Match of the Millennium

Description: "I know full well that the answer the Truth Seeker desires exists within the Athenaeum Wing. But it is the will of this castle that it always takes every bit as much as it gives. Even if he should, by some arcane miracle, compel that recalcitrant Archivist to cooperate, there is still the matter of the bitter price that must be paid. But... I would be without excuse were I to send him in there alone. Perhaps the Nomad would provide enough support to make it sporting. He too carries much to lose."

[BRANDON]
The trip from Southtown to Castle Alucard was a strange one. He was to meet his transport to the castle near the docks and then upon given further instruction. Upon arriving at pick up point he sees a skeleton in a robe docked at one of the piers in a boat.

"Charon?"

The skeletal figure leans forward giving an a long suffering sigh before responding. "No. Titus. She probably gave me this assignment on purpose because of some sick sense of humor. Hop in I don't have all day... And no. You don't need to give me a coin or anything like that."

After a few moments, the ocean becomes a river and city of Southtown disappears far quicker than it should have were this not some type of mystical transportation. Soon the boat docks near a landing that leads to the castle proper. At the entrance he shows his invitation to the guard granting him access to the castle. The guard hands him note with instructions to find Nikolai Borisyuk before heading to the Athenaeum Arcanum to find the answers you seek. He in turn will be seeking you out as well.

With instructions in hand, the private investigator clad in white fedora, white vest, black dress shirt, white tie, and white slacks and immaculate white dress shoes as opposed to the slightly scuffed ones he usually wears, heads into the castle towards the ball room where various darkstalkers and human fighters are mingling.

[NIKOLAI]
If his father knew what he was doing, he would skin him alive.
Dressed in full shaman attire from the snow-white pelt draped across his shoulders to the bones worked into the leather of his mismatched armor pieces, Nikolai Borisyuk draws quite a few sidelong looks as he wanders the streets of Southtown. Invitation in hand, he follows its directions through back alleys and forgotten side streets, eventually emerging before a run-down movie theater tucked between a massage parlor and a pawn shop. Double checking that this is the place he's supposed to be, he approaches the ticket window with a less than confident stride, stepping up to peer through the scratched plexiglass toward the scruffy man beyond.
"Lot of you weirdos out tonight." the ticket seller comments, drawing listlessly on a cigarette as he eyes the young Siberian in return. "There some kind of con I ain't heard about?"
"Con?" Nikolai replies in rusty Japanese, pale features guarded as he wonders privately if this is the place.
"Ah, forget it kid. Head on in, last showing on the right."
Still a bit unsure, the young hunter passes into the smoky interior of the theater and wanders into the back hall. Reaching the last door on his right he finds it guarded by a pale man in an immaculate black suit, white-gloved hand already held out expectantly. A glance down to his own hand reveals that he is no longer holding an invitation, but a movie ticket, which he passes to the man to be torn in half.
Accepting the remaining half of his ticket, Nikolai passes into the dark theater, sound of an old-fashioned projector rattling overhead as it beams a ghostly black and white image of a ball room forward onto the foggy screen. One slow step after another brings him closer to the image, blue eyes scanning around before he reaches up to touch it, hand passing right through.
"Batyushki moi..." he murmurs, before drawing in a slow, deep breath and stepping through the phantom image into the brightly lit ball room beyond, emerging from a dark painting onto the edge of the festively decorated dance floor. Shaking his head in amazement, he glances down at his ticket to find that it has once more transformed into the upper half of an invitation, the name 'Brandon Malone' writ large across the paper in glowing rose-colored ink. Shrugging his shoulders slightly, the young shaman steps forward into the room, holding up the invitation for passers by to see like a relative lost in an airport.

[BRANDON]
As various being pass by him. Some talking, some dancing, a few dour wallflowers here and there. The private investigator looks around for any sign of the shaman. It would appear that Rachel had seen fit to make the job of the two mystics finding each other easy. He can see his name in the distance and so he makes his approach towards Nikolai.

"If you're holding that, it would be reasonable to assume that you're Nikolai Borisyuk. I'm Brandon Malone, nice to meet you."

He pauses a moment to hold out his hand for a handshake. Should there not be a handshake, the detective seems to take it stride.

"Anyway, the instructions said that upon meeting up with you, we're to head to the Athenaeum Arcanum."

It's at this point that Brandon has an opportunity to look on the other side of instructions where he sees a map with two dots. One a white dot with a black outline and a dark gray dot right next to it. He looks around, comparing the orientation of himself and Nikolai and the layout of the room. He realized that if he had flipped the instructions over, he probably could've found the shaman much sooner. His eyes then drop to the line originating from him towards the destination.

"It's like an arcane gps. I should figure out how that was done since this could probably improve my tracking spells."

Brandon gestures for Nikolai to follow him as he through the winding halls. He glances around as he takes in the architecture.

"So here is the situation, I came here because I've been seeking out a way to repair the damage on Metro City park after Jedah transported it to Makai. According to the instructions, the answers I seek are in the Athenaeum Arcanum but I should have you along with me. I figure should at least let you know why I'm here if you've been assigned to help me in getting those answers."

Eventually their walk leads to the doorway. He looks at the instructions and raises an eyebrow when he reads the last instruction saying, 'Check your card pouch.' His hand brushes up against it and using sleight of hand he manages to perform his manipulations without looking like he did much more than touch it to untrained/unenhanced eyes. That being said, he looks a bit surprised as he holds up a fist as a coin-like token with an ornate rose crest on it slowly rises up between the index and middle fingers.

"I wonder what that is for."

[NIKOLAI]
A bit of the unease Nikolai has been feeling ebbs away once he spots Brandon approaching through the crowd. Though he isn't a mage himself, he is well attuned to the magical world, easily able to sense the concentrated hum of the arcane about the white-suited detective. Lips quirking up into a secretive grin, he transfers his torn invitation to his left hand and steps forward to shake, gauntletted fingers firm and confident despite his young age.
"Da, I am Nikolai, and it is good to be making a partner that is not werewolf or zombie." He keeps to himself that he has no idea what an Athenaeum Arcanum is. A, library? A library of magic? An internal confirmation sets his head to nodding slightly, blue eyes dropping to peer at Brandon's map once it is flipped.
"Perhaps a spirit of hunting. If map has connection to such a thing, it will show you all that it wishes. For right price, this can be a way to this thing you are seeking."
Having no issue ambling along at Brandon's side, the shaman falls silent to listen to the true reason he was brought here. Having known nothing up to now except that he had been invited to face true monsters and prove himself, he absorbs the details of his mission with an amused sort of interest.
"It is sounding to me like we are in story of old. Great champions to face the dragon and find secrets in its lair." gaze skating across the surface of the door, he pauses for a moment, then flicks a sidelong glance toward Brandon's coin, expression sly. "If so, this is to be your token, yes? And as me for being your faithful companion..."
Lifting his left hand, he opens his gloved fingers to reveal his invitation has disappeared, leaving behind an ornate silver key in its place. A slight nod of his head sets his hair beads to clattering, the Siberian mystic stepping forward to slot the key into the handle and turn it with a loud clonk.
"My purpose will be to open the way. I will not be good for helping you with spells, this is not my skill, but if there is danger I will be there."
Assurances given, Nikolai tugs open the doors and steps aside, gesturing Brandon forward and fully planning on following him in.

[THE ARCHIVIST]
Grandiose doors push inwards to show... quite a sight. By all accounts, the Athenaeum Arcanum is a library; yet such a simple term might lead one to believe something outside what they see. A wash of stale air, of old books, the scent of sheer age that somehow seems a step above the tower. A brief sitting area is just past, with old couches and seats, hooks to hang coats, paintings and mirror to instill a calming vibe.

