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lostfaith
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Mageia. A nation long ruined, an empire toppled by the hand of the people united. A nation of magic, of secrets lost in its destruction, secrets still buried deep. Even since magic has re-entered the world, many intricacies of the Arcane have not been regained. The creation of artifacts was a stride forward, but Megethos still has much to learn. Many powerful items are still archived in the rubble. Many wellsprings of magic are still unknown.
But, months after the beginning of the War of the Magister, one such font of power is rising.
It was early morning when a great pillar of blue light arose in the west, seemingly spontaneously. It was of incalculable height, its peak rising above the clouds, and it stood for almost an hour, visible all across the continent. Many people watched its rise. An exiled Estillian knight from the battlements of an Arandish fortress. A young girl with a gift from a town in rural Alixies. A blonde woman, cloaked in tattoos as much as fabric, from an unnamed citadel. A wizard of great power, robed in blue, from the highest point of a floating city. And a black-clad scholar, from a complex of practical buildings in the Silver State. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the pillar of light vanished, fading back into the ground. But it left all of its observers with a question.
What is it?
~
Vance "Fen" Velts was up early.
The sun had only just risen when the scholar and co-founder of the Scales climbed out of his bed. He occupied the first few moments of his wakefulness with the organization of his laboratory, which was only a room away from his bedchamber. He had worked late the night before, and left things in rather a mess. He chided himself mentally as he stepped into the workplace and gazed at the parchment strewn across the desks and even floor, as well as ritual components. Even the circular glyph drawn on the floor in the center of the room, which was a secure gateway to his dimension, had research material scattered over it. So he set about cleaning up, stacking papers, shelving components, re-tracing the glyph to retain its integrity, and repairing the temporary enchantments about the place which needed daily maintenance to stay active. He had been at this task for almost an hour when a glint from the west window caught his eye. Curiously, he set down the lump of refined silver he was holding and strode to the window. What he saw was...startling. A great pillar of blue light, almost too bright to look at, even from this distance, burned from distant Mageia, known now as the Fragments. Vance was stunned. His first thought was Magus. Was the archmage performing some ritual? But that was unlikely, the scholar decided. The famous Tower was now bound physically to the capital of Kosma, Darriusell. If the Magister was performing a ritual on such a grand scale, it would surely be from the flying city. But then what? He wracked his brain, searching among his knowledge of magical phenomena to find an answer. Then he came to something. A detail he had noted years ago, when he was excavating Mageian ruins. He had found traces of magic in practically all of them, of course, but they were stronger in some than others. In one, the weave was surprisingly intact, leaving the shell of a complex magical formula hanging invisibly in the air to be read by anyone capable. It had been far beyond his ken (and still was even now), but Vance could tell enough to formulate a theory. The spell had a trigger to it, tied to pure magical energy, or Essence, the very stuff that made the Arcane possible. It was waiting for a near immeasurable amount of Essence to exist. The scholar had hypothesized that the spell had been set to trigger when the world entered another age of magic, although its purpose was impossible to tell. By the time he had found it, the magic had eroded to the point that it was never going to trigger anyway.
It was a wild possibility, but what if a spell like that had remained intact? To be the size it was, the Pillar had to contain an incalculable amount of magic, and there were only two things Vance could think of that could create that much Essence in one place. Magus (already likely ruled out) and the spells of the Mageians.
There was only one thing the former spy knew for certain.
They would have to investigate it, and it would be a race against everyone else. Including the Magister.
~
In a lonely office sequestered in one side of the Scales' headquarters, a pink-haired woman slumped in a harshly plain wooden chair, behind an equally mundane desk, scattered with several stacks of neatly organized parchment (and a few not so neatly organized). Her head lay on the desk, her nose on top of an important-looking paper. Contrary to appearances, she was awake, but only barely. Her eyes were closed, but her mind was active, making sense of the dozens of reports she'd spent the night taking in. I'm going to have to organize a better system... Lavender thought. She'd never needed to delegate before; her operations were always small enough for her to handle everything. That wasn't so anymore, and the former crime lord desperately needed someone to reduce her work-load. Only a fraction of these reports were actually worthy of her attention; most could be handled by lower level clerks. But the ones that were important, well. They were interesting, to say the least.
