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Post by Atticus Daegal on Jan 8, 2015 19:34:58 GMT
As Atticus laid there in a pool of his own blood and trying not to move too much so as to avoid agitating the protruding bones from his form, he had plenty of time to study the inner lining of the prismatic wall not too far away. The swirling colors were almost hypnotic, especially to a mind which is going hazy from lack of oxygen to the brain. How long did they say the human brain could go without blood circulating? Five minutes? Seven minutes? Atticus supposed it didn't matter. In the time it would take any of the grand mages to get down those stairs and assist him, he'd have bled out and died long before. He closed his eyes somewhat, sighing.
Wouldn't that be a tremendous relief? No more bullies... no more nightmares... no more worrying that any second he could explode into a million evil little monsters and terrorize innocent people. He could just slip away into the ether and allow himself to be forgotten except perhaps as the boogeyman for some midwife's tales of terror to misbehaved little children. "Be good or the fallen will get you..." they'll say. No one will remember Atticus Daegal as a man. He could just fade and nobody would ever have to get hurt again...
That was when he heard the snapping of the Brass Duke's various fasteners and buckles on his belt. The shattered Atticus opened his eyes slowly and looked upward into the upside-down face of the man who had forced this decision on him earlier. "You..." the wizard croaked upward into the face of the grand mage. His eyes closed again, as though not seeing the man made it not true. Was he not done with him? Had Atticus not suffered enough? He guessed not. He couldn't even hear the man's voice as more than a strange, muffled nonsense when he spoke.
Then Atticus could feel the familiar presence of heat. The kind only magical fire could produce. Atticus' head turned despite great pain as he opened one eye to see what was going on. He watched with bated curiosity as the transmutation master changed one type of magic to another as easily as he would alter lead to gold. An odd sense overcame Atticus once more. The pain was a background detail as his academic mind started turning in kicks and sputters. He watched the changing of colors and eventually how it entered the Duke's body and granted him a healer's touch. "F..faass..." Atticus tried to utter, but couldn't quite muster the entirety of the word "fascinating". Instead he rolled his head back and watched the sky above. The clouds were swimming in front of his eyes...
More muffled jawflapping on the edge of his perception. As immaterial and unimportant as anything else. Frankly, Atticus privately wondered what was taking Death's messengers so long to get here. He wondered what they'd look like? Did they resemble the cloaked figure holding a scythe as was depicted in many books he'd read? Was it a fallen celestial with wings of midnight black? ... Midnight...
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could hear her laughter. As if he'd heard it before.
Then - even more pain. Atticus gasped and ground his teeth against one another as he felt his bones starting to stitch themselves together, sliding under his skin and around his muscles to move themselves into place. It wasn't that they were causing him more harm, it's that they were aggravating existing wounds. But even those were beginning to fix themselves and what was once an all-over, all-encompassing terror of pain was slowly residing into a low ache. His senses were starting to sharpen and the first thing he was aware of was the hands on his neck and cheek. His hearing felt as though someone had removed the cotton from his ears. The first words he heard were "I will make a scroll to copy into your book for later."
"A scroll of what...?" Atticus asked dumbly as his voice returned to him. He groaned as his spine stubbornly snapped this way and that to align itself properly. Almost as soon as his skin was whole, he could feel the things writhing inside again, but luckily the cloak was mending itself as well, a by-product of the healing, and they were safely contained. For now.
The last wound sewn up, the last bone locked into place. Atticus blinked and sat up slowly, feeling like a man who slept on a rock after a lifetime of pampering. Everything was sore, but he was quite alive and quite himself again as he sat there, his elbows on his knees and his head bowed slightly.
"That... was an experience I hope not to endure again, your grace..." Atticus said to the grand mage behind him before he attempted to get to his feet. "Your tests are quite challenging... It stands to wonder how your students survive your course... come to think of it, do you have any graduates?"
He stood tall and stretched. Lingering mis-placement of his spine was corrected with an audible POP as they settled back to their true spots. Atticus let out a loud sigh before turning around to face the man fully. He looked about his feet at the mess his impact had made. Steaming water was drying, a crimson splatter spread in all directions in a messy star shape, and different colored and textured bits of dark creatures were quickly dissolving in the light, creating a rather unpleasant odor. Atticus took this in and sighed a bit. "I don't even want to think about the lecture I'll receive for this mess..." he muttered.
Finally, his eyes met the Brass Duke's. He nodded once in appreciation for his healing, though the Duke would be able to see how haunted those glowing orbs really were. For a moment, he had wanted to die. That doesn't just leave a person.
"So... my decisions are to influence the world..." he said at long last, shaking his head. He shrugged lightly, as though accepting the inevitable.
