Evemek: Occultism Evolved I

A plaintive breeze combed the leafy fields of Wychwood, twisting between its lush trees. It was a place of bewitching, deceptive serenity, for though these quaint woods could lull the mind to a deadly peace, it was very much a place of wild dangers. Outlaws, Yokai and savages prowled this place for blood and coin. That was precisely why Sideris favored coming here: there was usually a good fight to be had.

Ascending the stony, moss-smeared cliff stairs came the snow-haired bladesman. A frayed old patchwork coat dyed completely indigo clung to his toned, broad physique, a thing leaned with discipline and thick with physical power. In the man's right hand, a sheathed blade was grasped tight- a curved sword, bound in a cracked and beat-up old burgundy scabbard wrapped in decaying old gauze bandages- and within his eyes, there was a sharp glint of cold intensity loosed forward over the entire crowd.

Mostly, they were children. Sideris had enough of them; only one had bested him, most fell to him in spars and still they never seemed to learn that they just weren't ready for lives of fighting or dangerous places such as these... ahead, however, was a familiar face, one Sideris acknowledged with a slight crook of his statuesque, ivory-white lips. "Ah, if it ain't greenhorn." He issued, toward Evemek. His steps could calmly stride forward, softly crunching grass in his path, before he came to a halt just short of some bushes.
(Sideris)
The murderous intent was in the air, he could smell the scent of the deteriorating sanguineous messings smeared across the foliage in the distance. It was all too familiar to him... He caught up with his scout: Amethyst to glance into a clearing. A group of travelers, warriors-- murderers idled amongst themselves, chatting and acknowledging their arrival upon exiting the brush.

He kept to a rather stoic expression, killing off the vibrant grin he beared just moments prior, there were two too many familiar faces for his liking. First, they'd fall upon Mike, taking to that very same mask he did before. The memory burned strong, from the Harukeans' attack, to his last kick. The Rune of Vengeance's burn had never been fiercer, albeit it'd be distracted by another whom had taken to a more direct approach.

A set of chocolate optics found the young adult from Danarium, this time with his blade far more notable. So, he -was- a warrior afterall? Then, that'd mean he was out here to... Train? It wasn't much of a secret granting the hordes of bodies dogpiled in the wake of wandering magi.
"You..." He hated the nickname, responding with a seething malice that'd transcend his speech into a nigh growl.

Though, he couldn't lose composure so easily-- The transmundanic influence that toiled at his mind couldn't be reward the entierity of his control with naught but a simple introduction! Yet, even in knowing this, his body took the first step, runic tattoos actively burning their enigmatic crimson.
(Evemek)
The flare of vermillion glyphs written in curious runes over the white-garbed youth's form immediately took Sideris' attention. Recently introduced to ferocious magics and suffering the burden of taming them, he took a natural curiosity in them, made somewhat arrogant by his newfound powers. "That some kind of magic?" He asked, jabbing a single rough-calloused index finger Evemek's way, its tip swaying in the vague direction as the luminous red script engulfing their body.

His eyes shifted then to the Ookami behind the young man. There it was again; the snow-haired bladesman's presence of utter composure and steely menace faltered, instead becoming the brittle and sordid leer of a lecher; his eyes were soon clouded with a plain lust, following the motion of her purple-furred tail. "Ohh- she a friend of yours?" He issued. There was little that needed to be said for his sudden grin, and the ill-motives it expressed.

He stepped forward. One hand would shift his sheathed weapon to lay atop his shoulder, its hilt and damaged pommel pointing skyward, as he casually carried the thing with a lax but deceptively deft familiarity; a certain grace lingered in the swordsman's motions, something practiced and exact. "I've a civil duty of sorts, you see- I beat down amateurs like you and show kids how weak and unprepared they are for the world. I'm challenging you to a spar. Win, and I won't call you rookie, greenhorn or whatever else ill-befitting a winner... lose and I get the pleasure of that girl's name." He issued, grin shifting to a smirk as his chin briefly raised and pointed Amethyst's way, before soon lowering.
(Sideris)
The stage was set.
The audience taking their place along the sidelines and outskirts of the challenger's makeshift arena. One could care less about the rhetoric along the sidelines. Rabbits? Evil? He could think of care worse...

Another step was commanded of him by the voices over yonder.
"He's challenging you, booooy>.." cooed a voice from beyond one's perception, followed by another chortling in the distance, echoing throughout the forestry. For once, the voices that constantly chatted away in his mind were aloose.

The transmundanic unravelment had taken its warping influence out on Wychwood, a hullucinogenic-worthy transition, from the commoner: Typical plebean or full-blown magus. A sigh eased from betwixt parted lips, carrying a lavender miasma in his breath; the chill radiated from his soul, tempered by the tenacity to ascend in Kraus' name.

He was, to prove himself an avid and devout follower in his light... Even, if it denied him. The thought of failure, the fact that this man even dared to imply inferiority on any remote level, sent his mind in a constant descend into the bottomless chasm. He brought rise to his right arm, gesturing a command for Amethyst.
"Don't get in the way... I've been craving for a release since I met this one."