Yet to the left and right stretches a great, gradual ring of shelves. They reach almost twenty feet high, and seem stacked to the brim with books, wildly ranging in variety. Some are nearly a meter high, others worn to the point of barely being held together, continuing on until the distance, obscuring structures, and darkness takes it. Simple lamps and candles are arraigned at regular areas; enchanted to never go out. Directly ahead is an ornate bridge, seeming to head to the very opposite of the bountiful archive; perhaps a couple hundred meters, at least, and this sanctum is much, much wider then even that.

And this seems only to be the top floor. Railings flank around the bridge and much of this outer ring. But there are levels and levels descending down, and even a couple more above. The ceiling is a great, beautiful dome of ancient architecture, showing some grand, if faded, paintings. It seems too abstract to be of much use, although may be telling a story... there's so much of it, and so little easily viewed, that it may as well be gibberish.

Spots to read, with fireplaces, tables, and ample illumination are settled in regular spots. Grand tables with chairs, as if to allow a couple dozen scholars to commune. Desks to write, and the occasional massive globe, a few dozen meters around, even an entire wing that seems to map all of the stars with incredible, gargantuan machinations to see how the entire celestial sky might dance...

Yet, for some reason, this area seems almost never used. Thick coats of dust, massive webs, all bear a crushing weight of time. The cases, the stone floors, the furniture, all seems centuries, maybe thousands of years, old... and although structurally sound, far from immaculately tended. Hopefully, none present have allergies...

Yet foremost, beyond the near impossible task of FINDING anything useful, the only thing immaculate, clean and preserved are the books themselves, on those hundreds of shelves. The titles can be read, but there's no rhyme or reason to the organization. Some are ancient beyond reckoning, but many seem oddly new, even pristine. Topics range from arcane pursuits... to generic cooking, history, acting, how to tend to pets... although every one of them would be considered a great work on the subject, it seems far too many have been accrued to be of much use...

If they could even be touched. Whenever a bookshelf is approached too closely, a purple shimmer thrums around it. Not enough to make visual browsing difficult, but... Trying to reach, to touch, would progressively slow one's hand, until a half-inch away, preventing all contact. Some intense ward, ancient and powerful, that seems to stretch to every piece of knowledge in the entire Athenaeum Arcanum... and trying to simply poke a book off with a handy broomstick or other item would work no better. So not only can you not find what you want, but you can't take anything to read?

Errant exploring would find the only other item of note... a great, hulking entity of wrought brass and white marble. It would be seen across the bridge, standing before an especially large stretch of books. Perhaps twelve feet large, broad and built like a golem; the left arm is massive, rippling and designed with gladiatorial armor in golden shine, coming to a simple claw. The right, however, is proportioned lithe and nimble. It's difficult to see what it is doing, back to the pair, but it has definitely not given them any mind since they entered...

And, it could be easily seen, it is interacting with the books with no hindrance.

[BRANDON]
A library like this would be a dream for most mages. Hell. Part of Brandon was tempted to add a library like this on the S.S. Opulence in his personal quarters however not on this scale. At first hes content to look around to take in the magnificence of it until he glances at the books his hand reaches out to one of the shelves but before his finger tips even make contact with the shimmer his hand stops. He can feel the flow of energy letting him know that even attempting to reach for a book would be a fool's errand.

"I've seen workings achieve similar things but never on a scale like this or with this much power. This is amazing."

At that point, he can see the hulking figure managing to make even Abigail look small. The detective lets out a whistle. In for a penny, in for a pound. Brandon moves in the direction of the figure of brass and marble, rose crested token extended forward towards the being. Opting to at least open from a position of politeness.

"Excuse me. I was informed that I would be able find a way of removing corrupted seithr here. I would appreciate if you could direct me to where I could find it."

[NIKOLAI]
"Big power, big drain." Nikolai comments from behind the mage, swinging the doors shut with an echoing boom. If he is aware he might have just trapped them inside, he doesn't show any concern, stepping up to wander along at Brandon's side with easy good humor.
"This place. It is sleep, but not quiet. Would be making careful of what you say, yes? The walls will hear."
What little advice he can give handed out, the Russian mystic continues on, falling back slightly to trail behind Brandon when the golem comes into sight. As he wasn't given a token, he isn't sure what will happen. But this is clearly not the time for him to speak. Every instinct within himself, and his various spiritual allies, agrees on that.

[THE ARCHIVIST]
Closer up, the strange golem seems to be... pulling books off the shelf at a rapid pace. Each of the five fingers on the slender, delicate right arm has extended, multi-segmented, and similarly flared out so each can handle a book independently. A worn silver cart is stacked to the brim before the creature. There's probably no apparent rhyme or reason to it to anyone trying to peek, but it's taking books off and replacing them with others at a blinding speed... yet clearly meticulous, too.

Once finally spoken to, the flurry of book-adjustments stop. Slowly, the great machine twists around. At the center of it's ornate and finely constructed chest, broad and barrel-like in an amalgam of brass and white marble, is a huge sphere; bigger then either's head. To Nikolai, it seems a relic of unimaginable power, the source and heart of it. Alucard Castle's rumors did speak of a Heart, said to be forged when the very first brick, the very first wards, were laid down. Such implies the Archivist is literally as old as this entire building... well beyond even the likes of it's current owner.

"..." It has a face, of sorts. Two gemstone eyes. A segmented jaw with pronounced, huge chin. But it makes no immediate reply.

"The Lady of the House assured me I would not be bothered by her Guests." comes a dull, echoing baritone. "I am not under her command. My directive is not to dispense with knowledge, but to protect, archive, and sort it."

It then slowly tilts it's head down, to peer at the token. The rose-crested item flashes crimson, and the Archivist spasms, his own eyes and that massive orb similarly resonating in the same color.

"...GRRRRAUR!!"

It hefts up that massive left arm and slams it on the ground. Again, and again; the stone shakes, dust falls from the distant ceiling, but... a purple field of energy ripples out each time it is about to make contact. The end result, beyond the apparent aggravation, is absolutely no damage to the surroundings.

"How dare she us...!! ... ...!! Very well."

The Archivist slowly goes back upright, whirring and shifting. "Information is the most powerful, dangerous thing in this world, and all worlds. All who wish to use this place, even the first Lord of the castle, has presented that token. It entitles you to an..."

"Assessment."

"But be warned. To take knowledge from Athenaeum Arcanum is a trade. Knowledge for Knowledge. I have what you seek. In ancient times, a certain individual attempted to merge Makai with the Earthrealm. Damage was catastrophic. Yet he managed a spell to undo it, and reverse the taint. I assume this what you would like... whether you can use it, I know not and care not."

"It is not a valuable or dangerous spell, by most accounts... but even with that token, the cost is at my discretion... Knowledge for Knowledge. Do you agree to this cost, before we do the... Assessment?"

[BRANDON]
"I humbly apologize for the disturbance."

He lowers his head opting to be respectful towards this large golem even through the anger at being disturbed even though there was a promise that it wouldn't be bothered. But the token presented offered an opportunity to be assessed. He nods. These are conditions he can accept.

"Is there a specific knowledge that is required of me to give or can the knowledge I give be left to my discretion?"

If the place is sleep but not quiet, even the type of knowledge he gives would have to be carefully picked.

[NIKOLAI]
Observing quietly from over Brandon's shoulder, Nikolai allows his gaze to linger on the giant's orb only for long enough to puzzle out what it might be. Eyes narrowing slightly, he folds his arms across his chest and averts his attention away and down, allowing the Mage to negotiate on their behalf. Internally he is braced, waiting for the other shoe to drop. A sentiment that only grows as the towering figure throws a tantrum before them. Externally, however, he puts on a brave face, for his own benefit if no one else's. Perhaps if he but wills the calm hard enough it will become true.

[THE ARCHIVIST]
"The purpose of the assessment is to determine what you have to offer." The Archivist explains, readily enough. "You will either agree, or the offer will be rescinded." The central gem suddenly thrums, bathing the pair in a tingly, invigorating light.

"...What dangerous, reckless magic you wield." the golem then chides towards Brandon. "Still, there is merit in it. You have forced your output to levels beyond what should be capable."

