The Fables of Rhiracien IC

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Sit down, my children. Let me tell a great story, one of heroism, of heartbreak, of saviours and sinners, and of a group of people from this very realm, with the destiny of their homelands in their hands. Within the realm of Rhiracien, there was once a Great Blight, caused by the goddess Edione.

With a heart like shattered glass, she cast a sickening darkness across the lands and devastated the families of Rhiracien by the thousands. Brothers, fathers, mothers and daughters died in fits of racking coughs, fevers and soon, atrophy. They died, but fate was not kind to these noble citizens. The dead rose again, to take what they had left behind with them to the grave once more. My children, the land of Rhiracien was forever changed on that day, for this was the last time these citizens would band together. The Fae, Humans and Mages fought bravely and harmoniously to restore what once was, but tensions had grown and sparked like a coal-fed flame. Those who had believed that the Fae were the cause of this horrific catastrophe moved east, creating the land we know today as the Inquisition, a land where no Fae could live, or else they would be killed on sight.

Nevertheless, do not fear, children, for those who believed that the realm had done it’s very best to achieve peace once again moved north and created the Lands of Triumph, a prosperous and peaceful land where any species of citizen could live. However, mages were considered to be too great a threat to realm-wide security, so those in the Lands of Triumph formed The Circle of Mages, to keep their powers under lock and key, and to achieve both personal and realmwide safety once again. So, my grandchildren, this is how the realms we know today came to be. But I see I am putting you all to sleep, so let us curtail this history lesson, and move onto our story, of those in Rhiracien, who fate had tasked to either protect or destroy the world around them. Shall we begin this story, my lovely grandchildren? I suppose we shall.

The Scintillant Tower. A castle bathed in the dying sunlight, it's colossal marble stature reflecting the light to such a degree, that the untrained eye would believe it was actually aglow. The site of what would become the chess board of the Great Game, an activity in which nobles would partake in order to climb the ladder of power, and create eunuchs and vagrants of their opponents. However, it was a joyous day within the Land of Triumph. For the minor nobles who owned such a atypical and abnormal spire-ridden building, they had joy which could not be quenched on this day. Their daughter, their only daughter, had discovered her own latent natural abilities in the form of abjuration magics, and today was her ceremony to celebrate her transference from normality to that of the nobility of the Prohibarata circle of mages. There were friends and colleagues gathered to celebrate this occasion, yes; however, as with all nobility and all of their gatherings, the Great Game was as ever afoot. It was the opportune time to pursue a higher stand in the rungs of power for the craftier nobles, and for those of good intention and noble bearing, they were ready to celebrate. Little did they know this night would spark the greatest story ever told.

CHAPTER I GOAL: The goal for this chapter is to introduce your characters into the setting, and interact within the confines of the Scintillant Tower. Find out the goings on of the nobles, and that of the realm itself. Also, any gifts your characters might have for the young mage, gifts are not mandatory, but those who, do hold on to them and they'll be given at the ceremony once everyone gets to the top of the tower. You can make your way up there, or already be up there, either way after everyone's all warmed up and at the top of the tower it will be Night time by then, so the stars will be out and visible. your characters goal is to eventually get up there. Once everyone is up there the ceremony can begin.

8D have fun!
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It took a few days for the retinue that she as part off to arrive at their destination. A tower so blindingly bright, Chakha found that almost painful to look at. Of course it was beautiful! It glinted with past long gone that would have made her joyful, excited even, but the cynic in her has grown enough to cloud over those stories of her childhood that led her nowhere but to exile. It was hardly forgotten, but on its way to forgiveness. However, despite her rather bitter thoughts, Chakha did not fail to make pleasant conversation with her companions, her wolverine friend sleeping at her feet.

Not much longer, they have arrived at the Scintillant Tower, one of the magi helping her out of their transport. Even after so many years, her past did follow her everywhere. They all knew who she was and where she was from but instead of turning her over to her family back in Gangdan city, they have decided to take her in. Furthermore, Elric Darien, the realm mage for the Animalia Dominatus, was kind enough to take her under his wing, teach her all that she did not know. Chakha was not blind, nor stupid. Not being born a magi, but made one, meant instability that better be supervised, but it was still a better fate than returning to the city where they wanted to paint the streets with her blood.