A knock on her office's door brought Lavender's head up from her desk. "Come in." She said in a ragged voice fraught with exhaustion. A tall, dark-skinned woman wearing a plain linen outfit stepped inside, closing the door behind her, as was Lavender's policy. "Ma--" The messenger cut herself off, biting her lip as she remembered that her boss preferred to skip the formalities. "Mr. Vel...Vance is calling a meeting."
"Early today, I see." Lavender noted with a hint of irritation.
"He said that there was something important the council needed to know as soon as possible."
"There always is. Tell him I'll be along." Then the messenger left, softly shutting the door behind her. Lavender leaned back and stretched her arms, yawning. She shuffled her papers around, sliding a few key ones aside to be read at the morning's meeting. Then she stood and slipped into an unadorned side door which lead into a small dressing room with a cot shoved in a corner. The assassin was used to shoddy accomodations, and she didn't sleep well on posh beds, so she'd insisted on these quarters. "All I need is a corner without too many bugs." She had commented sincerely months ago when this place was being set up. The Scales' councilor looked at herself in the mirror hung haphazardly on the wall. Her eponymously coloured hair fell in a tangled clump about her head. Her skin was flushed. Her hard blue eyes were half-shut and had prominent dark circles beneath them. Her clothes were a mess. She slipped out of her outfit, dropping her jacket on the ground, sliding her shirt over her head, and pulling her leggings off. Behind her was a closet that contained several other sets of clothing with only slight variation. Lavender believed in uniform attire. She selected a shirt at random and set about getting dressed, which took but a moment. The assassin looked back at the mirror, staring critically at her hair. She muttered a few words, and an extremely soft surge echoed through her mind as her lavender tresses flit about and brushed themselves out, tightening into a neat ponytail held up by the magic. Good enough. She still looked like a wreck, but now she was an orderly wreck.
Then she left for the meeting.
~
Aaron parried his foe's smaller blade with his own greatsword, adeptly sliding the weapon down his own to lock their hilts together. Then, using his superior strength, he pushed the immobilized blades toward his opponent's chest. One hand left his sword's hilt to draw a dagger from his belt, which was quickly thrust toward a chink in the other swordswoman's armor. It stopped an inch before striking her. "Stop." The Arand said. He pulled back his blade and let the tip clatter to the ground as she lowered hers. The more experienced knight sheathed the dagger and said. "You're still too aggressive. A stronger foe can easily do exactly what I did, especially with a larger blade." He slid his claymore into the loop on his back. "Use your speed to your advantage. When your reach and power is outmatched, wait. Dance just out of their range, and wait for them to make a mistake. When they do, that's when you attack. And make it count; you won't get many opportunities, so you need to disarm or kill them as soon as possible." He critically examined the freckled young woman standing before him, her feet still set in a battle stance. He reached out and nudged her leg backward. "Your stance is too tight. If you parry a blade wrong it could knock you over. Set your feet a bit farther apart, and your left backwards a little." The knight glanced around at the other trainees, sparring with each other or with other knights. It was up to the Arands to teach their new recruits. The mercenaries frequently had sloppy technique, and the Estillians didn't have as comprehensive martial experience, being more focused on battle magic. He was about to say something to his trainee, but at that moment was interrupted by someone running up to the pair. He was dressed in simple attire--that of a servant, which was strange to see on the training ground, where armor was usually worn. He saluted smartly to Aaron. The knight recognized him--Luke, former Alixien military. His background as a soldier made him good at following orders. Aaron rather liked him.
"Report, Luke." The Arand told him.
"Sir Velts is calling a meeting, sir. He requests your presence immediately, sir. He said it is very important, sir."
