Lazarus

Lazarus knelt under Alex, having caught the boy as he'd fallen. He'd known Aggamemmnon would have tried something, but litterally taking a bite out of him was something he was unprepared for. Although the wound wasn't shallow it was long, it bled a lot, and more importantly, it would be incredibly prone to infection, being inflicted by a creature of the Pit. It also sapped strength at an alarming rate. "Ayame, please be quiet." Lazarus instructed. He had no more energy left for his usual gruff attitude. He checked Alex's carotid. "He's alive. His pulse is quick, but stable. He's just drained. Kyosuke, will you carry him? We've got to get to the nurse's office, before this wound ends me, and I'm certain Alex could benefit from a liberal application of smelling salts before we go see the Headmaster." Kyosuke hefted Alex up, and Ayame noticed the profuse ammount of blood seeping onto the floor and down one of the convenient drains. "You're hurt!" Lazarus looked at her slowly, as though he were chasting her for such a simple statement. In truth, it took him a moment to piece her exclamation together. "Yes, yes I am." He stood anyway, swaying to his feet. One hand hung limply at his side, the arm possibly broken, the other pressed tightly against his wound. He grit his teeth and strode for the door. The long winding stairway up to the surface level mocked him as he stood at it's base. His mind raced, and he felt as though he couldn't possibly make it up the steps. But he put one foot in front of the other, and began to climb. The others followed behind, careful not to slip in the trail of blood Lazarus left in his wake. Several times, he stumbled, catching himself against the outer wall. He was no longer aware of the others behind him. His entire world became the act of placing one foot in front of the other. The simplest, barest locomotion was all his awareness was limited to. It took several moments for him to realize that he'd reached the top of the stairs, and was heading down the hallway. The nurse's offce was nearby here. Lazarus collapsed against the wall and slumped down it. He could hear the others talking, but couldn't make out any words, any tone. All he wanted to do was sleep...

Lazraus was unable to move from his position completing the circle. The summoned Aggamemmnon waited, growling and pacing back and forth within the small area. Lazarus waved his free hand, the one that had been holding Alex up, and one of the zombies shuffled over. Lazarus spoke the words to allow it to cross into the circle, then directed it inward. Aggamemmnon casually gathered the shuffling corpse up and stuffed it into a mouth that appeared many sizes smaller than it was. Lazraus turned to Aggamemmnon. "The souls imprisoned over there are yours, for a simple task. You will be bound to the will of a man named Mox shortly. I hereby bind you to my commands, and instruct you to follow his orders as long as they cause myself, or my companions, nor any of the other residents here harm in any way or form. Do you agree?" The demon prince nodded abruptly, eyeing the small army of zombies against the wall with an obvious hunger. "I know of your curse, Aggamemmnon. The bodies there, and the souls they contain are yours to devour as you see fit, should you agree to my terms. Swear it upon the Courts of Chaos." Aggamemmnon growled, perhaps it was simply a clearing of the throat, but the sound reverberated within the bodies of the three students. "So agreed, provided you name the terms for my release." "Mox must die. He will die at my sufferance, at a time and place of my choosing, by your hand. Once this is accomplished, you are to immediatley take his soul and leave this plane." Again, the unearthly baritone. "Agreed. I bind myself to your will, young mage." Lazarus smirked. "Then you are released. Expect to have no contact with me until it is time for your final task." A gruff nod, and Aggamemmnon vanished in a burst of unnaturally crimson flame, the bodies against the wall becoming immolated as they were taken along with the demon prince. Lazarus immediatley slumped down, stumbling backwards, out of the circle. He ended up sitting on the ground, eyes closed as he marshalled the last of his strength. "That....was taxing." He announced after a time. He opened his eyes and looked up at the other two. "But I [i]think[/i] we have our ace in the hole."