"Thank you," said Chakha with a pleasant smile on her face to the man who was kind enough to land her a hand, the wolverine coming to stay close to her even as it sniffed at the air. It never walked at her heel like a dog. It was still wild but it would not attack without Chakha's permission. If anything it would venture far and wide but always return. Their procession started moving and the girl assumed her place by the realm mage.

Elric had come with Chahka, a girl of the prestigious Xialong family, in order to ensure her own safety, and for her to have a pastoral figure to look to if she needed assistance in any form. For he himself was an Animalia Mage, often called the Changeling Subjugator due to his own talents within the circle of magic he had been attuned to, once in a past blue moon.

The family they had arrived to see was celebrating their own daughter's transition to magehood, despite the concensus in the region that mages were despicable, cruel and demonic evils that tainted the world, the girl was an Abjuration Magi, and Elric had ensured he and Chakha had brought the girl a gift. The Realm Mage smiled inwardly as he pondered the gift he had brought; a sphere of Pyrophitic Miasma, harmless yet capable of keeping the user warm in even the coldest of winters.

Entering the grand marble foyer, Elric, guarded by lower class mages, made his way into a gaggle of nobility, each dressed in fine silks and masquerade masks that indicated their status. Instantly, a mental switch was activated as Elric's silver tongue came into play, introducing himself and his associates to the small gathering that came to be around him. Many of those were from the Lands of Triumph themselves. However, with these introductions, Elric made sure to move backwards toward Chahka in order to point her out as a focal point of interest, receiving disgruntled huffing from those of the Inquisition and Ministry, their politeness in court a mask that had to be worn for the reputations of their respective lands.
"This, my dearest of friends, is my apprentice, Chakha. An Animalia Magi much like myself, she is a very peculiar case. I hope she will even rival my own abilities in the future, whether that be near or far." He exclaimed with a self-satisfied chuckle.

Chakha's eyes looked over the group of people standing in front of them as her mentor deemed it necessary to greet with them, it would seem. She remained polite even as the nobles tried hard not to show their discontent at her presence, but she could see it in their eyes. The same look her parents gave her the moment they found out about her new affiliation, minus the horrified broken dreams they seemed to have harboured for her. One or two, she could tell, could feel the coins slipping through their fingers at the image of the price they would receive shall they try and return Chakha to her homeland. Giving a small bow to the high and mighty, as the etiquette required, Chakha kept up her own mask of kindness and ignorance to the looks. She would have remained quiet after greeting the group, but instead she looked up at the man beside her, replying to his praise in her modest way as usual:
"I doubt, I will ever surpass you, master Darien. Your praise is too high for me."

"Oh, stop, Chakha, Be proud of yourself! Even most adult mages take years more in time to acquire the skills you have. You are my prodigy, and I'm proud to say so. We must teach you more, however. In case there is ever a threat I myself cannot handle!" He added with a sardonic, belly-laugh bout of chuckling. "However, we must be on our way, my venerable lords and ladies. We must attend to gift giving and such so as to not look like ungracious guests to our host!" Elric explained to the nobles, most nodding him a goodbye in a courteous manner. "Chakha, if you would please follow me." Elric asked, walking through a secluded alcove of the tower.

The girl followed as she was asked, curious as to why her mentor would suddenly felt the need to seclude them. True, there were some unexpected quests she saw, but could that be the reason for the Realm Mage's peculiar behaviour? Clever mind didn't need to know about the Great Game to figure out that the accumulation of the powerful and the hungry would unleash intrigues so far reaching a domino effect will most certainly happen. Chakha could see some of that, not the consequences but having grown up in an environment where power determined everything, it felt as if stone of uncertainty has settled in the pit of her stomach.

"Those nobles are a hardy bunch," he whispered to her, making sure no noble was in earshot. "I am surprised those of the Inquisition are here, never mind the Ministry. Something must be wrong. We will have to find out what after we give our gifts." Elric explained with a firm finality, heading back into the foyer and off to find the nobles he had come to speak to.

Her mentor's concern seemed to resonate within her, but she understood his insistence of being polite first, proding later. After all, the way she was brought up gave her the ability to feel her way around these situations and some habits do die hard. Maybe, apart from taking her with him, Elric brought her to aid in these dealings too. After all, she still held her grudges against these people and wouldn't mind busting some of their plans.


