Legend of Ransera

Posted: **Mon Jan 27, 2020 9:14 pm**

40th of Frost, Year 119

Eloise began by explaining the Stream. A flow of aether connecting two Nodes; one could draw from a naturally occurring current, or create their own. The Stream forces the two Nodes to collide by folding within itself, drawing them to the same space where they meet. As a result, the portal is created from the energetic collision, the tear forming immediately after their touch.

"Repeat what the Anchor is to me," the woman commanded. Taelian suddenly appeared nervous; perhaps skittish. He bit his lower lip and paused.

"I... ah, I'm the Anchor, right? I lock the two Nodes in place, and u-uh... the portal. So that nothing moves out of its intended space; that's important, right? I, as the Anchor, also feed the portal and sustain it as it persists," he explained. Eloise smiled faintly.

Which, he supposed meant she was pleased. She did not often state her pleasure when mentoring -- perhaps it was due to her ever-present theme of humility, as in the woman's view a mage's hubris was their downfall. She did not want Taelian to believe that he was all too talented, though he knew by the fact that she was acting as his direct mentor, that he was.

"Node, Stream and Anchor: these are the three fundamental elements of Transposition. Without them, the magic does not function, and portals cannot be cast. As a new Transpositioner, your focus as a novice should always be these three foundational aspects. To accurately perform any of the abilities I intend to teach you, you must properly channel Nodes, the Streams that connect and collide them, and the Anchor that powers their release and continued blend with the fabric of our space."

He nodded. The mage felt he understood well enough, though he had attempted earlier to form proper Streams and his attempts did not appear to be fruitful. Thus, the conversation. He attempted again, focusing on his 'spatial perception', his instincts peering outward until he felt he could visibly view the currents of aether surrounding them. He amassed clusters of aether in two points, creating Nodes, only to seemingly 'catch' onto a mobile current of aether that happened to breeze between them. He refined the fledgling Stream, or he thought he did, and through it he connected the two Nodes.

Taelian grimaced. He attempted to contort and fold the Stream, though it was difficult. The entire process was taxing on his mind; he felt... tired.

"It's... frustrating," the Siltori declared. Eloise stared blankly, not indulging his complaints. Taelian continued to focus until eventually he managed to force the Stream to fold on itself and he felt the two Nodes begin to rapidly come together, colliding. He sought to channel aether into the collision through his Anchor, but he had no concept of the abilities of the magic and had nothing in mind to shape the volatile space into. Instead all that came of it was a reverberating spark of flustered aether that appeared to twist and bend space for a moment, violently, before receding as the space before him corrected itself.

"Good form," Eloise eventually praised. "Again, Taelian. This time... attempt to form a small hole and keep it. After that, we will break for the evening. Lethiril has made us a desirable meal."

Posted: **Tue Jan 28, 2020 7:36 am**

Thirty minutes had passed, and Taelian had been successful in the formation of a small crook in space, a dent in their reality. Afterwards, Eloise celebrated by rising from her feet and curtsying in the Ebon Knight's direction, teasing him relentlessly about his demure attitude towards the magic and equally congratulating him on his progress thus far. The two of them got along well enough - Taelian scarcely spoke, but Eloise was enough character for the both of them... or so he liked to believe. Lethiril often called them both 'droll'.

They sat around the circular table, with a whole host of food before them: honeyed ham, thin-crusted loafs of long bread, greens and in the center, a basket of fruit. Taelian scarcely had such foods; Riven liked to spoil him with breakfasts all the time, but his meals weren't always particularly good for the Elf. Lethiril focused a lot on health; on nutrition, though he likely knew very little of it. The basics, for him, were enough.

"Taelian, would you like to come with me to Melitene?" the Umpire asked.

The Siltori's brows furrowed as if in confusion. He frowned. "I don't--"

"You are uncertain?" she replied. Lethiril took a sip of the warm chamomile tea he had prepared for himself, observing the interactions of the two. He was prepared to interject, if necessary.

"I don't know anything about Melitene, yes. And more than that -- I have obligations here. I've mostly fulfilled what Aldrin has asked of me, but I will be seen as deserting the Black Remedy if I leave for Atinaw. I... don't even know where Melitene is," he admitted, flustered. The Ebon Knight had scarcely taken any bites, as well-made as the food was; there was a lot remaining in his mind. A lot he was contending with.

"It's in Grimholdt, within the mountains. Beyond the mountain it lies upon is the coast, the sea, and to the direct south is the city proper. You worry of Aldrin? You can serve him far better as a Thespian, if you measure up to that station. I will send his peons within Kalzasi a hand-written letter of your admission, if you so desire. I am certain he has heard of us."

The Siltori stared quietly. "Thespian?" he attempted to clarify.

"The premier members of Melitene's chaperoning organization; the Covenant. I am the Umpire of the Covenant. In layman's terms I am its leader, though I am more of an orator and guide. I ensure the rules of the game are followed, that they are relevant, and that decisions are made democratically. You have already agreed to join the Covenant, if you might perhaps recall, though I am asking when you will decide to follow through with this commitment. You cannot remain waiting for Aldrin's word in Kalzasi, forever; that word may never come."