"Do you suppose a decision to visit the cafeteria first would cause undue damage? After that fall, I find myself strangely famished..."
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Post by The Brass Duke on Jan 11, 2015 16:25:48 GMT
"It is an experience none wish to endure, Mister Daegal, although it is an experience nonetheless."
The Duke clapped the boy lightly on his back and chuckled, guiding him across the courtyard and back into the tower proper; he signaled to what few initiates had not fled and gave them a series of directions, ranging from calling the cooks up to the Council Room, and even ordering the class clowns to clean up the mess outside.
As they set up the stairs, the Brass Duke guided the Fallen up with a firm hand on his shoulder, and took a deep breath before speaking again.
"I'll have you know it is impossible for any man to successfully pass the whole exam without some measure of failure," he'd begun, followed by trailing off on the subject that Atticus was no man, but still a child. Unlike his natural smile, the Transmuter offered a warm, knowing one, instead. "In the future, you may wish to take a page from our enemies' book--the Elves do not sleep, nor could they if one tried. Instead, the creatures enter a state of meditation while those around him wander the Dreamscape. While someone in our position needs at least eight hours to refuel our reserves, it takes the Elves only four or so. They are not immune, but become distracted far less due to their mediations.
"I don't presume Lord Aebra will look at how you took his test as an insult. It happens to us all, honestly. When I work, there have been times I couldn't heart or visualize the outside world until my project was completed."
Somewhere up the stairs, the Duke reached into a scrollcase slung on his belt behind his spell book and removed one crisp, clean white scroll, and offered it to the boy.
"It's called 'Synostodweomer', Mister Daegal. I am no cleric, nor do I possess any real healing power, but the spell does come in handy. In my adventures, we seldom had a priest with us for very long. Some disliked our agenda, while others met an unfortunate end at the hands of our enemies. One or two may have been the result of friendly fire, but one in our flock suffered from bad luck at that time...but the point is, this spell has its uses, but do not depend on it solely.
"Synostodweomer relies on converting precious spell energies to heal, and in doing so you lose access to cast more freely in a punch. I had prepared a Fireball and Synostodweomer today, but in casting the latter had to convert my evocation into positive energy to fuel it. I lost that spell along with Synostodweomer. You see why it would be foolish to rely heavily on it?"
Eventually they had made it back upstairs and the Duke ushered Atticus into the room first, nodding to the others, especially Regina, who had been sitting on the edge of her seat the whole time. A moment later a food trolley wheeled in behind them, and the man clapped his hands.
"Let us discuss the next steps over lunch, shall we? Mister Daegal, take Lady Diva's chair, won't you? I'm curious to know what is on your mind."
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Post by Atticus Daegal on Jan 17, 2015 2:56:54 GMT
The wizard tensed lightly as the grand mage put his hand on his shoulder and started to guide him back to the council room as if they were old friends. While Atticus did have a great deal of respect for the man, he still couldn't escape feeling like an experiment to him. At least he was performing well, if that was a consolation. The hooded man remained silent while the Duke spoke for the most part, listening to his words with the same attention and respect he'd offer a professor. When Brass mentioned that everyone experiences a degree of failure, he couldn't help but note to himself that he hoped so. For anyone to pass the full measure of THAT series of battering exams... they'd have to be of terrible power, focus, and drive. They would be a horrible person to cross.
Their feet fell upon the spiraling double staircase leading upward once more. Atticus looked skyward at the twenty nine stories of steps he'd have to take with a great sigh. Thirty if you count-
"Synostodweomer...?" Atticus repeated as he was handed the scroll. A lot of the advice the Duke had just given regarding the hooded one's lack of focus was almost immediately forgotten as the student wizard unrolled the scroll enough that he might begin study as they ascended the steps. What he found there was a treasure trove of his most favorite things: art, mystery, and science. The concentric summoning circles intended to transform once form of energy into another were nothing less than pure artistry and would take a VERY delicate hand to emulate and transfer to his own personal book of spells. It was a great shame that the act of transferal would mean the original copy would be destroyed in the process. Atticus would have very much liked to have registered this scroll into the library so he would always have a backup copy should anything happen to his own personal tome. In fact, every spell he currently had - with the exception of Synostodweomer - had several backups on file, and were in the books of most wizards his own age as well. At the very least, he knew the original caster and was on good enough terms that he might be able to return to the Duke and request a replacement should anything unforeseeable take place.
Atticus merely nodded lightly in response to whatever else the Duke had to say as his eyes soaked in the details on the paper before him. It wasn't that he completely ignored Brass at that point, but it was more like he was only passively absorbing knowledge from the man's lips as opposed to his pen. He caught what was said about not relying upon the spell too much, that it cost an extra spell (the fuel) just to cast. Atticus mentally noted that he could potentially keep himself studied on this particular spell but hopefully never use it. Yes, he'd lose a spell for the day if he did that, and two if he needed to consume it, but what was the alternative?