"Very well. Tell him I'll be there as soon as I change out of my armor." He looked at the Estillian girl. "Lena, go take off your armor and wipe the sweat off. I think it's time you sat in on a meeting." The aspiring knight had a unique and effective combat style that combined magic and weapons in a way only an Estillian could manage, and she was a charismatic personality that was well liked among her unit. She had promise, and Aaron was considering her as a candidate for a future promotion. He'd just have to drill a sense of tactics into her first.
~
The council room was only just large enough for the usual attendants and a few more people sitting in, the oval-shaped table in the center taking up most of the room. As their architect, Vance didn't believe in wasted space. The chairs were arranged evenly; there was no "head of the table." They had agreed that no single person led the Scales, but that they all had equal authority. The banner hung on the far wall reinforced this. A Scale bringeth Balance. As a council, there was a balance of power that would threaten the organization if it was disrupted.
Vance was the first to be there, of course, as he had called the meeting. He sat in his usual spot, to the left, near the end of the table. Next was Natasha, a Velarian who was the commanding officer of the mercenaries, just under Aaron. She was a rough, brown-skinned woman with a penchant for violence, but she had a real talent for logistics, able to manage large groups effectively. The old Arand didn't really have a secretary, but Natasha was definitely the closest thing to it. She sat casually, leaning back, her feet on the table, her hands flipping a dagger skillfully through the air. She was always punctual, and rose early.
Next was Hawke. Demi and Taras had only met him briefly on their journey to the Tower, but Vance and Lavender had known him before that--the scholar as a research partner, and the assassin as a target. But the old man was forgiving; he overcame his distaste for Lavender nearly instantly when Vance had told him he could assist in the creation of artifacts. He had brought a parchment with him--likely a formula for improving the artifact ritual--which he reviewed while waiting for everyone else to show up.
After Hawke was Sameen, a pale woman perpetually cloaked in black, whom Vance loved dearly, although not in a romantic way. She was one of the Scales' few Velarian spies, and the most skilled of them, taught by the scholar himself so long ago. She didn't talk much, and sat with a stiff, formal stance.
Then came Kad, a quiet, troubled man who was a leader of the Estillian knights and former squire to Brandt, an infamous Blue Knight who had betrayed Skye and Taras over a year ago. Kad had arrived later than his companions, informing them that Brandt had vanished without a trace, leaving all his possessions and holdings behind. While he didn't exactly admire the man, the squire didn't see Brandt as the evil figure the rest of them did. He said that what he did was ultimately for the good of his country, even if he was misguided sometimes, and that his disappearance couldn't be good.
When Lavender arrived, it was clear she had gotten no sleep. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was magically held up--obviously a quick-fix job. She carried a sheaf of papers, as she always did to meetings--reports.
That just left Aaron, Demi, and Taras. The Arand made it before the latter two did, and Lena was with him--his star pupil. Vance gave him a questioning look when he came in, and Aaron said. "I thought she should sit in on one. We don't keep many secrets from the troops, so it should be alright?" The last bit was posed as a question. The scholar glanced at Lavender, who noncomittally shrugged her shoulders. He looked back at the knight. "It'll be fine."
Finally, Demi and Taras, the remaining founders, arrived.
"Moving right along." Vance said. "Let's get to the topic at hand. I know it's very early, and I apologize." It was indeed only a couple hours after sunrise. "Those of you who were up an hour ago probably know what I'm talking about, though--a blue pillar of light appeared just after sunrise, rising from the Fragments in the west. From Mageia. It was massive--more than visible from here. It was likely visible all across the continent."
"Right." Natasha said. "Bloody thing was huge. Any ideas, Vance?"
"I'm afraid I didn't see it." Aaron said. "I've been in the training yard all morning, and it doesn't have any windows facing west."
"Yes, Nat." The scholar answered the mercenary. "I encountered a spell that was supposed to trigger when magic grew prominent again in a Mageian ruin once. It was too old to function, and I didn't give it too much thought, but I believe it's possible that that's what this pillar was. Even for Magus, only a Ritual could have released that much Essence, and he would only perform one in Darriusell."
"Hmm." Hawke said. "I remember you speaking about that spell. I think your theory holds merit. But it will have to be investigated, of course."
