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Post by The Creator on Nov 25, 2014 2:24:35 GMT
"If they do not, we shall have to discuss the future funding of their research, now won't we?" the young, raven haired woman asked as she crossed the threshold when offered by a tall, armored guard. The latter bowed his head, but as the slightly older man came in after, he straightened entirely. The older gentleman made an inaudible growl but disregarded the lowly soldier; in weeks he would still be a guard, while the other would be wed to an Empress.
The woman--the aforementioned Empress--stopped mid-stride as soon as the double doors were sealed and took a quick survey about the room. It was airy, bright and fastidiously clean; in all her musings about wizards, she had grown accustomed to imagining them as smelly old men carrying putrid plants and rotting vegetables somewhere on their person. She was impressed.
Stepping forward she put both hands down on a large table carved into the shape of an octagon, with space at the center where a shallow pool sat with still water. Light from the large windows on the opposing wall shone in brightly, and just behind her she noticed a glinted reflection. Turning, Regina saw a tall mirror, covered in dust and taking the grandeur out of the room. It struck her as eerie.
"Your Majesty," the guard said quietly, stirring the woman from her innermost thoughts. "You have been given a place to sit on the other side of the room, beneath the windows."
She narrowed her eyes, squinting past the glare, and smiled. It was a darkwood varnish, with a royal blue velvet brocade, decorated with fine gold stitching and silver designs. She sighed happily and proceeded to her seat immediately, ignoring her Consort's arm, which had been offered by protocol.
"Well I shall say, they do have the gift of fine hospitality," Regina said after a few silent moments, fingering the corners where the fabric had been stapled into wood. "At least their attention to detail shan't be called into question."
The disgruntled man from before--the soon-to-be Prince-Consort--skulked up to the Queen's side and bit his lower lip, unsure of whether he should ask for a chair. It certainly was most rude of those Mages! He was to be Emperor one day, after all.
Suddenly, however, the man became distracted as his fiancé's palm slid down his left arm.
"Relax, Charles," she said, squeezing his forearm lightly as it shook between her fingers. "Father said these people were nothing if not loyal to the Crown. There is nothing to be afraid of."
"Ahem, yes. Of course, my dear. I was only, mm, curious. Curious about their--whereabouts. Naturally, it is most impolite to keep a lady waiting...especially one so radiant as yourself."
Regina blushed, and gave the man another squeeze before putting her hands together in her lap. Nodding, she assured the man all was well.
"They certainly are a busy lot, I would imag--"
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Post by Lord Aebra Cheval on Nov 25, 2014 2:25:58 GMT
A sudden, loud knock--more like an abrupt rap--followed by two more at the door halted the Empress's speech dead in its tracks. The Guard, who had seemingly found even himself distracted, more so with Regina's beauty than anything on the others' minds, jumped a straight foot at the sound, dropping his halberd in the process.
Thoroughly embarrassed, he rushed to collect his bearings and cleared his throat, before finally opening the doors again. At eye level, he saw sandy auburn hair, but when the man lowered his gaze slightly, he stared into twin pools of bright, shifting colors. These orbs were surrounded by increasingly narrow lids and with a loss for words was simply waved aside.
The newcomer brushed by with an air of authority, and a cool blue-green cloak fluttered in his wake. When he met face-to-face with the Empress, he stepped away from the table, tossed the cloak over his shoulders to reveal blue-silver leather, and dropped low to one knee. The glint from an emerald embedded in a pendant adorning his light purple headband began to glow.
When he was bid to rise, he nodded his head respectfully at both man and woman, followed by the nervous guard.
Regina opened her mouth to speak when the gentleman beat her to it.
"My apologies, Your Eminence. The Council would have been together by now awaiting your arrival, but we seem to have met with an unfortunate problem."
His mind traced his steps back to when he was in the foyer downstairs, and had examined a large, highly-detailed eldritch circle carved into the smooth marble. Its magic was faint, and somehow seemed to be...sleeping, was the only way he could describe it. Where was Caria?
Eventually the man came back to earth and eyed the quizzical stares he was getting, and bade them his forgiveness yet again.
"I assure you, it is nothing the Grand Mages cannot work around. We are having trouble with the Transportation Circle, is all. The others will simply have to find their own methods.
"Allow me to introduce myself, as my work has kept me in Knemysis for far longer than I had expected. I am Aebra Cheval, the Master Abjurer. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Your Majesty. And may I say, congratulations on your engagement."
He smiled pleasantly between the two, and after a moment walked over to where his chair sat, directly in front of the Queen. If the room were a clock, Regina would be sitting just above Midnight, or Noon.
"While we wait for the others, I asked the kitchen to prepare some light snack and beverages. I suggest the Lapsang Souchong--a tea I grew up with in the Desert. It is rich with smoked hickory flavor, and quite a bit powerful--an acquired taste, as it were, but I'm sure you will enjoy it."
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Post by Maestro Buliri on Nov 25, 2014 9:43:56 GMT
Meanwhile, downstairs -
The air became tight in the center of the grand foyer, where the magnificent marble floor's ornate fractal design bore its origin. Students passing this way and that instinctively moved aside as they sensed the shifting of pressure all around them. Some stopped at the foot of the double spiraling stairs, eager to bare witness to whatever was to come. Shadows shifted lightly as something passed through the veil between our world and another which it touches so lightly, the plane of darkness. With an audible POP! as the air was forced from its natural resting place, a sight to behold for all was brought upon the material plane.