That is what drove the wizard to thoughts beyond the scroll in his hands. He lowered the paper slowly, his mind returning to the here and now only to discover he had already entered the Council chambers and was seated comfortably in Lady Diva's chair. He had, unknown to himself, followed directions without so much as a greeting to all in attendance or a declaration that he was alright. In the back of his memory, he felt he had at the very least nodded when someone said his name... was it Brass? Buliri? He couldn't remember. Slowly, he rolled the scroll, the embarrassment of his less than proper behavior obvious in those glowing eyes of his. Before he'd speak, he set the scroll on his lap and overlapped his hands atop it.
Clearing his throat, Atticus looked to those facing him even as the lunch cart was rolled in and their plates were set before each of them. On the menu was some fancy dish from a faraway land. Honestly, the wizard would have been quite content with a sandwich and a handshake.
"Right... uhm..." he said as he picked up his fork and prodded lightly at the flaky surface of the meal he couldn't recognize. Honestly, he hadn't even ventured into the cookbook section of the library and was now considering he may need to do so. "So... Obviously, transport would be necessary, right?" he asked, looking around to gauge the reactions of the Queen herself and the high mages. "Transport large enough and fast enough to carry a group of adventurers. I think I remember reading something about aircraft in my studies, if anyone's... seen or heard of something like that. Also, I'm no healer. I think once I've secured sufficient transit I might visit the temple of creation? They have healers, yes?" he asked.
Again, he felt so out of place. Who was he to make plans like some kind of general and speak of what he WILL do in front of his superiors like this? Wasn't he just a student? Shouldn't they be telling him what to do? It's insane how quickly one's life can be turned around...
"After that... I'm not sure. Perhaps I could check on Maedelsa or look into whatever this Midnight thing is?"
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Post by Lord Rail on Jan 22, 2015 13:30:25 GMT
When Atticus had vaulted from the window in a desperate attempt to prevent erupting chaos, a sudden weight built up in the pit of Rail's stomach, and he could sense the darkness swirling about, crawling down into his skeletal hand; he gripped the handle of his scythe so hard his bony fingers groaned in protest, as if they might snap.
Of course he knew if the boy were destined to die, it would be on the Reaper to collect his soul and reveal his purpose. This would not do. He'd fidgeted to head for the window behind Buliri and Lord Brass, but they were quick; that, and the boy was somehow still breathing, clinging to what little life he had left. What inches the Necromancer had risen quickly disappeared as soon as the Duke did, and until the two returned, Rail stayed quiet, feeling out with his mind to see just how this would unfold.
When the two did return, and with lunch, the Reaper sighed heavily, and glanced to the cup of leaves that had been carelessly abandoned. The M bothered him, though as it had been stated, could have meant anything.
"The majority of Eveliegh airships are military-owned, while the more commercial or luxury are on the hands of the Dominion and Neutralities; a number of pirates claim a few, and typically they offer transport at little cost. If you seek flight, we can find accommodations."
Rail turned and faced Brass.
"I feel from this point forward you should not be in charge of the boy...I suggest when he is not not traveling for this...purpose, instead of staying here or at Colossus, he should cycle through the other schools...diversity, and we can also help him. Would that be interesting to you, Atticus?"
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Post by The Creator on Jan 22, 2015 13:56:46 GMT
"I completely agree with you, Lord Rail. Lord Brass, when Mister Daegal is away from his trip I would like him to explore other venues, not just for variety, but your methods may kill him. You pose an archaic threat I believe we should discuss at the next meeting."
Regina stared at the boy in Diva's chair with more of a gentle smile now, and no fear swelled in her heart any longer. She felt pity for the young wizard, and now she simply wanted to see him succeed, where before he seemed to have terrible luck; this would change very soon.
Abruptly the forgotten standing mirror near the door began shaking, and the dusty drape covering it fell to the floor in a heap, forcing a cloud of particles to puff into the air, emitting a stale smell.
The glass rippled for several moments, subsequently cracked before reforming itself, and suddenly the reflective image faded, revealing an obviously female figure draped in silky violet robes trimmed in silver. Her hands were held together beneath her sleeves, and her head was drooped, though her face was clearly directed at Madame Damara.
When she spoke, her voice sounded as if she were submerged beneath the waves, but at the same time shouting from the end of a long tunnel.
"Madame Damara, I am Ecco of the land of Namorn..." A metallic figure--a moving statue--sidled up next to her, wearing immaculately draped crimson silks, and bowed its head.
