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Post by Maestro Buliri on Dec 10, 2014 1:03:59 GMT
The gnomish mage grinned from ear to ear as the boy was dragged in like a sack of so many potatoes. He had spent the better part of the past however long ignoring the words of the others as they considered their tests and trials. He didn't even pay much attention when Brass started up comparing each of the schools to his own and how he felt that his was probably the only important one and blah blah blah.
Buliri wasn't interested in the boy's skill as a mage. Regardless if he was a gifted prodigy for a mewling upstart, the road ahead would mold him into a better weaver of the arcane no matter what happened. What Buliri wanted to see was how easily duped the kid was. He wanted to know if their "hero" was going to be a bumbling idiot or a clever thinker. How would he respond to choices, if choices were indeed to be their doom or salvation?
"Bah, ignore the bonehead..." Buliri called cheerfully once Atticus had begun rambling questions. He hopped down from his chair and walked over to the boy, making a big show of welcoming him in closer. He walked right up to his side and put a wide hand to the back of the robe, lightly pushing him forward as he strolled to the table. "He's just tryin' to give ya a good start. Maybe see if ya piddle your wardrobe in the face of the big-bad necromancer..."
He brought the dark-robed wizard all the way up to table before popping out of existence and back again on the other side, showing off slightly, yes, but for good reason. With him came two golden goblets encrusted with rubies and sapphires, each with a amber-colored liquid in them, taken while in transit and set on the table in front of him. "You must be thirsty. Those stairs are quite a climb and you took them backward from what I saw..." the Gnome chuckled. He gestured to the two cups in front of him. "Drink up..."
However, before the wizard could reach for one, Buliri held up a finger. "Oh! I forgot to mention..." he said, grinning wickedly as he spun around to the other mages, as though making a huge show of the whole ordeal. He was loving the set-up, and knew that Diva was probably annoyed by his mock-drama, which was a pleasant bonus no matter what was going on. "... You see... ONE of those cups is poisoned. Whoever drinks it will surely die. Do you fear death, indeed! It's part of a little game I like to play. Real easy to play. You simply pick a cup, I pick a cup, and we both drink. Whoever's still standing is the winner. Simple, aye?" he laughed.
But he wasn't done. He held up a finger and quickly flicked his wrist. The cups began to spin around one another, neither dropping a single drop. "One last twist! Keeps the game fresh, don't you agree?" he said before they came to an abrupt hault, the beverage sloshing about inside the cups. Buliri pulled his chair over and climbed up in order to stand eye-to-eye with the hooded one. "Indulge an old man his games, won't you?" he said, then gestured once more to the cups. With a wide, crazed grin and a lifted eyebrow, he leaned forward. "By all means, you first."
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Post by Lady Diva on Dec 13, 2014 13:44:59 GMT
"Oh, Buliri, playing the child for a fool now, aren't we?" asked Diva, examining the boy with mild interest; from the moment he arrived she never gazed away, fascinated at his sigma. She listened to his hollow resolver to Rail that was both inquisitive and a mix of rambling in spite of his surroundings.
The Enchantress folded her hands together and harrumphed, using her clenched fists to help her body rise. She moved over to where the two were playing the Illusionist's little game and propped herself on the table beside the goblets. She dipped a finger into the liquid of one and stirred, her gaze steady on Atticus. She grinned a wicked grin, though it was incomparable the Duke's own.
"By all means, take this one," Diva said, removing her finger from the cup and wiping it off on Atticus's robe. "Whatever decision you make is your own, though I Suggest you play it safe, hm? This one is what I'd take, for sure."
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Post by The Brass Duke on Dec 14, 2014 1:32:57 GMT
The Brass Duke eyed the boy with scrutiny as he'd entered, and figured he might be the only one present unalarmed by the boy's appearance. Gazing about, he found this assumption accurate; Lord Rail seemed perplexed while Lady Diva was...confused. Aebra, whose steely gaze reminded him of Tzigane's placid nature, stood still and simply stared. The Duke flattered himself, and felt proud that he had one over his colleagues. For now, anyway.
