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Eyes Into Melitene
Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2020 12:02 am
by Taelian
36th of Frost, Year 119
► Show Spoiler
As a note: this thread will be conducted almost purely with quotes; dialogue, back and forth. This is both to toy with a different style and also because I find it suits the thread better to do so.
"Taelian, tell me -- what do you know of magic?" Eloise asked. She held her hands before her, clasped together, as her gaze remained lowered seemingly towards the ground. Her eyes were curtained by her long, black lashes.
"I don't know. Not much, really. I know of aether, of Runes, of... pictography a bit -- the distinction between World and Personal. I know some of the types; Summoning, Sigilic Pyromancy, Necromancy, ah..."
"Let me stop you there, Ebon Knight," she interjected. "Divide them between two; Necromancy is a World Magic. And furthermore, Sigilic Pyromancy is incredibly rare; it is not a part of mainstream magical discourse. Until recently, it was actually considered a Lost Magic, if you weren't aware."
"Lost Magic?" he asked.
"Yes," Eloise replied. "An art that is not known to us anymore; though information on it may be documented, it is not something that known mages bear and certainly not operate. There may be rare exceptions, though clearly these 'exceptions' tend to be unfounded mysteries. Until Aldrin, Sigilic Pyromancy was thought to have been eradicated by the Clockwork Empire, and then the Dranoch after them."
He blinked. It was a lot of information to swallow; he had never been told these things. A... lost magic. He considered Sigilic Pyromancy to be the domain of Aldrin, in a way -- while he had heard of the Ald'norai practicing pyromancies, thus the name 'Ashen Elves', he had thought the magic had originated within the generation. He supposed that was ignorance.
"Taelian -- what do you know of aether?" she questioned.
"It, ah, comes from the... Aetherium?" he answered, though it seemed more like a question. Eloise nodded. "It--it connects to the soul, somehow. Through... with, the Rune? Or; once it touches the soul, the Rune channels it... something, something like that. I don't know -- it's sort of different with Sigilic Pyromancy. Everything is through the Beacon; it's so simple, instinctive. I don't get how it's so... different," he remarked.
"That's because it is not different," the half-blood woman replied. "The Beacon is the soul; it is merely that the Black Sigil, once specifically activated as the rune of Sigilic Pyromancy, overlays it with a sort of outer casing that makes it what it is. Sigilic Pyromancy is fascinating in that it directly interacts with the soul very early on, and continues to interact with the soul thereafter. But fundamentally, the Black Sigil is a Rune, the Black Sigil channels aether -- from the Aetherium, yes -- and tempers it with the Beacon, forging fire from the soul itself. The Beacon enables the generation of this fire, and infuses it with the properties that make it 'Shrivenflame', as you well know. Do you understand thus far?" she asked.
"Yes, I think I do," he stated nervously.
"Good, then," the woman replied. "Come, Taelian. Look into the Window I am to create. I will show you Melitene -- and tell you a story of the rigor necessary of a mage. If you are to join the ranks of the arcane elite, you must be prepared for all manner of adversity. I warn you; these memories of mine are not kind in imagery. But I will tell them, all the same."
Re: Eyes Into Melitene
Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2020 8:07 am
by Taelian
He was given, with his eyes, an insight into pure magical transcendence: laboratories of alchemy, stations to Runeforge and cast golems with Artificing, operating rooms to perform Necromancy and Briomancy alike; a courtyard with a fountain that chimed quietly with the wind, quite literally. Long, stony halls that led into impressive common areas. The entrance was a well decorated foyer that led out into so many other hallways, all of it perched upon the cliffside of a great mountain. Melitene was, certainly, a beautiful thing. A testament of Eloise's influence; a castle and bulwark of her own.
"You are impressed, I can tell," she remarked. "But this is nothing to what I once owned; I once commandeered the Gilded Tribune from a chateaux, with Montese and Treveyn riding from across the Empire coming to consult me in their earthly affairs. I was known for my ability to command the correct outcome: to offer insight that would certainly work in the requesting party's favor. But it was not divination, or pure insight, that provided me with these answers. It was the extension of my understanding through the arcane; the ability to not only guess at what the enemy of this Lord or that Lord may have been doing, but to truly know." The Window honed in on the imagery of a butterfly landing against one of the ivy vines descending from the castle's edge.
"To see, with my own far away eyes, into their ledgers and journals; to read the notes they scribe to their spymasters. And more than I, alone -- we had a network. The Tribune was a collective of mages with similar-minded political interests. Namely, the advocacy of our people; Elven Kind."
"And is that still what you want?" Taelian asked her. He appeared... somewhat tense.
"Of course it is," she said. "It will always be what I want. To know that I will not, at random, be pulled from my bed and put to a torch, or publicly executed? The suspicions around us are incredible, Taelian; certainly in Daravin. For as much power as our kind wield there, in any land not ruled by one of our own, we are often subjected to the extremities of paranoia and unrest. But we deserve more than that. We are better than that."