"A Judgemaster," she said, motioning with a pale hand to her companion. "located a young woman in the wreckage of a crashed airship shortly after the Sisters and I received a vision; we intercepted a prophetic sign and discovered the moment she came to us that we had to call you immediately. Her husband was abducted..."
The Kolyarut pressed a cold metal hand hard on her shoulder.m
"Imperial Wizards." It said flatly. "The ship was attacked by a creature beget by a Waterspout, summoned by what the scholars call Imperial Wizards. While the young lady slept, recovering from her injuries...she spoke some words that unsettled the High Wizards."
Ecco nodded. "The entire crew was either vaporized, taken or lost. She is the sole survivor, and as she slept she cried out the words "Waterspout", "Madelsine" and Shadows". When the Sisters accepted the interception of what we can only guess was your grand vision, we knew there was a connection."
The metal man nodded. "She is a sky pirate, by the name of Hilda Hyne."
Regina gasped.
"Hilda? She married the dread pirate Vincente Hyne, and was the daughter of Astelle Dragnor, a noble of East Shorr's little colonization project. Their whole village was destroyed a few years ago by a tsunami. Everyone thought they all died."[
The Kolyarut shook its head.
"We kept our eyes on the Pirates for some time. Very much alive."
"And it is the decision of the High Wizards we should inform the Madame, and seek her advice. Will you see the young woman? If her place is in your vision, we are prepared to transport her to you."
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Post by Madame Damara on Jan 23, 2015 4:31:35 GMT
Not long ago, the Madame had nodded at the sage words of her colleagues to wait until the boy came before them again to regain discussion on his actions, to allow him to make his own decisions. A small smile passed her lips at this. Decisions were a wonderful topic to her, seeing as she often saw the fates of those who stood before her. Many in this room would meet terrible ends, others would pass quite peacefully. She even knew her own. She had spent many years waiting for the moment to come. She was fairly certain that it would do so in the near future. As to Atticus, she knew better by the time he made his run. She had seen his death many years ago. This was not it.
So, she sat there quietly, idly petting Kizzy's hair until the movement of the mirror behind her drew her attention. It was odd that the old antique would be used - especially today - and in right in the middle of a meeting, no less! Curiouser and curiouser.
Before the woman in the mirror had begun to speak, Madame Tizgane Damara gestured to her faithful servant to spin her chair about so that she might not appear rude. She felt the high-backed and rather comfortably cushioned seat rotate slowly and was aware she was at least pointed in the general direction of the mirror just as the lady finished in introduction. Kizzy, having completed his task, regained his spot next to Tzigane. Faithful as always.
"Greetings, Lady Ecco..." Tzigane said softly. "It is heartening to know that the exalted high wizards of your lands are not lax in their vigil for signs from the beyond. We did receive a message from the gods this afternoon..."
She considered the information she was given, ever-thoughtful in her expression. She recalled the prophecy that came to them only an hour or two prior as she listened. She was unsure how the prophecy connected to this woman, but there was more here. She could almost feel the strings of fate being tugged, in that one who is a skilled pilot should suddenly - and almost literally - fall into their laps.
"Your High Wizards are as wise as they are diligent. I have many questions regarding what we have learned today, but they are for the ears of your dutiful wizards only. I will of course arrange to visit once my business here is concluded... as to Miss Hyne..."
Here, Tzigane looked over her shoulder, as if she could see Atticus sitting nearby. "Perhaps I shall delegate that honor to another? Who knows, perhaps this lady of the skies has been delivered into our care not by chance but by destiny?" She turned her head once more to face forward, for what good that was. "The decision, as I am sure you are aware, is not mine to make in that regard. Please inform your Wizards that I shall arrive in a fortnight. My situation demands that I travel by carriage, you understand."
She finished there. She was careful to avoid discussing the Imperial Wizardry at this moment, as that was a matter for Lord Aebra, being the shield mage, to handle. It seemed, at the very least, that they would have to take these rumors of a waterspout more seriously if even another country had proclaimed direct eyewitness to the illusive group...
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Post by Atticus Daegal on Jan 23, 2015 4:47:37 GMT
Lord Rail's words echoed in Atticus' mind for a while. Getting air transport from the Eveleigh Empire seemed... rather unwieldy and undoable. Last thing he wanted, of course, was to be shot out of the sky because his movements were considered an act of aggression simply due to the presence of military equipment on the vessel. That kind of sightless blunder could even start a war! That was certainly the furthest from his intent. The neutralities were unlikely to offer any sort of equipment, from what Atticus could deduce. Part of what makes them... well, NEUTRALITIES, was that they didn't offer direct support to ANYBODY, right? However, that final option. Pirates. It wasn't ideal by any means, but if their reliability could be purchased with gold and a good working relationship and their ships did not specifically belong to any particular country...