His large head then turns to regail Nikolai. After long moments, there is a 'hmm' of respect. "...You are much more interesting... integrating countless relics into a personal style. I would also be interested in your methodology for sealing such fetishes for combative use..."

That huge, misshapen left fist suddenly slams into the tiny, delicate right palm. "Yet the spell I am to offer is difficult to cast. Your 'cost' in knowledge will depend on how well your assessment goes. I demand to see your thaumaturgy in action!! If I deem it unfitting, the toll may be more dire. As per customs, two may take part..."

Whirrs, clicks, and shifts seem to go through the Archivist, before his central gem takes on a light blue glow. "Inflict damage upon me until the orb turns red. There is no need to hold back. Applying meaningful damage to me is not permanent, and will merely help in your assessment."

"...you may begin at your leisure. But when I sense preparations intended for attack... I shall remain idle no longer!"

[BRANDON]
On one hand, Brandon found it fair and in a way the assessment was also a way of providing knowledge. It was the accumulation of experiences turned towards the practical. On the other hand, Brandon suspected that the golem might have gotten his magic interpretation wrong. The reckless magic was his natural state. When he originally first started learning magic, he had a wellspring of power well beyond his knowledge let alone his body's capability to handle it. His deck of cards was the method he utilized in order to use magic in a more controllable/safer fashion though he could on occasion slip small portions of his true power into individual tarot cards, even though he wasn't going to correct that misconception unless /that/ was the required piece of knowledge to be bartered.

The thaumaturgic brawler eases into a modified Philly Shell Boxing stance, hands held open. One hand near the pouch on his belt, the other hand held next to his face to guard. He looks over to Nikolai and waits for him to take on a stance of his own.

When both shaman look to be ready he goes first edging forward before lashing out with a flicker jab with a minor arcana tarot card held in his hand. The energy from the card bolstering his punch. The chain on his energy is kept in restraint while it looks like he's choosing to utilize the energy stored in his deck of cards. For now.

COMBATSYS: Brandon has started a fight here on the left meter side.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Brandon          0/-------/-------|

COMBATSYS: Nikolai has joined the fight here on the left meter side.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Brandon          0/-------/-------|
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Nikolai          0/-------/-------|

COMBATSYS: The Archivist has joined the fight here as a boss!

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|---------------                


[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Brandon          0/-------/-------|
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Nikolai          0/-------/-------|

COMBATSYS: Nikolai has joined the fight here on the right meter side.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [ |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|---------------                


[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////////]
Brandon          0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0          Nikolai

[NIKOLAI]
The construct's assessment of both his and Brandon's abilities draws Nikolai's gaze up from the floor, a slight, private smile tugging at the corner of his lips at the Archivist's humming praise. Glancing briefly at the glowing orb, then up to the mechanical man's face, the young man unfolds his arms with an easy shrug.
"It appears that we have both a way with artifacts. Already you have given me much to think of."
Stepping out from behind Brandon, the younger mystic paces a slow quarter circle around the beastly figure, giving it two targets to keep track of rather than one. As he does, a spectral blue light ignites within the empty sockets of the wolf skull over his right shoulder, gloved hands curling into loose fists. With the light comes a subtle change in posture. A bit more of a hunch, a stalking quality to his steps. Bits of the wolf spirit within him peeking through to the world beyond.
"I will keep your back, partner." he offers, shooting a brief grin over his shoulder toward Brandon. His accent might mangle the words into something more silly than assuring, but the way he dashes into action mere moments after the Mage makes it clear he is serious.
Throwing himself into an all-out sprint, Nikolai cuts through his circle and attempts to dart in behind the enormous creature, ghostly blue energy fleshing out the wolf bones over his right arm as they stretch forth past his hand and spread their soul-infused claws, making to gouge a path across the backs of both of the construct's knees on his way by.

COMBATSYS: Brandon successfully hits The Archivist with Quick Strike.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [     ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|-------------==                


[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////// ]
Brandon          0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0          Nikolai

COMBATSYS: The Archivist blocks Nikolai's Pogonya Volka.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [      |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|------------===                


[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////////// ]
Brandon          0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0          Nikolai

[THE ARCHIVIST]
"...oh?" the Archivist states, when he witnesses the method of Brandon's tarot cards; condensing his sorcerous inclinations in a way far more productive to an extended engagement! "I see. You have found alternative ways to use it. Hmm..." It seems he was peering towards Brandon's darker inclinations, mayhaps expecting him to use it to attack him. Either way, there's some grudging acknowledgement as a result.

Stepping forward, with a lumbering thump! upon the ground, Brandon's fist hits marble and brass; the sharp technique echoes with the crack of magic, causing a sizeable dent; a brief dip of the knee, before Nikolai takes advantage of the frontal assault to slip behind.

Being a machine has some advantages, however. The nimble right arm swivels and shifts, joints able to freely move. Fingers telescope out, generating a shimmering shield of energy, that flash of power diffused moderately; angry lines carve into brass cogs and pistons, chipping off a piece of marble to clatter to the ground.

Before the Archivist rotates his torso 180 degrees. Despite his legs still facing Brandon, that huge left arm hefts up high overhead. A flash of sorcerous magic; what happens is a mesh of relics and casting, as if the pair are fighting a blend of their own styles. Lightning courses up to the oversized fist, before it ignites into flame. Twisting down, he then aims to leverage that huge limb towards Nikolai...

And were it to make contact, both ice and shards of stone would erupt out. With it's core acting as the source, it seems he's implanted magical devices able to generate it into all four of the primary elements... and no small amount of personal experience in leveraging them. Although his right arm is made for the work of the archives, clearly his left is intended only for war!

[BRANDON]
With a flick of the wrist, the tarot card disappears. With a second flick of the wrist another card takes its place as he for all intents and purposes utilizes combat sleight of hand to keep his cards in rotation.

He had to make his own assessment of the situation. The flicker jab was meant to test the defenses and see where the golem stood defensively. Managing a dent and a dip of the knee was more damage than he was initially expecting from a machine so large. He also had to smile at Nikolai coming in from around him to move into a flanking position. It was if the two were seemed to be almost instinctually grasping teamwork or Nikolai is incredibly good at making his allies look good. Brandon was leaning towards the latter.

He wanted to see how the machine would handle a stronger attack and he wanted to direct it towards the knee for two reasons. The legs were the body part still facing him and interfering with its movement would probably give his ally more options.

The card that was in his hand is revealed to be the Strength card just as he delivers a magic bolstered palm strike to the Archivist's knee with an addition burst of energy at full extension. Once again, Brandon elects not to even loosen the restraints to add more energy into the tarot card.

COMBATSYS: Nikolai instinctively blocks The Archivist's Catalog.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [        |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|---------======                


[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Brandon          0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0          Nikolai

[NIKOLAI]
Glowing claws tearing free from the magically blunted attack, Nikolai plants both feet and twists, swinging around to face the hulking machine even as he power slides to a halt. Caught within the shadow of the upraised claw, he tilts his chin up, and up to peer into the mechanical man's face, blue eyes alight with wry amusement as he utters one simple word.
"Blyat..."
Bringing both arms up, he braces the left behind his armored right, knees flexing beneath a perfect X block he must have stolen from one martial arts or another. When the claw strikes home it does so with the vibrating impact of power on power, a flash of brilliant blue light appearing around Nikolai as he is flung backward to skid across the tiled floor, bits of shattered stone and ice raining down around the spot he occupied mere moments before.
Ending his slide by slamming shoulder-first into a short pillar supporting one of the many magical lanterns, the Siberian shakes out his arms and staggers back to his feet, a short little laugh of relief escaping him.
"Whoaaah!"
But there is no time to celebrate his survival. Brandon needs him, and he isn't about to let an ally down. Lifting both hands, he closes his eyes and releases his hold on one of the less friendly artifacts about his person. Slowly at first the ropes dangling from his back begin to reach and sway, slithering forth to grope blindly at the em[empty ground around him. However, as the young mystic's face creases with concentration, the cursed tangle of nooses gains both speed and direction, lashing out toward the Archivist in an attempt to snag hand, then head. If any one of them manages to gain a grip on the massive figure the others will home in like blood hounds, a near endless mass of gnarled rope attempting to latch on to the construct and drag it crashing down to the ground, thick cables of the cursed cord lashing out in other directions to anchor the boy in place, granting him leverage that his mortal body could never hope to manage alone.

