned to speak, Thalia begins to realize how big of a hole she’s fallen into. She tries to stutter out a reply, but only a choked “aaaaaghh” comes out.

 *waiting for arch :]*

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Thalia meticulously draws the summoning sigil, circle and all, on the floor of her room with her own blood. It takes quite a bit of time, as the runes and sigil are rather complex, but she manages to copy it with little issue. Once she’s done, she touches the edge of the circle with a bloody hand and the tome beside her roars to life with abyssal power, flipping from page to page to page to page with little to no direction, the singes and torn pages suddenly glowing with infernal embers. It eventually decides to rest back on the entry of Mulval, and the script begins to glow like fire. That glow transmits itself to the summoning sigil, spreading like blood through veins, until the whole circle is glowing red-hot. Slowly, starting at the circle’s center, an inky, fiery blackness spreads all the way to the sigil’s boundaries, creating a sort of hellish pool of demonic Ichor. She watches as wind picks up in her room, the temperature rises, and the shadows grow darker, as a figure rises from the pool of Ichor. That of a woman with raven-black hair, skin as pale as the moonlight, wearing blacksteel armor forged in the flames of Phlegthegos. Her form drips with droplets of molten black lava, cooling as soon as they slide off of her armor. She’s tall, taller than a mortal man, and as she rises to her full height, Thalia realizes she has cloven hooves. Unfurled behind her are a pair of feathered wings, wings like a raven’s, stained with blood. She wields a single scimitar, which she holds in her left hand.

as soon as she has fully emerged from the pool of Ichor, she lunges in Thalia’s directions, but is stopped just inches from her as the circle’s protective magic comes to life, a transparent, glowing barrier suddenly separating them. She sticks out a forked tongue, focusing her black eyes on Thalia. “Mortal-… you have freed me…” 

Thalia realizes that Mulval’s entry in the book is no longer there-… strange.

As she sits on the floor, covered in her own blood and too stunned to speak, Thalia begins to realize how big of a hole she’s fallen into. She tries to stutter out a reply, but only a choked “aaaaaghh” comes out.

 Mulval retreats a few steps, looking at the surroundings. “Yet I am trapped in this… cage of damnation-… you. Summoner.” She looks to Thalia. “Why did you conjure me?…”

Quote from Shiverquill >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Shiverquill >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Shiverquill >>

[Cut with Archfey]

Loschen leans forward, intrigued, as he takes in the death magic timeline. 'I see...I hadn't considered that that would be the typical process, but now that makes perfect sense. It is effectively an advanced form of transmutation, targeting the body and leaving the soul. But yes, you'd be correct; what I'm looking for would be a spell that uses the soul as fuel to annihilate the body; certainly a complex procedure, seeing as targeting a soul with a spell directly is a challenge in the first place, but nothing that can't be achieved. From there I would imagine the unravelling of the soul and its energy decay would take the body along with it into nothingness, provided that its kickstarted with some additional magical energy to fire those furnaces...'

 She grins. “Well, soul magic is a sister school to the arcana of death… Perhaps-…” she holds out her hand, casting a simple illusion spell and summoning a mote of vibrating, shifting blue light. “While the structure of a soul is more complex than this in reality, this is simply for a demonstration-… as you said, the soul is effectively a specialized form of magical energy-… what if we were to… effectively destabilize the soul?” The light turns a sickly green and begins to vibrate more intensely. ”we turn the soul into metaphorical firewood, effectively making it temporarily more susceptible to the rest of the spell, which would use the volatile soul in order to create a burst of energy to rend the body to nothingness, taking the soul in the blast?” The mote of light pops.

”of course, we’d have to study the inner workings of the soul to most effectively convert it, and we would have to decide what spell composition would most effectively burn away a soul… what do you think?”