He frowned. She was right -- Eliane had been waiting for Aldrin to change her post for four years. He was fighting a revolutionary war, in a land where all information was strictly controlled. Perhaps he had sent letters, but the courier had died, taken by Dranoch. Perhaps he had never even received her requests. They were not only far, but highly restricted. The fact that any communication remained internationally was deeply impressive on the part of the Adh Nuaihm, though what that meant was that Taelian did not need to worry about being considered a deserter.

If he just up and left, without telling anyone, Aldrin would never even know. When the day came to return to Sil-Elaine, he could simply pretend he had never abandoned his station at all.

"I will go, but there are things I must take care of," he said. Riven -- the obvious issue. He did not want to leave without his Arlaed; the most important thing to him, that had ever been. "And also," he continued, "I ask that you tell me of these Thespians. Of this organization. Of its purpose, and what you want from me, and what you believe that I could do."

Posted: **Tue Jan 28, 2020 8:38 am**

Eloise nodded, and slowly drew her glass of wine towards her lips. Taking a heavier sip than Taelian expected, the Elf awkwardly bit into his ham once realizing he'd left it unattended. For a moment, no words were shared between them, rather two prolonged observations.

"Tell me: what do you want, Taelian?" she asked. Rather than an answer, Eloise offered him a question. It was... slightly irritating, but he understood her reasoning, perhaps. Though he would not rely on his assumption; Taelian could only answer, hesitantly, his eyes lowered towards the dark-wood table.

"Power," he almost... solemnly whispered. "The power to free Sil-Elaine. To change this world. I don't care who leads it once it's changed; Aldrin, Vendrael, some other powerful leader -- I just want it to be different. My people have suffered for far too long."

The woman frowned. Wrong answer, it appeared. "Then, it looks like you do care, Taelian. You do care who rules -- because they are the determinant of suffering. As Umpire, I ensure that the rules of the game, our customs, are followed with integrity. As an Empress, I would make the rules; I would arbitrate all upon my will. I would bleed those I wished to, war with those to whom I hold no favor, and oppress the minds and bodies of the people I most fear or revile. As an idealist, it is your duty to carefully select the one whom you follow: and also, to shepherd them. To keep them right. If they start to go astray... to find someone else."

She took another sip. The woman leaned forward and offered for Taelian to place his hand beneath hers; he did. Eloise faintly smiled.

"As a mage, your power is both direct and subtle. Directly, you have the power to become a killer of leaders; why do you imagine monarchs often fear and repress us? A single one of us can hold them accountable to the will of the people. And so we in the Covenant, most powerful of magi, make rules; that we will not take direct action without a decisive vote, dependent upon the people's will. That we will not invite the word 'anarchy' in connotation with magic; that we will make others believe in our greatness, our value to society. It is your role as a mage to be a wallflower until you become a flytrap, lurching forward and culling those who threaten the ideals of not only yourself, but of mortal-kind. If we had only had a group like the Covenant before, perhaps none of these... atrocious things would have ever come to be."

The Ebon Knight nodded. He understood her; it made sense. Regulators of society, shaping the world to what they believed to be right. That was the Covenant, to a degree.

"Gratiana Sil'Elan and all of her compatriots in the Court of Dusk... they were and are all mages. And once, they were weak. A wise enough magister of the Darklands could have killed them off, one-by-one, before they became the grim Huntsmen they now are. Instead, your people were content to allow them to be so long as they chaperoned stability. But stability, Ebon Knight, only offered them the opportunity to consolidate their power. Look at them now."

She continued.

"We must play the game, and we must know how to look beyond it. Into a heart, a mind; to what lies in the depths beyond pleasantries and falsehoods, the opulent palaces of deception that our world's elite forge for themselves. I look in you and I see not complacency, the simple need to help steer the world a certain direction: I see ambition. I see that perhaps unbeknownst to you, you would like to be the King of the world you create. I cannot determine yet whether this idea is wise, and certainly whether it is good. But what I can say is that I will help you come to that conclusion on your own, and through a particular goal that I have in mind."

Taelian's eyes were affixed on hers. He felt as if they were being opened; he was acknowledging her truth, as it did not conflict with his own. He had always known ambition, but as an Ebon Knight and one so marred by the Black Sigil, he did not find structural power to be a fitting tool. Only individual.

"As the wallflower that I am, I have observed the actions of Queen Luteria Rutheesee-Sil, and I have found her either wanting or dangerously ambiguous. Though it may be a long way from now, I wish to guide you to the role of becoming her adviser in all things political and arcane. This is far away from us, young Ebon Knight, but it is feasible. This is what a Thespian is -- a steerer of the world. One who guides the hand of far more powerful people than themselves, though I do not limit them from becoming one such person. Perhaps one day you might be King. Perhaps not. It is not for me to decide."

Posted: **Mon Feb 03, 2020 5:03 am**

T

he Rift: III

XP: 5/5 {Can be used for Transposition}

Transposition: Stream
Transposition: Anchor
Transposition: Creating A Portal
Politics: Mage-Advisers
Politics: Kings are the arbiters of their world
Politics: Mages are the equalizers of tyranny

Comments: Loved everything about this thread. Eloise is amazing, almost motherly in how she teaches and engages Taelian in both his magic and being a mage. This was very well written and flowed perfectly. Great job!!!!!

Legend of Ransera

The Rift: III

The Rift: III

Re: The Rift: III

Re: The Rift: III

Re: The Rift: III