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Gathran tried his best not to sigh in exasperation. The noble he was speaking to was drunk and blabbering on about 'tithes this' and 'taxes that' and 'maintenance of order' and all such dreadfully dull nonsense. Gathran resisted, however; huffing in exasperation and walking away from one of his most generous patrons would have severely damaged what small goodwill he had started building with the nobles here. A few summers ago, he had helped this noble by keeping his dying mother alive for two months longer than she had left so she could officially declare him her heir while he returned from a hunting trip. The noble, whatever his name is, paid Gathran a sizable bag of gold for 'letting him say goodbye', and also let him take any book from his new personal library that he wanted. The selection was terrible, but I took a few anyway to avoid insulting him. In fact, if memory serves, I accidentally took a book of Dwarven love poems, and now the old man thinks I have a thing for- FARGROVE! That's his name, Lord Alexander Fargrove.

Much to Gathran's relief, their one-sided conversation was interrupted by the arrival of yet more guests, these ones mages. “Ah, it's that Xialong lass,” Lord Fargrove slurred. “What's her name?”

“Lady Chakha, apparently in attendance with Elric Darien, Realm Mage of Animalia Dominatus.” Gathran replied.” Almost all mages who didn't have their heads in a book knew the realm mages, and those with their eyes on advancement found it in their best interest to know the noble mages among the circles. Not that it's too hard to tell; not all mages can afford fancy robes. Gathran was a little jealous of the advantages noble mages were afforded that common mages were not. For example, not everyone got lavish parties celebrating their entrance to the Circle. Most just get dragged out of their home by the town guard and hauled off to the local Circle like some common criminal. The noble ones get people to shield them from the worst of the prejudice and persecution, they get to study at the best of the Circles, like the one here, and they even get the best chambers. Gathran sighed. In all the realm, there is no greater pariah than a low-born human mage.

Rousing himself from his own thoughts, Gathran excused himself to greet the mages. In his youth, he would have been much more bitter, but now he simply accepted things for the way they were, bad as they might be. Besides, things weren't all bad now that he started experiencing the advantages of advancement himself. He had been newly appointed to the Circle here in the Scintillant Tower, ostensibly temporarily, to be closer on hand to help with some noble's medical needs, but Gathran was certainly hoping the position would be permanent. Already his chambers were triple the size of his old and he had a servant's closet for Grothnor. Gathran had thought the room too small for the snow orc's girth, but Grothnor didn't complain. He never does.

The research benefits alone were monumental; the Library of the Scintillant Tower was considered one of the finest magical resources outside the Ministry. Gathran spent the first two weeks devouring lexicon after lexicon, hardly spending time on unpacking and setting up. Fortunately he managed to get his gift in time for the celebration: an alchemical set made of ivory and jade, including a crystal alembic and retort. It was almost prohibitively expensive, but it was the perfect opportunity to get noticed by the young mage's family, especially if he wanted to remain here.

Gathran managed to slip through the crowd of noble greeters, too late to greet the two mages. He did, however, notice Inquisition and Ministry agents. Gathran suddenly felt the urge to be elsewhere. Their presence at any mage related event was never a good thing. The Ministy and Inquisition liked picking fights with humans and mages respectively, and since Gathran was both... Perhaps it might be best to retrieve Grothnor. He had left him to guard his gift in a quieter corner of the banquet hall, along with a small cask of ale and as much food as he could bribe the serving staff to divert his way in order to keep him occupied and out of the way of all the other guests. Gathran had intended to present his gift at the height of the banquet to maximize his visibility, but with the unwelcome guests, Gathran figured it would be better not to be seen as much. He caught the orc's eye as he entered the hall and beckoned. Grothnor wiped his mouth with his arm, stood and brought the chest with him. Time to get this over with before this function turns sour.
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The small inn had been vacated almost an hour ago shortly after the older man shrouded in a thick wool robe and hood had entered. The cheery mood of the revelers had dried out almost instantly and was replaced with this gnawing sensation of paranoia and a slow seeping panic. The only ones left were the innkeeper and his servant lady, fiddling with the cups as a distraction while the hooded man slowly drank a mug of ale. The Innkeeper had wanted to throw him out the moment he set foot in the door, but he could hear the plate mail clinking underneath the robe and this feeling of dread and fear was not coincidental. There was foul magic abroad and the innkeep prayed that the man would simply have his drink and be on his way, and he hoped that he would not want to stay the night.