COMBATSYS: The Archivist endures Nikolai's Friend Of The Gallows.
> Determined Hit! <

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [              |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|------=========                


[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Brandon          0/-------/-------|===----\-------\0          Nikolai

COMBATSYS: The Archivist reflects VIII - Strength from Brandon with Due Date.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [              |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|---============                


[     \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////////    ]
Brandon          0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0          Nikolai

[THE ARCHIVIST]
A machine is still a machine; although powered by magic, constructed of odd materials, and certainly above average, Brandon's engineering assessments seem to act the way he would expect. Yet both could tell, in their own ways, that this opponent is certainly not working at max output. The power surging from that central gem is only a portion; the term 'assessment' must have been correct, for all intents and purposes, as it clearly is trying to present a battle the two can win.

"Ah... I did not intend for you to be able to block that..." the Alchemist compliments towards Nikolai, hefting up that huge arm once more as a few crackles of sorcerous power go through. A small dent is visible, where so much mass and force hit that prepared guard. Still, the ground is shimmering purple... as before, despite that force, no damage was done to the library. Even when pieces of burning stone and ice crash forcefully into the bookshelves and cases, they merely ricochet off.

Only for a slither of tenacious cables to rush out and begin weaving around. Restricting his power is difficult, but they also settle into gears and joints. Before the central gem flashes, and Nikolai would feel it; he's draining the magic contacting him! It is not so quick or dangerous to risk permanent damage... if the attack is rescinded without too much haste...

Yet it left that small right arm free, which shifts perhaps surprisingly towards Brandon's assault. Five fingers stretch out and telescope, before a massive green rune manifests, inscribed with reinforcing sigils. Casting with no preparation something with this finesse would be a feat for most in the world, beyond the likes of Nine...!

Brandon's fist hits it instead, and there would be a sudden sense of being frozen, as temporal magic seals him. A moment later, the spell's remnants coalesce and explode, to drive back the other mage with a pure, sorcerous blast!!

[BRANDON]
The detective, still clutching the Strength tarot card is not only driven back, but outright knocked off of his feet by both his and the Archivist's arcane might. As Brandon slowly gets up, picks up his fallen fedora, places it back on his head.

On one hand getting blasted backwards from their energy wasnt ideal but on the other hand, how often does he get to see spell work like this. Especially since in the fighting world, he was a bit of an odd duck since there weren't many that he came across who used magic let alone at a level like this. It was an opportunity to improve his knowledge of the possibilities to strive for.

He takes a deep breath and to his surprise he takes in the scent of ozone a moment right before the Magician tarot card appears in his hand. Instead of the pale golden light he was accustomed to, he finds the card crackling with electrical energy. Nevertheless, he holds out the card, letting a bolt of lightning arc from the card before he makes that card disappear as well.

Part of him wonders how the Archivist will react to it.

[NIKOLAI]
Though he is too slow to save Brandon from having his attack intercepted by some seriously high-level magecraft, Nikolai can feel as the cursed bindings begin to crush and grind into gears and armor plating, seeking to string the giant robot up as they have so many other victims in the past. The artifact's eager hunger is easy enough to sense, the blood lust of something spawned from the suffering of others.
The artifact itself barely notices as its power begins to ebb away into the Archivist' internals, but Nikolai does. Redoubling his focus, he wrings one last tug out of the bindings to try and stagger the giant construct off balance, before slamming metaphysical restraints down hard upon the rioting artifact and causing the ropes to go limp, shreds of them tearing away as they come apart to reveal the mundane tangles of rope once more hanging from his back, completely inanimate.
Eyes snapping open, Nikolai shoves himself forward away from the lamp stand he had been leaning against, furs and coat billowing out behind him as he charges toward the Archivist's left side. With lightning coming from the front, the shaman decides to match power with power, rosary rattling as he shakes the length of red stone beads down his left arm and into his hand, gripping the coiled length and narrowing his eyes with focus...
A shimmer radiates out from the teen's left fist, rolling up his arm to the shoulder as the limb is transformed from flesh to solid steel. Blue energy glowing from within the transmuted limb, he rears back, thrown slightly off balance from the massive shift in weight, and hurls himself forward in a full, dashing punch aimed squarely for the construct's left hip joint.
"AAAAAAAAAAH!" he roars out with a mixture of exhilaration and effort, joining his voice to the crackle of released electricity.

COMBATSYS: The Archivist blocks Brandon's I - The Magician.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [               ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|--=============                


[      \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Brandon          0/-------/-----==|=------\-------\0          Nikolai

COMBATSYS: Nikolai successfully hits The Archivist with Forgotten Fist EX.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                      |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 1|--------------=|===============                


[      \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////////////////     ]
Brandon          0/-------/-----==|==-----\-------\0          Nikolai

[THE ARCHIVIST]
There is an almost methodical approach to the Archivist, as he engages the pair. He's large enough, sturdy enough, and with sufficient abnormal mobility that he cares less about flanking then any traditional opponent. After all, although the pair are inflicting some minor damage, when compared to the scale of this sorcerous creation, it's a far cry from defeating it... yet there's a red tinge beginning to shift over the orb, clearly indicating they are making some progress towards the tenebrous standards to satisfy the token's challenge.

Yet Brandon might be pleased to see that these /are/ spells; even the flow of elements he used to try and smash Nikolai. Things that, in theory, any practitioner could learn to some degree... although significantly complex and advanced, to say the least.

"...?!" Twisting around the flung card is intercepted by a huge left hand. The lightning impacts it dead-center, curling and licking partway up it's forearm. "What is this...? Ah, I see. Your energy flow and soul has been tainted. ...What a pity."

Only then does Nikolai's retracting relic haul heavily. It leans backwards, delicate center of balance shifted. Perhaps not excessively, yet enough to shift advantage to the opponent remaining at it's rear. He tries to turn around and lift up the more delicate limb, but that malformed limb shoots past, hitting dead center right on the housing of a joint. The damage is more significant then anything seen prior; marble cracks and breaks away, and a strange, whirring noise seems to hitch the being as it takes one step sideways. Only clearly, the attacked leg is not moving quite so fluid and smooth anymore, Nikolai's assault seeming to have damaged something important within.

"Hmm... I am unable to predict the attacks stemmed from your relics..." Shifting, a great shadow casts over Nikolai as the massive golem peers down. The red within it's central gem has certainly cranked, almost twice as dark as before... but not yet close to filled. Before he twists and thrusts, presenting the almost muzzle-like central palm of that combatively-armed limb before him.

Almost immediately, a great sphere of green energy manifests -- the same color as the spell he used to repel Brandon just now. It is nearly eight feet around, trying to capture Nikolai in the midst! An incredible gravity would build up, sealing magic to hinder him, as a dull thrum starts to build... before a great CRACK! as a great force erupts from directly above, to pancake him against the stone of the library as even the protective wards quake and crackle to contain his attempt to pin Nikolai beneath the sealing spell!

[BRANDON]
"Tainted? How? By what?"

The thaumaturgic brawler wears a confused expression on his face not knowing how he could've been corrupted. In addition, the commonality of not just mages but other fighters have been dealing with energy weirdness where elements are being used that a fighter wasn't used to.

"Does that mean that other fighters experiencing that type of weirdness are corrupted as well?"

The remnants of the lightning crackles all over his body before it dissipates. He was physically feeling better after being invigorated by the jolt of electricity but there are some misgivings about the corrupted energy. He takes a deep breath and flicks out another card, a minor arcana card it looks like. A ball of light jumps from the card to his foot as he attempts to deliver a kick to the hip joint.