 (For Shiver, in case you missed it :>)

 [Thanks I missed that lol]

Loschen grins 'That's...an excellent theory.' He leans back and says 'To destabilise a soul, how about a specialised form of something like memory magic? That works by imbuing magical energy into a person's psyche to impose arcane blockades on certain triggers, or, more relevant in our case, cut sections of the mind loose altogether.' He then mimics a pair of scissors with his fingers, summoning his own ball of light in the other hand to demonstrate, 'If we instead targeted the soul, not the mind, we could effectively 'cut' away the outer layers that hold the soul together and then the magical energy within is released, to then be manipulated more easily so we can destroy the body. It's like a ball of yarn. Whilst it looks perfectly round, a few snips in the right places can destroy the whole structure. Then, with our magical energy source already implanted in the now-corpse, we can easily annihilate what is left. We'd of course have to roll those two arcane processes into one, but effectively what we need is a spell to convert the soul into free and easily manipulated, ordinary magical energy, and one that can then tear a body apart due to the presence of that magical energy in the first place. I think we're on to something.'

 She nods along. Leaning forward. “Yes, yes… this could work. And, using such a method as memory magic, but on the soul… we could minimize the amount of initial energy needed from the caster to start the spell… and then they would simply manipulate the released energy from the soul into the death spell, which could easily be something akin to a modified blighting spell… remade to work faster and stronger with the extra energy granted… this… this is very interesting.” With a flick of her wrist, she summons a piece of parchment and a quill and begins to sketch out the basic structure of a soul, with it’s many intricacies and threads binding everything together.

 Loschen also leans forward, and says 'Yeah, they're usually low cost but high effectiveness spells, so the effort we put in will be miniscule compared to the results...' He then points down at the diagram and says 'I say that we should try and target the Epidermis Visualis with the spell,' he says, pointing at the round, encapsulating shell that keeps in all the other components. 'When a soul is formed, it forms from the outside in, and the Epidermis Visualis is the most basic part of it; it effectively acts like the soul's ID, identifying the body's appearance and unifying it with the spirit. From there, it can fill in the rest of the parts accordingly, so it basically makes sure that a human doesn't end up getting the soul of a cat, or visa versa. What I'm getting at is, that although it's fairly residual magical coding, it acts as both a container and a tether between soul and body. If you remove it, the rest of the energy is going to struggle to communicate key concepts with the body, so the creature might start losing its typical traits as the specialised magic fades; they could forget how to walk, talk, etc, as their encryption breaks down. In fairness, it doesn't matter much when the rest of the magic will implode within milliseconds from a lack of container, but it makes sure the target is definitely incapacitated and the magical energy is more 'loose' and less encoded.'

 “Perfect.” She replies. ”is there already such a spell that targets the Epidermis Visualis? If there is, we could simply adapt that formula to completely remove it.”

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Thalia meticulously draws the summoning sigil, circle and all, on the floor of her room with her own blood. It takes quite a bit of time, as the runes and sigil are rather complex, but she manages to copy it with little issue. Once she’s done, she touches the edge of the circle with a bloody hand and the tome beside her roars to life with abyssal power, flipping from page to page to page to page with little to no direction, the singes and torn pages suddenly glowing with infernal embers. It eventually decides to rest back on the entry of Mulval, and the script begins to glow like fire. That glow transmits itself to the summoning sigil, spreading like blood through veins, until the whole circle is glowing red-hot. Slowly, starting at the circle’s center, an inky, fiery blackness spreads all the way to the sigil’s boundaries, creating a sort of hellish pool of demonic Ichor. She watches as wind picks up in her room, the temperature rises, and the shadows grow darker, as a figure rises from the pool of Ichor. That of a woman with raven-black hair, skin as pale as the moonlight, wearing blacksteel armor forged in the flames of Phlegthegos. Her form drips with droplets of molten black lava, cooling as soon as they slide off of her armor. She’s tall, taller than a mortal man, and as she rises to her full height, Thalia realizes she has cloven hooves. Unfurled behind her are a pair of feathered wings, wings like a raven’s, stained with blood. She wields a single scimitar, which she holds in her left hand.

as soon as she has fully emerged from the pool of Ichor, she lunges in Thalia’s directions, but is stopped just inches from her as the circle’s protective magic comes to life, a transparent, glowing barrier suddenly separating them. She sticks out a forked tongue, focusing her black eyes on Thalia. “Mortal-… you have freed me…” 

Thalia realizes that Mulval’s entry in the book is no longer there-… strange.

As she sits on the floor, covered in her own blood and too stunned to speak, Thalia begins to realize how big of a hole she’s fallen into. She tries to stutter out a reply, but only a choked “aaaaaghh” comes out.

