It was the dead of night at the Dojo. The constant variety of explosions, gun shots, ringing metal, and exerted grunts of warriors from all around was now silence. Most were still just people who needed sleep like everyone else. A few nocturnal creatures and warriors were slinking about doing their nightly duties but overall it was quiet. Stian was almost comically out of place. His thick furs muffled most sound but he was definitely not stealthy. Bright, vibrant blues, reds, and whites were not colors subdued. The browns and blacks helped but not enough. He was carrying a small bag that was pressed tight against his flank. He walked quickly and with purpose. As he came out into the refreshing night air he breathed deep but did not stop. He approached a small clearing where he actually fought a decisive battle against another skilled mage. Nora was her name but that wasn't important. The aftermath was important. While the plants had mostly regrown thanks to Nora's magic, and unmistakable air of darkness and death swirled. It had malicious intent almost, like the air itself had grown a taste for blood. It was perfect for what Stian was intending. He dug into his pouch and retrieved metal chips with Nordic runes etched into them. He first threw up 3 and spoke two words in succession. "[i]Eiwaz. Cheilt ó radharc[/i]" The punches glowed in the air and a thin film seemed to stretch over the clearing. It would lower the locations notoriety, making it harder for people to perceive inside. It would work as long as no one had prior interest in him or had a high tolerance for magic. He needed privacy for this. Stian first drew his sword and walked in a large circle around the clearing, dragging his sword to carve a path. He then retrieved a book from the bag he was carrying and laid it out. He began to copy symbols and runes in the book onto the ground. This spell was extremely complex even for him. It refers to magic from all over the world. He spent the better part of two hours creating a huge circle of various spells, runes, and writing that even Stian couldn't fully understand. He then retrieved 5 small relics from the bag, each from a different kind of magic. Nordic Galdr, Japanese Kotodama, Haiti Vodou, Christian High magic, and Egyptian Heka. He then retrieved the last item from the bag, a bloody parcel no larger than a fist. He unwrapped it to reveal a sheep's heart, no older than a day. He walked to the center of the circle and crushed it in his hand. Any blood trapped inside spilled at his feet and into the complex series of symbols carved in the earth. Then he spoke from the book. "[i]glacadh, ukeiremasu, aksepte, accipere, qabul[/i]" With each word the blood seemed to first double, then quadruple, and continue to multiply until the entire circle was full. He lastly took his sword and thrust it into the center. He spoke to almost announce it. "[i]ghabhail mo loisgte agus leig dhomh bruidhinn[/i]" Stian left the circle and sat just outside its boundaries. And he waited. This time was crucial. The perception barrier held but it must stay for just a while longer. He was so close now. Just nothing had to go wrong. But in Stian's life, something always did. [spoiler]open to all[/spoiler]