A man more intimidating than any before him stood there, the eyes of the student body upon his massive form. He stood nearly eight feet tall and built like a mountain. Each leg was as thick as a hundred-year-old tree trunk and each arm was a coiled mass of sinew and brawn. He wore a sleeveless, dark purple tunic, bound about the waist by an ornate belt of rich black and gold. His lower half was covered in velvet breeches ending in dark leather boots bound with buckles. His head was bald but his beard was thick and white, braided into thirteen individual braids tied amongst each other and decorated with various baubles. In his left hand he carried a heavy oaken staff with a glowing gem atop and all about his shoulders, chest, back, waist and legs hung hundreds of scrolls.
Deeply he inhaled and released a single blast of air from his nose, like a wild stallion challenged to battle. He strode with duty and purpose to the stairs, each step heavy and resonating. All around, students whispered to one another in awe of this behemoth.
"Is that Maestro Buliri??" whispered a female divination student to her guide, a whist of a man carrying several books.
"Impossible! The Mad Maestro is a woman, I heard..." another hushed whisper came from across the room by a roaming abjurer in training.
"You're wrong... I know he's a man but I was told he had flowing golden locks of hair and always carried a harp..."
"Where's his tail? My aunt said when she held an audience with him, he had a the tail of a monkey!"
And so the whispers went, whether falling upon the ears of the monstrous Maestro no one can tell. He merely continued to ascend the stairs toward the Council Room, each footfall ushering a thunderous boom followed by the dull thud of his staff.
Up and up he went, leaving behind a sea of rumors and confusion until he reached the gilded doors of the Hall of Mages. A light smirk played across his features as he let out a grunt and placed his hands upon them. With a shove, he entered...
And with a soft shimmering of light and the gentle sound of water rippling, the image of the humongous beast of a man dissolved away, revealing a creature no taller than three feet and a few inches, with large ears on either side of his head and built as stocky as a dwarf for a creature his size. The gnome that appeared now wore a long sleeved robe, though the many scrolls were still on his person and instead of a staff kept several wands tucked in his belt. His facial features had changed very little, keeping the thick white beard and bald head, though his eyebrows seemed more wild and mischievous. Immediately upon entering the room, he placed his fists on his hips, taking in the sight of the grand hall and those who had already arrived, including the Empress. What he said next would be a surprise to all but the one fellow mage in the room...
"My name is Maestro Buliri MacFizzlmxlplxlmarcoshaemacsaksontire III... Damn!"
He immediately turned on his heel and left the room only to enter again.
"My name is Maestro Buliri MacFizzlmxlplxlmarcoshaemacsaksontire III... DAMN!!"
He repeated this process thrice before the guard approached with caution. "Uhm... sir... the Empress and-"
The gnome cut him off. "I'm not BLIND, I can SEE them... or am I? Whatever. Can't you see I'm doing something important here?"
"B-but sir... protocol demands-"
"Eh, move ya great useless lump..." the gnome muttered, shoving his way past the halberd-wielding guard as he strode in a huff past the seat of the Master Abjurer and right up to the pseudo-throne that had been prepared for the Empress. Upon reaching the spot, his behavior instantly transformed from bluster to royal demeanor as he bowed low in courtly fashion. "Ah, your Grace and most lovely of highness's under the stars..." he began, "I am Maestro Buliri MacFizzlmxlplxlmarcoshaemacsaksontire III, at your service and command..." He stood thereafter, an impish smile on his face. "Has our good Master of Abjuration already offered you a cup of Lapsang Souchong? Don't drink it."
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Post by The Creator on Nov 25, 2014 13:10:46 GMT
Regina's eyes grew so very wide she feared they might explode from bulging so hard. At first she remained patient, mostly because this would be the first instance of dealing with the Arcane College, and her father had always said to be polite.
The Abjurer came in rather quiet at first, but he was polite and gave the air of a handsome knight. This far surpassed her image of Wizards already, and when he spoke with grace, the attitude of a noble and even made the gentlest of offers, she managed to be struck with awe.
As to what was said, the Empress only waved a hand and said it was quite alright. She understood the schedules of other people differed from her own and that made even Aebra happy. Eventually the tea meister came with a small silver trolley, loaded with a platter of snacks and several steaming pots. She was handed the proffered tea and was just about to partake of Aebra's favorite flavor, when the doors exploded inward and...
In came striding with meaning a Gnome. Once again her eyes felt as if they might tear clean from their place begins her eyelids. The man was squat, and seemed dissatisfied with his first entrance. So when he left and proceeded to re-enter twice more, she decided she'd taken over a madhouse. Finally the man made it over to her and his demeanor altered drastically. Like the kind Abjurer, he bowed and gave every polite offering required of someone of Regina's status, and she thought he might kiss her hand.
Instead she was forced to gaze down suspiciously into her cup now, at the very same drink she'd forgotten to sip sooner. She quickly handed it to her Consort Charles, and smiled pleasantly between the two Wizards.
"I think we can wait on the snacks until everyone arrives."