COMBATSYS: Nikolai instinctively blocks The Archivist's Reference Point.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                   ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 1|------------===|===============                


[      \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////////////        ]
Brandon          0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0          Nikolai

[NIKOLAI]
The impact of Nikolai's metal fist striking the Archivist is great enough that the much smaller figure is sent staggering to the side from the residual force, entire body threatening to topple over from the dragging weight of his much heavier arm. However, with a gentle nudge from a bookshelf's force field, and the planting of his lead foot, he brings himself to a stop just in time to notice his world falling into shadow yet again.
"This is good. Would be bad for you to understand a pattern that even I do not know." he offers up to the construct, white teeth flashing in a grin that is half pleased, half wolfish.
All at once a green barrier has sprung up around him, making running a non option. Clever eyes flickering quickly about, he looks for some weakness, a chink in the spell that might lead to a way out. But no matter how hard he looks, there is nothing.
The hairs on the back of his neck, and indeed the entirety of the shaggy white pelt he wears, stand straight up in warning. Something very bad is about to happen, and he has less than a second to respond. Every instinct screams at him to protect himself, to find shelter. And so, with a prayer to the spirits echoing through his panicked mind, he does. A shimmer passes across the whole of his body just moments before the irresistible forces comes crashing down upon him, forcing his body to buckle with the echoing THONK of solid steel striking tile. Purple light flares beneath him, force radiating out from where the shaman lands on hands and knees, entire body having transmuted itself to living steel.
Only once the crushing pressure relents does color fade back into Nikolai's form, blond hair sagging across his face as he releases a short, dusty cough toward the floor before him.
"Oigh."
Blue eyes drifting across the tiles, he spots a section that seems off from the rest. Reaching forward, he digs his fingers into a crack between two tiles and tugs, dragging one free amidst a crackle of blazing purple sparks. It does not look broken, not even chipped. And yet he hefts it in one hand, staggering to his feet with a bracing breath.
"Be asking the questions after he is not to crush me, friend Brandon!" Nikolai calls over, stepping forward and swinging the floor tile down in an overhead smash toward the Archivist's smaller arm, putting all the strength of both arms and his back behind the blow.

COMBATSYS: The Archivist Toughs Out Nikolai's Random Weapon!
* Attack Of Opportunity! *

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                      |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 1|----------=====|===============                


[      \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////       ]
Brandon          0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0          Nikolai

COMBATSYS: The Archivist blocks Brandon's Light Kick.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                       ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 1|---------======|===============                


[      \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  ///////////////////////       ]
Brandon          0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0          Nikolai

[THE ARCHIVIST]
"You are not here for information on such afflictions of the soul. We have already concluded our negotiations on what you are to receive." The Archivist states, rather plainly, when it comes to wondering about those odd surges of energy. He still principally faces Nikolai; clearly intending to try and pressure the fighter he seems as an immediate concern. A twist of the hip, a surge of protective energy, and Brandon will find his foot aching after it makes contact; that time, it does not seem he did anything measurable...

Lunging forward, the Archivist continues his relentless assault on the dynamic shaman. His massive arm looms to the left, but it seems to be a feint. Perhaps he expected Nikolai to be more visibly harried by the assault... there was little time spent staggered, but that seems to have been spent advancing. Brandon's assault was not ferocious enough to draw his attention away from his friend -- who's supposed to be support! Perhaps tanking qualifies?

"Although I am authorized to kill those I find unworthy of assessment to protect information, I have little reason to act on it yet! Thus far, I am satisfied!" Is he trying to tell Nikolai his life is not in danger? Only for one of the floor tile is yanked free of the ground.

There's an instant shift in the personality of the Archivist.

"...YOU HAVE DAMAGED THE ARCHIVES!!"

That is genuine rage! These two cannot touch the books nor damage the actual shelves, and the Archivist's own attacks seem to be dampened, but there's nothing to stop them from such unforgiveable vandalism otherwise! With a great roar, the Archivist's central orb suddenly ripples, energy humming and circulating within ancient runes of his prodigious left limb.

Trying to then backhand Nikolai with no further refinement, towards the adjacent wall. This, most likely, would actually cause more tangible damage then a single floor tile -- which hits true, but merely shatters into countless pieces; the golem is far harder then it, and it seems the attempt only made it potentially more difficult to defend!

Suddenly, the Archivist's left arm erupts into flame, before he swings in an attempt to strike Nikolai against the wall again, with a great, explosive gout of sheer heat. Rearing back with a dull whirr, it then ripples in ice, twisting for a /second/ punch that would flash-freeze the surroundings. A third blow reinforces that fist with twisted, pointed stone for one last smashing hit.

Then attempting to catch Nikolai by the torso, heft him up, and begin to channel electricity into him while roaring and slamming him a few times on the floor. All of this, at least, the Athenaeum protects from collateral damage beyond the initial fling... well, Brandon! He is about as vulnerable and distracted now as he can possibly be!

[BRANDON]
Hell. Even Nikolai is doing some interesting things. Transmuting his own body to living steel is pretty impressive if the light mage had to be honest with himself. But the shaman along with a floor tile raises a good point.

"You're right, Nikolai. I just tend to get curious about that type of stuff."

Then he sees the dark side of the Archivist. The genuine rage at the damage of the venue now makes the detective cringe for a moment as he flicks out a new card into his hand. This time, though the chains on the direct access of his energy loosens as he moves the energy from himself into the card bolstering the prepared spell within it. He needed to get the golem's attention and he needed to do it now or else the assessment was going to get more expensive and possibily fatal.

The card is revealed to be Justice right as he attempts to charge at it and throw his entire body into toppling the arcane machine onto the ground before summoning a sword of light from above and then dropping it down to impale the golem in the torso.

COMBATSYS: The Archivist successfully hits Nikolai with Course Reserve.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                       ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|----------=====                


[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  //////////////                ]
Brandon          1/-------/=======|=======\==-----\1          Nikolai

[NIKOLAI]
The enraged shout is the first sign that Nikolai has made a severe blunder. The second sign comes in the form of a crumbling floor tile, none of the residual magic that had protected it carrying over to harden it against the Archivist's stony frame.
"Bl--" he begins, before being cut off by a giant backhanded blow.
Blue light flares up around the young shaman as his companion spirit surges forward to protect him, a nimbus of protective power sheltering him as he crashes into the force field of the wall, then is pummeled against it with a raging inferno fist. Growing brighter and more distinct, the aura begins to take on shape and form as a devastating ice punch smashes the teenager flat, wolfish features having emerged fully by the time the spiked punch hammers him down against the warded ground.
When the construct finally scoops the limp boy up, he is a mere shadow within a glowing blue outline of fur and claws, a bipedal wolf spirit having manifested around him to accept the bulk of the damage. It is this spirit that struggles and claws, fur standing on end as it is pounded against the ground again and again, eventually released to tumble off across the floor in an ungainly heap. And then, with its host finally out of danger, the protective aura fades.
"Uuuuuugh." the crumpled Siberian groans, flopping over onto his back and gazing up at the giant form a short ways off. Bruised, battered, and more than a little punch drunk, he has none-the-less survived the ordeal without anything seeming broken. A miracle in itself.
"Thank you, my friend." he murmurs to no one in particular, gloved hand lifting to rub wearily at his throbbing head. "I think, tonight we will have steak."
Promise made, the shaman shoves himself unsteadily to his feet and sways on the spot, scanning around in an attempt to find where his partner has gone. Noticing the other man just in time, he reaches up and plucks an oversized black feather from his hair, fingers sliding down the length of it to shred the individual quills off into his palm. Taking a deep breath, he lifts these to his mouth and blows, sending a fluttering mess of black spraying up into the air above.
Pursing his lips, Nikolai follows the shreds of feather with a long, whistling call, noise ringing high and clear through the open space of the ancient archives. A gloved hand lifts, finger pointing toward the Archivist as the sound of beating wings sounds from above.
Out of nowhere, an enormous black crow the size of a large eagle comes diving down to attack, beak and talons gleaming with a clear metallic sheen. Dropping upon the Archivist, it attempts to help drive the great construct to the ground, tearing and pecking in a mythical fury before giving two huge flaps of its wings and rising back into the air, rising in a broad circle to soar up and out of sight on invisible winds.

