I
Ikaris
Guest
In a large series of caverns, hidden through the darkest of magicks, Ikaris sits at a desk in his study area, reviewing a list on a sheet of parchment. Books and scrolls line the walls. The few visitors that he allows here understand that without a doubt, this is one of the most extensive magickal libraries to be found. Rising from the desk, he adjusts the open purple robe that covers his midnight black silk shirt and leather pants. He pulls his jet black hair back and secures it in a pony tail. Grinning evilly, he leaves the study and goes into his magickal work area. Approaching the ironwood altar in the center of the room, he lifts a smoky grey crystal from it and turns it over in his hands. With a negligent gesture towards the area directly before him, he ignites a fire that burns with no visible fuel. He begins to hum to himself for a few minutes as the fire burns, then calls out:
"From dungeons low to castles high,
Let these so named now hear my cry
Before me assembled they shall stand
Lest smote they be, by mine own hand."
"Kurama Sutro"
"Tobias Halliwell"
"Sati"
"Euthalia"
"Sydney"
"Amarisy"
"Maia"
With the uttering of the final Name, Ikaris throws the crystal into the fire where it shatters releasing a noxious green smoke which dissipates quickly. He smiles evilly to himself, knowing that each of those summoned will be in increasing discomfort until they answer the summons.
"From dungeons low to castles high,
Let these so named now hear my cry
Before me assembled they shall stand
Lest smote they be, by mine own hand."
"Kurama Sutro"
"Tobias Halliwell"
"Sati"
"Euthalia"
"Sydney"
"Amarisy"
"Maia"
With the uttering of the final Name, Ikaris throws the crystal into the fire where it shatters releasing a noxious green smoke which dissipates quickly. He smiles evilly to himself, knowing that each of those summoned will be in increasing discomfort until they answer the summons.