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Post by The Brass Duke on Nov 25, 2014 14:34:55 GMT
From the Grand Library to the Hanging Gardens, the Rainbow Tower was bustling and alive, a machination for education and free thinking. It was here all the greatest Wizards assembled, and typically where Mages came to graduate from a particular College. This was the hub of all Arcane life in the whole of the Empire, if not the entire Continent.
It was in a large room where another of the Grand Mages stood, unaware of the time and completely absorbed in abusing the minds of fresh meat. The man delighted in nothing better when visiting the Tower than to recite the Basics of Magic to Graduate Students whose teachers had not arrived yet, and then making them feel foolish about themselves.
"There are many rules as to how magic operates," said the man with a slight rasp in his voice, with a tone that commanded the attention of everybody in the room; his deep green eyes were trained on the lot of them, bouncing from student to random student as they pondered his sanity. He stood tall in family colors of russet and moss green pinstripe silks, bedazzled with brass gears and pauldrons sewn into the fabric. His wildly styled hair shaded a portion of his face, but a mad grin shown bright through any din. He stepped forward and rapped the podium hard with his cane, emitting a loud "click-pang" to reverberate off the walls.
"A complete list of them could easily fill volumes of books. Nevertheless, there are a few major points that all mages and non-mages alike ought to know about.
"Everyone can use magic with enough training, though many are without the talent to do so." The man's predatory eyes locked onto a specific young woman in the student body, and his grin widened before he continued.
"Few people are born with inherent magical talent. Those with such talent are commonly termed "sorcerers".
"There are many kinds of magic, but few mages are highly skilled in more than a few types. Some commonly-known schools of magic include elemental, nature, death, and healing magic.
"Alchemy is considered a borderline case as to whether or not it is magic, as it doesn't need to involve any magic on the part of the practitioner, but always involves magical reagents, chemicals, powders, potions, elixirs, and the like."
As he continued to berate the others by insulting their former education, the Wizard was caught off-guard by the time a young secretary came waltzing up the platform and leaned in to whisper into his ear. The students craned their necks to listen in, but could hear nothing, even with the room's amazing acoustics. Instead their heads turned to the doorway, where an elderly woman with large circular glasses stood with hands on her hips and a glare in her eyes. The professor of this class, they noticed. She marched up the steps and pointed a bony finger into the other Mage's nose and hollered.
In response the russet-blond man addressed the students again, bowed his head and chuckled pleasantly. "It appears my time is up! I am sad that I could not move on to the more ridiculous schools, such as Divine priestly magic, or even the false incanters, but do not fret--!"
In a rage, the old woman grabbed the richly dressed man and, with some unseen force blew him from the dias and through the open doorway, slamming the door shut the moment he reached the opposing wall in the hallway.
He gathered himself, brushed off his russet vest and snickered, and then proceeded back to the main foyer. Here students were greater in numbers, and they all seemed to be absorbed in their studies, some form of mysteries or random banter. But of all the talk buzzing in and out of his ear, he caught one matter in particular. A monstrosity had just come through the doors. He thought it over a moment and gazed at the floor where some marble had been warped recently. With a shrug, he ascended the stairs and headed to where he ought to be, glancing at a golden pocket watch chained to one of his many belts.
By the time he met the guard at the double doors on the Faculty Level, the latter had gone green. Only two arrivals and the man was ready to abandon his post. But when he saw this newcomer he erected to full height again and saluted bravely.
This Wizard came waltzing forward with purpose, and didn't even stop to greet the guard; instead he held up his cane and the doors ahead blew inward, the guard along with them. He continued on, crossing the threshold and stepping just over the prone man's staggering form. Here he met the gazes of four other individuals. To the squat Gnome he nodded first, then to the Desert-dweller, and finally to the Queen and her popinjay.
"You'll have to excuse my tardiness; I was heavily involved in a lecture down in Herbalism. Students today are just let in by the dozens, I fear." He waltzed over to his chair at the Queen's eleven o'clock, right beside Aebra. He set his cane against the table and spun to meet Regina's gaze, but directed his next words to the other Wizards only. "I heard stories downstairs of a rather large golden dragon prancing about the tower this morning. It singed the floor before skulking off. My mother hasn't been here, has she?"
He cleared his throat and bowed low to the Queen. "I am the Grand Transmuter, Your Most Lovely Majesty, though you may call me--" He was stopped short by her hand as she lifted it, and subsequently informed she knew who he was, as he was part of Avalendor's extended ruling family. She nodded to him and he grinned wickedly, before taking his seat.
"Ah, Maestro! It has been a year if it's been a day! You haven't aged a decade! How's the old battering ram these days, Hm? HM?"
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Post by Lady Diva on Nov 25, 2014 16:48:07 GMT
"In retrospect, I suppose it wasn't her fault she looked ugly; her mother insisted she hire that no-nothing twit..." said a jet-haired beauty in ravishing blue silk fineries, a somewhat revealing dress with the motifs of exotic birds; she stood alone near a tall shelf scaling the wall straight up to the ceiling, though she held a tome under her left arm.