His thoughts were cut off when he heard the plans to ship him all around the colleges once he returned from his quest. He felt his heart sink a little at this. They would haphazardly move him from place to place? Was it not hard enough to call anywhere home, even when he'd spent a great deal of his time here after the rather regrettable destruction of his first college? Atticus looked down at his gloved hands, reminding himself that he didn't exactly fit in anywhere. Perhaps this way he could benefit not only from new tomes to study but also from the certain level of anonymity his movements would entail. Certainly, other students have wandered the various schools, yes? There were plenty of "universalists" out there, trying to learn all they could. No reason it should bring him down.
Almost as soon as he was ready to declare his feelings on the matter, their attention was drawn to the mirror nearby. The woman and her rather intimidating companion spoke directly to Madame Damara, but everyone could hear. Especially trained ears would even be able to hear the nervousness in the lady Ecco's voice when the matter was dicussed. Good thing for the Kolyarut suffered from no such emotional instability.
Atticus listened intently and when Madame Damara spoke, he could almost feel her eyes on him. He knew she was blind from many stories he'd heard from other students and the obvious way she moved, but for just a moment he felt as though she was seeing right through him. Unsettling!
However, it did bring into focus several details at once. Lady Ecco was speaking from Namorn, a neutrality! They offered to "transport" Miss Hyne to them! Miss Hilda Hyne was a sky pirate! It was too much of a coincidence all at the same time to simply ignore. Perhaps Madame Damara was correct, that the woman in question was in fact brought to them by destiny, but one does not manifest said destiny without speaking up.
"I'll meet with the woman..." Atticus said, holding up a hand to draw the attention of the metal man and the woman in the glass. He glanced to the others, hoping they agreed with what he said. "Uhm... she may know something about certain details we're a little sketchy on ourselves? I'm in a position where I could find out what lines up and report back?"
He still wasn't sure where exactly he stood in the grand scheme of things. This sounded like the most reasonable course of action for the time being.
"If nothing else, it gets a potentially dangerous pirate off your hands?"
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Post by Maestro Buliri on Jan 23, 2015 4:58:04 GMT
Admittedly, since the robed one performed his death-defying leap and the Maestro got his chance to school the Empress, Buliri was in a pretty good place. He'd gotten his entertainment for the day and when the Duke and the Bag O' Tentacles came waltzing right back in, he found himself almost as amused as he was before. It really would have been a lot funnier had the boy died, but his threats to the student body would remain pretty much intact regardless. Top it all off, they came with food which was a pleasant bonus. A show and a meal! He was glad he showed up for this stupid meeting.
As the plates were passed out, Buliri set aside usual table etiquette since the priss was no longer in attendance. He could eat however he really wanted to now that he didn't have to endure Diva's trash-talk (and he couldn't possibly care less what the royalty thought of him, since she'll probably never see him in this guise again). While the others discussed further details, he was leaned over his plate shoveling spoonfuls of meaty delicacies into his mouth.
Then the drama heightened and the Namorn "wizards" sent their little message via mecha-man and lady. Buliri had just finished his meal when Atticus spoke up, outlining his desire to meet the sky pirate. How cute.
With a belch, the gnomish man leaned back, propping his feet up on the table in front of him. "Don't go fallin' in love now!" he teased, grinning as he picked at his teeth with an over-sized pinky. "Pretty girl falls out of the sky and suddenly the mysterious robed fellow perks up!" he laughed.
He leaned over to Brass, smirking. "Although... I think the lady might want to watch herself..." he hinted while pointing his chin in the direction of the empress. He had noticed her expressions toward the fallen had softened considerably since the fiasco with the window, and even the male she brought with him seemed less on her mind. Plus, who could miss the little interactions between that oaf and Diva earlier? "If I was a betting man, I'd say your pet guinea pig might be stealing other hearts as well... Wanna place a wager on which one he goes for?" he joked under his breath.
Almost immediately after, Buliri crossed his arms and shuffled lightly in his seat. "Are we done here? The boy's going to make his decisions, he's gonna get shipped around the schools when he's not doing so, blah blah blah. I still have those scrolls to inspect, you know? The whole headmaster of a college thing and all?"
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Post by Lord Aebra Cheval on Jan 27, 2015 14:03:13 GMT
Aebra folded his arms and crossed his legs.
"We are all busy, Maestro, but if you wish to leave, you are free to do so. I expect you to keep your lips sealed about this conversation while you are away. Shadows are your house of business, and we wouldn't want spies taking cues from your ramblings. One moment it's a dragon, and then suddenly it's the dreaded tarrasque. We don't need another Day of Raining Whale."