The Necromancer had avoided the Transmuter's earlier words and was now proving to be far gut-heavier than initially conceived. He began the series of tests without a proper discussion, all because the Duke said not to. Audacious, truly.
His trial was rich, centuries old, much like Buliri's following test. He knew how it would end if the not were stupid...but then again, it was Buliri running that show. The Wizard sighed as he sat back, resting his chin on a balled fist. The drama next made his eyes roll. Diva cast a Suggestion spell. If the boy succumbed, he would sip the poison. Ugh, she seemed to have no patience.
"I do hope that isn't your test..." he said under his breath, but when he saw Regina's eyes rolling about the entire room, he stopped himself. "Are we going to overwhelm the boy with our trials all at once, then? I don't imagine my input would make the boy more coherent. Nor do I believe he would survive. Patience, all of you. This is not somehing we can rush..."
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Post by Atticus Daegal on Dec 15, 2014 2:30:04 GMT
How very curious this meeting was going... No sooner had he posed his questions than Atticus found himself the target of a second Master's attention. The gnome seated nearby suddenly spoke up, and Atticus found himself wondering to the identity of this new person. From what he could gather, from the scrolls and wands worn all about his frame, this had to be the Mad Maestro of the school of Illusion. But... that didn't quite match with the description he'd been given. He was quite under the impression that the Maestro was a wisened old teifling who wore half-moon spectacles and carried an oaken staff at all times. This gnome, however... well, Atticus was just about to write it off as simply being simply what Illusionists do when suddenly he found a small hand at his back and his forward momentum being influenced quite against his well.
"I-uh-sir-I..." he stammered as he was shoved forward and made to stand before two cups. He looked down at them as they spun about and the Maestro made his speech about how one could be quite deadly. The poor student wizard was quite beside himself at this point, trying to understand exactly what was going on here. But it wouldn't end there.
An enchanting woman approached next, with predator like eyes. She leaned in and spoke, her finger trailing through the liquid of one of the cups. Almost instantly, the darkly robed one's vision became somewhat foggy and his mind grew dizzy. He recognized the effects of an enchantment from his many studies and his limited knowledge in the field as is, but did not possess the power to overcome the willpower of a master specialist. Her words echoed in his mind softly...
"I Suggest you play it safe..." it echoed...
"I suggest you play it safe..."
"This is what I'd take, for sure..."
"Play it safe... for sure..."
Atticus was only barely aware of his hand drifting toward the cup the woman suggested for him to take. It seemed reasonable... she seemed trustworthy enough. After all, why would a master intentionally mislead... a... student...
"Are we going to overwhelm the boy with our trials all at once, then?" he heard come from the Brass Duke.
"Trials...?" Atticus muttered, his eyes half closed and his hand hovering just at the rim of the glass. He slowly looked down at where Diva had wiped her finger. "Play it... safe..." he whispered then suddenly shook his head violently from side to side, attempting to clear his head.
"Trials?" he asked again, standing a little straighter. Slowly, he closed his fingers and lifted his hand to his chin, his inquisitive nature getting the better of him as he thought it all over once again. "Am I on trial here?" he asked the assembled mages, sparing a glance to the empress as he did. "Or am I being tested... and if so, to what end?" he questioned further before looking down at the glasses once more.
"One thing's for certain... Nobody but perhaps the Maestro should drink from either of these cups..." Atticus went on, pointing to the two before him. "I noticed when I stood up that there are certain markings here and there on the walls, markings conducive to the casting of a zone of truth. In this way, I know for a fact that Maestro Buliri's statement that one of the glasses was poisoned must also be true. However, he was very careful to not say that ONLY one of the glasses was poisoned..." Atticus paused a second before continuing...
"Furthermore, look here..." Atticus explained, gesturing to a point on his coat that had a strange, white residue on it. "This is where the kind enchantress dried her finger only a moment ago. With the liquid beginning to dissipate, you can see that what's left behind is the telltale signs of Gnomeswood, an incredibly toxic substance that is completely harmless to gnomes. Had I chosen one of these cups, I surely would have died... therefore..."