"Let's not hold it against her, but I intend to write to that sod and report him to the fashion police. Yes, that is wha--"
The beauty was cut short by a guttural sound, something that seemed like metal grinding on rough, hard stone. The accent was unmistakable: foreign, unpleasant and seemingly uneducated. The woman's eyes narrowed, and her lips parted, but only air escaped. This was the Grand Library, wasn't it?
Like a paranoid schizophrenic just let loose from an asylum, the enchanting beauty's head darted left to right, and she pulled the book from before up to her chest and moved closer to where that terrible sound had come from. All the while she thought back to the night before; she attended a fancy party for the Countess, and partook in some unrefined gallivanting in the Opium Room.
When her eyes met a small crowd gathering about a young robed magician and a larger, stockier foreigner with his rear crack showing, her nose wrinkled in disgust and she was taken aback. The bigger Initiate picked up the shorter chap with absolutely no effort and the crowd followed as they proceeded outside. The woman witnessed age-old bullying and simply sighed. But instead of helping the dubbed "freak" as he blew in the wind like their national flag, the woman spun around and headed back inside, out of the library and into the Evokers' Wing. Her long dress's tail dragged behind as the beautiful woman sauntered by students dumbfounded by her immaculate presentation, and when she came upon a small gathering of Mages huddled near a door she stopped. One hand rested on her round hip while the other was gripped firmly onto the book she held so tightly, and one manicured finger tapped furiously on its hard cover.
The leviathan from before turned to meet her gaze when provoked by a sharp poke to his back, and when he did he wasn't impressed. First mistake.
"You are from the islands of Shoggoth--the more rural regions, am I correct?"
The student nodded, but made a face at her almost questioning who the hell she was. He gave her an uncaring roll of the eyes. Second mistake.
"You are the son of a pig farmer, the product of centuries worth of incest and have been the only member of your clan lucky enough to be given at least half a brain. How you have made it to this Tower in particular, I do not begin to understand; I am aware that those with your specialization are typically pushed forward because of the impossibly low difficulty of your studies. So that may be it."
The young man grunted, and his clenched fists began to shake; how dare someone mock him, his upbringing or even his field of studies!? He nearly raised an arm to strike her for such insolence, but was stopped immediately as her own hand rose, and one in their group pulled him back.
"Don't do it! She's a teacher!"
The jet-haired woman laughed hard, and gave the young lady a toothy grin before waving her off.
"Miss Saxol, please do not insult me, as you know I am the Headmaster of the Tower of Trials." She turned significantly to the goliath. "I am the Enchantress, to be exact.
"Roight! N' I'm the Neckrowmansir!" The bully said indignantly.
Diva's smile split from ear to ear as she contemplated. "No...I don't think you are, no. You are a swine." The hand she still had in the air twitched lightly, and her digits wiggled as if she were tapping the keys on a grand piano. In seconds flat the large student was enveloped in putrid green-brown light, and he began shouting as it compressed around him and halved in size. When the misty light faded nothing but a mud-caked boar was left in its wake, and it snorted vigorously as she chuckled madly.
Diva turned to leave and alerted a passing guard the kitchen staff let loose one of the evening's hams, before tossing a handful of white-blue feathers and disappearing in a wisp.
When she rematerialized the Grand Mage stood outside the Meeting Room, and headed straight through the open doors elegantly, curtsying to each individual present and seating herself before anything. When she glanced across at the gnome her face wrinkled again, and she waved her hand just beneath her nose.
"Can you not leave that pouch in another room when coming to these things?" she asked with distress, and crossed her legs before glancing at their Royal guests. "You have unimaginably great fortitude, resisting that pungent stench, Your Majesty. It is very good to see you again. And hello, Charles." she winked.
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Post by Lord Rail on Nov 26, 2014 13:25:37 GMT
The darkest recesses of the Rainbow Tower proper were broom cupboards and the many bathrooms dotted throughout the building, and it was the only means by which the Grand Necromancer could travel instantaneously without Caria's power of Teleportation. So a broom cupboard it was, and after the huge presentation of nightmarish tentacles pouring out of the darkness to envelop all leftover light went unnoticed, and the stark white-haired man manifested completely, he sighed heavily. A stack of broomsticks and mops came crashing down at the foot of his many long, flowing robes. Glancing down at them he sighed again, and carefully cleaned up a small spill he'd made, before pushing through the mess and out of the closet.
Next he caught the scythe he was carrying between the doorframe, and unfortunately for Rail, this instance did not go unnoticed. Students heading to Theories on Resurrection stopped to gawk at the man struggling to free his weapon without damaging anything, and he seemed to be oblivious to any of their stares. Eventually, though, his scythe came free and he tripped on his robes, spun and was met with faces redder than certain markings on his partially exposed torso. His eyes widened and he smiled nervously, before proceeding to hasten quickly in the other direction.
At one point he saw a woman--or some kind of Peacock--standing in the foyer, but in just an instant she had dissolved in a burst of feathers. The man was curious to that power, and so he stopped to collect some items from the mess she had made; he took five feathers from the pile and stuffed them between the pages of his black grimoire before figuring it fell on him typically to be late. He headed for the stairs and made a run for his destination, only to be met with open doors, loud banter coming from a rasping male voice--was he smoking something or did his lungs burn up?