He chuckled and cocked his head to the Empress. "I would like to arrange this meeting as soon as possible. We've been handed a portion of the prophecy on a silver platter, one that can not go tasted. I do insist we take great caution, as it is one of the most aggressive visions I've ever seen controlling destiny to date. Two in one day, that is unnatural, even for a prophecy."
His mind raced to what Ecco had said. "Waterspout? You've seen it, then, as well. And it attacked the ship with a beast? Well, Grand Mages, I say we stop taking that threat with a grain of salt and begin to get serious. The Wizardry is obviously over the legend, and would like to come out of hiding. Everyone reinforce the Colleges, as we don't know where they will strike. Lord Brass and Mastee Maestro. When you've the time i ask for your assistance in erecting a barrier at the palace."
Finally the Abjurer stood, and threw his arms out on either side. "To best set this into motion, I say we let the boy rest and bring the Sky pirate here. From Namorn she could be here by morning, earliest. Tomorrow I will see what use she is to the boy and give them their first task. This meeting is adjourned. Thank you all for coming. I must see to our other Mages now...Madame, will you please try contacting Mordock? It is unlike him to not show up. As for Caria, I will check into her recent studies, see if I can locate her."
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Post by Maestro Buliri on Feb 2, 2015 20:47:02 GMT
Buliri didn't need to be told twice. The second he was told he was free to go, he had already hopped out of his seat and was considering what guise he'd like to go parading through the rainbow tower in his exit. He caught the words Aebra spared for him and shot the man a sarcastic salute. Please. As if any information of this sensitivity escaped HIS college without his personal spin on it. Part of the reason this whole kingdom was so secure was because the reliability of any spy that was enterprising enough to abscond with anything of value would never be believed due to all the false leads, trumped-up rumors, and little white lies that Buliri quite purposefully let slip to the vast criminal underground of information experts. Like the Day of Raining Whale, for example... Buliri let a little chuckle escape his lips at the memory, in which he had convinced the entire kingdom that one of his students had completely, hopelessly botched a spell and had summoned ten-ton whales to fall from the sky. He even made sure that was what people would see... until the point of impact at which point they wouldn't explode into nasty fishy-guts but harmless confetti and loud carnival music. That was a good day... The gnomish master of illusion was snapped out of his reverie when Aebra requested his assistance on a small matter. He cracked his back lightly and sighed. "Fine, fine. I'll be free tomorrow morning but I'll be spending the rest of the night on my papers... Seeing which ones are WORTHY to add to... the COLLECTION," he said while gesturing to the many scrolls and wands adorning his figure. He turned to face the queen, and bowed regally. It was almost shocking the speed at which this gnome could go from crass, rude, and uncivilized to a perfect example of chivalry and courtly behavior. "Your highness and most grand of queens..." he said as he bowed in traditional manner. "I bid you farewell, until next you've need of my services..." With a measured spin on the heel of his boot, Buliri faced the doors and made his way through. Now free of the wards protecting the rooms, he couldn't help but grin at the mischievous ideas in his mind. "Hey, Brass!" he called over his shoulder, that wicked twinkle in his eyes never fading. "Meet me at the pub around Witching Hour, aye?" he called, casting doubt on exactly how long it would actually take him to grade papers. With that, the small gnome suddenly twisted and contorted into another form all together. What once was a stocky, rather rotund little man now slithered a long form with claws and scales. Spewing green flame from its mouth and sparks from its whiskers, the oriental dragon form of the Mad Maestro tore down the hall and ripped down the stairs at blistering speed and high profile, startling just about every student it passed as it majestically soared through the large doors in the entrance hall and out into the boundless blue sky... ((off to Avalendor > The Witching Hour))
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Post by The Brass Duke on Feb 2, 2015 23:32:08 GMT
"Good old Suliman," the Brass Duke mused in response to Buliri, apparently lost in thought as he gazed down his nose and across the table where Atticus was silently scrutinized by the others. When he finally caught on to what had been said he snapped back to reality as if he'd just been dozing.
With a creak of the neck he stood, stretched his legs a moment and then turned to face the door. Buliri went dashing down the stairs like a snake mad with unquenchable thirst for blood, and sniggered. Waving off Aebra's request, he regarded it with a simple scoff; sure, he was the Abjurer, but the Duke could transmute walls from whatever he desired. He finally nodded and said goodbye to the rest, giving the Empress a curt nod reserved for those among the Court, and eventually left.
Buliri wanted to speak privately, which meant he had to drop by his home office to grab something. Perhaps he might spend some time with Cobalt until then, or possibly see what that sister of his was plotting. Either way he had an activity to occupy his time until this meeting, and since Colossus hadn't returned yet, this would be the next best thing.