COMBATSYS: Brandon successfully hits The Archivist with XI - Justice.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                               ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|-----==========                


[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////                 ]
Brandon          1/------=/=======|-------\-------\0          Nikolai

COMBATSYS: Nikolai successfully hits The Archivist with Diving Gagana EX.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                                     ||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|--=============                


[        \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////                 ]
Brandon          1/------=/=======|-------\-------\0          Nikolai

[THE ARCHIVIST]
Well, toppling the Archivist is a bit beyond Brandon's attempted technique... he leaps and slams himself into a ton of multi-meter stone and brass, although it does give him quite a jostle. Were it only that, however! A massive bird is another matter, knocking him sufficiently off-balanced that the damaged joints within his hips makes the hulk crash upon hands and knees. The brutal slash of sword runs undefended down the mechanical monstrocity's back; tearing through stone, cutting brass, making something break free and begin to hiss steam wildly around. Furious scratches and pecks line the back of his odd-shaped head, and a few arcane sparks shoot out from the base of his neck.

Ah... he had gone a little overboard, but Nikolai's protective ward is still an impressive item in the back pocket. Was it the spirit of some ferocious wolf? If not for it, there may have been a bone or two broken amidst the elemental conflux the Archivist offered. "I shall not forgive a second dishonor... upon my sanctum!!"

Attempting to rise back upwards, the crimson gem seems to be nearly full. "You past muster, shaman... but I still need to test the mettle of the one to inherit the spell!!" Twisting towards Brandon, the Archivist then charges forward once more. Large, ground-quaking footsteps, before he twists out and holds his huge left hand over Brandon's head. A sudden column of chi flashes into existence, great pressure and powerful magic trying to drive him down to his knees before being followed by a tremendous impact; something Nikolai likely knows well, after his earlier clash with the warrior, although seeming tailored to be quicker and more difficult to properly evade...!!

COMBATSYS: Brandon reflects Annotating Sigil from The Archivist with IV - The Emperor.
- Power hit! -

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                                           ||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|===============                


[         \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////                 ]
Brandon          1/-----==/=======|-------\-------\0          Nikolai

[BRANDON]
The shaman had fulfilled his end of the bargain, and now it was the light mage's turn to fulfill his. It was something upon which both golem and detective agreed upon.

As far as the attempt to topple was concerned, he would happily settle for off-balancing the golem enough that the massive bird could finish the job. Perhaps the two of them could utilize that in a more coordinated fashion in the future if they found themselves teamed up together again. That seed was planted for the future. The energy sword tearing into it was just a bonus.

Archivist doesn't need to take many steps towards Brandon seeing as he's still somewhat close by the shaking still could provide an intimidation factor that was sizable (player pun was not intended I swear).

There's a moment where this plays out like a samurai movie, if one duelist was a giant arcane automaton and the other was looked to be a cross between a noir detective and a magician. The detective quick draws his card from his pouch as the pillar of light forms above him and a shield of pale yellow light forms above him at angle allowing him to redirect the energy right back at the Archivist like a mirror bouncing a light at another object.

After the display of energy manipulation, the detective claps his hands making the Emperor tarot card disappear from sight before easing back into the modified Philly Shell and breathing a sigh of relief.

[NIKOLAI]
With a good portion of his energy reserves spent, and at least three of his artifacts completely tapped out, Nikolai is quickly running out of tricks to pull. Still, he can be proud of what he has managed thus far. If nothing else he has bought plenty of time for his partner to work.
And work the mage does, catching and redirecting the blast of energy in a clash of magics that blows the shaman's braided hair back, lips curling up at both corners in a ferocious grin.
"YES!" he calls out, exhilarated, and dips a hand into his coat pocket, coming up with a battered old .45 peacemaker. Taking the revolver in both hands, he falls into an easy shooting stance, barrel leveled at the Archivist's broad back.
"That is enough of a showing, is it not?"

COMBATSYS: Nikolai takes no action.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                                           ||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|===============                


[         \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  < >  /////////////                 ]
Brandon          1/-----==/=======|-------\-------\0          Nikolai

[THE ARCHIVIST]
"...enough? Are you already celebrating your victory? I have confirmed your relics and power are sufficient as payment. I did not say that this fight would not be followed to it's conclusion..."

And then the great golem begins to hum. The central orb, so very close to pure red, pulses once. Arcane magic begins to pour out, covering the sentinel in a purple glow similar to the defensive seals upon both books and through the Archivist's own assaults. Steam exhales from a few ports, sparks from areas of damage. Before fire erupts, covering the golem in head to toe. Ice flashes out across the ground, alternating waves of freezing and burning blowing intensely in all directions. Jagged stone manifests in two asteroid-like orbits around him, before lightning finally courses and dances across.

"Removing limiters... final stage of assessment: UNDERWAY!!"

With surprising speed, he then bursts forward to loom before Brandon. The mere proximity might be nearly overwhelming with all four elements infusing him, but he twists to fiercely drop down his gigantic left arm, trying to crush the young mage into the ground--!!

COMBATSYS: The Archivist successfully hits Brandon with Archivist Protocol+.
! VENGEANCE !

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                                      |||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|-------------==                


[                       \\\\\\\  < >  /////////////                 ]
Brandon          2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|-------\-------\0          Nikolai

The sound of the Archivist's fist slamming Brandon into the ground is probably... unsettling. As he raises it up again, and again, a literal storm that each blow cracks and explodes with a different element. Chunks of ice, shards of stone, probably fly out to strike into Nikolai even behind the great golem. A few times, he even grasps the mage for some repeated slams, before suddenly expanding his arms.

A sigil of dark green manifests beneath Brandon. Slowly he would begin to levitate, as arcane lines, letters, and sigils start to build up and reinforce it. Thrumming as the bright light reaches the ceiling, casting even the distant halls into emerald illumination. More, and more, he builds layers and layers of reinforcing and amplifying sigils in a dazzling show of expertise. He, clearly, has had nothing but time to study...

Once Brandon is a few meters up, four final sigils appear, facing him at each compass direction. All of that elemental infusion of the Archivist is violently drawn away, converging and gathering into a great ball on each; crackling lightning, rolling earth, roaring fire, and seething ice. Before in tandem, they crash inwards, hitting Brandon in one great, massive explosion; it seems to expand impressively far, but Nikolai has little to fear -- the Archivist blocks it with his great form, preventing all but the discomfort of sustained heat and cold.

"...You live." is finally stated, in the sea of mist and smoke that billows waist-high around. Even now, it is as if for meters in all directions the protective seals shimmer and crackle from preventing the golem from damaging anything. Yet the machine is still covered in a sheath of purple.

"You have the power for this spell, but I must see the heart!! Finish the assessment, the both of you, if you wish to be worthy of this knowledge!!"

[BRANDON]
The display of fire bursting upwards and ice jutting outwards is intimidating all by itself, seeing chunks of rock circling and electricity arcing all over painted a terifying picture. Brandon barely had time for a gulp of air before he has Archivist in his face before he finds himself enduring the most painful series of attacks he's ever felt in his life.

After it's all over, the once pristine vest, tie, and slacks are covered in singe marks, dirt, and afew soggy patches. The detective himself is staring at the ceiling as he reflects upon what brought him here. Though he is in agony now, this moment will be influential in his path of magical study.

As he rises to his feet he pulls three cards from his leather pouch too tired and beaten up to even bother with sleight of hand. Two are minor arcana. One wands card, a card of passion and creativity. The other a swords card, a card of thoughts. The final card was the major arcana, the Fool card. A card of new beginnings, spontaneity, when reversed could be consider a card of recklessness. It was card of unlimited potential. The fact that he pulled those three in particular must've been a sign.

