Subject: [Dagger] [PORC] Knock, knock, knocking... Date: Thu, 13 Aug 1998 13:42:48 +0900 From: Balefire To: dagrfall@ods.com, sheila jenkins "We shall have to all be in physical contact with each other, during the power gathering stage of the spell." Rathine instructed. "A clasping of hands, like that at an oathgiving, should suffice. However, all hand armor, gauntlets and gloves, will have to be removed." Rathine stripped off his fine leather gloves as he said this, and tucked them into his belt. "While we are handclasped, I will cast a small spell that will link us enough for you to give your Magicka to me, for this spell. Be careful of your thoughts! Even though I am shaping this spell for a particular purpose, the thoughts and attitudes" here, Rathine levelled his gaze at Betrayal, and Balefire, who he was standing next to. "Of it's participants _will_ affect the outcome." Rathine stepped back, considering the group before him. "Shall we begin?" Clasping hands, the assembled warriors stiffened at the near-immediate thrill of surging magical force, building up with Rathine as its focus. At the same time, they each were forced to quell their anxiety at the feeling of power being leached from each of them to fuel the Dremora's spell. Balefire tightened his control, relentlessly crushing his misgivings under the weight of his iron will, and the warmage's visage remained impassive as he gazed steadily at their unlikely ally. Ethereal fire limned the Dremora's body, his hair began to move in an unfelt wind, now blowing softly and now wildly. Rathine's eyes began to glow, and then his entire body took on the glow, brightening with the nimbus of power. The scarred Dark Elf mercenary forced himself to remain calm, even as the Dremora turned his head to face Balefire, an horrific expression twisting his erstwhile handsome features, near-godlike in the power that suffused him. Coldly, Balefire reflected that if Rathine attacked him now, the consequences would be disastrous...and yet he maintained his mind in a state of calm imperturbability, returning his steady gaze to Rathine's wildly glowing eyes, his thin half smile to the Dremora's teeth-baring grimace. The power built to an impossible peak, and Rathine whirled, snarling, and flung the group's concentrated energy at the spinning doorwheel. It was absorbed without a hint of damage; the spinning wheel mocked them. Gasping, expression incredulous, Rathine muttered, "It is impossible. Such power, and it might as well have been a handful of feathers, for all the effect it had." Unfamiliar disappointment rang in his usually confident tones, and he shook his head in disbelief or denial. "'Twas well attempted, natheless, Rathine. And we have learned from the attempt, look you." Balefire's bass rumble carried no hint of mockery or censure. "Neither physical nor magical force will serve to stop the wheel, this is evident. Still..." The dusky warmage cast his measuring glance first on the spinning wheel and then on the chagrined Dremora. "Your idea of combining our power is a good one. How say you to another attempt, again combining our power, but with a different spell?" Rathine raised an eyebrow quizzically, and then his expression waxed thoughtful. "Yes...that is worth a try, certainly. Hmmm." A moment's reflection, and then some of his former confidence again entered his voice. "I have, I believe, sufficient reserves to focus such power one more time, no more. And mayhap I have the spell to use. Clasp hands, again, then." The scene repeated itself, so closely that Balefire required all of his control to avoid bemusement at the feeling of deja vu. The surge of power, the grimace of effort at focusing it, the sudden thrown lance of coruscating energy... And a floppy-eared bunny, nose twitching, popped into existence before the spinning doorwheel and hopped away. "A fly, I believe, caught in the most powerful Polymorph spell I have ever witnessed." Tenaka delivered this opinion deadpan, no hint of emotion audible in his voice. Balefire revealed nothing in his expression, although his jaw muscles could be seen to clench...he chose to say nothing. Rathine's expression was indescribable, as he muttered something unintelligible before he choked out, "I have not the resources to focus energy at that level again. My apologies." Thoughtfully, Balefire replied, "No apologies are needed, Rathine...indeed, I thank you most sincerely, as I do you, brother," he nodded at Tenaka, "for reminding me of something I should have considered ere this." He set the end of his staff in the ground and grasped it two-handed, half-leaning on it as he spoke, regarding the steadily spinning doorwheel. "We have been approaching this in the manner its builder expected. That is, like warriors, like powerful invaders or besiegers, applying force to stopping the wheel. I had forgotten what it means to be an archmage, but you have reminded me, for which my thanks. Brother," Balefire's amusement rang in his voice, "you were raised on a farm. You have, no doubt, observed waterwheels, at mills and such." "Aye..." Tenaka's answer was hesitant, but his eyes widened in sudden realization. "And have you seen one after a particularly hard winter, when the spring thaw turns placid brooks into raging torrents?" The Archmage's lips were curved into what could only be called a boyish grin, as he spoke without taking his gaze from the steadily spinning doorwheel. "Aye, brother, that I have." Tenaka's tone echoed Balefire's happily, and he chuckled aloud. "So have I, brother, so have I." Balefire laughed aloud then, a joyous, exuberant, triumphant sound. "When I was still an apprentice, comrades, my mentors taught me that, with the Art, betimes it is craft, not force, that serves best." He raised his staff before him, muttering as he set it to whirling before him, its Daedric metal-shod ferrules blurring into a solid-seeming wheel and its nimbus of blue-black light glowing brighter, a whine rising as it spun, in the same direction as the great doorwheel. "Yon wheel," Balefire laughed, "wants to continue spinning regardless of our efforts. So be it. I shall help it. Behold!" The whirling, red-edged wheel of radiance his staff had become shone brightly, its light waxing and pulsing in time with the grinning warmage's laughter, and floated softly away from him, to settle around the great doorwheel. And the wheel spun faster. And faster still. Faster than the eye could follow. And faster. Moaning in its speed. Whining. Groaning even as the dusky warmage laughed, twirling his staff faster. Blurred in its speed. Whirling faster. Ever faster. Rasping. Buzzing, as minute imperfections in balance introduced perturbations into the spin. Which transmitted themselves to the massive mounting of the wheel. Which spun ever faster. And faster. With a roaring buzzsaw sound that hurt the teeth of the onlookers. And Balefire laughed louder, his hands a blur and his face alight with glee. And the great doorwheel exploded in a shower of splinters and stone shards, rattling like a mad hailstorm against the stone cliff of the castle walls. Balefire grounded his staff, striving not to look too smug, as he announced, "The wheel has spun its last. Behind it is a perfectly ordinary, if rather massive, door. Not even ensorcelled. Who wants to kick, hew, or blast it open?"