His ears perked up when he heard the last drops of ale being gulped down and the sound of coins hitting the table. The man then lowered his hood and turned towards the innkeeper. What was expected to be a fearsome atrocitity of a man was nothing more than a plain, aged face with graying whiskers and skin that looked so worn and rough that it seemed almost leathery in appearance.

“I am looking for the Scintillant Tower. I heard it was up the road past this inn. Is that correct?”

The Innkeeper approached the man and nodded, surprisingly keeping his composure.

“Aye, that be true. We served a few fancy folk earlier today who stopped for a pint before heading out. Some sort of ceremony for a daughter of the nobles. Us common folk don't concern ourselves with it.”

The man nodded his head politely. “No I supposed you don't.” He rose and began to walk out, raising his hood over his head. The Innkeeper, his curiosity getting the better of him, suddenly blurted out.

“Sir! Are you another of them fancy folk?”

The man did not pause to answer the innkeeper's question, but right before the man left with the door closing behind him, he heard his answer.

“Not exactly.”

Gregory made a frown as he began walking on the path to the tower. With such a large group of magic users conglomerating here, surely he could find some kind of answers as to what that temple was and what it was he was exactly afflicted with. He was certain Warlock knew all the answers but he took them to the grave with him 30 years ago when Gregory put a sword in his back. How rash he had been back then, how hopelessly stupid. And now he was trying to fix that stupidity. The tower surely must have a massive library, he just needed to find a book on ancient Fae structures. He also needed to be careful; there were many powerful and influential people all over the world coming here, and none would like it too much if they heard that the former Ser Garland was paying them a visit.


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The air was becoming stiff, and though every bit of her despised that her sanctuary now harbored such
Selfishness and self-serving individuals, The Scintillent tower was still a sanctuary. Magics could not
Be used within its walls and for that purpose alone, all the intentions of the realm were able to enter
In such a fashion.

In just an hour she would be 18 years of age, her unsteadiness was overwhelming her and felt suffocating. Waving her hand stiffly at her bedroom door, it locked. Was she even ready for this responsibility.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeegyyyyssssssssillllllllll" A low whisper reverberated in her ears, plucking up her head
she stood with shaking legs and looked about the room to find no one there with her.


"Eeeeeeeeeeeegyyyyssssssssillllllllll" The whisper hissed from behind her and she spun on her heels to
see nothing.

"Who's there?" she whispered back.

There was no reply. Eyes widening, afraid to blink, she turned about slowly and as she turned she was
suddenly face to face with a shadow that wasn't her own. Someone had come to assassinate her, she thought. They've out done themselves, she thought.

"Egysillllll," the shadow bled darkness as it spoke, barely audible,and as Egysil stared into it stars began
to appear within it, blinking in and out,"The immensity of your soul hold such vastness it has reached me."

The young white mage began to move around the open shadow, its physics defying any laws of magic she had
ever known. she must be dreaming, she reflected.

"You must open yourself and accept your destiny." The voices sounded in many voices.


"Open yourself"


"Choose your destiny."

Egysil faded away and without warning she was somewhere else far above, looking down on all the lands of
Rhiracien. The shadow soared beside her and she watched the skies crack like glass and down to the lands
fell the broken shards of a nightly heaven, Shadow covered the lands until all of the world was shrouded in
darkness. In the center of the realm a whirlpool of light began to swirl and from it rose the scintillent

"My home?..."

As Egysil looked down on the world as saw the land revive as she had learned in her teaching, witness
the great revival of the land in mere seconds. In the far distance the land where Salem performs known dark rituals, a vast explosion encompasses the area and send out a blast pushing Egysil back and as the sky falls away from itself Egysil is sent plummeting towards the land.

Just as she shut her eyes, she opens them to stand atop a mountain looking across the lands with the
Scintillant tower in the very center. One side of the tower in flames and darkness, and the other a sunrise,
the land flooded in morning light.

A piece of dark heaven moved across the land swallowing everything in its wake, The darkness of this heaven
peered into her soul and rushed through her and images began to flash through her minds eye. The scintilent
tower crumbling. The executions of Mages, Fae and Human alike, Impish smiles and the dead roaming without end in sight.

Egysil couldn't blink, tears streaming down her cheeks from her wide open eyes as the world around her plunged into a chaos of oppositions, forces or dark and light came up from the desolated wasteland and filtered through Egysil and with a wave of insight she shut her eyes tightly.