"Definitely." The scholar concurred.
--
((Due to lack of interest in this as a group RP, I have converted it into a 1x1 because we were unwilling to give the story up.))
But, months after the beginning of the War of the Magister, one such font of power is rising.
It was early morning when a great pillar of blue light arose in the west, seemingly spontaneously. It was of incalculable height, its peak rising above the clouds, and it stood for almost an hour, visible all across the continent. Many people watched its rise. An exiled Estillian knight from the battlements of an Arandish fortress. A young girl with a gift from a town in rural Alixies. A blonde woman, cloaked in tattoos as much as fabric, from an unnamed citadel. A wizard of great power, robed in blue, from the highest point of a floating city. And a black-clad scholar, from a complex of practical buildings in the Silver State. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the pillar of light vanished, fading back into the ground. But it left all of its observers with a question.
What is it?
~
Vance "Fen" Velts was up early.
The sun had only just risen when the scholar and co-founder of the Scales climbed out of his bed. He occupied the first few moments of his wakefulness with the organization of his laboratory, which was only a room away from his bedchamber. He had worked late the night before, and left things in rather a mess. He chided himself mentally as he stepped into the workplace and gazed at the parchment strewn across the desks and even floor, as well as ritual components. Even the circular glyph drawn on the floor in the center of the room, which was a secure gateway to his dimension, had research material scattered over it. So he set about cleaning up, stacking papers, shelving components, re-tracing the glyph to retain its integrity, and repairing the temporary enchantments about the place which needed daily maintenance to stay active. He had been at this task for almost an hour when a glint from the west window caught his eye. Curiously, he set down the lump of refined silver he was holding and strode to the window. What he saw was...startling. A great pillar of blue light, almost too bright to look at, even from this distance, burned from distant Mageia, known now as the Fragments. Vance was stunned. His first thought was Magus. Was the archmage performing some ritual? But that was unlikely, the scholar decided. The famous Tower was now bound physically to the capital of Kosma, Darriusell. If the Magister was performing a ritual on such a grand scale, it would surely be from the flying city. But then what? He wracked his brain, searching among his knowledge of magical phenomena to find an answer. Then he came to something. A detail he had noted years ago, when he was excavating Mageian ruins. He had found traces of magic in practically all of them, of course, but they were stronger in some than others. In one, the weave was surprisingly intact, leaving the shell of a complex magical formula hanging invisibly in the air to be read by anyone capable. It had been far beyond his ken (and still was even now), but Vance could tell enough to formulate a theory. The spell had a trigger to it, tied to pure magical energy, or Essence, the very stuff that made the Arcane possible. It was waiting for a near immeasurable amount of Essence to exist. The scholar had hypothesized that the spell had been set to trigger when the world entered another age of magic, although its purpose was impossible to tell. By the time he had found it, the magic had eroded to the point that it was never going to trigger anyway.
It was a wild possibility, but what if a spell like that had remained intact? To be the size it was, the Pillar had to contain an incalculable amount of magic, and there were only two things Vance could think of that could create that much Essence in one place. Magus (already likely ruled out) and the spells of the Mageians.
There was only one thing the former spy knew for certain.
They would have to investigate it, and it would be a race against everyone else. Including the Magister.
~
In a lonely office sequestered in one side of the Scales' headquarters, a pink-haired woman slumped in a harshly plain wooden chair, behind an equally mundane desk, scattered with several stacks of neatly organized parchment (and a few not so neatly organized). Her head lay on the desk, her nose on top of an important-looking paper. Contrary to appearances, she was awake, but only barely. Her eyes were closed, but her mind was active, making sense of the dozens of reports she'd spent the night taking in. I'm going to have to organize a better system... Lavender thought. She'd never needed to delegate before; her operations were always small enough for her to handle everything. That wasn't so anymore, and the former crime lord desperately needed someone to reduce her work-load. Only a fraction of these reports were actually worthy of her attention; most could be handled by lower level clerks. But the ones that were important, well. They were interesting, to say the least.