He slowly halted at the doors, cracked his neck, took a deep breath and stepped inside, neglecting thd guard on the floor and so walked over him completely before bowing to the High Council as one. He raised his left hand--a skeletal limb--to announce the authenticity of his claim and addressed the crowd.
"Lord Rail Glassroe, the Necromancer. Forgive me, but I didn't realize until just this morning that the Teleportation Circles were down. I had to make other arrangements. Oh--Your Majesty, good morning. And Maestro, did that salve work out for you?
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Post by Madame Damara on Nov 27, 2014 12:31:04 GMT
"Open the gates!" cried the voice of a watchman at the gilded gate of the Rainbow Tower. Under normal circumstances, he would have little to do considering most of the magical persuasion preferred to come and go through more fantastic methods, but today was anything but normal. The gold-leafed metal grate glided open with grace as a strange carriage rode past, pulled by nightmarish, skeletal black horses with wings... The carriage itself was richly decorated with gold patterns on a blue backdrop and draped with fine silk. This same fabric covered the windows and blocked all sunlight. At the driver's seat sat a bizarre creature, squat and wrinkled with coarse black hair and glowing red eyes. It had no lips but its exposed gums and teeth moved as it hissed the winged beasts into greater speed... In moments, the thestral-drawn carriage clattered onto the cobblestone pathway in front of the Rainbow Tower's magnificently designed facade entryway. The creature immediately jumped from its spot, standing no taller than one of the wheels as it waddled its way to the low door on the side facing the entrance. Lifting one hair-covered hand, it touched the door and caused it to instantly warp into the very wood paneling that made the frame of the carriage, revealing little within to the students who had already begun to gather in curiosity at the steps of the tower. All they could make out for a moment was shadow and the slightest hint of movement. The creature reached inside to withdraw a strangely shaped parasol which was far taller than it was wide. Once open, the dome of the shade-providing canopy imitated perfectly the blue and gold of the carriage. The small wrinkled humanoid lifted it to full height before holding its free hand to the one stirring inside. A dainty, shock-white hand slowly slithered from the shadows. It felt about before curling its fingers gently over the monster's outstretched digits. Following this, a robe flowed forth, covering the form of a woman as she stepped under the protective cover of the parasol. Her footsteps were carefully placed as she eased her way from the doorway and onto a carpet which unrolled itself into the shape of stairs as if by unseen hands. All the while, the small creature kept her balance perfectly, eyes staring into a distance none other could see. Once away of the door, the woman's ruby lips moved lightly as she whispered gratitude to her consort. Some of the nearer students might have heard her kindly refer to him as "Kizzy". Together they made their way to the marble stairs and began to ascend. Kizzy kept pace easily and showed no sign of weariness nor impatience with the woman's slow progress. Several students would walk nearby, offering whatever assistance they might be able or to bashfully request an audience with the woman once her business for the day was concluded. Though she made no arrangements to be seen, the woman remained polite and kind even as she passed through the doors and into the grand foyer. There, even more students would stop and attempt to meet with the woman. However, now beyond the glare of harsh sunlight, Kizzy had now taken to using the parasol (folded down, of course) as a sort of lance, shoving students easily to one side or the other to clear space as he continued to guide the woman along her path. The students for the most part were still treated in her strangely polite manner despite being ignored. Even the staff now seemed to be interested in what was causing the ruckus as several had now gathered. They were all treated similarly except for one. Without warning, the robed woman stopped in her tracks though her bizarre escort seemed supernaturally aware of her desire to do so. She turned her head lightly, the robe draped over her head and eyes. Despite this, she seemed to look directly at a certain woman, whom she pointed out with a whispy gesture of her fingers. "You there..." whispered the robed figure. "Y-yes, Madame Damara?" answered the teacher of a low-level class, a stout woman of some age who wore half-moon spectacles and her hair around her shoulders in a silver waterfall. "There is a student being hung by the flagpole in the courtyard outside the grand library... he will need assistance," Madame Damara whispered gently, her voice oddly kind. "Yes, Madame..." the teacher answered before running off. Despite this odd announcement, she knew better than to question the Madame's visions. She did, however, mutter as she went along something along the lines of "what in blazes is going on around here today...?" This minor interruption conquered, Damara once again fell into stride with Kizzy. It would take them nearly an hour to ascend the spiraling double stairway and reach the grand doors of the Council Chambers. The guards there held the doors kindly for her despite their curling lips of disgust at the small creature which guided her along. She ignored the other mages for the time being, instead walking with Kizzy up to the Empress. "My lady..." she whispered gently, holding a hand out to the seated woman. When she received the Empress' favor in the form of having her hand touched, Damara would gently turn the woman's palm upward and trace the lines there with her thumb so lightly it might've even tickled. She nodded lightly before speaking once more. "...You will have sons..." she said, her head cocking lightly toward the man at Regina's side before she leaned closer to whisper to the woman. "None will be his..." she said privately and mysteriously before turning to Kizzy once more... The small beast once again took up his role as her guide and took her to her seat directly, situated at 3 o'clock on the table, the witching hour. She slowly sank into her chair before lifting her hands to the hem of her hood. Pulling it back, she revealed the black markings around her eyes and the familiar teary streaks along her cheeks. She stared forward into space through eyes as blank as untouched parchment, her only visions that of the premonitions she provided as the Master Diviner of the assembled mages...