OOC: Feel free to jump around in terms of time. This is my final "night course" with Mox anyway, so I'll be a lot more "active" during the day with the rest of you. :D --- Lazarus sucked in a heavy breath like he'd been punched in the gut. [i]"Summon Aggamemmnon..."[/i] Well, really, why not? Lazarus was certain he knew all the steps, all the proper words of power and binding. All the proper points at which to offer a sacrifice of the small horde of zombies stacked against the wall. "I'll need a blade." Lazarus pointed out. Mox laughed, a cold dark sound. "My boy, you always carry one with you, do you not?" Lazarus's blood ran alternatingly cold and hot. The bastard. The only keepsake, the only memento of his lineage, of his family, and he would be forced to soil it in this profane ritual. Lazarus's hand tightened about the handle of the onyx sword at his hip, and he drew it smoothly. While it's edges were dull, the point was quite sharp. Lazarus took in a deep breath. He knew what the summoning would mean. Having summoned Aggamemmnon would be his true trial. The one he would face later would be a show, a performance. It was the way with the Black Mages. A snap of the fingers, and the eight candles were lit. Eight matches vanished from the pack. It was the way of the pentacle. Should the summoner move, the pentancle would be broken, the summoned creature free. It was will and continuity that held a summoned creature such as this in place until a suitable agreement could be hewn out. Those agreements were binding. Lazarus began his incantation, words of dark power rolling past his lips. The zombies against the wall shifted and tried escape. They always reacted in such ways. Lazarus's curse burned hotly in his throat, and he used it to pronounce the summoning without the normal taxing drain of spirit and energy it would have taken. The smell of rotted flesh vanished, replaced by the reek of brimstone and sulphur. Within the pentacle, a pool of darkness grew. The Darkness took on an ovid shape, and a large red claw reached from it, grapsing at it's edge. The shadow trembled like a sucking wound, it's edges ragged then folded in upon itself. And Aggamemmnon stood in it's place. Lazarus turned to Mox. "Leave us. You know it is not your place to be present during the contracting." A summoner of dark powers never enjoyed the rapport that someone who summoned the mystical beasts did. A summoner of evil had to strike a contract with the entity he or she had summoned, and no other summoners were allowed to be present during such negotiations. Such times could be taxing on the summoner indeed. Many demons had simply stonewalled their summoners until they collapsed from exhaustion, and then devoured them. But Lazarus had his curse to sustain him. It's power to draw on. "You know what must be done." Mox said, then left the chamber, heading upstairs. Lazarus smiled. "Indeed I do." Lazarus turned his head to his right, looking as far over his shoulder as he could. "Please come in, Alex, Ayame."

Midnight found Lazarus seated in his normal spot in the courtyard. The tome he'd been paging through earlier was sitting in his lap. He'd gone through it, and had a good understanding of just what was going to be taking place tonight. "I see you've been doing the requisite reading." Lazarus scowled. "Not by choice. I know what you're planning, personally, and I don't think it's fair. You and I both know the extent of Aggamemmnon's powers. Without flawless control, he'll drag his opponent back into the pit with him. Somehow, I don't think the headmaster would like that." Mox gave a simple 'Hrm' of dismissal. "Come. We will finish our preparations tonight." Lazarus sighed and stood. "I know you're not the only person preparing a trial Professor. What's everyone else got planned?" "You think I'm going to tell you?" Mox asked, scoffing. Lazarus shrugged as they approached the interior door leading down into the basement. "It was worth a try." "Honestly boy, I was beginning to think you might just have some sense in your head. Then you go and ask a stupid question like that." Mox taunted. "There are no stupid questions..." Lazarus responded, leaving the insult unspoken. Mox chuckled as he waved his hand to open the door into the basement. Again the sickly sweet smell of rotting flesh rolled from beyond the gaping portal. Lazarus steeled himself and stepped into the room ahead of the Professor. Without waiting, he stepped up to one of the many bodies that had been placed on the stone slabs here, and began working. The summoning impliments and bindings were grizzly things. An eight sided pentacle made of bone, bound with brain matter. Candles made from human skin, and a host of other necromantic objects. Preparations were well underway for the summoning. Lazarus stood and wiped sweat from his brow after positioning the last candle, and inscribing the petagram it sat in with the requisite runes. "We've finished." He noted. Mox smirked. "Nonsense boy. This will be your preliminary trial." He tossed Lazarus a pack of matches. "Summon Aggamemmnon."

