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"Ivellios... you're a fool, and has anyone ever told you, monologuing is what gets most megalomaniacs killed." Will smiled, sounding like something Tyrin would say. "Ivellios, I'll also have you know I'd kill Tyrin if it met stopping you, though I doubt it would." Will studied the energy, he knew his jar was full, and he could make another, but he could tell this power was not normal. Luckily Will had a plan. He allowed only one of this emotions to break his normal solid barrier, it wasn't fake, but perhaps... fear took hold of Will, his eyes darting, hands shaking, his voice quivered. "Please, don't hurt me." His normally joyous blue eyes, were now gray, devoid of that optimism. "I'll do I anything, I beg you.... STAY AWAY!" tears streamed. Will fell to his knees hands fell solemnly flat to the floor.

((Just to annoy brad, this is going to be a very hard post, as Will as done nothing to my memory worth being judged upon.))

Will stared blankly at his friend Tyrin, fear and tears swelled in his eyes, Last Judgement was not a pretty spell. Sadly there was a present for Tyrin too. After Will's hand had touched the ground for the seconds it took for Ivellios to monologue, and the ground became stickey of sorts... except a special kind of stickey. The emotions that Will had been allowed the breakthrough the surface that was Will, were real, but easily supressable. They would simply either make Ivellios pity, or question Will's actions. Making him falling to his knees placing his hands on the ground for support seem natural. This spell made it so not only could you not move from the ground but spells were rendered useless if somatic components were involved, including scrolls. Though Will also knew his ability to defeat the Judgement was high, he'd been filled with guilt from that one spell he plagerized from Tyrin. Memories litterally flashed before his eyes, blinding him, overwhelming most of his higher brain functions. The man and woman he had killed in a last resort, his teacher's death caused by a loss of his emotions, the times he had spoken ill of comrades and meant it, small things that his conscience and guilt had long since forgotten, resurfaced with a vengeance. Will threw up, his mind cloudy, he couldn't think straight. All those horrible things he had done, he'd never apologized, his 3 murders. He couldn't quite cope with them and vomited once again. Will glanced at Tyrin, his eyes were strong, but racked with guilt.

Ashen was completely unaffected by the blasts of breath weapons at him. They were from red dragons, and he was immuned to that element. Though he wasn't sure why Ivellios would order such an attack on him at first, he soon found out. It was nothing but a distraction from his greater attack, one that made one of the great red dragons collapse dead just by touching it.

Not liking how it looked, Ashen thought of what he could do. It was quite small, but as big as he was, it would still be hard to dodge it. Then an idea came to him, and he immediately put it into action. He caste another spell and right away his form began to fade away, like it was evaporating. Soon, his entire self was nothing more the a great gaseous form. He condensed himself to take up less space, and prepared to take evasive action.

Since he was busy with all this, he was completely unaware of what had become of Raithe....

Ivellios, to Ashen and Raithe

One could say it had all been a dream. Or, another might argue it was the mind's imagination playing all-too-real tricks. It was neither dream, nor fantasy, and certainly not desirable...right until the end, everything was real.

The flames vanished, all ten dragons with them. The singularity, Raithe's cross of thorns and blades, everything - gone. The room itself stayed the same, although the fire-light dimmed momentarily, and an ominous hole split apart a twenty-foot diameter circle in the ceiling.

Ashen and Raithe's wounds healed, unprovoked, and everything was as it had been.

Ivellios was no longer there.

Will staggered to his feet. His eyes very blank, he didn't look to be in the best shape. "Never been better Shadow thanks for asking. Tyrin had one of his fits where he gets possesed by entities with the entent to kill not only him, but his comrades. Nothing to be worried about." Will looked down at Tyrin, not one of his highest moments either. "Tyrin get up, breakfast is ready." Normally that' all it would take to get Tyrin out of a coma. Man was the guy a pig.

Soveliss smirked at Eragia's comment. "Why wait?" He had no qualms with a fight to the death. Certainly not with this man, long ago broken away from the short list of people whom Soveliss would rather not kill, even if he had to. Although Eragia's offering of the scroll was not so tempting as the thrill of battle, the warmth of blood...

He beckoned to the old man with his only useful hand, the other one hanging from a pouch on his back. "Make your move." If given the choice, Soveliss preferred not going first. It was always more exciting to be surprised by something one's opponent might do. Of course, then there were some combatants who fought predictably, and whom weren't very amusing to fight or kill..but he knew Eragia better than that. The man would definitely have something up his sleeve.

His single preparation was digging out the staff-piece of his scythe from his robes, crackling to life with dark energy as it breathed new air.

Soveliss didn't immediately take up the offensive. Instead, he focused inwards. Necromantic energies welled up within him, and he released them, filling every unliving cell that made up his body, empowering them. His skin bubbled and hardened, his muscle mass increasing.

He felt the power coursing through him and reveled in it, thrived on it...Soveliss knew the added protection wasn't likely necessary, but it was better to be prepared than nothing more than a severed head.

"Is that all you've come up with after four years? You never were the one with a steep learning curve." Soveliss mocked him, grinning devilishly.