Unknown - DM Omen's page

The man gives a slight sneer, moving right up next to Dalton. He doesn't reach for a weapon or raise his hand or even look like he intends Dalton harm...but something about him is just bone-chillingly terrifying. It's like a dragon breathing down your neck. His piercing, white eyes stare intently at Dalton for a moment, then he nods. "I know of you, Dalton Barrowwheel, son of Koriat. Wild magic is dangerous and unpredictable, and you tap into it far too carelessly. You are lucky Tiasar is confident in your abilities or I would have paid you a visit far sooner." He narrows his eyes. "Perhaps it is long overdue though."

The intimidating man sweeps his gaze across the rest of the party, then back to Dalton. "I don't know what your intentions were, but you nearly folded the timestream over itself. You could see in four dimensions but you tried to act in a frozen piece of time, which is blatantly destructive. Even the most powerful time magic such as Time Stop does not actually stop time. You tampered with things you do not understand and you nearly collapsed a moment of reality. You are very lucky that Malose prevented that, or you may never have existed." He looks back over the party. "All of you."

He looks off into the horizon of darkness, folding his arms.

The man coldly gazes over the party, resting on Dalton. He narrows his eyes and stalks forward, moving eerily silently for being clad in so much armor. "There is only one other person who can manipulate time like that. What did you do?"

Note this is a different person, I am changing the avatar of this alias accordingly for unknown NPCs.

The man's eyes flick towards Ianna. He breathes in slowly again, then as he exhales a tremendous blast of green and black energy erupts out from his body, washing over everybody present in the blink of an eye.

It is as if the force of life itself is being sucked out of you. The most painful and panicking experience imaginable. Your limbs begin shaking and thinning, your bones grow brittle and bending, your mind stops processing information. It's as if every part of your being is being degraded in mere moments. The party begins collapsing, even Stoneriver falling down. Those who land and can look around see that everybody is aging unnaturally quickly, their skin looking drawn out over skeletons and their hair going white. In moments there will be nothing left but dried up husks.

"Troth de tairais!" Sveng appears out of thin air, standing next to Dalton, holding a glimmering black hourglass to the transmuter. Dalton feels the oppressive aging magic seep out of him as his senses and limb strength returns. The mysterious man turns with a furious gaze to Sveng, who replies by looking over the party with an accepting calmness. "Thank you for all you have given me. I shall rest easy in the Gray Master's halls. This is my promise fulfilled." The mysterious man's eyes flash green, and Sveng shakes for a moment, then shudders and explodes into a cloud of fine dust. The black hourglass clinks to the ground.

Soft walking is heard from the entrance; it sounds like a single person of average build walking normally. Then the person rounds the corner...

A more average-looking person could not be imagined. A human of medium stature and build, with a clean shaven face and short, wavy brown hair. He wears brown and white traveling robes and carries no weapons but a quarterstaff and a dagger.

Tap. Tap. Tap. He walks into the room, walking with his quarterstaff, although he doesn't appear to have any need for it. He coldly scans the room with dead, intense eyes, an unhappy frown on his face. He looks from Calios's burning corpse, to Stoneriver, to Toramin, to Bjorkus, to Ianna, to Rilka, to Dalton. He breathes in slowly and exhales, as if calming himself down after an unsupervised child has caused a mess and now he must clean it up. He leans on his staff and continues staring at the party, as if taking his time to decide what to do.