"You must open yourself"

She opened her eyes and she stood safely just as she was before the immersive vision."w-was that the....future?" she asked, tears still streaked down to her chin.

"T'was the past, present, and future, unlike the past and the present, your future is not fixed.
You have the power within. You know the consequences....yet the actions you, and those around you unclear."

"Why have you shown me this, what are you?"

"You have a great part to play in the fate of this realm and your destiny is unwritten."


"I do not yet exist...I am nothing"

With those last words the shadow faded and with it, the stars within it. Egysil sat at her desk,
not daring to look away from the place the shadow had been. The things she had seen were embedded in her.

This was her birthright, born to the place where all corners of the realm met, the weight of it bore
down on her. For she would be presented this day all would come to know her existence had a face, for
the first time the realm would gaze upon her and as they would see her, she would become their hope.
The people of the realm all hoped for various things some good and others, well, I think you can conclude
for yourselves the tremendously high pedestal Egysil was to be placed on. Not only by the people of the
realm, but by the very forces of the universe itself.

Collab: Egysil and Soren

Though she held her chin high, the tears swelled in her eyes until they ran dry. Below her guest gathered,
baring gifts, good will, and high hopes for the future. Dressed, she turned to the mirror and stared through
herself, the white dressed robes sparkled and caught no shade. Her stoic state was illusory, for beneath her
enigmatic appearance a storm of cosmic proportions stirred.

The pyrophite sat sleeping in meditation, concentrating and focusing on the darkness behind his eyelids and the area of the room beyond his lack of eyesight. His meditation brought benefits to his magics; it calmed and steadied him, allowed him to insulate himself from an unruly flame or two from a spell gone awry. His concentration was broken when the various maids and servants of the castle made their morning rounds.The air felt electric as he brought himself from the brink of unconsciousness. It was a disturbance. Something had... rocked the very core of his being, clawed at the recesses of his personal darkness, and moved on to darker pastures. But, he assured himself that nothing could pass through the defenses of the tower. Nothing of otherworldly origin, he hoped. His eyes suddenly ablaze, his glamour activated so as to protect the innocent eyes of mortals from the otherworldly sight that was a being of miasma. Since he had been awoken, it was time to accompany Lady Edgysil for the day, as he did, taking no quarrel in protecting such a kind hearted human. Walking through the marble corridors, he reached her room and with three hard knocks on her door, announced his presence to her.

Egysil held her head in her hands for a moment and wiped away the tears from her face. Turning away from the mirror towards the door, “Enter”, she spoke swiping her hand gently up and away the lock gave way to grant entry to the pyrophite.

"Thank you, m'lady. I hope I have not disturbed you unjustly on such a day as great as this. Do you feel prepared for what is to come?" Soren asked of his partner, hoping she had a positive mindset for the day ahead.

She stared into him with eyes so bright they glowed, excess tears lingered there within them and with only a few moments of hesitation, she smiled gently a slight bow of her head as greeting that accompanied a crusty she said, “Aye, Soren. Was there ever any choice?” her smile remained sincere but the sting of her words lingered in the air around them.

"In these trying times, m'lady, we must keep our chins higher and our hearts higher. We must face the darkness ahead of us and confront that of the darkness behind us. I am here for your safety, and you know you can depend on me to keep trouble at bay if you ever need me to."

She looked into his eyes for a good while, “Aye” she said with that same somber smile and thought to herself, ‘but in the end, will we be able to protect me from myself’. She tenderly locked her slender elbow with his as he lead her down the hall.

"M'lady, let's make this day the best day of your life." Soren exclaimed with care and adoration in his voice. If she did not want to speak any further, he would not push her. But he would be there to always protect her.

She felt safer for the moment, and as they walked in tandem through the hall they made their way up into the Grand hall where Soren prepared to introduce Egysil to the delegates, nobles, and folk of the realm.


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[fieldbox="The Ceremony: Scintillant Tower, aqua, solid"]
The darkness of the evening was enveloping the world around the Scintillant Tower, and as it did so, the ethereal glow that shone from the tower dissipated, to be replaced with the eerie radiance of the moon’s lunar beams of light. The celebration was at a peak, in both joyfulness and political distrust in equal measure. The court was stirring it’s machinations like a well-trained chef, and alliances had grown and fallen in the span of an evening. The servants and stable-hands ushered the sober and the drunkard lords and ladies into the main foyer, where the night’s main event was to take place; The Ceremony in which Lady Egysil would become a mage of the Prohibirata Circle.