 Mulval retreats a few steps, looking at the surroundings. “Yet I am trapped in this… cage of damnation-… you. Summoner.” She looks to Thalia. “Why did you conjure me?…”

 She takes a deep breath. She can do this. “I need a curse lifted.”

*uh, boink*

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Thalia meticulously draws the summoning sigil, circle and all, on the floor of her room with her own blood. It takes quite a bit of time, as the runes and sigil are rather complex, but she manages to copy it with little issue. Once she’s done, she touches the edge of the circle with a bloody hand and the tome beside her roars to life with abyssal power, flipping from page to page to page to page with little to no direction, the singes and torn pages suddenly glowing with infernal embers. It eventually decides to rest back on the entry of Mulval, and the script begins to glow like fire. That glow transmits itself to the summoning sigil, spreading like blood through veins, until the whole circle is glowing red-hot. Slowly, starting at the circle’s center, an inky, fiery blackness spreads all the way to the sigil’s boundaries, creating a sort of hellish pool of demonic Ichor. She watches as wind picks up in her room, the temperature rises, and the shadows grow darker, as a figure rises from the pool of Ichor. That of a woman with raven-black hair, skin as pale as the moonlight, wearing blacksteel armor forged in the flames of Phlegthegos. Her form drips with droplets of molten black lava, cooling as soon as they slide off of her armor. She’s tall, taller than a mortal man, and as she rises to her full height, Thalia realizes she has cloven hooves. Unfurled behind her are a pair of feathered wings, wings like a raven’s, stained with blood. She wields a single scimitar, which she holds in her left hand.

as soon as she has fully emerged from the pool of Ichor, she lunges in Thalia’s directions, but is stopped just inches from her as the circle’s protective magic comes to life, a transparent, glowing barrier suddenly separating them. She sticks out a forked tongue, focusing her black eyes on Thalia. “Mortal-… you have freed me…” 

Thalia realizes that Mulval’s entry in the book is no longer there-… strange.

As she sits on the floor, covered in her own blood and too stunned to speak, Thalia begins to realize how big of a hole she’s fallen into. She tries to stutter out a reply, but only a choked “aaaaaghh” comes out.

 Mulval retreats a few steps, looking at the surroundings. “Yet I am trapped in this… cage of damnation-… you. Summoner.” She looks to Thalia. “Why did you conjure me?…”

 She takes a deep breath. She can do this. “I need a curse lifted.”

 She tilts her head. “I see… and you summoned me to help you lift it?” She shows the slightest hint of a smile. “I could do that for you… but not for free.”

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Thalia meticulously draws the summoning sigil, circle and all, on the floor of her room with her own blood. It takes quite a bit of time, as the runes and sigil are rather complex, but she manages to copy it with little issue. Once she’s done, she touches the edge of the circle with a bloody hand and the tome beside her roars to life with abyssal power, flipping from page to page to page to page with little to no direction, the singes and torn pages suddenly glowing with infernal embers. It eventually decides to rest back on the entry of Mulval, and the script begins to glow like fire. That glow transmits itself to the summoning sigil, spreading like blood through veins, until the whole circle is glowing red-hot. Slowly, starting at the circle’s center, an inky, fiery blackness spreads all the way to the sigil’s boundaries, creating a sort of hellish pool of demonic Ichor. She watches as wind picks up in her room, the temperature rises, and the shadows grow darker, as a figure rises from the pool of Ichor. That of a woman with raven-black hair, skin as pale as the moonlight, wearing blacksteel armor forged in the flames of Phlegthegos. Her form drips with droplets of molten black lava, cooling as soon as they slide off of her armor. She’s tall, taller than a mortal man, and as she rises to her full height, Thalia realizes she has cloven hooves. Unfurled behind her are a pair of feathered wings, wings like a raven’s, stained with blood. She wields a single scimitar, which she holds in her left hand.

as soon as she has fully emerged from the pool of Ichor, she lunges in Thalia’s directions, but is stopped just inches from her as the circle’s protective magic comes to life, a transparent, glowing barrier suddenly separating them. She sticks out a forked tongue, focusing her black eyes on Thalia. “Mortal-… you have freed me…” 

Thalia realizes that Mulval’s entry in the book is no longer there-… strange.