The urge was agonizing now, akin to thousands of felines crawling at his flesh from the inside. He had to succumb, and so, he'd oblige.
What came next, was only a banshee's shrill song from between his gaped maws, sounding off for miles across the Wychwod forest. Expectantly unprecidented to those whom haven't seen this individual in remotely hostile situations-- A cry, that lasted a nigh full dozen of seconds, before he'd fall silent to rest, arms gone limp to his person.

....But he was not done....
The murmurs...
The booming...
"...Do you.... Hear them? " He spoke between his heavy breathing, reclaiming from his fatigue.
"... Do you hear them calling?" It was an inquiry mean't for Sideris. The sun's light seemed to flicker away from the scene, at least, for a moment or two-- Explanation would not be rewarded should one never had the urge to look -up-.

There, the daemonic conjurations of the shadows took to the skies in their avian variety. Small and insignificant in their individualized stature, but vast in quantity to imitate the effect of one's Dark Call. The gallop of warped equestrian monstrosities infested the treeline, further complemented by chimera-esque abnormalities that lumbered to his side.
Alas, one's unrelenting malice had festered into lavender pyre true to their nature.

This, Krausian... As bright as one's facade would bring one to presume of his nature, was taken by the alluring coo of the maddening shadows. Thus, he stood here, lacking control of one's self, allowing it to take the role of puppeteering his vessel to its volition.
(Evemek)
Sideris stood tall and grinned at the Occultist's ploy; taunts were uttered, a challenge accepted and an atrocious power unleashed as the sorcerer gave in to his more vicious yearnings. Prior, this magic had been a mystery to Sideris- but it was now a thing he understood. He no longer feared dark powers; this fight would be an excellent one, as he would surely learn much of the destructive magic from this practitioner of it... presuming he were worth his boasts.

Sideris held his scabbard-bound blade aloft and released it, fingers stretching wide, only to tighten abruptly about the hilt of the blade as it fell. Swiftly directing his sword to the side with a blurred motion of his arm, a gust of wind swept over the limb and his weapon too, blowing his scabbard from his chipped blade. As the glint of Sideris' steel was revealed so too were the glaring eyes of Evemek's foul underlings... Sideris' teeth clenched.

This was a power he had never seen before; Yokai summoning. He realized he'd never fought outnumbered either, and paused with a sudden caution to gaze among the vaguely equine creatures, though on closer inspection they were truly more chimeric abominations. "Too afraid to fight me by yourself, eh..." Issued Sideris, far from faltering in the face of sudden challenge.

If the presence of powerful malevolence, ill-sorcery and slavering Yokai enthralled by the adolescent's hateful magic alone did not suffice alone to tell Sideris he'd bitten off more than he could chew, the unknown power of the white-garbed Occultist's runes gave him more to worry for. But he couldn't give up; he wouldn't even demand the summoner dispatch their minions. He'd have to take Evemek on at his strongest- and not lose!

Sideris' pride as a swordsman was on the line; he'd worked hard to cultivate it... Evemek's amethyst-haired dame, too, was a worthy aspiration of the bladesman's lethal talents.

The dull *chink* of rattling metal could be heard as Sideris rotated his blade, lowering his knees to bend and better guard his center of gravity. He could recognize that look about the Occultist- that look of bitter, unpleasant, but empowering intoxication- and understood well, then, that this boy would be fighting with little restraint. Still, he kept the blunt side of his weapon facing him, pride holding strong even as beads of cold sweat slid down Sideris' brow.

He would be the first to engage; wind twisted and lapped at the swordsman's heels as he rushed forward, gusts twisting too about the white-cloaked mage as Sideris fought to close the gap between themselves. "No matter- I'll best you before these creatures can scratch me!" He boasted, with a swift, efficient swoop of his sword's flat in a luminous steel arc soaring for the Occultist's cheek with menacing, efficient momentum.
(Sideris)
"You won't be able to hit, what you can't see..."

He taunted, seemingly holding his glare with the charging swordsman. From the looks of it, he didn't budge-- From what he's presented in the past and the current, he was nowhere near Sideris' magnitude in raw speed... Or, was he? The way his eyes followed the swordsman's own, subtly unraveling an optical casting in themselves

As the distance between the two combatants swiftly shut, the underlings to one's volition closed in from all angles. The Mark of Vengeance's singe compelled him to push himself, to prove himself-- Just as he did to claim victory over the Guardian's Seven.
(Evemek)
The spell one casted upon the swordsman only notably played out its intended effect upon contact with one's cheek: Oblivion had seemingly sprayed out from the severed flesh, materialized in the form of onyx waters violently splattering from his form.

It was surrealistic, soon spanning into oceans despite the illogical inclination to such, inciting waves that'd ultimately engulf the swordsman. He'd be lost in this... Vacant realm-- The very image of his adversary: Evemek, was torn asunder by one's blade.

The spell was in effect-- An optical illusion of grandiose proportions... If only enacted on the world itself, rather than just one's mentality and outlook. It was a veil that spanned no further than his own line of vision. The laughter of a seemingly infinite quantity of ethereal personas boomed from every corner, soon taking to materialization of ghastly variants of Evemek in themselves. There were dozens, but in the end-- It was truly an illusion... Or was it?