Lazarus paused outside the library, his book stowed safely. He leaned his head against the stone wall. [i]"Why do I have to be that way? I hate to see Alex so subdued and quiet. He's like I was when I was younger. No one else deserves to be cast aside like that. I suppose I try to get him to be more active the only way I know how."[/i] Lazarus laughed to himself, the sound echoing down the empty hall. "I must be going crazy. Mox is going to drive me to insanity one of these days." Lazarus trudged back to his quarters, determined to get some sleep. Tonight was another lesson with the taskmaster of a professor. Lazarus would be paying close attention. Mox liked to gloat, and if he could accquire any more insight, perhaps it would come in handy for the others, or himself. And maybe they would accept him. Lazarus charged the door to his room with his curse, then fell onto his bed, allowing his tired mind to rest.

Lazarus smiled darkly. "Hello, Kyosuke." Lazarus carried another book, this one bound in bone and marked with a pentagram. The Black Mage moved towards the table, watching everyone tense as he approached. He sighed and fingered the cross around his neck, negating the effects of his curse by charging the cross. It didn't seem to help the tension. Lazarus shrugged internally, and pulled out a chair with his foot before palming a card from a pocket and carving a pentagram into the wooden table before setting his book down on it. "As much as some of you might dislike me, you want to pass as badly as I do. To that end, my access to the restricted section is available to all of you. Professor Mox has hinted that the trials will be customized to each of us to expose and attack our weaknesses." "Wait. When did you have a class with Mox?" Alex asked, narrowing his eyes. Mox was the special professor kept on retainer. He normally didn't teach classes, but instead carried out demonstrations and conjurations as needed. "I study with professor Mox nightly. It's part of my curriculum." Lazarus explained. "Perhaps that explains my bad attitude. While you all sleep, I'm awake, playing with bodies and shadows because Mox is a twisted bastard." Lazarus paged his book open, and thumbed through to the center. The pages were made of pressed sheets of human skin, the ink an enchanted blood that retained it's crimson luster. "Certain fel creatures can only be summoned during certain days and nights, certain lunar phases, et cetera. But those are usually minor things, imps and creatures of the void. The greater cratures require sacrifices. Mass ones. Mox has had me binding lost souls to corpses in the basement for the whole past month. I'm assuming he plans to summon Aggamemmnon." Lazarus explained, turning the page. "Aggamemmnon is a minor prince of the pit, but still, anything from the pits is never to be underestimated. The high ammount of bodies leads me to believe he's going to mitigate the personal cost of the summoning by sacrificing extra souls to him." A drawing of Aggamemmnon dominated the right-hand page. "Like most creatures from the pit, Aggamemmnon has innate resistance to fire, magical and otherwise. Despite his evil nature, he isn't undead, so curative magic is of no use against him. His strength is formidable, but he will of course be bound and crippled to keep from killing whomever he may be pitted against. His weakness is his hunger. Cursed by Asmodeus, he constantly craves the sustenance of souls. If you can find a way to banish or otherwise break Mox's hold on the souls he's going to have captive, Aggamemmnon will be unable to sustain himself here, and will return to the pit." Lazarus finished explaining. Kyosuke narrowed his eyes. "Why're you helping us?" Lazarus thought for a moment. "It's up to you to decide. Do I want to be friends, or could it be that I simply hate Mox more than I hate all of you?" He said, turning his attention back to the book in front of him. "Does anyone else have any further insights on what any of us may be facing?" Lazarus asked without looking up. He appeared to be searching for something in the tome in front of him.