As she sits on the floor, covered in her own blood and too stunned to speak, Thalia begins to realize how big of a hole she’s fallen into. She tries to stutter out a reply, but only a choked “aaaaaghh” comes out.

 Mulval retreats a few steps, looking at the surroundings. “Yet I am trapped in this… cage of damnation-… you. Summoner.” She looks to Thalia. “Why did you conjure me?…”

 She takes a deep breath. She can do this. “I need a curse lifted.”

 She tilts her head. “I see… and you summoned me to help you lift it?” She shows the slightest hint of a smile. “I could do that for you… but not for free.”

 “I know demons deal in trades.” She picks herself up from the ground. Her arm hurts way more than she thought it would, and that gives her an idea. “But it doesn’t have to be my soul I give you, right?”

*gotta go at 9. No exceptions, sorry*

9 west

*now I’m back.*

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

*now I’m back.*

 *Hey Fry!* 

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Thalia meticulously draws the summoning sigil, circle and all, on the floor of her room with her own blood. It takes quite a bit of time, as the runes and sigil are rather complex, but she manages to copy it with little issue. Once she’s done, she touches the edge of the circle with a bloody hand and the tome beside her roars to life with abyssal power, flipping from page to page to page to page with little to no direction, the singes and torn pages suddenly glowing with infernal embers. It eventually decides to rest back on the entry of Mulval, and the script begins to glow like fire. That glow transmits itself to the summoning sigil, spreading like blood through veins, until the whole circle is glowing red-hot. Slowly, starting at the circle’s center, an inky, fiery blackness spreads all the way to the sigil’s boundaries, creating a sort of hellish pool of demonic Ichor. She watches as wind picks up in her room, the temperature rises, and the shadows grow darker, as a figure rises from the pool of Ichor. That of a woman with raven-black hair, skin as pale as the moonlight, wearing blacksteel armor forged in the flames of Phlegthegos. Her form drips with droplets of molten black lava, cooling as soon as they slide off of her armor. She’s tall, taller than a mortal man, and as she rises to her full height, Thalia realizes she has cloven hooves. Unfurled behind her are a pair of feathered wings, wings like a raven’s, stained with blood. She wields a single scimitar, which she holds in her left hand.

as soon as she has fully emerged from the pool of Ichor, she lunges in Thalia’s directions, but is stopped just inches from her as the circle’s protective magic comes to life, a transparent, glowing barrier suddenly separating them. She sticks out a forked tongue, focusing her black eyes on Thalia. “Mortal-… you have freed me…” 

Thalia realizes that Mulval’s entry in the book is no longer there-… strange.

As she sits on the floor, covered in her own blood and too stunned to speak, Thalia begins to realize how big of a hole she’s fallen into. She tries to stutter out a reply, but only a choked “aaaaaghh” comes out.

 Mulval retreats a few steps, looking at the surroundings. “Yet I am trapped in this… cage of damnation-… you. Summoner.” She looks to Thalia. “Why did you conjure me?…”

 She takes a deep breath. She can do this. “I need a curse lifted.”

 She tilts her head. “I see… and you summoned me to help you lift it?” She shows the slightest hint of a smile. “I could do that for you… but not for free.”

 “I know demons deal in trades.” She picks herself up from the ground. Her arm hurts way more than she thought it would, and that gives her an idea. “But it doesn’t have to be my soul I give you, right?”

 “No, it does not… could be something else of yours. Magical items? The Archdevil Mammon would appreciate a gift of gold… or… the soul of another. What do you have in mind, child?” She asks. She seems to be experimenting the limits of the protective barrier with her scimitar. So far, it holds strong.