He reflects on what he's just seen in what might be a reckless attempt to for a moment tap into that potential to do something he has never attempted before and probably won't be able to pull off again without study.

He loosens the chains on his energy pushing it through all three cards before triggering the swords card to increase the speed of his thoughts, then he transfers the energy collected in the wands card into the Fool card before using that to summon a swirling mass of energy pulsing with prismatic light but unlike previous times he's attempt to use this spell, tiny embers of circle it, smal sparks of lightning crackles around it, clouds of dust swirl around it, and tiny shards of ice surround it.

He then sends that mass of energy towards the golem... However, the embers of fire, the dust, and shards of ice drop at his feet, while the lightning dissipates. The swirling ball of prismatic light continues its path towards the Archivist in order to slam right into him.

[NIKOLAI]
Not only is Nikolai's proposal that this be over thoroughly rejected, but the violence that follows shocks the boy into stunned silence, good humor draining bit by bit until he is staring at the enormous construct with a complete lack of expression. Silently he lowers his gun, slipping it into his coat pocket and drawing in a single, centering breath.
"You are alright?" he murmurs to the spirit that rides within him, receiving a weary nudge within himself in response. "Do not worry. I will help you." he assures it, joining his personal reserves with that of his guardian as every bone along his armor begins to glow.
Attention returning to his surroundings, the young shaman aims a hard-eyed glare at the back of the massive construct's head, gathering himself as Brandon begins to force energy into the trio of cards. Flexing his right hand, he settles into a forward-leaning stance, skeletal claws reaching forward to cover his fingers.
"Hey, large Ass Hole!" he calls, no longer amused, "I say..." and here he launches himself forward, boots pounding the tile as he blitzes into a wild dash, coming in on the machine's weakened side as the ball of light approaches from the front, "ENOUGH!"
Swiping out, he attempts to dig glowing claws into the sparking mechanics of the Archivist's side, tearing at them on his way by and swerving away just in time to avoid the clash of arcane golem and ball of light. But whether or not the light is dealt with, the glowing teen circles back, pouncing in from the side to try and anchor himself to the beast's armored flank, claws raised high, then scything down toward the purple barrier in an attempt to cleaves clean through and in to the spindly shoulder joint of the smaller arm.

COMBATSYS: Brandon successfully hits The Archivist with 0 - The Fool.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                                      |||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|-------------==                


[                        \\\\\\  < >  ////////////                  ]
Brandon          0/-------/---<<<<|-------\-------\0          Nikolai

COMBATSYS: Nikolai successfully hits The Archivist with Khitrost' Volka.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                                     ||||||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|-------------==                


[                        \\\\\\  < >  ////////////                  ]
Brandon          0/-------/---<<<<|=------\-------\0          Nikolai

[THE ARCHIVIST]
For the moment, the Archivist faces Brandon, ignoring the shaman behind. He can sense the pair's life force; there is no hiding the extent of damage from his assessing scans. He knows full well that he's a proverbial love-tap from defeat. Even as the spell is meticulously prepared and infused...

At least, until Nikolai yells. The provocations at first fell to deaf faux ears, but the roar that came next made him whirl around. "YOU ARE EXCEEDING THE SOUND LEVELS ALLOWED!!" He said that far louder, but the bait works. Returning to find the massive energy hurtling towards him, he's too slow to intercept it from impacting center-mass.

At the same moment, those vicious, bestial claws tear, teeth dig in, as a great explosion washes over him. There is no doubt; that is enough to defeat him!!

Were things as they were prior, at least. Bursting from the magical storm, the Archivist roars. The damage seems to be applying to him in slow motion; as if time itself has been reduced significantly. Those clawmarks on his back seem to be deepening over long seconds, teeth marks splitting into granite in a slow expansion, but the arcane user has delayed it long enough to still desperately strike out...

His hulking hand swings, using raw speed and force to try to sweep into Brandon's left arm with a bellow, as the crimson gem on his chest brightens more and more red...!!

COMBATSYS: The Archivist successfully hits Brandon with Swift Backhand.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                                        |||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|--------=======                


[                            \\  < >  ////////////                  ]
Brandon          0/-------/<<<<<<<|=------\-------\0          Nikolai

[BRANDON]
The mage's thoughts are processing everything so quickly that it seems like everything is in slow motion. From his ally's scream to the golem's arm swinging into him. The problem is that just because he can see it in slow motion and interpret the information that his eyes are seeing at faster rate, doesn't mean that his body is capable of acting on that information. He tries to hop backward as he pulls two last cards from his pouch. He's sent into a wild spin and then he collapses down to the ground.

While the ground, he looks at the two cards he pulled. One being Death and the other being the Hermit. He would have to make a decision. Does he attempt to squeeze more power out of his body in an attempt to activate the Death card or does he trigger the Hermit and remain out of commission for the rest of this fight. He can't afford to be reckless right now and so he uses the Hermit just as a bolt of lightning strikes him. A light based illusion stands up right next to the body of the private investigator, crackling with electrical energy. The electrified light based illusion marches up to the golem and swings a haymaker right at its torso and then bursts in an explosion of light and electricity leaving the smell of ozone in its wake.

COMBATSYS: Brandon can no longer fight.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                                        |||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|--------=======                


                                  >  ////////////                  ]
                                  |=------\-------\0          Nikolai

[NIKOLAI]
"HRGH." the shaman half grunts, half growls, clinging to the construct's back as it rampages forward and swings that giant hand toward his partner. Pale features wincing, he claws his way up the monster's back and onto its shoulders, planting one boot against the side of its head and vaulting off in a tumbling flip over the head of Brandon's oncoming illusion.
Twisting himself around in mid air, Nikolai lands with one boot on either side of the mage's prone form, glaring up at the Archivist with eyes that glow just as brightly as the wolf skull's on his shoulder. Hair laced through with streaks of white, pelt ruffled in a wind that doesn't exist, he lifts his gloved hands before him, the pitted old revolver making its second appearance in as many moments.
"Go to hell." he instructs, lips pulling back from teeth that are a bit too sharp, canines a little longer than they probably should be.
'FWOOOSH!'
A squeeze of the trigger sends a blazing ball of fire raging toward the construct, the living flame taking the shape of a charging, horned figure only a meter or so shorter than the Archivist himself. It is but a pale reflection of the elemental that lives within the weapon, however, hammering itself apart upon impact with the bulky guardian. In terms of raw power it is restrained, nothing compared to the glowing ball of the Fool or time manipulation. But, well, Nikolai has never claimed to be the most powerful of Russians. Only the cleverest.

COMBATSYS: Brandon successfully hits The Archivist with IX - Hermit.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                                        |||||||||||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|--------=======                


                                  >  ///////////                   ]
                                  |-------\-------\0          Nikolai

COMBATSYS: The Archivist interrupts One-eyed Likho from Nikolai with Indexing Operation.

                           THE ARCHIVIST                            
  [                                                 ||||||||||| ]
                 0|---------------|---============                


                                  >  /////                         ]
                                  |====---\-------\0          Nikolai

COMBATSYS: The Archivist can no longer fight.

                                  >  /////                         ]
                                  |====---\-------\0          Nikolai

[THE ARCHIVIST]
Having already turned away from Brandon, the hulking form of the Archivist advances towards the shaman; even as the explosion from the mage's earlier attack continues to spread, blackening the marble and brass below his central gem. The shimmering field seems to be fluctuating, however... it is merely arresting his damage, not stopping or undoing it!

Yet the machine hurtles forward, thrusting his great chest through the rushing specter, small arm flashing out to catch Nikolai by the throat. Lightning ripples behind, another great crash from Brandon's parting shot making him spasm, but still four green bands flash, constricting and binding the Russian's arms and legs together. He then slams him into the ground, whirring and clicking as he gets himself upright. He can still go, clearly; the damage is beginning to grow more serious, but his wellspring of energy remains unchanged...

