Solomon Lancaster/Safe Haven
From Unofficial Handbook of the Virtue Universe
Professor Solomon Lancaster was tired. The past week he’d been running himself ragged, closing the tears in space and time that had been appearing in Paragon City and the Rogue Isles. His mind and body were taxed to their breaking point. It was only by the virtue of his training as an Archmage, and the mastery of his own chi that he was still able to remain conscious.
Perhaps it was the exhaustion, he mused, that lead to such a desperate plan. He dismissed the idea as quickly as he had entertained it, and lowered himself into a lotus position upon the cold stone floor of his sanctum.
He wore only a loose tunic and pants, each embroidered with silver thread to form protective sigils on every surface of the garments. He was likewise adorned; runes of protection and sigils of focus were painted upon every inch of his flesh.
The sanctum was dark, save for the light cast by the single candle burning in front of him. His eyes focused on the candle as he began to move his fingers, lacing and unlacing them together in his lap, as he recited a cantrip so soft it barely left his throat. He stayed that way for almost an hour before anything happened.
The universe seemed to expand then contract into a singularity, and he felt the familiar churn in his stomach as he stepped out of space and time. His eyes closed and he pushed the sensation down. When he opened them, he was in another place.
The room was circular. The floors, walls and ceiling were all colored a pale and sterile blue. The walls were unadorned, save for the intermittent sliding elevator doors to elsewhere. In the center of the room burned a massive fount of energy, cascading down from the convex ceiling to the floor where it rippled out like water. He had reached his destination; the fabled Matrix Room.
He wasted no time, his hand going to the satchel at his hip. He removed a large piece of chalk and began working, laying down an intricate series of runes on the floor; circles within circles within circles, all intersecting at a single point.
Upon this point he stood. His eyes closed and he took several deep breaths to center himself. First he reached out to the Well of the Furies and felt the his own incarnate powers surging, bolstering his already considerable arcane power. Second, he reached out with his right hand, towards the fount of energy in the center of the room, beckoning its power towards him. Beads of sweat formed on his brow, but his stern grey eyes never lost their focus.
Slowly, a single tendril of the fount’s white energy broke free and slithered through the air towards his outstretched hand. It made contact, and the wizard screamed as his entire being seemed catch fire. He focused his will, slowly blocking out the pain and the universe opened up to him.
He reached out to a formless mass of non-space and drew it closer. His will worked the nothingness, molding it and giving it shape and form. When he was done, there was now a stable pocket of space and time where before there was none. He reached once more into the void, pulling another mass to him and repeating the process. And so he toiled, steadily, until there were half a dozen newly formed dimensional safe havens
He closed his eyes and felt his gorge rise once again as he shifted dimensions. His eyes opened, and he found himself in the familiar surroundings of his sanctum. He breathed a sigh of relief, and slumped over, passing out from exhaustion.
