Owner	Pose
Angelo Tampambulos	Days... maybe over a week of work has gone into the preparations to try to end the curse of the ancient runeblade. Runes have been invoked. Elemental powers have been drawn upon. Power has been channeled via ritual magic. I mean it is a widely known fact that ritual magic, while slower, can be far -far- more potent in power than some instantly invoked power words.     With the powers resonating together, there is a feel... a sense... hell a -taste- of magic in the air. The feel is akin to experiencing a cold wind blowing down off of the top of a snow-capped mountain. There is also just the barest hint of the briny smell of sea water from the cold North Sea.     But finally, the preparations are as done as they are going to be. The sword lies on a stone bier in the center of so many different symbols of various cross-connected powers that the sword itself seems small and insignificant by comparison. But with things completed and ready, all that is left is to call upon the powers and use them to destroy the curse...
Zatanna Zatara	Still within the warded gates of Shadowcrest, the stone sits on a low rise encircled by stately rowan trees whose branches intertwine, creating a barrier to the rest of the park. Their leaves whisper in a light breeze scented with magic, presaging the dawn. The runes have been drawn and the sword laid on the stone, etched with runes bespeaking the power and protection of the Norse gods. Overhead the stars begin to dim as a thin red line burns on the horizon heralding the sun. The magician stands by the bier, uncharacteristically garbed in a long white robe, an ash crown on her raven-haired head. Facing east, lifting both hands above her head, she chants, "We greet you, purifier. O light that will wash this sword of its darkness. Freyja, bring us your cleansing fire." Turning to the north, fingers pointing to the ground, channeled through the rune Uruz, the earth rune. "Thor, earth trembler, lend us your power to remove the cunning drinker of blood that lives in its cold steel." She touches each rune with her ash branch before turning to another point on the compass, asking for luck and protection. Healing waters well up from the rune Lagaz when she taps it. At the last, turning in place, arms outstretched, "Help us remove the thirst that lives within this sword."
Angelo Tampambulos	Angelo finds himself standing outside of the whole circle made of the runes and wood. Power has begun flowing into the runes... the runes themselves lighting up with a soft glow. As the power manifests, and as the energy suffuses the circle, the runes, and the invocations to one god or another... hairs on the body begin standing up. Almost like one were standing where lightning was about to strike.     Have you ever heard a sound that was so deep, that you didn't hear it so much as -feel- it in the chest, the feet, or whatever? Well, there is a sound like that which is so soft that it is actually -only- felt and not heard... it's a repetitive sound.. and then it grows in volume a bit. It sounds like the growl of a feral animal, a dog... or a wolf.     Then the power that was summoned flashes super bright... then fades to absolute darkness. But after only a moment, the light comes back to normal. Disquieting, unnerving... but what is truly bothersome is the barely there, ghostlike image of a wolf's head... slowly looking left, then right...     The eyes of the wolf-head alight upon Zatanna, and then they look past her towards Angelo. "Ah.." says a growling voice in throaty English... well it's in whatever language is native to whomever is hearing it. So Angelo hears it in ancient Greek. What? It's weird. All-Speak is weird on its own.     "The warrior who avenged the fallen one. I was confused why -my- rage did not infect you. But you are still alive. There is something unusual about you." And then he looks back to Zatanna. "The fallen one invoked me. I gave him what he wished, but he died before the convergence could be completed. Will -you- accept my power young Homo Magi? Will you take my power and use it for your own reasons? Will you allow me to augment you until you are the rarest of all creatures in this world?" He pauses and adds, "A werewolf with absolute awareness and control at all times? No mindless beast during the full moon. No hunger for human flesh? Merely... an anchor to Midgard for me?"     He has not said his name. But for those truly knowledgeable about things, he should not need to. As one who has studied the myths so much, Zatanna can easily recognize the countenance of Fenrir, the embodiment of fury, rage, and hunger in Norse Mythology. He who is supposed to consume Odin himself at Ragnarok.
Zatanna Zatara	The glade throbs with the low sound, and the rowan leaves tremble in response. Zatana tastes brine on the cold air - the breath of the gods rushing down from distant mountains reflected in a tranquil fjord. Sapphire eyes meet the golden-brown of Fenrir's eyes, and Zatanna holds up the ash branch. Her voice is low but carries the lash of power in it, "Ever ready to help those seeking vengeance, wolf. I am already among the rare and do not need to ask for power from one such as you. This man has avenged the one who called you." She gestures to Angelo. "He picked well. Perhaps instinct told him that the man carrying out his vengeance would not fall prey to you. He will remain immune to your appetites." Her eyes flash with a crack of power, "Begone. I will be no one's anchor. I am a free homo magi and subject to none."
Angelo Tampambulos	The wolf's nostrils flare as he metaphorically inhales. "I smell the sea and the storm on that one now, as I did back then." states Fenrir. His eyes turn to Zatanna, "You will regret refusing me. My hunger is -never- sated, and I will find an anchor. You know that there are those weak enough to give that to me." A pause... and then his voice says, "I will withdraw the power with me and save it for another..."     And the lights go back out, truly full dark in the room for a moment. A pregnant pause while the growling voice says, "Child of the Mediterranean and the sky.. you will be.."     And that is when Angelo interrupts. "I will be nothing to you. Show yourself to me again and I will show you how I treat my enemies great wolf..."     And the lights come back on... the reverberating echo of what can only be called the love child of a growl and a belly laugh... the sound fading slowly away.     One positive note, the sword lacks all runes, and there is no longer power within it. It is simply a thing of steel now. Not empowered. Apparently the wolf was good to his word, and he took -all- the power with him.
Zatanna Zatara	The rising sun filters through the trees dappling the sword with light. A sword cleansed of an unending appetite for death. The growl fades from the air, leaving Zatanna blinking in the new day's light. A smile illuminates her face as she turns to Angelo. "Well done. I should have known it was something like him but I'm not well-versed in Norse lore. The Gods treated us well, driving Fenrir away." Facing the bier where the sword gleams innocently on the grey stone, Zatanna bows, "Thank you, Odin. Thank you, Thor. And, thank you Freyja for your aide and protection." She winks at Angelo. "Always good to thank the powers. We were given a gift."
Angelo Tampambulos	"I recommend an alternate viewpoint. That you -earned- anything that you received. You and your creativity, will, and power cleansed the blade. Or at least drew out the source of the power.... which you drove away." says Angelo. "You really are something special. And an example of why humanity is best left alone by the gods."     That said, Angelo steps forward and places a hand upon Zatanna's shoulder. There is a tingle of power as he does so. See, much like technology, science and invention... knowing something is possible is about 50% of coming up with a way to do it. Knowing that there is power in the blood to be called upon has at least opened Angelo's mind to the possibility. He cannot feel the presence of magic in the air. But... his touch tingles in his own senses as it contacts one of the most powerful magicians in the world... and he raises a brow.     "I would be tempted to say that I just felt the world move. But... would that just be too cheesy?" he asks.
Zatanna Zatara	Covering Angelo's hand with her own, she tilts her head and lays her cheek on it. His blood sings of magic and the sun kissed waters of the Aegean Sea. "Perhaps. I was the conduit channeling the power. I am not the power. It is something I never wish to lose sight of, if I can. That opens a door to megalomania and hurting others."