“Lords and Ladies of Rhiracien! You have gathered here this evening, not only for the festivities the heads of this house offer, but for the ceremony that must be upheld by the old and the new mages of Prohibarata. We shall, in orderly fashion, ascend these stairs to the tip of the tower, where most poets would comment that their metaphysical selves could almost touch the heavens of our gods’ creation. We will conduct this ceremony in the light of the moon and the gaze of our fallen heroes, who gaze ever down at us from their home in the starry sky.” Spoke the housecarl of the Scintillant Tower, authority echoing through his voice, carrying from the top of the stairs as he was placed, and right through to the entrance of the tower itself. No person of any status was left unchecked as they were herded to the top of the foyer, where at its base lay standing, the beautiful Lady Egysil. With a banner held high, yet shakily, she ascended the staircase, followed by her parents and fellow Prohibarata mages. Next, came the congregation of noblemen and women, and then the paupers and the servants behind them. The spiral staircase was ascended by all, around and around, further and further until the air the congregation would breathe slowly thinned out. They reached the pinnacle of the tower, where hands eagerly attempted to touch the heavens, whilst other eyes just gazed up at the celestial magnificence above.
It was time for the ceremony to begin. The moon rose to its apex in the sky, and as it did so, the crowd had gathered and Egysil presented before them. “Before we begin this most wondorous of ceremonies, would those who have gifts for the Lady Egysil please present them?” The Prohibarata archmage stated, waiting for their reaction. The ceremony would begin shortly.
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Original poster
Gathran could hardly suppress his grin at hearing the words of the Prohibarata archmage. He had inadvertently timed things perfectly. Stepping forward, he spoke up. “Lords, Ladies and fellow mages, I, Gathran of the Haemotpohium Circle, known by some as the 'Blood Seer', would be honored to be the first to welcome Lady Egysil to Circle Magehood with a gift.” He nodded to Grothnor, who stepped forward and presented the chest. “Gently,” Gathran murmured to his oafish companion as he passed up the stairs. It would not do to have my gift break moments before presentation. The snow orc did as commanded and gingerly set the chest at the top of the stairs and opened the chest.

“I present to Lady Egysil a set of alchemical tools and appliances, crafted of finest materials: Jade carved from the finest of the Xialong Dynasty's quarries, Ivory carved from the tusks of the Mastodons of the Northern Wastes, and Crystal Glass blown from sand collected upon the nether-shores of Estridell Nexus, the realm of Ydrios Himself.” Gathran doubted the last part was true; if it were, the price would have likely been double what was asked. It was definitely magically imbued, but if it wasn't all it was claimed to be, Gathran could always feign ignorance and blame the merchant.

Gathran finished with a short speech. “No matter the times we live in, be it lean or fat, trying or lax, it behooves us, as Citizens of the Lands of Triumph, be they commoner, mage or noble, to come together to celebrate anyone's coming-of-age, for we come to celebrate not just the life they have led so far, nor the life they have yet to lead, but the Triumphs in their life, past present and yet to come.” Gathran quickly looked out to the crowd of nobles to see many drunken heads bobbing in agreement. “I pray that Ydrios looks favorably upon you this night and all nights to come, Lady Egysil.” Gathran bowed and sank back into the crowd, followed by Grothnor. Gathran sniggered inwardly. What a load of drek! 'We must celebrate everyone's triumphs'? Ha! Sometimes, I amaze myself with the garbage that comes out of my mouth. And those self-entitled slobs just drank it up. Well, hopefully that'll make an appropriate impression with the young mage's family. Feeling quite pleased with himself, Gathran waited for the ceremony to begin. He found himself growing eager to leave, not just because of unwelcome guests, but because the whole affair had bored him silly.

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[fieldbox=An Unexpected Arrival, solid, gold]Here we are, boy.” The old man lifted a finger towards a rather tall and large building that was in eyes’ view. The armored man lifted his gaze towards it, awed by the distinguishable magnificence of the sight. It had been the first time he had seen such an effect produce under the moonlight. Nyves stood there for a moment, his mentor seemingly not wanting to disturb the man from his experience. There was clearly something special about the Circle of Magi that and even with the years spent alongside his master that he had saved, Nyves still had much to understand about magic and mages. He eventually came back to himself once the old man started walking forward again and proceeded to readjust his pack before moving forward with him.

