The Lost

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Aegis
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The Lost

Tue Mar 26, 2019 8:09 am

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Ashan 30, 719, Supposedly


Of the many people that disappeared around the world, several would find themselves waking in room carved from stone. Tall, vaulted ceilings, smooth columns, and stone seating on tiers, all growing outward from a glowing statue in the center. There were hundreds of the stone seats, each accompanied by a stone desk with a name plate atop them. The name plants looked to be carved into pure onyx, with golden etching into them. The etching was incredibly minute and complex, it would take a researcher decades to decipher the intricacy of the runes of just one of these plates. And yet everyone who looked upon them would know them to be names. True Names.

And behind each True Name plate, was a person, many of whom looked rather surprised to be there. The majority of the seats were emptied, no name plates upon those. But there were pockets of people clustered around the room. Three of those clusters were noticeably larger than the others. The first off them contained a fair numbered of rough, scarred up men and women. Within this cluster were a couple of noticeable faces. Well, one noticeable face. Velaine Krome, with a new cheek scar for any who hadn't seen her in a while. And right next to her was another noticeable... mask. Tio Silver. And all around them both were various Yari men and women, many of whom looked rather grumpy at being there.

Another cluster was filled with a dichotomy of well dressed and well soiled individuals. Among their numbers, Alistair Venora and Fridgar, seated near to one another, though not right next to each other. Their group was full of Quacians, some known, most others not. The final of the largest clusters were a crowd of finely robed individuals, many of which were the blue Eidisi.

Between the large groupings were small pockets of the spirited away individuals. Sephira Wood was there, accompanied by several faces familiar to her. Charles Barkley and Charlie Wood were both seated on her left. Sitting behind her was the man with the forgettable face and his wife Leshlie. And they were surrounded by other Scalvorans. In total, there seemed to be a little of a hundred souls here.

And every single one of them was a mage.

Now that all of them had arrived, it would soon become evident to some that they were in a rather strange place. Those who had the ability to sense foreign locations or people would find those connections completely walled off. This same wall even cut those with blessings off from their Immortal. Every spark in the room was resonating with the glowing statue at the center, a statue that was in constant flux, changing between various humanoid forms. And with each change, a new frequency plucked at the harpstrings of the sparks in the room.

Then a robed woman stood up, one that was close to the statue. She spoke, her lips at but a whisper, yet her voice was clear in the ears of all present.

"Welcome Seekers, new and old. We have all answered the call of The Sanctuary. Such an event has not occurred in 800 arcs. We must now follow the ways of old. We require updates on the state of magic in our own respective areas. From that, we will discuss the reason we were all summoned here."

She sat down. Charles Barkley, the mouse sitting upon Charlie Wood's shoulder, whispered toward Sephira. "Maester, why are we here? We cannot leave the Vault. It is not possible."

A man in distinct finery of clothes stood up. For those who knew such thing, they would recognize his clothing and his face as distinctly Rynmeren, yet he appeared to be unknown to any. "Magic in Rynmere is dying. The boy king and his Mantis, aided by those scum from Hiladreth, have killed or ran off the majority of our mages. If something doesn't change soon, Rynmere shall be lost to magic." He sat down upon giving his brief report, allowing others to step up and give theirs.
 ! Message from: Aegis
Sephira, Tio, Velaine, Alistair, and Fridgar

Each of you has the same clothings and belongings upon your person as when you answered the Call. No outside communications or sensory abilities will function. Immortal marks will not function.

If you wish to know if something will work, do it up as an attempt. If you ask me "Will X work?" or "What will happen if I do Y?" I will tell you to make the attempt. Any other questions I will do my best to answer.

There is no posting order, and everyone gets 1 post. This posting round closes on the night of April 1st.

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Tio Silver
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Re: The Lost

Tue Mar 26, 2019 9:40 pm

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There was an airy pop, like the cork of a champagne bottle being pulled out, and Tio suddenly winked into existence out of thin air. Owlishly he looked around the rapidly appearing crowd of people, many of whom looked just as surprised by the sudden teleportation as he was. The room he found himself was some sort of fancy stone courtroom, with all the people gathered around a great statue in the centre. His sparks hummed together in delight as his gaze crossed the stautue, just like they had done in response to that call. How fascinating!

He looked around at the crowd, reaching inward for his attunement spark in order to test the frequencies of this place. He could not pick up anything from outside the walls, but within it there were so many interesting sounds. Each and every person here had special notes resonating from out of them; some he recognized, some he did not. He could pick up the haunting melody of necromancers, the naturalistic drumming of defiers and the quiet chime of attuners, as well as a dozen or so notes that all held that same quality but sounded so distinct. This room was filled entirely with mages! He'd never seen so many gathered into one place before!

Which raised the question of why exactly they were here in the first place? Tio focused his attunement spark onto the statue that seemed to hold some kind of sway over his sparks, hoping to catch some kind of clue as to what it was. As he did a robed woman in the central circle stood up and spoke up in a whispered voice, and Tio left his spark to tune in in the background while he listened to her. He couldn't see who it was with that robe on, but with that distinctive whispered voice Tio could almost swear it was Thena: the lady who'd initiated him into attunement! Intrigued, he sat forwards in his seat as she described their purpose here.

