Ambrosius's forum posts

#1 Posted by Ambrosius (507 posts) - - Show Bio

@zauberin:

With the exception of a slightly fractured nose, the reputed sorcerer was relatively unscathed by the playfully executed assault. "Sim sim, estou bem, estou-", coming to an immediate pause, transitioning from his native Portuguese to English as the supernatural seductress telekinetically ascended him back to his feet, "Yes, I'm fine", his distinct European accent partially rolling with every word. He wasn't an exceptional healer, his spell-casting while revered in the mystical corners of the globe, had never focused in the art of healing. He was an illusionist, a conjurer, an enchanter and an alchemist. Meeting her inquisitive gaze, Ambrosius instinctively regained his inborn poise and monarchical flair.

"Several places to be precise. Generally indulging in practices that successfully restored my powers. But also researching various alchemical methods and the like with respect to finding a way to supply you with an infinite quantity of biophysical energy. So that you'd never hunger again", he explained quite calmly. "I failed, unfortunately. But I did manage to find this", sliding beneath his vermilion cloak, his right hand reached into his attire's breast pocket, emerging with the bundled scarf. "It's for you. It's not much, however it should supply you with additional life-force and diminish your hunger".

#2 Posted by Ambrosius (507 posts) - - Show Bio

@zauberin:

Calmly transfixing his gaze on her frame, a tamely amused smile stretched across his proud, highborn visage, 'She knows I'm here, she must be employing some kind of prank or joke', he thought, certain of himself with respect to Arturia's apparent aloofness. During his cabalistic sabbatical from the known world, Ambrosius while concerned with the restoration of his own abilities, also made laborious attempts at crafting some sort of archaic artifact or discovering the correct combination of ingredients to develop an alchemical solution that would render his more spirited companion exempt from the requirement of another being's life-force. His efforts ended in failure, though he did manage to purchase an enchanted scarf from an anthropomorphic feline merchant, a scarf that gifts it's wearer with a modest but noticeable increase in life-force. It wasn't what he originally intended but it was something.

Approaching, he lightly tapped her shoulder with his left index finger, "Arturia, I-", his greeting however, was cut short by an alarmed spinning elbow cracking him on the nose, it's kinetic energy robbing him off his own equilibrium as he quickly stumbled backwards. "Ah.. fodas", he cursed under his breath, reverting back to his native Portuguese, his left hand softly rubbing his fractured nose.

#3 Posted by Ambrosius (507 posts) - - Show Bio

@zauberin

At the conclusion of a succession of extra-dimensional excursions to unknown planes of existence detailed poorly in children's fairy-tales and extensively in tomes of esoteric and mystical knowledge, Ambrosius' tall, broad-shouldered frame emerged from a vividly colored rift. Enveloped in a fine, vermilion cloak of upscale silk, his regal countenance expressed no acknowledgement for the passing, even judging glances of curious pedestrians as the portal behind him dissipated. His attention had already been seized, it had been seized prior to his unceremonious ingress. Months of intensive meditation and relearning had reawakened his once revered talent for the arcane arts, and with his powers returned, locating Arturia via her particularly powerful life-force was a facile task.

He was concerned for her well-being and whether or not she had been relatively unscathed during his lengthy absence, and of course, he was partially curious about the condition of the estate left to her. A wealthy man never truly evolves beyond his materialist manners, Ambrosius thought with a mildly entertained smirk as he began his search for a woman who had once nearly siphoned him of his own life-force.

#4 Posted by Ambrosius (507 posts) - - Show Bio
#5 Posted by Ambrosius (507 posts) - - Show Bio

@edwardwindsor:

Overtly dependent on his hyperactive regenerative abilities, the Great East Tiger rarely indulges in the execution of defensive fighting. After all, why would he? His ability to heal from virtually any physical wound with alarming rapidity has always afforded him a degree of flexibility, of freedom in the battlefield. This however, was more than a violent sword thrust through his midsection. The pain, the severity of the wound, it was no foreigner to the tenacious warlord. And the supposed impairment that afflicted so many that do battle, he shrugged off. Gradually, his wound began to heal, damaged tissue being repaired at an accelerated pace. Unfortunately, his greatest wound was not a physical one. The Prince of Power's sword hosted a variety of supernatural properties.

And through the vicious thrust, it achieved more than the vehement destruction of Ambrosius' abdominal region and lower back. "Hrm...", the Haffajee quietly gnarled, as if completely ignoring the evident success of his recently executed power punch. Disorder of the soul had overtaken him. Fragmenting his consciousness, separating them into the most prominent components of his personality, rendering him incapable of psychological consistency. And then.. the pain. The agony of having his soul tampered with overcame him, it paralyzed him. He refused to scream. Instead both eyes closed and his teeth gritted, his pride too powerful for him to release a cry of pain in his adversary's presence, in his army's presence, in his general's presence. And yet it seized him.