This is the Tower you spoke of the first time we met?” Asked the curious man, wondering if this is where Master Morech had learned his own magic. A subtle stroke of his beard was done before he nodded his head to confirm his question. “Yes. This is where I started as an apprentice. I’ve spent many many years within those walls to learn what I use today.” The old man was proud to say so too, holding himself up as he spoke. It didn’t last long before he leaned onto his staff to walk. Nyves had noticed how his health had slowly degenerated with the years. He was beginning to suffer from his advanced age, paying the price for these hefty travels. This had deeply concerned the man of the Inquisition, as it was sometimes hard to move forth to reach their destinations in time. Even today, it seemed they would be arriving late. “Why have you never brought me here before?” He asked, this place held so much value for Morech. The man turned to him with a small smile, stroking his beard. “You weren’t ready to be here yet. And, I’ve heard news of something fantastic happening tonight, so I didn’t want to miss it.

The notion of not being ready had been a well-deserved one as it had taken him a long time to adjust to the magic he was able to wield. Morech said it was a rare sight to see someone manifest it so late, being in his early twenties before showing any sign. The blame was put on the doctrine of the Inquisition and maybe that his soul was hiding it until the right time, which was to save someone who understood such power. Nyves would not argue, continuing on to close the distance between them and the splendid structure.

Once within its walls, they were greeted by servants who would gladly take their things for them. None of the two refused, giving up their bags and other unnecessary weight. Someone offered to help remove the pieces of Nyves’ armor, which he diligently refused. He would remove it once he needed to rest or a bath, or other situations. Master Morech asked one of the servants what was so special that was happening that night, to which he reached an answer that got him smiling like a fool. “This is amazing news! They are to the top, right?” He asked, reaching a quick confirmation from the servant. “Yes, they are giving the gifts. You might be in time to participate in the ceremony.” The man looked at his apprentice and waved him over. “Come on boy, we have a lot of steps to climb.” The old man eagerly went forth, making Nyves wonder if he had just been hit by some youth right there. He marched forth like it was a prize awaiting the end of these stairs. The young man followed right behind him, not skipping a beat.

It did indeed take a little while for the both of them to make it up the stairs. Nyves now regretted refusing the offer to remove his armor, paying for it in his fatigue from a day’s journey and a long way up. But they had arrived. Master Morech was wide-eyed, seeing such a gathering of people for this young woman that was being elected into the Prohibarata circle of magic. How odd for two mor of them to show up right when the gifting had started. The man snapped his fingers. “We do not have a gift!” He said, a little ashamed. Nyves looked around to see the gathering that, oddly enough, included people of the Inquisition. What were they doing here? This certainly didn’t seem to be anything normal. The old man spoke up now, seeing the large gathering. “I thank the Gods I didn’t have you go through all this. It’s better to not have your name smeared everywhere.” Morech marched forth with Nyves to join the nobles and mages, entering conversations (especially Morech). Nyves was simply looking around, feeling a little off since he was a stranger to all these customs. He mostly wished none of the Inquisition would take note of the marks he bared on his armor. He didn’t want to be recognized as an Inquisition member.


Selling out to the man
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per week
Writing Levels
Advanced, Prestige, Douche
Preferred Character Gender
Fantasy, Sci-fi
You wanted to disappear in Darkness
Be forgotten and become eternal

To Ser Garland, 10th​ Captain of Warlock Gaius, the one true King of the Triumph

I have been given the report about your front-line command on the siege of Cydonia. I heard you personally slew a Dwarven Berserker. Quite an accomplishment for a young man of 21. Any of your peers skeptical about your military appointment shall soon be silenced after word of your feats spreads. Though Cydonia still stands that is no fault of yours; its walls are sturdy and will take time to knock down. With that being said I require fresh troops to do the battering. Your men are tired and worn out and can no longer continue such tasks, therefore you shall pull back your forces by the end of the week. You will be relieved by Captain Uhgor, who will be arriving with crack troops.
Your new assignment will be to patrol the country-side surrounding the besieged city. There have been local riots against us and it must be suppressed. Take their crops and livestock and burn what you cannot carry. Any man over the age of 16 is to be killed on the spot, as it is men who are the source of all trouble-making. I will leave it to your discretion as to what to do with women and children. I care not. Chase them from their huts and into the Triumph cities in the East as Refugees. The more pressure that is applied to the crown, the quicker it will be to take it. Our enemies call us an insurrection now but soon the royal family will be on the chopping block with the crown on my head. And all of my Captains shall be rewarded for their loyalty.