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Post by Maestro Buliri on Nov 27, 2014 12:47:18 GMT
The Mad Maestro - as he was sometimes called - laughed wildly once Lord Brass entered the room and made his introductions. As per his customary greeting, he offered a hand to shake heartily with the transmutation specialist. "And you've done all the aging for me!" he laughed, joking as he usually did. While most of the mages here either didn't get along or simply ignored one another, Buliri and Brass had a strange sort of mutual respect and bizarre camaraderie that the others sorely lacked. Perhaps it was simply the tinkering gnomish part of him, but the Maestro always seemed to get along better with the Duke and his marvelous mechanizations. Once Brass asked about an old battering ram, Maestro Buliri immediately cracked a wide grin.
"Heavens above, man, you still think I married that goat??" he asked, forced into honesty due to the effects of the room which he had failed to overcome despite three re-entrances. "If you really think that way, I got some swampland in Shorr to sell ya..." he joked. With a laugh, he turned to start walking to his spot at the 6 o'clock position of the table, though he kept speaking with Brass. "We really ought to visit the old tavern when this is over! Perhaps throw back a pint or seven and toast to your wrinkles!"
About the time he was climbing into his seat, Lord Rail came striding in to announce his presence. Honestly, Buliri never QUITE liked this guy or his practices but did his best to be civil. You know... just in case. Of course, he never lost his sense of humor but he knew not to take it as far with the Necromancer as he would with say the enchantress nearby. Her he took great joy in annoying and giving trouble at whatever opportunity which presented itself. "OH! Miss Diva... I didn't even notice you there..." he said by way of a barely concealed insult, referencing a long-dead argument they once had where he accused her of being a bland, boring, unappealing piece of the backdrop that barely leaves an impression in her last play. He couldn't sit straight for a week afterwards, but it was well worth the price he paid.
Just as he finished sticking his tongue out at the woman in the middle of her wink, he was addressed by the Necromancer. Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, he grunted before allowing his mind to snap back with a fun retort to the question of balms and salves. "Fine, fine..." he answered first, since he couldn't just make something up directly. However, he was a master of his craft and knew how to add something unrelated in order to make it seem to be connected. For this, he shot Brass a wry grin as an early warning of one of his famous jokes.
"Mildred's udders have never been smoother..."
Some time would pass before the final mage would make her entrance. "Finally!" barked the Maestro as she strode past him, hideous undead troll at her side as always. "Always the last to arrive, ain't cha? Can someone please tell me why it is that for a lady who can see the future, this ghost of a woman is always late??"
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Post by The Creator on Nov 27, 2014 17:15:36 GMT
Though the Grand Mages worked separately from one another, mingling only during the worst circumstances, they all seemed to be in "the know", as Regina thought to term it. They knew one another well, at least enough to offer smiles, insults and the rare friendly story. Unlike the others, today would be the first meeting for some of them, as her father primarily dealt with the Colleges beforehand. Others she knew from the Royal Court, and at least that was comforting.
As each Grand Mage presented themselves, the Empress did her best to impress, sitting straight in her chair and excreting an air of authority, though it was a simple mask for her worry and inexperience. She allowed them all their formalities and remained quiet as everyone caught up, but once the last person arrived, she was unsure how to proceed. Two chairs remained empty, but she saw the Abjurer itching to rise; he seemed to be the host for today's assembly, and it looked as if the others might not come.
When the Madame approached her, Regina was rather taken aback with her premonition; she had been promised sons, young men to usher a continued bloodline. But the latter statement to follow? She eyed her Consort with some suspicion but also confusion. Whatever Tzigane had meant, she might have to ask about later. For now it was time to do her job. She was in charge of an empire now, after all.
She rose, and in her steps so too did Charles; she bowed her head again for the umpteenth time today and spread her hands wide, as if to envelope the Mages as one.
"Please, allow me to say welcome, and thank you for attending," she announced when everyone settled down.
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Post by The Brass Duke on Nov 27, 2014 17:28:27 GMT
"If I had a darling for every time you offered me some cheap plot of bog water, Buliri, I think I'd own half of that Ever-Changing Swamp by now! And that place is just falling apart."
The Duke slapped his thigh as the two shared their inside jokes, and not once did the man regard the Necromancer with eye contact or even any show of respect. Though the two had never butted heads, the Brass Duke remained hostile to many Necromancer or Priests due to their profound lack of knowledge in the art of resurrection; there was always a bad taste in his mouth whenever the Grand Necromancer was in the room, and it made the Transmuter want to vomit. So instead of addressing him in any way, he took out his pocket watch and pretended to be absorbed in watching the time.
He had no disdain for the man, so to say, but when asked for help in a particular matter Lord Rail was unable to do much, and that irritated the Duke to no end. And when Tzigane offered no hope in her visions, but instead a harsh warning about treading into dangerous territory, he marked her in kind, as well. He wrinkled his nose upon her arrival, but at least bowed his head in respect.
To keep himself occupied, he terrorized Diva whenever she attempted to showboat her successes, her conquests and any slight achievements she'd made. The Duke had many enemies, though among them he had no harsh words for the Illusionist.
"I do agree with the Madman," he said at last. "For an Oracle, your sense of time and urgency is truly lacking; have you ever thought to procure a watch? I'm positive your dog can tell time, yes?"