OOC: Yeah, it's a little off, but it's no big deal. We can work with it. Lazarus would be more the type to see the situation as something not worth his time. He's not prone to picking fights, but won't back down from one that's brought to him. His standoffish attitude might wind him up in more encounters than he'd otherwise like, but he accepts that as part of who he is. He's also not the type to hold back in an altercation. If it comes down to a fight, he'll do his damndest to make sure he's the only one who'll walk away. --- Really, it shouldn't be surprising that no one knew he'd been up all night. The professors who tutored the black magic students always kept strange hours. Just another eccentricity he'd had to deal with. [i]"Why does it seem like all my studies are designed to keep me segregated and seperate from the other students?"[/i] Thankfully, Lazarus was the only one in his year who studied the Dark arts, so he was taught on a one-on-one scale. This meant a greatly accelerated pace of learning, but a zero-tolerance policy for mistakes. That stumble could have possibly fragged a mission. Lazarus squared off against his opponent again, all these thoughts and more racing through his head. Although his professors insisted on mental clarity, Lazarus found he fought better when he trusted his instincts. A flick of the wrist, and Lazarus had palmed a dozen cards. His gloves kept the edges from biting down into his flesh. These cards were dulled regardless, enough to bruse, but never to break the skin. To cover the palm, Lazarus burned his curse, causing the cross around his neck to gleam with dark energy. His opponent, a boy who's name he'd forgotten hefted his weapon: a wicked looking spear. Lazarus recalled his curse quickly, then passed it into his cards. His gloves never impeded charging something with his curse. Three cards whistled through the air with a snap of the wirst. All three missed, but served a seconary purpose, as they bit into the masonry behind the other student. Nine other cards followed, all of them whistling within a hair of the student, who stood his ground. "Heh. Is that the best you can do, McCloud?" The other taunted. "You'd best go home!" He readied to rush at the dark mage, and Lazarus raised a hand, a cold look in his eyes. The student's eyes went wide. Lazarus snapped his fingers, and the student was immobilized, his arms and legs jerked into strange positions, his head yanked back. Lazarus walked over to the frozen student. "I could have killed you, but I think it would be better served to make a point." Lazarus spun the student around. The student's shadow was pinned against the wall, limbs locked in strange poses as each echanted card held it pinned to the wall at one joint or another. One bit into the shadow's neck, keeping the student from speaking. "Your shadow is just as much a part of you as anything else." Lazarus said. "You'd do well to protect it." He removed his cards, and allowed the student to slump to the floor. The twelve cards rejoined the pack they'd come from, one of many secreted about Lazarus, and he shuffled it out of habit as he walked the perimiter of the room outside the dueling area, heading for the teacher. "I'm reporting a victory, professor." The black mage said, stowing his cards. He really needed some sleep. Professor Mox had kept him up all through the night working with those corpses down in the basement. It wasn't as if it was particularly revolting, but the smell was difficult to remove. He'd ended up scouring the smell from his person with magic, then collapsing for sleep on a vacant stone slab. Lazarus imagined he looked much like the corpses he'd spent all night dismembering and putting back together. The professor nodded silently, watching the other students. "Good. You may go." Lazarus nodded, then swept his cloak up off the ground, tucking the book he'd had last night under it again. He needed to return it before much longer to the library. Such tomes were kept under strict watch, and returning one late would mean facing harsh punishment. Lazarus worked his way around to the door and vanished into the hallway, making his way to the library. The large room was one of his favorite places to spend time. The restricted section was open to him, thanks to his major. Not many mages visited the section on Dark Arts, a place where only professors could grant access. Many of the books in that section held power. Powers that would seduce, control, dominate, and destroy. As such, the mental discipline to resist such things was the first thing taught to the Black Mages. This allowed them to peruse the tomes and grimoires at their leisure, expanding their repertoire of spells, or learning about forbidden magic in ages long past. Lazarus reached the library, and nodded to the Librarian. She nodded back, noting that he would be studying in the restricted section. Lazarus moved down the long rows of books, their soft whispers, muffled cries and screams going ignored. He returned the book under his cloak to it's position on the shelf, then began browsing for another suitable tome.