Forcing him onto both knees, his palms positioned against the sandy terrain, fingers digging in as he struggled. And then, the killing blow. Though awarded the fabled Haffajee Earrings worn by his predecessors, imbuing him with all of their knowledge and combat skills as well as a means of telepathic defense, there was no appeasing the Prince of Power's psionic assault. Like a juggernaut, a mass of psychic energy blitzed towards Ambrosius' mind, shattering every protective psionic layer erected by the earrings, and smashing into his mind, bombarding it into submission, and Ambrosius into unconsciousness. Fallen in the beach sand, today he was defeated, but tomorrow, his vengeance would not relent.

#6 Posted by Ambrosius (507 posts) - - Show Bio
#7 Posted by Ambrosius (507 posts) - - Show Bio

Quietly mounted atop his herculean war horse, Ambrosius found entertainment in an otherwise tedious affair by mentally formulating various hypothetical encounters with the Griffin. Rethinking and revising the most appropriate combat approach, all the while, the focus from his eyes never wavered as they remained irreversibly transfixed on the trail of dried, dark blood across the grass. Curiously, though he recognized the sheer brutality and violence brought forth by the Griffin's supposed attacks on the neighboring villages and settlements, the Haffajee harbored no true ill-will towards the beast. There was no indignation that motivated some sort of fiery desire to put the creature down.

And though he acknowledged the gravity and seriousness of the situation, the political consequences that Khan will suffer should they fail to hunt and kill the beast, he hosted no emotional incentive for the endeavor. The Griffin was an animal, a creature. It's attacks were not motivated by malice or sadistic intent. It stemmed perhaps from instinct. Long thought to be extinct, it's devouring of defenseless villagers implied perhaps that it's diet experienced some sort of adaptive shift, necessary for it's survival. Needless to say, Ambrosius did not share his general's ire. He, in a hypothetical sense, understood the Griffin's actions, or the reasons behind them. And strangely, in a way, he lamented having to kill the creature for it.

Lea's voice however, was quick to attract his attention as she emerged, his eyes finally breaking contact with the trail of blood. "The woman's story touched you", he remarked, "I know you well, General Lea. These unfortunate circumstances, they have angered you". Pressuring his horse to begin it's majestic gallop towards the intended hilly region in the west, Ambrosius continued, gesturing for the platinum-haired military commander to follow. "I hope that you can channel that anger productively when we find the beast. I cannot have you, in battle, being distracted, having your concentration and focus broken by it. Can you promise your Haffajee that you will be able to think clearly?", he inquired, "That you will not die?".

"Because the Khan Army cannot suffer two tragedies. Our soldiers will never admit it to you, but they begrudgingly acknowledge your talent as a tactician and strategist... if you die, this Hydra will lose a head that it cannot re-grow". And though he would not confess it, and his resolute, firm voice would not express it, he harbored concern for her safety beyond merely valuing her as a military asset.

#8 Posted by Ambrosius (507 posts) - - Show Bio

@cassius_knightfall: Edited my post. Added a little bit at the end where it says that in my next post, the soul manipulating attack of yours will start to take effect :)

#9 Posted by Ambrosius (507 posts) - - Show Bio
#10 Posted by Ambrosius (507 posts) - - Show Bio

Replacing the usual auroral ferocity in his eyes was a character of temperance. Riding under the warming desert sun in the serene terrain cultivated an atmospheric serenity for the veteran warlord. It was a stark difference from the harsher climate of Khan's North. A region dominated by unrelenting snowstorms, blizzards, frozen wastelands, laborious topography, and the fabled tiger-dragons of the northern mountains, the Khan North was an inhospitable land. Few settlements, if any festoon the land. Having recently regressed from there following a succinct excursion with Orc Chief Rogash, baking in the desert heart proved a more favorable alternative. Conditioned and genetically constructed to thrive in the unrelenting heat, Ambrosius was at ease.

Silence characterized his desert peregrination in Lea's company. Not stemming from misinterpreted rudeness or a lack of conversational desire or nonexistent social incentive, but stemming from their mutual appreciation of the warm, dry climate. Their captivation with the open terrain, scarce with vegetation, it was as per Khanasian tradition, where all children are taught to ride, to learn how to dominate and master the most common topography of their encompassment. Soon however, the desert's edge was upon them, ending to give way to the emergence of lush greenery, the forested regions of Khan. The Hadera Tiger opted not to follow his general's hasty dismount. As a Haffajee, he prized among all else, his ability to ride his stallion, to assert his authority over it. For without the horse, the backbone of the Khan Army's potency as a military unit, to which they owed a majority of their military success, they would be a civilization of geographic irrelevance.

The sight of the child's corpse did little to shift his resolute facial expression. The Great East Tiger was not an unsympathetic man, he did not lack empathy, he simply exercised control over it, over his emotional faculties. It was only in the field of battle where he yields to their influence and unleashes himself. "Speak with the boy's mother. I will remain here, in case whatever took that child's life comes to take hers". With patience unexpected from a warrior of his reputed brutality, Ambrosius waited for his general's emergence, his sharp, perceptive eyes surveying his floral encompassment, his attention constantly returning to the trail of dried blood across the verdant grass. Casting his gaze towards the hut's shadowed entrance, Ambrosius waited with an expectant edge in his eyes for the silver-haired Lea's emergence.