When she was finished speaking the Rynmerian man spoke up about the situation in his country. News had been passed around the Seeker cells that some of their members had been executed lately, but since there was no orders about a response Tio hadn't given them much thought. Maybe he should have in hindsight? Unfortunately it didn't seem like he could give a report if his own, since he'd been away from Scalvoris long enough for that ridiculous mage-registration law to start changing things without him knowing but had not yet arrived in Yaralon. That being said it seemed to him like there were plenty of other people present who weren't quite sure of what exactly was going on here, and it didn't seem wise to just skip straight past it.

"My apologies for interrupting the updates," he said politely yet firmly as he stood up, "but I wonder if perhaps someone in the know might care to shed some light as to what is going on here? What is this Sanctuary place?"

Off Topic
To be clear Tip is attempting to tune in to the statue in the centre of the hall.

word count: 550
Fast Facts
Noticeable quirks your character can see when threading with Tio.

Bone Mask

Tio has a white bone mask permanently fused to his face. It has no features besides a pair of ram-like horns.

Terrible Shirt

Tio wears perhaps the most horribly ostentatious jacket on Idalos. It is magically enchanted to make him feel good as long as he wears it, but is so awful that most people can't help but cringe.

Skeletal Shadow

The shadow Tio casts is that of a skeleton. It looks pretty spooky, but doesn't really do anything special.

Cold Wind

A gentle breeze of slightly chilly wind clings to Tio, following him wherever he goes.

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Tio has no reflection, nor do the clothes he wears.

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Tio floats.
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Alistair
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Re: The Lost

Wed Mar 27, 2019 9:14 pm

When he first appeared, surrounded by others covered in their mutations and witch marks, Alistair was... perplexed. He had answered the call with Zarik, armed to the teeth and prepared for whatever misfortune awaited them, but now he found not one spouse beside him but another. And a whole slew of mages, convening as if attending a council hearing that many of them seemed at least partly ready for. Though all had a disconcerting look in their eyes.

There was no precedent for convening that he knew that would impose such a dramatic effect upon those called, even among the Seekers. Rather, Alistair wondered whether many of those gathered were even Seekers at all. He saw a familiar face among them, a face of old. Lucas Geliadal, the man who initiated him into Necromancy. And his peers - Clara Reeves, Liam Benson, Marcus Dresden. They sat not far behind him in the column of what appeared to be Quacian Seekers, largely, though with a few unexpected additions. Fridgar, for example, his Havendal.

Alistair pursed his lips together, and his focus shifted from the crowd unto the room itself. It was intricate and - in an antiquated arcane way - opulent with the wealth of mystery. He had not seen such carvings as he witnessed now since his first forays into the Seekers' stronghold, and always did he wonder of what he believed to be a font of power within their etchings. And yet, for all this time, the Seekers had failed his expectations and had misled the many mages who joined them for the purpose of protection and development.

To know that he was called by them now - a man they had made anathema by their unwillingness to recognize his warnings for what they were - was upsetting. And opportune. Alistair looked upon them all, with hidden vitriol and transparent frustration, for the things they had allowed to happen to the mages of their world.

Rynmeren mages were present. Alistair mourned for them with a frown, and when the first man spoke of what had befallen their kind in the Northern Realms, Alistair himself a victim of their exodus, he immediately followed with his own statement of truth.

It did not matter that he did not know what this was, or where they were. Mages - his people - were in danger. And finally he had a platform.

"The Seekers and other mages in Quacia, where I have been exiled to," he gestured to the Rynmeren man who spoke, "are just fine. We revel in our freedom that has been systematically structured into every institution of this Kingdom. And yet, despite what numbers and power we wield here, the Quacian Seekers and all the rest of our mages have done... nothing to protect our kind. Few of them even participate in defending Quacia, one of the final footholds for us on all of Idalos, dying as we speak to the onslaught of the Creep." And he continued. There was much more to be said.

"Meanwhile, our enemies are committed to our destruction. The Sacrasav of Hiladrith have even influenced Ne'haer, leaving Lysoria and thereby the Coven as the sole magical authority in Western Idalos. Mages war with one another in Etzos, with Vuda in open contest with the Coven for control. In the East, from what I have seen, they have only become more prejudiced to our kind. Quacia is soon to die and the north has set us upon the pyre. The situation is grim, all of you. We will no longer be able to live in this world before long."

And then, he took a seat. The mage could not help but notice as he addressed his peers that he saw a familiar, albeit scarred, face. It was Velaine, though he did not recognize her as such. Such flagrant events where they might have once met had passed long ago.

Instead, most of them were strangers to him. And, save for Fridgar, he viewed many of the others as complicit in their extinction. He did not know what this call was, but if it could only become a call to action, he hoped that the mages of Idalos might be saved.
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Varthakh
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The Lost

Sat Mar 30, 2019 12:02 am

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And in the blink of their eyes, they were somewhere else entirely. Part of them was relieved, they were no longer forced to remain on that dreadful, dying island... The rest of them, however, wished to return.