[Off to The Witching Hour, in Avalendor!]
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Post by Madame Damara on Feb 3, 2015 7:22:05 GMT
As the meeting came to a close, the Grand Mage of Divination nodded solemnly to Lord Aebra the Abjurer. Without a word, she stood from her chair as slowly and gracefully as a practiced ballerina. She held her hand out by her side so that Kizzy could take it in his own grotesquely misshapen one in order to lead her before the Empress, to whom she curtsied politely. "Your highness..." she said softly, barely above a whisper once more. The gentle curve of her ruby lips indicated a faint smile against that pure-white skin of hers. "I know that you are overwhelmed by the nature of all that you have seen here, but do not worry. Crass and brazen though many of my colleagues may be, there is not one among us who is disloyal to the empire. Rest easy, your grace..."
Here, she spared an almost knowing glance to the man beside the empress, the one who retreated to a far wall when the poor Atticus had begun Brass' trial. The one who had that sour look on his face practically the entire time he had been there. She said nothing to him, nor about him, but she sent a very clear indication his way that she KNEW. She might not have physically seen the way he behaved around Lady Diva, but one did not need one's vision to be aware of something... unwholesome going on behind another woman's back. She had said that none of the mages were disloyal to the empire, but Madame Damara was keenly aware that at least ONE of them had been disloyal to the royal family.
What the man did with that was up to him. Still, there were OTHER matters in the future that Tzigane was rather interested to see play out. Already she had sensed a change in the Empress' demeanor toward the darkly hooded wizard in the room, a feat which took even much more open minded individuals a great deal more time to achieve. How long had he lived here in the Rainbow Tower after all? It was an encouraging thing to feel. Perhaps, when the time came, she would be much more receptive to the man's words when they finally came coupled with a heavy, heavy burden.
"Lord Aebra..." Tzigane said, after bidding the Empress farewell and having Kizzy guide her to the man's side. "As I have stated before, Baron Asmodan Mordock's presence upon this earth has been hidden from my view. I cannot say for certain what this means, but I have my concerns. Until I know more, I will say no further. I do promise, however, that I will continue to seek out our wayward Evoker while I make my way to convene with the Wizards of Namorn..."
With an equally polite curtsy to the Abjurer, Tzigane began her walk toward the doors, pausing only momentarily to politely tilt her head in Lord Rail's direction and to consider Atticus a moment. She offered the youth a smile, trying to be reassuring.
"Do not fret, young Atticus..." she said to him. "Though a heavy load falls upon your shoulders, you are stronger than you know and I have faith that whatever path you choose will lead to better days..." she said softly, then made her way out the doors.
It would take her another couple of hours to descend the stairs with Kizzy's guidance. She did not attempt magic to assist herself, nor did she try to quicken the process in any manner. She was frail, and she knew she could not expend her energies as the others did. In fact, just this day's meeting was quite taxing on her, and she felt by the time she reached the twentieth floor that she may require rest before continuing. That did not stop her, however. She was determined to show strength even in her condition, for the students' sake. She continued all the way to the ground floor, by which point she was practically being carried by the undead Troll at her side, who had already gotten the umbrella ready for the outdoor portion of their trip back to the carriage.
Another thirty minutes would pass by the time she was comfortably seated in the shady confines of her personal transport. Kizzy took his place at the reigns and was snapping the winged horses into motion. Damara was quite thankful that the students had elected to leave her be on the way down, a mercy considering she could hardly have answered their onslaught of questions.
With a sigh, she gestured lightly with her hand, using some magic to call ahead to the tower she called home. She contacted one of her many acolytes there. "Jessica... have my things ready by the time I arrive. I will be going on a trip to Namorn after I've had time to rest..." she informed the woman on the other side of the swirling mists at her fingertips, which she casually whipped away with a flick of her fingers thereafter.
Namorn... and a meeting with the High Wizards there. She hoped whatever insight they may share would prove useful...
((Off to Namorn...))
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Post by The Creator on Feb 3, 2015 14:25:03 GMT
As business picked up among the Grand Mages, Regina had let them speak without interruptions, mostly because she felt they were in desperate need of rest after the day's work, revelations and overall stress; she could tell by the time Maestro Buliri and Lord Brass left that the Mages would begin to leave, one by one, and she would exit last; this did little to bother her, as she was able to bow her head to each of them as they departed, while at the same time remain seated while her own emotions swirling about made her dizzy.
It was about this time Charles finally returned to her side, after having been hidden in the shadows and cowering only moments before. His hands rested firmly on her shoulders, and she peered up at him only once when Madame Damara gave her farewell message. She smiled pleasantly and said goodbye, the only verbal parting she'd given since the others left. The Diviner was by far the Empress's least concern, and in fact the woman trusted her above the rest. It was her father who had placed all his faith in the Mages, but he would always reserve the most faith in Tzigane Damara.