Lazarus sat at a seculded corner of large open space designated for student recreation. The stars hung high in the sky, and a full moon lit the grass with an opaline luster. It also had the effect of illuminating the book the Black Mage was holding. The tome in particular was a study of applied magic use, focusing on natural attunement to the Magi crystals and force of personal will to manifest the desired effect. Lazarus's curse darkened the air around him, blurring his image against the tree he leaned on. A thick black cloak with a high collar wrapped securely about him, warding off the chill as he turned the pages with his gloved hands. Glancing up, Lazarus noted the position of the moon, and checked it against the timepiece on his wrist. The device was powered by the magic energy fowing through his body, as was actually how his powers were discovered. He recalled the day clearly. They'd knocked on the door. Lazarus had been in his room, packing. He was to be sent to a far-away boarding school. The magisters had fast-talked his father, who most likely would have gone along with their true intentions regardless. The man wanted nothing to do with the child that had killed his beloved wife. Walking into his room, one of the Magisters had narrowed his eyes, and the boy was frozen in place. They'd slapped the device on his wirst, and watched as it glowed across the spectrum, and spun wildly, then settled into an onyx color, and matched time perfectly. With that, the acceptance to the school of Argo Arx Arcanum was complete. The child had been carted off to the academy later that evening, his father all too glad to be rid of the child. A voice interrupted his musings, the book still in his hand, but un-noticed. "Shall we begin your lessons, Mr McCloud?" Lazarus looked up at the speaker, one of the few fully qualified Black Mages in the land. All of them worked for the school. Lazarus stood, snapping the tome closed. The book disappeared under the cloak. "Of course, professor." The teacher nodded, and motioned for the student to follow. "You, Mr McCloud are a unique case." The professor, Mox by name, spoke as they walked to an open archway leading into the structure. "Instead of having to teach you new spells, we teach you methods of focus, of control. You are the same as every student here, in that we strive to awaken your latent powers and prepare you for life later, but our approach must be totally different. I'm curious why you chose to study elemental ice magic as well, when your own abilities could be nearly boundless alone. Care to enlighten me?" Lazarus pondered for a moment, then answered. By now, they'd entered a building, and traversed it's long hallway. The teacher unlocked a door at the end, and they began moving down a deep stairwell into the basement of the academy. "Because someone who doesn't keep their options open is someone who finds themselves without options when they need some the most." Was the final reply. "I see. Very well. Today, we'll be working with manipulation of bodies." A final large door opened easily to a wave of a glyphed glove on the instructor's right hand. The sickeningly sweet smell of decay wafted from beyond the threshold. "Specifically, deceased bodies." "Necromancy." Lazarus breathed. The book under his cloak that was clutched to his chest hissed softly. It's cover of flesh and bindings of sinews shifted. There were few such books, grimoires written in anicent languages, dedicated to studies of dark arts in ages long past. But knowledge was always gained by studying the mistakes and assumptions of those past. "Correct. We'll test your level of control. I want you to start by using your abilities to dissect this body. Remove the skin, the muscle, split the bones, and drain the marrow." Lazarus placed the sword that hung at his hip down, leaning it against the doorframe, and stepped forward, calling his curse up, focusing it's power...