-Warlock Louis Gaius, the True King of the Triumph

Gregory walked through the empty base of the tower. He had gambled on everyone proceeding to go upstairs for the ceremony and it had paid off considerably. He did have to deal with two guards at the entrance but by the time they realized the plate armor that was hidden under the dirty brown cloak it was already too late. With one hand Gregory had ripped off their helmets and with his other he smashed the flat end of his long sword against their skulls; knocking them out cold. He was certainly not averse to the art of killing but he wanted to avoid any un-needed bloodshed. Those guards weren't his enemies, they were just in the way.

When he walked into the empty court-room where most the of festivities had taken place it felt oppressive with its size, especially since Gregory was the only one within its walls. He let out a nervous sigh has he pulled down his hood. He was a magical anomaly walking into a place filled with magic and people who knew how to use it. He hoped that as high up as the crowd was he wouldn't be detected, but the idea that a powerful mage could sense the evil surrounding him was a very real possibility. He was taking an awful risk by coming here; but he needed to get some answers, a clue, anything.

He needed to work fast, other guards would surely notice what had happened to the other two and would start looking for him and put the place on alert. The Basement! Gregory thought, that's a good place to look and for answers, hopefully the library was down there. Ancient Fae temples was a rather specific subject, and not the most friendly one to bring up in the Triumph, a land that was ever suspicious of Magic with Gregory a willing victim to the possibility of its horrifying potential.

He reached behind his back and felt his long sword through the wool of his cloak, the leather wrapped ever so lovingly around the metal. He made a slight nod to himself, ready to get the job done. He began to open every door he could find until he found one leading down.
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Original poster
[fieldbox="Gift Giving and Commencement: The Ceremony, goldenrod, dashed, 10"]
The night was clear, and the air crisp. The ceremony was in its beginning stages, and like that of a seedling, it was ready to explode forth into the air, and pollinate into an event memorable for the rest of recorded histories. Some of the poetic persuasion were even whispering the thought that this night, of all nights, should be recorded in the annals of time for their children, and their children’s children. The moonlight bathed the apex of the tower in light, and at its centre was the child, Egysil, the White Mage-to be. Every person from every political and non-political alignment had arrived to give their gifts to the White Mage. Soren, however, was to be the interstice between the two in this exchange, observing the blood Mage Gathran’s sudden expression of gifting toward Egysil. Soren was suspicious, and the fact that the man had mentioned gifts from the realms of the gods had irked Soren. Giving the man a hard glare attached to an emotionless smile, he hefted the chest toward the woman he was in charge of keeping safe. “Following this man’s example…” Soren boomed across the open space of the tower’s zenith, “Who will bring forward a gift to celebrate this most monumentous of occasions? Will any of you show your gratitude beyond the strained politeness of words and phrases? I implore you to think, and if you have brought with you a gift, Lady Egysil would be most pleased to obtain it.” Spoke Soren, stern and serious, unwilling to let anything similar to that of pain or harm to come to Egysil on a night such as this.

As Soren and the staff of the Scintillant Tower ushered people forward and ushered them to speak and announce themselves and give their gifts, Soren noted the imbalance between politically neutral parties compared to their staunch counterparts. Politics was still very much a foreign concept to him, but what he had read of it in the Scintillant Tower’s library, he knew enough to stay away from the Inquisitors and the Ministry members who resided uneasily between each other in the congregation that had been gathered en masse. Soren made moves toward the Realm Mage of the Prohibarata, and whispering in their ear, he mentioned beginning the ceremony itself.

With a raucuous and spluttering cough, the Realm Mage raised their hands, palms upward toward the heavens, and with eyes like encroaching thunder, the Realm Mage was ready to begin the ceremony. It was time to indoctrinate Egysil into the circle of Prohibarata and have her protect the world from threats beyond and within the realm of humanity. It was time.
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