"Thank you," she said as the woman left, and turned to those who had yet to exit just yet. Rail prepared his things while Lord Aebra finished up speaking with the automaton through the old mirror; Atticus just sat there, complacent to the commands of the Circle. Perhaps...
"Lord Aebra, Charles and I will stay here the night. I will take that room you offered before. I would like to better acquaint myself with this young man, if he is to be our agent. Supper, Mister Daegal? What are your preferences, and I shall have the cooks prepare it."
She saw the wry smile Charles gave her, but paid him no mind. She was the Empress; questioning her would mean treason. Dangerous or not, he was a citizen of her nation, and she would like to understand what made him tick before setting him loose among the population. What better way to begin than by meeting with the Queen personally?
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Post by Atticus Daegal on Feb 4, 2015 4:17:41 GMT
Atticus had fallen silent once the mages began to dismiss themselves. His mind went to the bigger tasks before him. He had to meet with this pirate, perhaps convince her to provide transport for a quest he himself didn't quite know the direction of. For the time being, he knew he had to look for help. That was a given. He alone could not carry this burden and it would be foolhardy - arrogant even - to assume that he could. He also turned the scroll in his hands over and over, knowing he would have to write it into his spellbook soon.
His thoughts were interrupted when he heard his name mentioned. He blinked, looking up suddenly. "Huh?" he asked, clearly distracted but quickly recovering. "Oh! Your grace! I..." he stammered, trying to think what to do. With so much having gone on these past couple of hours alone, he was a little here and there on what was even considered "proper etiquette" at this point. Of course, he could not deny his queen her request, as that would constitute treason, but it was also considered good form to ask for whatever the queen enjoyed when given a chance to choose. Downside was- Atticus had no idea what that was. He wasn't exactly up on current events, favoring old tomes over fleeting trends.
"Uhm... of course, your grace..." Atticus said as he stood. He stumbled lightly, realizing he had forgotten that the scroll was on his lap at the time and having to catch the rolled paper before it would fall and unravel across the floor. After scooping the parchment into his arms, he bowed awkwardly. "I would be honored to join you and yours for a meal. Uhm... whatever you like is perfect, of course?" he asked, either unafraid to seem uninformed or simply too addled to be subtle about his ignorance.
"When and where, exactly?" he asked, once again displaying his lack of knowledge on certain topics. "I've never been asked to a royal supper... I'm afraid I won't be able to dress more... well... fashionably..." he said, standing only to indicate his rather permanent attire. "Sadly, no one considered a dinner jacket of holding in the past."
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Post by Lord Rail on Feb 8, 2015 13:52:48 GMT
"Why, in the Circle's private dining hall, of course," Rail said as he stood, sweeping about the table until he reached the back of Atticus's chair; resting his living arm on the back, he leaned down with a gentle smile and whispered lightly.
"A typical reservation for the Grand Mages, but rarely ever used. Tonight it is yours and the Royal Ensemble. Supper begins an hour before student dinner.
"...And Atticus," Lord Rail spun the boy's chair to face him and he knelt, his eyes glued to the bright orbs shining out from the din of Atticus's hood. "They are an exceedingly overwhelming bunch, I know. I felt your struggle during the Brass Duke's test, your fight to live in light of...this curse. But allow me to be the first to tell you, it is only a curse if you allow it to be." He lifted his skeletal hand and displayed it for the young Wizard to investigate. "I prefer to think of it as a gift, when used correctly. I believe you were chosen for a purpose, so losing faith will be an endless struggle, but you must prevail. We're not throwing a massive weight on your shoulders here...think of it as being hired to perform missions on behalf of the Rainbow Tower. You won't be put into situations obviously out of your league. You get the chance to explore the world, with freedom. Don't ever let that go."
The man stood and gave a look to the others present in the room, one that indicated the boy was not to be harassed again. And then he smiled. "You get to meet the Elves you've so longed to lay eyes on--the Brass Duke has spoken of your many conversations. It is an adventure, Mistee Daegal. Yes, there will be dangerous situations, otherwise you mightn't learn a thing out there. How do you think the Eight of us got here? Not simple rigorous study day in and out. Earning our keep, as they say. You are well on your way to become a great Wizard, I can tell. And always remember one thing out there: you have the backing of the Rainbow Tower. You have my support."
The Necromancer then turned, gave a lavish goodbye to the Empress, and gave cordial farewells to the others before exiting the room, scythe in tow, and descending the staircase heading to only the gods knew where.
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