I'll apply. [b]Name:[/b] Lazarus McCloud [b]Age:[/b] 18 [b]Student Template:[/b] The Noble Bully [b]Weapon:[/b] Enchanted Gambling Cards - Cards edged and weighted with enchanted steel and cut for throwing accuracy. [b]School of Magic:[/b] Black Magic [b]Minored School of Magic:[/b] Elemental - Ice [b]Abilities/Spells[/b]: [list] [*]Chaos Curse - As a black mage, Lazarus has contact with powers dark and profane. The foremost of his abilities is the Chaos Curse. This allows him several distinct advantages in a confrontation. The Curse hangs about him like a malaise, an aura of distinct evil. Lazarus can discharge the curse into a target he has physical contact with, or into his playing cards. The effect is varied depending on what Lazarus would like to manifest. It runs from sapping lifeforce, causing disease and infirmity, to blasting the target with shadowy energy. Only Lazarus knows the depths of it's powers. Only one target may be affected by the curse at a time, and once Lazarus has dismissed the effect, he must reapply it. [*]Black Guard - This ability makes manifest the deepest, greatest fear of a target who has struck Lazarus. The phantom behaves as if it were real, moving to strike the target down. Other combat participants see only a vage shadowy mass with no distinct edges or features. [/list] [b]Personality:[/b] A brooding dark individual, Lazarus makes friends slowly. Even those who he is friends with, he keeps at arms length. Due to the chaotic and strange nature of his magic, he has closed himself off from normal relationships. Lazarus is not a shy individual, but he prefers to let others learn from their mistakes, and so doesn't often offer an opinion in grop situations without being asked. Lazarus often breaks unifrom dress, electing to wear an amulet proclaiming him to be a student of the school. The sigil is contained within an ornate cross, and hangs at his throat. The sword he carries is an old family memento, the only thing of his heritage he has left. The edges are dull and useless, the surface kept gleaming by constant attention. [b]Background:[/b] Lazarus was born to parents of average descent. His father was a librarian, his mother, a businesswoman. His powers manifested at a young age. Children at schools shunned him, people were afraid to go near him at all. A standard test for magical aptitude revealed the truth. Lazarus was a black mage. His acceptance to the school of Argo Arx Arcanum was recieved with trepidation. It had been some time since the last student who majored in Black Magic. Several events within his life had an impact on Lazarus, including the death of his mother when his powers manifested, stealing her very soul. Lazarus has refrained from utilizing that aspect of his powers ever since that incident. His father withdrew from him, effectivley disowning him. Shunned by his family, Lazarus turned to his powers. Perhaps if someone had been there for him, things would have turned out differently, but now he strives to master control of his powers, and perhaps release the soul of his departed mother. Who knows what price darkness will exact for such a boon? [b]Physical Apperance:[/b] [url=http://img91.imageshack.us/img91/8528/editmetb3.jpg]Lazarus[/url] [b]Character Snippet:[/b] "-cuse me, Mr. McCloud, would you like to join the rest of us today?" "Gladly, professor." Came the expected reply. "Good. Now, as I was saying-" Before the professor could continue, Lazarus had again turned his attention to the sigil he had been absently carving into his desk. A moment later, the small knife he'd been using had been plucked from his hand, and the handle waggled insultingly under his nose. "Mr. McCloud! Am I going to have to send you to -" Lazarus had been removing his heavy glove from his left hand. He placed his palm across his desk, and watched as his professor sagged with relief as his curse was discharged into the newly carved sigil. Without the curse manifested on his person, people could approach him much closer than normally. The teacher moved to manhandle the studet out of his chair by his ear, and the sigil flared brightly. A burst of shadowy flame lept from the sigil, causing the teacher to yelp in surprise and yank his hand back from the dark fire. Lazarus stood and moved around the teacher, who hadn't been fast enough to withdraw, and was now sucking on two affected fingers, attempting to restore their warmth and circulation. "I think I've passed your course, professor." Lazarus said, pulling his glove on and fastening it. He moved past the door, and recalled his curse, the sigil on the desk becoming an inert symbol. On the chalkboard was a near-perfect duplicate of the sigil now burned into the wood of the desk. The door tag announced the classroom as "Magical Symbols".