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Post by Lord Aebra Cheval on Nov 27, 2014 17:35:26 GMT
The Abjurer stood up and put both hands together, as if he were in prayer, and briefly lifted a hatch in the table to pass through, before resuming. He spun slowly to meet the eyes of everyone in attendance, and offered Regina his former chair to get better use of the acoustics. The Queen gladly did so, which pleased her Consort, as he dragged the other seat up and plopped it right beside her.
Satisfied, Aebra lowered his head to view in the shallow pool at his feet, and separated his hands; the water began bubbling and suddenly glowed brightly against the sunlight, nearly blinding the entire council.
"Thank you for your warm greeting, Your Majesty." He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and exhaled. "It falls upon me to bear some unfortunate news, I'm afraid," he said after some time. He let it sink in that all eight chairs were not currently occupied before moving on.
"Caria the Conjurer has been, as you well know, rather ill for some time. In her old age she succumbed to the mind pollution and has lost her way. Sentries from the Titan Spire have been searching for two weeks, but there has been no sign of her.
"Earliest reports stated that she wandered off in the middle of the night, spurred on by mad hallucinations of a spell gone wrong. Still, other rumors circulate that she had an unfortunate accident with a Teleportation incantation gone wrong. After speaking with Lord Rail here, however, I can positively say she is still among the living."
He waved a glittering hand over the magic pool but no images appeared; instead the water rippled before going crystal clear again.
"Our attempts to divine even her remote whereabouts have grown futile. We are unsure if she is even still on this plane. It could be she is on sabbatical, but we are investigating these leads.
"A number of us are disappearing, and while I cannot say yet if these two instances are in any way connected, we have slightly more information regarding our most recent loss. Our Grand Evoker had been working on an important project recently and did ensure to inform me he might be unable to attend today, but our communication stopped a few days ago, and the last message he wrote was a form of mad rambling. One word in particular struck me as important, as it was written in his Wizard Code: 'Waterspout'. While I am unsure what this could mean, we all are aware of the term from early childhood stories. And with even more rumors among the Colleges in today's age, I know little as to whether we should take it with a grain of salt...or rather seriously.
Aebra's hand shook, and it became apparent the talk of missing Grand Mages bothered him very much. If something bad could happen to the most powerful Wizards on the Continent and nobody knew what, then it was a clearly ill omen. He turned to Tzigane first, and then the Duke.
"Lord Brass, you did say some students reported seeing a whirlpool in the bay while Colossus was passing through Dhalia's Vale, correct? Was anything significant about it that stood out to them? And did you happen to see anything?
"Madame, I had wondered if you could possibly tell us the significance of writing such a dangerous word in magical code in a seemingly ordinary correspondence. It is symbolic of something evil, but are we truly ready to acknowledge the existence of a mass army of dangerous Arcanists set to destroy the world? Is he trying to warn us?"
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Post by Maestro Buliri on Nov 28, 2014 20:01:36 GMT
Buliri, once seated, had remained respectfully quiet while the Empress and the Abjurer said their pieces and made their gestures. Honestly, he was only half-paying attention to the proceedings as he contemplated the potential result of mixing a ray of frost and a ray of heat... would it create a ray of water? What would that be useful for? Water... waterspout?
"BAH!" he barked once Aebra finished. "We're making mountains out of molehills here. We all know that fire-flinging whack job was never the paragon of resolution that I am. He's probably having another one of his anxiety attacks or paranoia fits. Didn't he write something about Owlbears in the capitol a few months back?"
The Maestro settled back into his chair, crossing his arms. "Ignore the Evoker. As for Caria... she's probably just slapped a Mordenkinen's Magnificent Mansion spell down and got lost again. She took off for a week before any of us could figure THAT out last time, right??" Buliri sighed and shook his head. "I could be in my office right now grading mid-term spells..." he muttered.
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Post by Lady Diva on Nov 29, 2014 2:33:01 GMT
one of her favorite things in all the world: scandals. They could range from something simple to outrageously grand, delicious or sickening. But one thing was for sure, she fed off it. One could typically find the Grand Enchantress in her free time frequenting parties of high esteem; or rather, she might invite herself if given no proper invitation. Here would be the best gossip, tales she could spin, those she could abuse. A raging socialite, Diva always had something to say at any given time, for better or worse, and today seemed to be no different, but there was something definitely off. The Duke typically fueled her for days, but he seemed to be getting his jollies at her expense, and carrying on with that pint-sized half-being--thing.
Tzigane showed up, and though she was obviously top five in gathering the goods, today whatever secrets she had she was determined to keep; the Enchantress attempted not once, not twice, but a total of seven times to pierce any of their minds for some juicy little tidbit, but with the Mindblank ward in effect she was powerless. Something the blind woman had said certainly piqued Regina's interest, but again, the Oracle was mum today. The Enchantress folded her arms in a huff, clicking her tongue as the air went stale. Her eyes shifted to thd equally suspicious Charles, and a bright, seductive smile crossed her lips again. And suddenly it disappeared as a question came to mind: did Tzigane rat her out!?
Diva made an audible harrumph and writhed angrily in her chair a moment, and it was at this point Aebra and the Empress decided to bore them with sordid rumors. So, Cara went missing again, hm?