Atticus looked around and cautiously picked up a small glass goblet from a nearby serving tray, one that formerly must have been used to carry in refreshments. Luckily, there was still some tea in the teapot, which Atticus used to fill his glass. He turned to the others and lifted his glass lightly. "I believe the phrasing Maestro Buliri chose do not specifically stipulate that I must choose one of the two goblets before me. He merely stated that I was to choose a cup and drink. I choose this one," he said, then took a mere sip of the tea before setting the glass back down.
He looked about the room once more before very softly speaking once again. "Uhm... I hope no one thinks of that as cheating..." he muttered, realizing he may have just insulted one or more of the mages there by taking an unseen third route. He looked down slowly, glancing about in a nervous sort of way. "Am I to be tested further or am I free to go?"
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Post by Lord Aebra Cheval on Dec 15, 2014 19:33:15 GMT
Lord Aebra watched the other Grand Mages assault the boy with all manner of questions, scrutinizing gazes and mild interest as he pondered for the right answer, struggling to reason with why he was here. Maestro's test was ingenious, designed to find where the boy's wit was. He passed successfully, even through the Enchantress's dark intentions.
He watched the young wizard's internal struggle with the woman's manipulative tendrils poking about, and was rather pleased he cut through them in under thirty minutes. He showed promise, and the Abjurer was eager to see what the boy chose.
When he came around the table, completely ignoring the Mad Maestro's two proffered cups, he observed the result on his clothing and saw through the cunning treachery. When he poured himself tea and sipped from a cup not his own, or even offered, Aebra's eyebrows rose. What a resolve.
Aebra moved in and planted a firm hand on Atticus's shoulder.
"You have passed the Test of Wit," he said, and then motioned to Rail. "Lord Rail's trial proved that you are no stranger to bravery in the face of peril, either. I assume your appearance contradicts this for a reason."
He took a step back and held his arms aloft to either side.
"I wish to test your resolve against obstacles."
Again the Master Abjurer took a few steps back and reached to his side of the table, where Regina currently sat. He plucked a small chest before her and gently set it on the floor between himself and Atticus; he unlocked the fastener and propped it open, revealing seven neatly rolled and sealed scrolls. When he stood back up he eyed the boy appraisingly.
Instantly the man was shrouded in a transparent haze of orange light, tightly bound to a sphere encasing him. The man raised an arm forward, stabbing a finger to the chest.
"Inside of that box contains the scroll that will take down this shield. When in the world you face an impossible obstacle, on the fly you must decipher its clues and wrack it as soon as possible. How will you take down my spell? You have one chance."
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Post by Maestro Buliri on Dec 15, 2014 21:05:04 GMT
"I'll be a..." Maestro Buliri growled when Diva decided to swoop in and spoil his fun with a little twist of her own. "Keep your dippin' fingers to yourself, will ya? So which will ya-" he started, lightly shoving Diva to the side with his shoulder just as Atticus was beginning to fall victim to her spell. He blinked when suddenly the wizard began to be more clear about his logic than he was moments ago.
His jaw nearly dropped when the boy completely derailed the logic of the game. He stared as he crossed to some tea the master had completely forgotten was nearby and poured himself a glass. One of the key lessons of magic was that you were to be specific at all times and such a simple stigma would prove the undoing of this test. But would that make the Mad Maestro upset?
Not at all. He'd throw his head back and let out a loud, barking laugh. He'd been duped by his own trick, which was exactly the kind of thing he'd expect in a chosen hero! He smiled as Aebra suddenly scooped the boy up and began his own trial. Without a word, Buliri would return to his seat, rather satisfied with how the boy had performed thus far. Now, it was time to sit back and enjoy the show.
Leaning over, he nudged Brass lightly. He kept that mischievous grin on his face even as the trial began. "Five darlings says he guesses the right spell in three minutes," he offered, intent on enjoying the rest of the boy's antics.