A knock on her office's door brought Lavender's head up from her desk. "Come in." She said in a ragged voice fraught with exhaustion. A tall, dark-skinned woman wearing a plain linen outfit stepped inside, closing the door behind her, as was Lavender's policy. "Ma--" The messenger cut herself off, biting her lip as she remembered that her boss preferred to skip the formalities. "Mr. Vel...Vance is calling a meeting."
"Early today, I see." Lavender noted with a hint of irritation.
"He said that there was something important the council needed to know as soon as possible."
"There always is. Tell him I'll be along." Then the messenger left, softly shutting the door behind her. Lavender leaned back and stretched her arms, yawning. She shuffled her papers around, sliding a few key ones aside to be read at the morning's meeting. Then she stood and slipped into an unadorned side door which lead into a small dressing room with a cot shoved in a corner. The assassin was used to shoddy accomodations, and she didn't sleep well on posh beds, so she'd insisted on these quarters. "All I need is a corner without too many bugs." She had commented sincerely months ago when this place was being set up. The Scales' councilor looked at herself in the mirror hung haphazardly on the wall. Her eponymously coloured hair fell in a tangled clump about her head. Her skin was flushed. Her hard blue eyes were half-shut and had prominent dark circles beneath them. Her clothes were a mess. She slipped out of her outfit, dropping her jacket on the ground, sliding her shirt over her head, and pulling her leggings off. Behind her was a closet that contained several other sets of clothing with only slight variation. Lavender believed in uniform attire. She selected a shirt at random and set about getting dressed, which took but a moment. The assassin looked back at the mirror, staring critically at her hair. She muttered a few words, and an extremely soft surge echoed through her mind as her lavender tresses flit about and brushed themselves out, tightening into a neat ponytail held up by the magic. Good enough. She still looked like a wreck, but now she was an orderly wreck.
Then she left for the meeting.
~
Aaron parried his foe's smaller blade with his own greatsword, adeptly sliding the weapon down his own to lock their hilts together. Then, using his superior strength, he pushed the immobilized blades toward his opponent's chest. One hand left his sword's hilt to draw a dagger from his belt, which was quickly thrust toward a chink in the other swordswoman's armor. It stopped an inch before striking her. "Stop." The Arand said. He pulled back his blade and let the tip clatter to the ground as she lowered hers. The more experienced knight sheathed the dagger and said. "You're still too aggressive. A stronger foe can easily do exactly what I did, especially with a larger blade." He slid his claymore into the loop on his back. "Use your speed to your advantage. When your reach and power is outmatched, wait. Dance just out of their range, and wait for them to make a mistake. When they do, that's when you attack. And make it count; you won't get many opportunities, so you need to disarm or kill them as soon as possible." He critically examined the freckled young woman standing before him, her feet still set in a battle stance. He reached out and nudged her leg backward. "Your stance is too tight. If you parry a blade wrong it could knock you over. Set your feet a bit farther apart, and your left backwards a little." The knight glanced around at the other trainees, sparring with each other or with other knights. It was up to the Arands to teach their new recruits. The mercenaries frequently had sloppy technique, and the Estillians didn't have as comprehensive martial experience, being more focused on battle magic. He was about to say something to his trainee, but at that moment was interrupted by someone running up to the pair. He was dressed in simple attire--that of a servant, which was strange to see on the training ground, where armor was usually worn. He saluted smartly to Aaron. The knight recognized him--Luke, former Alixien military. His background as a soldier made him good at following orders. Aaron rather liked him.
"Report, Luke." The Arand told him.
"Sir Velts is calling a meeting, sir. He requests your presence immediately, sir. He said it is very important, sir."
"Very well. Tell him I'll be there as soon as I change out of my armor." He looked at the Estillian girl. "Lena, go take off your armor and wipe the sweat off. I think it's time you sat in on a meeting." The aspiring knight had a unique and effective combat style that combined magic and weapons in a way only an Estillian could manage, and she was a charismatic personality that was well liked among her unit. She had promise, and Aaron was considering her as a candidate for a future promotion. He'd just have to drill a sense of tactics into her first.