One could draw a blade upon one of the figures that loomed too close, albeit it'd only lead onward to the conjuration of yet another of the now-seemingly infinite armada of Evemek replicants. Simultaneously, they charged-- All in futile attempts to drag Sideris down. Though, as interestingly easy as they were to dispatch, it was a battle of scales tipped eternally in the spell's favor.

"The darkness can be hard to see through." An omnipresent voice said unto Sideris, finally possessing his right arm into stagnation. "I'd know..."
Soon after, the next arm was forced into gridlock, and slowly they were pried away from each other to leave him in such stature that imitated crucifixion midst the opaque void one battled in.

"I had trouble at first too..."
It was something akin to a blink, before vision of the realm had enacted before Sideris once again. He was being restrained by these daemonic beasts, two ogre looking personas-- With a third boxing Sideris in, as though to glare into his eyes through its blank vermillion own in its final moments. Just over its shoulder, the sacrificial monstrosity bent to the call of the Occult's conviction, was found.

A single arm was erect, poised in the direction of the avid bladesman, facial expressions reverted to stoicism.
" ... Greenhorn... Was it?" He spoke in reference to one's former nickname, before abrupt ignition from the centre of his palm amassed a wall of lavender essence; a metaphysical pillar of light consumed at earth and all in its wake, without prejudice, leaving the ogre that glared in one's face to be the last thing one would see, before omitting vision for a flash of light.

Where one stood, an expansive spheroid spawned of the violent combustion of his mana tickled away at the very existence of the mage's restraints, carrying him off the plateau that the conflict had commenced upon for a decent fall for the earth below. It was nothing anyone remotely tolerant to magus calibur prowess couldn't handle-- Though, it'd likely be the nail to the coffin, considering tenacity to battle further... Or so, Evemek thought.

"... Mother would like that one... He's strong... "
(Evemek)
A silent chime rang out in his mind; there was a disturbance, some vital firmament of reality upheaved high and shattered in the astral oblivion of the underlying fragility hidden to the mind, which was soon exploited to unravel the very fiber of Sideris combat abilities. His cognition was rendered worthless; tides of black gushed upward, through fissures which had never been yet came to no question in his bewitched mind, the faculties of which turned on him still.

He was rushing forward still; he bludgeoned Evemek, however, swatting asunder their countenance with a perilous attack- but steel was true, and steel was absolute: Evemek even disintegrated in the aftermath of his attack, crumbling into particles drifting away on an unnatural and deathly wind. But there were more. More of the white-garbed Occultist, and Sideris was powerless to question their presence.

He was so absolutely bound in Illusion that not only had Evemek deceived his senses, but deeper still, his common sense; even as he stood swinging in a void of black sky, greying trees and infinite foes, he did so naturally, as if it had all always been this way. Nature itself was becoming a lie...

Fortunately, a hint was spelled into Sideris mind; Evemek's suggestion was wasted. Ceasing his attacks, a sweat-soaked Sideris paused, having hewn countless doppelgangers even at cost to himself- he was tired, his arms burned and he knew he was depleted of his stamina. But all the same- he was willing himself to push into a battle even he subliminally recognized to be endless, and futile. The illusion would only break at Evemek's will...

The pain of deception comes not when it is done, but when it's revealed.

First, Sideris' right arm seized; then, the second. His spine stiffened and his every muscle drew into a cold and unnatural tension- was this the true face of Occultism? The bare surface, of the horrid dark sorcery which he had just begun to combat and understand... he lowered his head, nearly maddened and in disbelief. "How... could I be... so defeated...?" He murmured weakly, as even his lungs seized with a strange seize.

But the lies broke apart, like the shards of a sundered mirror.

A horrid and beastly stench filled Sideris' nostrils. The sky was blue again- but his mind was in *pain*, like a stretched rubber band snapping taught with anguished shock, and in truth the human mind could be just as fragile; the snow-haired bladesman had been struck soundly in a weakness he never knew he had, his unseen achilles heel sliced cleanly in twain. He could only stare with cloudy, disbelieving eyes as he now struggled to discern reality from illusion... held taught, by the summoner's Yokai minions.

A pain so real Sideris could not possibly struggle on the precipice of sensory-shocked madness any longer struck him then in a flash of lilac light. Or rather, an awful and deilluminating power, stealing the colors of life and the brightness of day in a hopeless surge of black magic; Sideris' cry of suffering pain, as his skin began to suffer Occultic burns and his bones shuddered with the awful roar of fell-hexes coursing over him, was the last heard of him before he was blown clean off the cliff and tumbling messily into the woods below the grassy plateau, snapping branches along the way in his shameful descent to earth.

But like his own sword, the shadow-spew had been blunted; torturous magic stung in his flesh, as he clung to life sprawled about the forest floor, pawing at Occultism-withered grasses with hands wet with his own blood. "Cannot... be..." He cursed silently, teeth gritted and breath hoarse, as he wandered at a slow crawl swordless and beaten.


(Sideris)