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Post by Atticus Daegal on Dec 15, 2014 21:27:10 GMT
From one trial to another! Atticus blinked helplessly as the grand master's hand fell upon his shoulder and congratulations were given. As the man took his steps back, Atticus felt he had to ask. "Please, sir... I'm happy to have met expectations, but what am I being tested FOR exactly?" he inquired.
He did not get an answer immediately. Instead, another trial was underway. A chest was provided and set nearby while the other man himself burst into a fine shield spell. Atticus considered this a moment, having not been sure of the man's identity until this exact moment. This could be none other than the Abjuration specialist. Atticus pondered a moment, not sure if his name was Aebra or Aevra, depending on dialect.
The man pointed to the box and laid the groundwork of what his trial was about. This further confused Atticus, wondering why on Earth these great minds were looking into his abilities. Perhaps this was simply to see whether he'd become a threat in the time he's been studying? That would be terrible, if they decided he was too dangerous to be kept here. He liked it here. Here, where he could read and study and become a better wizard, was his home. He didn't know anything else.
Slowly, Atticus approached the box and knelt down to open it. He was told there was a scroll inside that would dispel the shield and that was his goal, yes? However, when he looked inside... he found MANY scrolls laying there and that would make things more difficult.
Looking around to the expectant faces of the other mages, Atticus ran a hand over the different scrolls before selecting one at random. He unrolled it carefully, being so gentle (even lovingly so) to the paper. What he saw there made his eyes nearly leap from the velvety darkness of his cloak.
"M-my goodness! This is... this is a scroll of Mage's Sword! And this!" he gasped, now quickly going through the different spells, his voice grown immediately affectionate and excited. "Oh, heavens above! This cannot be an ORIGINAL Babajaga writing! Look at how the curves of her handwriting suggest both elegance and cruelty! And what's this??"
One by one, the wizard examined each scroll, his excitement ever growing as he went over them with a collector's eye for detail and beauty. He passed right through about ten scrolls, never once choosing to cast a single one. He merely found himself swept up in the moment, enthralled by the line, the curve, the practiced precision of the words on the page. He grew interested in the phrasing, the layout, the flow of the spell, the secret little details that made magic work.
Thirty minutes had passed. He had all ten scrolls laid out on the table, in one of the empty spaces. He was moving between each in such an enraptured state of awe that he had completely ignored the trial that was set before him.
One could argue that technically, he succeeded in what the goal was. In the time it took him to even realize he had to choose a spell to cast, he had out-waited the shield spell and it would come down all on its own. If the goal was simply to beat the spell, that was a success. However, if he was supposed to actually be the one to take the spell down using a spell provided, it was a dismal failure. He had grown far too distracted by the beauty of the written word and allowed opportunity to pass right by him.
He didn't even notice until after the fact when he looked up from the scrolls and looked to the others. "I'm sorry... I was supposed to be doing something..."
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Post by The Brass Duke on Dec 15, 2014 22:06:31 GMT
"I'll wager he won't get it for at least ten," the Duke said with haughty pride. He smirked, folding his arms and observed. All the while he contemplated his own test, pondering whether he'd be able to push the boy's limits. He was to save them all, no?
"Fifty the Abjurer goes purple with anger," he whispered a few moments later.
About thirty or so minutes, Aebra's warding disappeared and the boy was still puzzling over the scrolls he'd lay out on both the floor and table. Around the table there was some light chatter among the Mages, though each face was contorted with discomfort and mixed feelings. The Duke stood, walked around the table and hoisted the young wizard from his place.
He gazed down Atticus like a parent about to scold their child.
"The Test of Resolve is over," he declared, swiping the scroll currently between Atticus's fingers and slamming it onto the table. His face still bore that signature grin of his, though it seemed hollow, bemused and contrite.
"Fail," he judged, before returning to his seat, keeping his eyes from meeting the boy again.