~
The council room was only just large enough for the usual attendants and a few more people sitting in, the oval-shaped table in the center taking up most of the room. As their architect, Vance didn't believe in wasted space. The chairs were arranged evenly; there was no "head of the table." They had agreed that no single person led the Scales, but that they all had equal authority. The banner hung on the far wall reinforced this. A Scale bringeth Balance. As a council, there was a balance of power that would threaten the organization if it was disrupted.
Vance was the first to be there, of course, as he had called the meeting. He sat in his usual spot, to the left, near the end of the table. Next was Natasha, a Velarian who was the commanding officer of the mercenaries, just under Aaron. She was a rough, brown-skinned woman with a penchant for violence, but she had a real talent for logistics, able to manage large groups effectively. The old Arand didn't really have a secretary, but Natasha was definitely the closest thing to it. She sat casually, leaning back, her feet on the table, her hands flipping a dagger skillfully through the air. She was always punctual, and rose early.
Next was Hawke. Demi and Taras had only met him briefly on their journey to the Tower, but Vance and Lavender had known him before that--the scholar as a research partner, and the assassin as a target. But the old man was forgiving; he overcame his distaste for Lavender nearly instantly when Vance had told him he could assist in the creation of artifacts. He had brought a parchment with him--likely a formula for improving the artifact ritual--which he reviewed while waiting for everyone else to show up.
After Hawke was Sameen, a pale woman perpetually cloaked in black, whom Vance loved dearly, although not in a romantic way. She was one of the Scales' few Velarian spies, and the most skilled of them, taught by the scholar himself so long ago. She didn't talk much, and sat with a stiff, formal stance.
Then came Kad, a quiet, troubled man who was a leader of the Estillian knights and former squire to Brandt, an infamous Blue Knight who had betrayed Skye and Taras over a year ago. Kad had arrived later than his companions, informing them that Brandt had vanished without a trace, leaving all his possessions and holdings behind. While he didn't exactly admire the man, the squire didn't see Brandt as the evil figure the rest of them did. He said that what he did was ultimately for the good of his country, even if he was misguided sometimes, and that his disappearance couldn't be good.
When Lavender arrived, it was clear she had gotten no sleep. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was magically held up--obviously a quick-fix job. She carried a sheaf of papers, as she always did to meetings--reports.
That just left Aaron, Demi, and Taras. The Arand made it before the latter two did, and Lena was with him--his star pupil. Vance gave him a questioning look when he came in, and Aaron said. "I thought she should sit in on one. We don't keep many secrets from the troops, so it should be alright?" The last bit was posed as a question. The scholar glanced at Lavender, who noncomittally shrugged her shoulders. He looked back at the knight. "It'll be fine."
Finally, Demi and Taras, the remaining founders, arrived.
"Moving right along." Vance said. "Let's get to the topic at hand. I know it's very early, and I apologize." It was indeed only a couple hours after sunrise. "Those of you who were up an hour ago probably know what I'm talking about, though--a blue pillar of light appeared just after sunrise, rising from the Fragments in the west. From Mageia. It was massive--more than visible from here. It was likely visible all across the continent."
"Right." Natasha said. "Bloody thing was huge. Any ideas, Vance?"
"I'm afraid I didn't see it." Aaron said. "I've been in the training yard all morning, and it doesn't have any windows facing west."
"Yes, Nat." The scholar answered the mercenary. "I encountered a spell that was supposed to trigger when magic grew prominent again in a Mageian ruin once. It was too old to function, and I didn't give it too much thought, but I believe it's possible that that's what this pillar was. Even for Magus, only a Ritual could have released that much Essence, and he would only perform one in Darriusell."
"Hmm." Hawke said. "I remember you speaking about that spell. I think your theory holds merit. But it will have to be investigated, of course."
"Definitely." The scholar concurred.
--
((Due to lack of interest in this as a group RP, I have converted it into a 1x1 because we were unwilling to give the story up.))
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