It was the Enchantress who had discovered the crazy woman's hideout. She was in the process of studying an ancient bag of bones known as Mordenkainen, and had amassed several copies of his legacy. She always at least suggested, if not downright accused the Wizard of having strange secrets that she was adamant about revealing. In this particular disappearance Caria had summoned a private mansion--a confined home designed and built in a pocket dimension not unlike your everyday Handy Haversack, though she had crafted the blueprints herself out of peculiarities in Mordenkainen's writings.
Caria ended up in a warped, inverted labyrinth of stairs, upside-down rooms and courtyards within dark corridors. She was lost for some time, and even after her rescue she was positive the answer was close.
Diva shrugged her shoulders. "If that is true, I elect someone else go in there this time. I was accosted by a...well, it was kind at first, but an animated bench. It was unpleasant and I do not wish to run into him again.
"Regarding our resident Cannon, however..."
Now as she was obviously no stranger to rumors, Diva had invested personal interest in certain matters. And because she was something of a spokeswoman for Paranoids Anonymous, this subject in particular worried her. She leaned back in her seat, obviously recessing into her form to keep herself together, but it just made her chilly. So instead she burst out laughing, and decided it was best to disregard it all.
"I reject the possibility that idiot has anything of importance to say, so whether he is trying to create drama again to make us feel bad and worry about him, or if he's just gone as nuts as Caria...I say let us not give him the satisfaction. Hm? That's the best alternative since learning about almond butter."
Diva gazed suspiciously about the room, gauging their reactions. When her eyes fell on rail they narrowed.
"Lord Rail. You are eerily quiet, as usual I almost forget you're ever present. You look as if you've seem a ghost! I have foundation in my purse, you know. I told you you could always just ask. Oh, and Gnome? Perpetuating the fright about Owlbears was his doing. At least he didn't end up setting five of them loose! You always have to pave the road, just give the Laughing God a reason to come play, don't you?"
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Post by Madame Damara on Nov 29, 2014 5:42:13 GMT
Damara was still and silent as death itself. Had Lord Rail's calm demeanor given no indication to the contrary, one might have even suspected the frail woman had passed away. It was difficult to say that she was listening, more that she had the impression of a person who had heard all that was spoken here before and was merely waiting for the appropriate moment to speak. She stared forward, blank white eyes never wavering within the black shattered frame of the markings around them. Though she was completely quiet, the undead troll to her right could be heard rasping lightly through its exposed teeth and gums, its glowing red eyes gazing just over the table's surface as it stood no higher than that plus the few inches to bring his eye level there.
As to the questions posed by her tardiness, she answered none. This argument was an ancient one and she had always given the same answer before; "I arrive as the fates have decided that I should arrive," she used to say. She might've even given reasons as to why leaving so late was ideal, such as avoiding a careless student whom her carriage would have smashed to death had it left on time or her intention to meet with a certain member of the staff who would only be in a certain location at a specific time. Today, it was the case that she intended to have a certain robed mage brought down from the flagpole and given proper time to find his feet on the ground in order to save him (and the others) a little embarrassment. She did not, however, reveal this fact.
She did, however, place a fragile hand on Kizzy's head as it had started to growl at Lord Brass when the Duke used the word "dog" to describe the creature. Those two had never quite coexisted peacefully, since Kizzy was hardly the kind of thing Brass would ever find himself comfortable around and Kizzy must've had poor dealings with golems and the like in his former life. However, whenever Tzigane's hand was upon his brow, Kizzy would always fall calm once more.
Aebra made his announcement. Buliri made his denouncement. Diva indirectly agreed with the one mage she got along with least. Duke Brass would have much to say, but unless Tzigane made her statements now she might not be able to ever. She slowly lifted her chin, indicating her will to speak to Aebra, who would be looking her away any second now. Her stillness beforehand would see to it that this small motion did not go unnoticed.
"Though many a worrisome word we have endured from our colleague, Baron Mordock Baal Asmodan, I fear his words should not be disregarded so carelessly..." she began, her unseeing eyes wide with purpose. "Normally, the future is like a gentle brook - ever moving and changing, but still predictable to some extent. As of late, the waters churn and bubble. The glassy surface ripples and splashes. There are chaotic energies at work beyond even my ability to scry. And the Evoker... his energy is suddenly masked from us all, if one cares to seek his spirit upon our plane. I would normally think nothing of this - he likes to work in secret - but I must draw the attention of the council to something distressing..."
Here, she brought her hands from within her robe and into view. She produced a single tarot card and placed it face down before her, sliding it forward that Aebra might collect it. "As I sought our lost conjurer, her energy was masked by something dark and turbulent. When I rose from my trance, I discovered this card placed before me. I thought it nothing more than a tasteless prank at first..."
She turned her gaze directly into the eyes of Aebra, the black markings making her orbs appear to almost bulge beyond their limit. "But this morning, when I sought to check in with the Baron... I felt the same presence hiding him from my sight..."
The card, when inspected, would depict several naked men and women falling from a high tower, which was being struck by lightning, doomed to fall onto the jagged rocks below. Number XVI, the Tower. Across its face, smeared in crimson red, was only a letter... "M".
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