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Post by Lady Diva on Dec 17, 2014 14:33:28 GMT
"Disappointing, yes," Diva said as she hopped off the table and strode out over to Atticus's side, coiling an arm over the young Wizard's shoulder, almost gently. The Enchantress's typical air of superiority had faded to something more akin to pity, but even the Queen would undoubtedly understand that by now it was simply one of her many masks.
"Shame on you, Ducky, making the young one quake in his boots won't get us anywhere, though. Perhaps," she grabbed the boy's shoulder and spun him about to face her effortlessly, and began staring deeply into the glowing orbs that were now his eyes.
"Why not figure out just where his mind is at, hm?" She snapped her fingers in Atticus's direction. "I will attempt to penetrate your mind now, initiating your next test. Willpower."
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Post by Atticus Daegal on Dec 17, 2014 20:06:52 GMT
The black-robed one would not be difficult to lift. If you could pick up a jacket from the floor, you could easily levitate the man clean off his feet. He hadn't moved from a seated position the entire time he was lifted, and in fact was completely unaware until the very second the scroll was snatched from his fingers. His eyes were perfect circles of surprise as he was re-located elsewhere about the table.
"I'm sorry..." he muttered once more, looking about in a slightly embarrassed manner. "Is there still ti-" he began, but stopped abruptly when the Duke boldly declared a failure. "Oh..." was his only response, lightly poking his fingers together sheepishly in show of his own shame at allowing himself to become distracted, a major flaw of his. Whenever he was around the written word, he tended to become very absorbed.
Suddenly, he found another arm wrapped about his shoulders and his direction decidedly disjointed from his previous position. He blinked as he was pulled toward Diva's embrace then rapidly spun in place. He came face to face with the enchantress, blinking those wide, glowing eyes in confusion. Her fingers snapped in his face and he jumped lightly, looking around for some kind of support from the others as he was unexpectedly thrust into yet another trial he was not prepared for. Then... she laid the groundwork.
"Lady Diva, please..." he said, finally recalling the name of the school of enchantment's grand mage. "I am only a student... and you a grand mage, a specialist. It is quite literally impossible for me to stop you from entering my mind, or to force you out should you decide to do so..." he tried to reason with her. "Furthermore..."
He paused, the contour of those eyes shifting slightly as the sorrow returned to him, that familiar sadness he seemed to carry upon his shoulders whenever he wasn't distracted by this or that. He stared right into those charming orbs of hers, almost pleading as he continued. "For your own safety, I beg you to reconsider your trial. I have... seen things. Experienced unpleasantness I would not wish on even my greatest enemies. I am happy to withstand any test you choose, of course, but it is not for myself that I am worried."
He shook his head lightly, trying to emphasize how bad of an idea it was to try and get into his mind. "Please, Lady Diva..." he repeated. "I don't want you to see what I have to contend with every day. I don't want you to endure the kind of backlash that comes... from living as I live."
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Post by The Creator on Dec 19, 2014 2:35:48 GMT
Regina Aellov Selene Eveliegh rose with a flourish as she tossed her dress off her lap, and stomped her foot hard on the marble floor; it was times like these she wished she held a staff. Of course her heels would suffice. The resounding click got the Enchantress's attention, and even caused the Brass Duke to spin.
She had both hands on her hips and her mouth twisted into a frown. Her eyes however, remained sorrowful for the young Wizard.
"Enough of this, you all swarm like hungry dogs--eagerness is a trait I do not desire, my humble Mages. We have only just been given a bounty! I think this gives is plenty of time. Give the young one some room to breathe, I command it. Atticus? Please, refresh yourself with another cup of tea...or perhaps some water."
The woman then turned to Buliri, then Aebra, and finally Rail. "Lord Rail. I am astonished. You are the Necromancer, my father's most feared of the Grand Mages. To me you seem gentle enough. I understand your urgency, but was that necessary?
"Lord Aebra...I feel that was not your best trial, even by my standards. What good is a test that times out? He isn't fighting a dragon. You people presume too much at such an early state in this game. And Master Maestro...trickery is just as unfair to the boy. You could doom us with your games."