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

Thalia meticulously draws the summoning sigil, circle and all, on the floor of her room with her own blood. It takes quite a bit of time, as the runes and sigil are rather complex, but she manages to copy it with little issue. Once she’s done, she touches the edge of the circle with a bloody hand and the tome beside her roars to life with abyssal power, flipping from page to page to page to page with little to no direction, the singes and torn pages suddenly glowing with infernal embers. It eventually decides to rest back on the entry of Mulval, and the script begins to glow like fire. That glow transmits itself to the summoning sigil, spreading like blood through veins, until the whole circle is glowing red-hot. Slowly, starting at the circle’s center, an inky, fiery blackness spreads all the way to the sigil’s boundaries, creating a sort of hellish pool of demonic Ichor. She watches as wind picks up in her room, the temperature rises, and the shadows grow darker, as a figure rises from the pool of Ichor. That of a woman with raven-black hair, skin as pale as the moonlight, wearing blacksteel armor forged in the flames of Phlegthegos. Her form drips with droplets of molten black lava, cooling as soon as they slide off of her armor. She’s tall, taller than a mortal man, and as she rises to her full height, Thalia realizes she has cloven hooves. Unfurled behind her are a pair of feathered wings, wings like a raven’s, stained with blood. She wields a single scimitar, which she holds in her left hand.

as soon as she has fully emerged from the pool of Ichor, she lunges in Thalia’s directions, but is stopped just inches from her as the circle’s protective magic comes to life, a transparent, glowing barrier suddenly separating them. She sticks out a forked tongue, focusing her black eyes on Thalia. “Mortal-… you have freed me…” 

Thalia realizes that Mulval’s entry in the book is no longer there-… strange.

As she sits on the floor, covered in her own blood and too stunned to speak, Thalia begins to realize how big of a hole she’s fallen into. She tries to stutter out a reply, but only a choked “aaaaaghh” comes out.

 Mulval retreats a few steps, looking at the surroundings. “Yet I am trapped in this… cage of damnation-… you. Summoner.” She looks to Thalia. “Why did you conjure me?…”

 She takes a deep breath. She can do this. “I need a curse lifted.”

 She tilts her head. “I see… and you summoned me to help you lift it?” She shows the slightest hint of a smile. “I could do that for you… but not for free.”

 “I know demons deal in trades.” She picks herself up from the ground. Her arm hurts way more than she thought it would, and that gives her an idea. “But it doesn’t have to be my soul I give you, right?”

 “No, it does not… could be something else of yours. Magical items? The Archdevil Mammon would appreciate a gift of gold… or… the soul of another. What do you have in mind, child?” She asks. She seems to be experimenting the limits of the protective barrier with her scimitar. So far, it holds strong.

 “I don’t have anything like that.” She picks up a smaller book. It looks like a book about making deals, but it seems like more of the business kind than the supernatural kind. She mumbles under her breath “step one: set realistic goals. Both parties should know what they want out of a working relationship.” She closes the book and straightens her spine, speaking up in a decent imitation of confident. “What would you be interested in receiving?”

*cut with Fry*

she thinks for a few seconds. “A weapon. Of the magical variety. The more powerful, the better…” she examines her own scimitar. “I want a weapon of magical power to replace my old blade, so that I can better serve the will of the law and of my master.”

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

*cut with Fry*

she thinks for a few seconds. “A weapon. Of the magical variety. The more powerful, the better…” she examines her own scimitar. “I want a weapon of magical power to replace my old blade, so that I can better serve the will of the law and of my master.”

 she hisses through her teeth. “Uhhhhhh I don’t have one of those.” She kicks the pair of bloody scissors away from the circle. “I don’t own a lot of things, really. Pretty much all I own is here.” She gestures widely at her room. True to what she says, there isn’t much of value. She pats down her pockets with her one good hand and comes up empty, flashing a nervous grin. “Yeah, I don’t have much”

Quote from Fry_Doodles >>

Quote from Little_Red_Hunting_Hood >>

*cut with Fry*

she thinks for a few seconds. “A weapon. Of the magical variety. The more powerful, the better…” she examines her own scimitar. “I want a weapon of magical power to replace my old blade, so that I can better serve the will of the law and of my master.”

 she hisses through her teeth. “Uhhhhhh I don’t have one of those.” She kicks the pair of bloody scissors away from the circle. “I don’t own a lot of things, really. Pretty much all I own is here.” She gestures widely at her room. True to what she says, there isn’t much of value. She pats down her pockets with her one good hand and comes up empty, flashing a nervous grin. “Yeah, I don’t have much”

 She frowns. “I suppose I could accept an object of less value… depending On the severity of your curse.”