Yet this was never about /defeating/ the Archivist. It is an assessment; and the orb upon the center of his chest flashes bright crimson, thrumming out before the purple aura disperses. Those restrained attacks impact him all at once, sending chunks of marble in all directions as the golem spasms and falls to his knees.

"...The assessment has been passed." the golem intones. With a hint of a growl. "Although I find your conduct... questionable. Very well..." Slowly he begins to push to his feet. But his central gemstone seems to thrum out in gentle pulses. Before the pair's eyes, brass begins to shift; dents popping out one by one. Wires tucking back into holes. Pieces of stone strewn around hover and begin to head back to the golem. He's actively regenerating -- well, he did tell them to not worry about damaging him.

"I offer you a trade." His large, broad-chinned mechanical head turns towards Brandon. "A spell for a spell. You will need a certain artifact... and you will need to amplify your magical output to a level that may well kill you... but I am willing to go for so simple a trade. You..."

A finger points to Nikolai. "You broke a floor tile and yelled... were the request yours, I would have stripped you of every fetish you have!!"

[BRANDON]
Oddly enough, the combination of the lightning strike on his last moments as well as the invigorating energy from utilizing the Fool card was acting upon the mage to undo the damage from getting walloped by the arcane golem. He was still in no condition to fight, but he was at least able to finally work his way up to his feet.

"Considering the damage to the floor tile, I wish to make amends by offering the process that I used to make my deck."

He pulls out the entire deck of cards and holds it up.

"My direct access to magic isn't intentionally reckless. For some reason, when I learned, I just happened to have more power than my body could handle. That was why I created my deck to store my power in a group of containers with predetermined spells on them so that I could my magic in a way that wasn't self-destructive. I can go over the energy storage ritual, energy transference ritual, spell storage ritual, and the durability ritual allowing the cards to be able to endure the movement of energy through them as well as the ability to hold up in combat. Four spells in total. One for the exchange of spells, two for the transgressions in your sanctum, and one as appreciation for inspiring me to learn and experiment with new things. Do you find this acceptable?"

Brandon lowers his head in respect to the Archivist as he waits for response even though, he has a feeling that his ally might not like what he's offering.

[NIKOLAI]
Grabbed, bound, and hammered into the tiles with enough force to send purple light flaring up at the impact, all Nikolai can do is grunt out a gag and roll sideways across the floor, slithering free of the bindings with a litheness unexpected of your average shaman. Getting his boots beneath him, he shrugs the last band up and over his head, coming to his feet with the same dogged tenacity he has shown throughout the bout. Battered, purple bruises forming around his neck and across the side of his sharp-featured face, but undefeated.
Leveling a blue-eyed glare on the Archivist, he waits for the end of the challenge to be announced before releasing the hold on his power, his guardian spirit retreating deep within him. Clearly drained from the experience, Nikolai slumps where he stands, blue glow fading from his eyes and hair bleeding back to blond. Bracing one gloved hand atop a lamp stand, he uses it to support himself while frowning up at the rapidly repairing construct, meeting the accusatory point with a steady stare.
"You are very petty for legendary guardian." he mutters back, oddly without fear despite the situation he and Brandon have been through. "Is you who should be questioned. That would not be even a little bit fair of a trade..."
Still, this is not his trial, not primarily, and so he subsides into exhausted silence, casting a sidelong look toward his more experienced companion. Silence that is almost immediately broken once he hears the offer, blond head shaking violently enough to set his hair beads all a clatter.
"This is too much! Give less, or he is to be taking you as the fool. Hold more value for the things you keep, Brandon."

COMBATSYS: Nikolai has ended the fight here.


[THE ARCHIVIST]
Nikolai and Brandon have won; the shaman was still able to get up, to fight, regardless of his vigor. The test has been passed, and the grudging golem cannot deny it. He had tuned himself to win, after all. No response is given to Nikolai; for he is correct. The Archivist is petty, indeed. Although at the onset he had zero interest into being compelled towards helping the pair... at least for the young mage, there may be some softness.

"...Hmph. You would atone for your friend?" The Archivist says, as if finding this to not be rational. Bit by bit, the golem continues to rejuvenate, the slight limp gradually fading as it rolls one segmented shoulder in a few careful rolls. Then he leans forward, huge head close enough to be scant inches from the mage.

"But you misinterpret the trade. Knowledge for Knowledge. ...You will give me one of your cards. ...Permanently. You will forever forget how to cast it. How to use it. How to ever recreate it. ...In return, I will provide you a new spell. One to cleanse demonic corruption and taint."

The golem then slowly rises, staring down towards Brandon in quiet judgement. "Due to your assessment... and your respect... you may choose which you offer me. Yet do not underestimate the potency of this trade... decades of work went into the one you shall receive, even if it may do little to aide you so much in combat. This is the toll of the House of Alucard..."

"Do you accept, or will you find your answers elsewhere, human?"

[BRANDON]
"Knowledge for knowledge, eh?"

Now that Brandon knew the stakes of what he was giving up, he nods. While he knew that he was giving up a lot by giving up the process of his cards, considering what this cleansing spell would mean for Metro City, he would've felt the process would have been a steal. If he were being honest, even this was a steal.

"Ok..."

He takes a deep breath before pulling 'XVI - Tower' from his pouch and holding it out to the golem.

"This is bigger than me. Considering all of the citizens of Metro City this could help, this is a very small price to pay."

[NIKOLAI]
Lapsing back into watchful silence, Nikolai pushes up from his lean and trudges slowly over to join Brandon's side. Circling around the great bulk of the Archivist, frowns over at it, but takes up his position with stubborn dutifulness, watching to insure the trade goes down as it should. He doesn't exactly like it, but this is fair. Proper, even.

[THE ARCHIVIST]
"...Admirable." the Archivist admits. He reaches out to take the card with the delicate limb. It is handled with care and revelry, before the golem strides back to the old, beaten cart adorned with books near where they first met him. He places it atop; apparently it will forever find a place in this endless archive. "Remain here... I shall retrieve the book."

It takes... a bit longer then is dramatic. Eventually, he returns with a thick, worn tomb of leather. Flipping through the pages, he clacks it shut and sets it back on a shelf. "This spell requires an artifact for any true range... the Isochronium Arca... ...I am aware that this also is being retrieved in the Castle... I had considered granting you a cantrip to heal a blade of grass or a flower at a time... but I think even then, you would tirelessly pursue this. No matter... the author would be pleased to have his spell heal Earthrealm again, and -- he is a mage I respected."

He then reaches out, all five of those spindly fingers shifting to cage around Brandon's head. "Be still."

And then a sustained flash of green energy. It would be fairly agonizing, really. Hopefully Nikolai doesn't think it's a fatal process... a couple seconds later, Brandon would feel what may be the worst headache of his life.

And indeed... the spell he has known for years, developed himself... is gone from his mind. He can vaguely recall the fell of it, but it is like a void within him. Trying to recreate it, even imagine how he once did it, would leave a disconcerting sense of vertigo. No... he will never again cast the Tower, nor will he ever again truly be able to imitate... it is gone.

But a new one is within him; the incantation meant to be paired with Isochronium Arca. An advanced spell of cleansing... Kazarov's Purification. It would feel like Brandon could already imagine all the steps, etchings, flows of energy... a lesson of efficiency and pure, genius skill that he may be able to draw from in countless ways to advance his own magecraft; reverse engineering this will be incredibly valuable even beyond working to save Metro City... whoever this Kazarov is, he was indeed an incredible spellcaster from ancient times.

But the toll... to use it on the artifact, even with his own incredible powers and amplifications... it seems certain... to kill him, as is? ...Is that how the creator of it died, long ago? Casting this to allow the artifact to draw in all the Seithr and remove it from a tainted realm when the corruption runs so deep? Something he will need to finish puzzling and resolving, to be sure...

Log created on 16:07:46 06/04/2021 by Nikolai, and last modified on 00:28:42 06/07/2021.