And then, to Diva she hit home as only a mother truly could.
"And the shame, to coax him on with dark magic! You would dare provoke our only lead? What if he couldn't wrest control? What, then, Lady Tangier? You must all listen. Give him a moment between these tests. It is unfair to expect a world shattering peformance. Lady Diva, give him some room.
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Post by Maestro Buliri on Dec 19, 2014 20:09:40 GMT
Of all the assembled mages, out of all the concerned faces or hushed whispers, Buliri's would be the one voice that would ring the loudest, and with a raucous laughter. He'd be laughing so hard at times he'd slap his side of the table in complete amusement. The look on Lord Aebra's face was absolutely priceless. It almost made up for the fact that he had to pay up all fifty-five darlings he'd brought along for a mug or three after the meeting. He'd have to pop over to his tower hidden somewhere in the countryside to gather up some more funds (he made it a habit not to carry too much glittering moolah on his person, just in case). Add to the fact that the Duke basically just picked the boy up by the scruff of his neck like a scolded dog, and this comedy act was just plain priceless.
Of course a royal would have to go and ruin it.
His laughter quieted as the Empress went scolding the bunch of them like a group of undisciplined children. He frowned a bit at her demeanor, treating them as such. He'd spare a smirk whenever she nagged the others, naturally, but when she got on to him, he was about ready to let her have it. Thank the gods she got onto Diva next so he wasn't in THAT terrible a mood when he was ready to speak.
"Ah, ya act like we expect him to make a certain grade!" he barked in his usual manner, ready to stand on his seat as he had done before. "This isn't about 'passing' or 'failing' the way the good Duke puts it. We simply wanted to see what he's CAPABLE of, and in the real world you rarely get any rest between challenges to collect your thoughts or ease your mind. Hell, who here can look me in the eye and say without waverin' that when crisis came their way that they had all the time in the world to kick back and relax?"
He chuckled again, crossing his arms. "As for my test, m'lady, I was already prepared with an antidote if the boy guessed wrong. Do I really look like the kind of idiot that wouldn't have some manner of backup plan?" He leaned back, a grin playing across his features.
"But by all means, let the boy sip his tea and eat his cookies. Not like there's any pressing need for him to do anything important, hm?" he added hintingly, casting a wry grin in Atticus' direction...
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Post by Madame Damara on Dec 19, 2014 20:32:39 GMT
"I agree wholeheartedly..." the wispy, quiet voice of the master divination specialist rang out after the Maestro's little rant. It would come as something of a shock to the assembled group, since Madame Damara had been quite silent ever since the empress had graced her with the cup of tea from her own hands (which she had thanked her very politely for, in the period between sending Kizzy away to collect the boy and when he finally arrived). She appeared to only now be coming to the end of the cup, which she lifted daintily between her forefinger and thumb from the little saucer she held gently in the other hand. She rested it there, with the faintest little tinkling of china, as she relaxed lightly in her chair, her legs crossed and her hooded features lifted.
"The boy should be allowed some measure of rest, considering he has not yet been graced with any answers..." she continued, then gestured lightly to the wizard in Lady Diva's grasp. "Come, Atticus... sit here..." she whispered, gesturing to the empty seat on her right (what had once belonged to the conjurer, now absent). "Kizzy... be a dear and fetch the young man a cup of tea..." she added, prompting the waddling monster to make its way to the refreshments tray the clever student had employed earlier for Buliri's test.
"Please, relax..." she said softly to the boy when he was finally able to sit. Once he was comfortable, she gestured lightly with one hand to turn the chairs slowly so that they were face to face, creating a stronger connection though she could not truly look the man in the eye while they spoke. She just felt it was a courtesy she could afford to extend. "You have many concerns, and that is understandable..." she reassured while the undead troll clattered glasses and teapots nearby. "Also understand that we are not here to punish nor frighten you... well, for the most part..." her head turned slightly in Brass' direction when she said this. "You have been selected to represent the Council on a very important assignment, but we must know the extent of your strengths AND weaknesses before we proceed, do you understand?" she asked as softly and kindly as a mother asking her child to run an errand just down the street.