She paused. "Allow me to tell you a story," the Elven woman added, finally ready to describe the tale she had previously alluded to. "Every so often, in Daravin, a riot will break out that spawns from the culmination of suspicion towards magic and revilement at the common man's treatment by the Entente. These 'riots' are essentially contained revolutions; in moments of distress, they happen all over the Empire, and can often grab the attention of so many individuals that they actually pose something of a threat. To production," she specified. Taelian's eyes appeared affixed on her as she said this; she was correct. There was nothing else they could have posed a threat to. They were just... body bags, so weak and malleable to a mage's will.
"These riots are often accompanied by large-scale acts of violence against Elves, and in particular the Siltori. The Siltori have become somewhat synonymous with the Entente, in a way, as they tend to become mages or die trying and often rise considerably high within society, whether through a system of racially-inspired nepotism or through their own merit. One of my students was one of those targeted Elves: he was not a mage when he was targeted, but as a result of what happened to him, he decided to become one. Little Farael... he had his face burned unrecognizable by a torch. He was held down by a gang -- beaten as they tore away his identity. Blinded him. Raped him. Such is common for people like us in this... human world; we either rise to the top and build impenetrable barriers around ourselves, like Melitene, or we are left to the hateful arbitration of men. Farael, no child of the Entente, was vulnerable to these evils. And so he was exploited to gratify hate."
Re: Eyes Into Melitene
Posted: Mon Jan 13, 2020 8:35 am
by Taelian
The pause was brief. Her story, which brought chills upon the back of the Siltori, continued forth unhindered... though at some point in the middle she appeared to breathe heavily as if to contain herself. It was clear that the woman held some fondness for Farael; some grief, perhaps guilt. He supposed he would soon discover why.
"Farael wished to become a Necromancer -- it was why he joined the Gilded Tribune, as one of our hopeful youths. You can imagine why he wanted this; Briomancy, medical Necromancy, the ability to restore himself to look as he once did. But through time the initial intention of him became blurred; he was drawn in by the allure of power, of more magics that he could harness to fulfill other purposes. He learned Elementalism, Kinetics, Masquerade. He was a skilled fire mage, as so many Siltori tend to be, inspired by their cultural heritage. Only... he was uncontrolled; chaotic. He adored magic, considering it a fond companion. Perhaps the purpose in his life, after it had been stripped from him. Eventually, the moment came where he was skilled enough in Necromancy to graft his face. He was blind, even then, but he had a clear enough conception of his scarred features from the many times he had painfully inspected himself with his hands... and he had a perfect image in mind for what he wished to look like. But the procedure was agonizing; more than he expected it to be. More than he could have imagined."
She paused, again. Eloise lowered her eyes once more, turning her vision partly to the side. It hurt, it appeared, for her to recall what followed. But from her lips, the remainder of the story came.
"The act of rebuilding his face, the pain, the emotions that brewed within him; they stirred memories from those moments. Traumas he had buried in order to survive. His aether reacted to those feelings . . . a desire to be as he was now, but in those moments; with so much power at his disposal. He unleashed his flames as if they would go into the past and amend everything that happened before it ever occurred. He burnt through his face once more, and the remainder of the room. The fire was so fueled that it burnt through a large section of the Tribune hall, the apprentices finding it difficult to combat or contain. A few of them died, too. You see, Taelian, the point of this story is to warn you that even talent is not enough to secure your place. Had I been there for him, had I recognized his deep emotional turmoil, I could have shepherded him away from such rashness and chaos. But instead, I relied on the idea of his 'talent', his 'potential'. It was a humbling experience for me, and it is why I came here to meet you."
"You see, Taelian," she continued, "I heard of your talent; of your skill in Sigilic Pyromancy. Of your troubled past, and your Famished state. I heard of all of these things and from them all, I am reminded of young Farael. But unlike with him, I will not allow you to go astray. Magic is a dangerous thing, particularly when it is wielded by the talented but emotionally scarred, and the two of those things often go hand-in-hand. I see that even now you are wrought with ruinous thoughts; Lethiril tells me of a lover of yours, of the worries you have for your future with him. If you do not learn restraint, these negative emotions will soon manifest in either his head, or yours. I promise you that. So--"
She looked back at him.
"Come with me, to Melitene. I will make you more than just a court sorcerer; I will harness your talent in all manner of disciplines. You will learn to Transpose, to control force with Kinetics, to command the attention of others' eyes with the illusions of Masquerade. You will learn to form weapons of your own, to be Reaved; you will know anything you desire to. But you will be humble. For a mage's worst enemy is his pride -- and within you, Taelian, I see a great mound of that compiling. It is time you were reminded of the fragile little boy that you are."
Re: Eyes Into Melitene
Posted: Sun Jan 26, 2020 9:51 am
by Paragon
Taelian
XP: 5/5
Magic? No.
Magic: Personal Magic
Magic: World Magic
Magic: Aether
Magic: The Aetherium
Magic: A mage's greatest foe is his pride
Magic: Talented mages are always the most dangerous
Self: As I am now, I am vulnerable to hurt those that I love
Comments: Eloise makes an excellent point. I enjoyed reading this. Reach out to me if you have questions or concerns.