"We, the grand mages, each have requirements of you if we are to entrust you with such a heavy responsibility, and we intend to do just that. I admit, it weighs heavily on my own heart that we must ask so much of you when you have already endured more than I care to guess. However, I feel it is exactly that which makes you uniquely qualified..."
She took a long, final sip of her cup just as Kizzy returned, holding along a cup and saucer for Atticus with its furry, half-rotten hands. "Take the cup, Atticus..." she instructed as she slowly set hers into her lap. "When you have finished drinking, I would like to engage you with a small exercise, if I may. When you are quite ready and at ease, I want you to seek the remainder of your answers within the tea leaves..."
Tzigane turned her head slightly to the others, Kizzy taking his place at her side. She reached over and patted his head lightly as she addressed them. "I trust this is satisfactory, your eminence? A calm trial, with minimal stress. This is sufficient to set my mind at ease before we continue."
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Post by Atticus Daegal on Dec 19, 2014 21:11:35 GMT
Atticus blinked when suddenly the Empress herself was on her feet and calling for the mages to calm down. He found himself once again at an impasse. Protocol would demand that he bow when the ruler of his nation stood, but he was currently being held by the grand mage of enchantment. How ironic- he thought- that he was currently the envy of nearly every man whose ever seen a Lady Diva production (having been wrapped in her arms and now so close he could feel her warmth even through his robe) and yet all he wanted more than anything right now was to be released so that he could observe proper etiquette. He looked to the Empress, then to Diva, then to the Empress, then to Diva, then to the Empress... then to Diva, then to the Empress.
He cleared his throat lightly, glancing about. His glowing orbs darted this way and that within his hood with every shift of his gaze. "Uhm..." he started, not quite sure what to do until the Maestro started speaking in his strange, barking manner. He turned his head as best he could to look over his shoulder to the Gnome, trying to show respect by indicating the direction of his focus.
Manners, Atticus deduced, were quite difficult to manage in strange company.
At least he was relieved to know that if he had guessed wrong earlier he would not have died. That's one less worry. However, what the Maestro said last sat strangely with the wizard. What did he mean by that statement? What on earth could be expected of him that would be considered important? Last he checked, he was still considered the resident time bomb. Less a reliable student and more a constant hazard and reminder of bad circumstances. He had assumed at first that they were gauging his strengths and weaknesses as a sort of evaluation of what kind of threat he really was. That thought, however, was slowly dwindling. It seemed, they expected something of him...
Then, the divination specialist spoke up! Atticus blinked, turning his head in her direction as he did. He had nearly forgotten she was there, with how quiet she was during all the trials thus far. Part of him had assumed she had fallen asleep, really. However, she beckoned for him and he had to look back to Lady Diva.
"Uhm... excuse me..." he whispered sheepishly as he wiggled his way free of her grasp. He stiffly walked at a brisk pace over to the seat he was asked to sit in, nervous still of the potential for insulting anybody in such esteemed company. He looked like the most nerve-wracked plank of wood in a sawmill as he sat down. He even tried to politely turn down the tea the strange creature was ordered to retrieve, fearing he wouldn't be able to hold it without looking the fool. However, he seemed to lose much of that tension when Tzigane spoke.
"An... assignment? Me?" he asked, confused. "But, Madame Damara, I-" he started, but suddenly found a cup of tea on a saucer hovering over his face. Gently, he reached up and collected it as told, not one to question the wisdom or order of his betters. Madame Damara explained what her intent was, which made much more sense now that he had the cup in his hands and was staring down into the darkly colored liquid. He still felt tense, with all the assembled eyes of the royalty and council upon him. He could never fully shake that feeling, even before this meeting, but here it was most intense.
"I apologize..." he said after several moments. "I've so many questions and concerns that I doubt a mere cup could contain all the answers... I will try, though..." He lifted the cup and took a sip, instantly grimacing at the bitter taste. "Oh good heavens..." he muttered, looking about for a bottle of honey or a jar of sugar. "It's... quite strong, isn't it?" he asked, but instead of trying to remedy the taste decided against insulting anyone (or spoiling the tea leaves) and continued to drink.
"I do appreciate your apparent trust in my abilities, tested or not..." he added between sips. "I will at least TRY to be worthy of your consideration..."
No more than five minutes time passed. Atticus didn't want to seem slovenly nor dismissive now that he knew a task was expected of him. After all, if the grand council had selected him, it must be for good reason. He also wanted to seem as worthy as possible to the royalty as well. He wanted to shake off that look in Regina's eyes... the one she had when he first entered. He hated that look. It reminded him of everything wrong with himself. If he could prove he was not a monster in actions, maybe it'd retract that horrible appearance of shock.
When the cup was nearly empty, he took a deep breath and recalled the method for tea reading. Closing his eyes and focusing on the questions he had, he swirled the cup thrice in counter-clockwise twists of his off-hand, then turned the cup over with a sharp movement onto the saucer. He waited precisely three breaths before turning the cup over once more. He looked into the cup at long last, examining the randomly scattered leaves. He remembered what he could from the various textbooks he had read, and the few tomes he had borrowed on the subject of astrology.
"Uhm..." he said, looking up and around the room nervously. He looked back down and rotated his cup so that the handle was pointed at 12 o'clock to his position. He started reading from there, in a clockwise direction. "W-well..." he began "I see a wheel... indicating that forces beyond my control are directing what I should do... heh... I suppose this reading is quite accurate then..." he said, trying to be a little funny before clearing his throat and continuing.
"Right, then... uhm. There's a bird, which is a clear sign of travel in my future. Near that there's a shield with an arm pointing to the side... could this mean I'm to go find defenders, then? Guide them here?" he reasoned, tilting his head slightly. Uhm... and there's a few wavy lines that indicate uncertainty, the need for choices to be made. There's a need for a leader, indicated by the presence of a beacon here. What's strange is there's two symbols in the section usually meant to indicate outcomes. One I recognize as the symbol for victory but..." he looked up.
"Uhm... Lord Rail, perhaps you could...?" he asked, holding his cup up. Obviously, he could not ask Madame Damara since she could not see the leaves herself. Logically, Necromancy seemed the closest to divination since it involved reaching beyond the veil as opposed to seeing through it. Maybe he'd know something. "This symbol here. I do not know what it means," Atticus explained, pointing to the final symbol in his cup. What Rail would find there could prove truly unsettling...
It was the letter "M".
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Post by Lady Diva on Dec 20, 2014 3:03:19 GMT
Her eyebrows twitched one after another, and at the very moment she was slighted by a woman of absolutely no skill other than inheritance, Lady Diva wanted to snap. How dare she speak so ill to the Grand Mages? Were they to rebel she wouldn't even make it to the door.
And just as quickly as she thought about making the woman vault over the windowsill, Buliri piped up and gave her what for. The Enchantress's nostrils flared in agreement, though again she would never say he was right. Instead she backed off when the young Wizard began wriggling from her grip, her manicured fingers dancing as she withdrew them.
Tzigane had given her a reprieve, and she was glad for it. This gave her time to cool down and figure out exactly what she'd search for in the boy's mind.
Quietly she observed him reading the leaves as he'd been instructed, and was even colored impressed as he went along, dictating what he could see. As a mind bender she had learned to read people as well as reading situations. He could be very well making educated guesses, but he seemed as if he needed to please them. His reading was genuine, she decided.
When he came to the last part shemail craned her neck to take a closer look, but as it was at an angle it was unclear. Hopefully Rail could shed light on this mysterious last bit. The woman strode over to the chair and rested a hand gently on Atticus's back, waiting for her turn to investigate.
"Is that an..?"
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