This place, wherever they were, was far worse. All of a sudden, they were surrounded by stone walls, columns of stone, high ceilings and hundreds of pairs of eyes. They were sat in a space void of seating, more of a large stone step than a chair, at least. Their dimensions, when they answered the call, were far from suitable for this environment. They were seven feet and six inches tall while they stood, and fifteen feet long. A coat of pale obsidian fur covered them from the border of their grey nose to the tip of their feline tail, which curled around the floor beside them. Their paws were massive, with vicious, jagged claws that looked akin to daggers protruding from each of their digits. Two pointed ears rested atop their skull, which only further accentuated their long feline muzzle. The only definition that stood out of the mass of pale fur was their bright, glowing, violet eyes, as well as the subtle glow of a rune on their forehead, obscured by their fur.

The air around the Llewnos breathed tension, and their whole form was rigid with discomfort. Their violet eyes darted about the place while their heartbeat thundered harder and harder in their chest, which rose and fell irregularly as their breathing turned borderline ragged. Fridgar hated walls, even more so when they were paired with ceilings. Worse yet, this place was unfamiliar to them. They needed to escape, they needed to find a way out, and so they tried to look for a pair of doors without moving their head too much.

A quiet scratching noise bled from them as they dragged their sharp claws across the stone floor, wracked with anxiety and distress. This wouldn't end like last time though, they wouldn't throw any doors in a fit of anger. They had come a long way in the art of controlling their emotions, so they closed their eyes to block out all the ugly of the situation, then focused on their breathing. Slowly, they took a deep breath through their nose and felt their chest inflate with air, their front legs shift ever-so-slightly in wake of the expansion. The tension in their muscles melted like warm butter with every subsequent draw of breath, and they could almost forget that they were trapped and surrounded by hundreds of prying eyes.

That was until a woman's voice spoke above the white noise that was the sitting figures. Fridgar's eyes fluttered open, and they were cast into the same stone cylinder that they had tried to run from. They were doomed. At least now, they had some air of clarity, no longer threatened by the tight space of hundreds of squirming bodies. Fridgar exhaled hard, then tried to cast echo on their assimilated self totem. They tried to take the trait of smell, a sense that would better help them ascertain where they were, exactly.

Meanwhile, the woman introduced everyone as part of the seekers. It was a group Fridgar knew very little about, they'd only heard its name whispered occasionally around the likes of their Kindal. Why were they here? Why not Alistair, or some other mage of considerable strength?

They hadn't yet spotted the exit, so they sat and listened. Perhaps the robed woman would tell them which way was out? Unlikely, but they could hope. To their dismay, she had nothing interesting to say. Fridgar sighed deeply through their nose. This was already boring them. Fridgar had no interest in any sort of community, they longed for the rolling plains of Gauthrel with the sun beating hard on their fur, scales, skin... Whatever. Thus, the seekers didn't interest them either. Magic in Rynmere is dying, a man's voice said, and Fridgar perked up. Rynmere? Dying? Two words they thought belonged in a sentence together. The boy king. Cassander. Their lip lifted in a snarl at the thought. The idiot child was still killing off mages because of them? How petty. It wasn't as though Fridgar held a grudge for the kidnapping of all their totems at the time, no. But if they ever saw the brat again, they would eat his heart.

A familiar voice spoke out then, it was Alistair's Their pointed ear flicked at the sound and their head darted to face the direction. There he was, Alistair had come through. But where, then, was Zarik? Fridgar looked around briefly but saw no head nor tail of the boy. Fridgar focused on what Alistair had to say, and even half-lifted a paw to wave at him for a moment, but changed their mind and lowered it. Darker thoughts had filled their mind just trills prior to answering the call. While they didn't know what Alistair was talking about, they did empathize with him. It was clear by his voice that he felt strongly about what he said, and that brought a smile to their cat face. Fridgar knew nothing of the mage status in Quacia, so they said nothing.

Only until a man with a silver mask spoke up, however. The stranger seemed to be just as lost as they were. Fridgar blinked while they watched them, then looked about the room before raising their paw. "We second this," they said. Their mouth didn't move, but a deep, powerful male voice echoed from the beast's body, accompanied by the quiet, distant growling of a powerful feline. "What is this place, and why have you summoned us?"
Off Topic
Fridgar is trying to find an exit or any obvious doors and is trying to cast echo on a totem that he assimilated in the entry thread.
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"Who needa politics when you can eat the politics."
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Velaine Krome
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Re: The Lost

Sun Mar 31, 2019 2:12 am

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It was most impossible.

Velaine found herself sitting inside a great room filled with strangers when a trill ago she had been in a raucous inn. In front of her was a table, a curious one at that. Her pale fingers ran across the cool surface, the etching that was unlike any writings she had ever seen in her life. As she sneaked a peek at the table beside her, where a masked man sat, the young woman could not help that the etchings were different than hers. The next thing she noticed was that all she had on her was her clothes and Xander’s daggers, strapped neatly to her waist.

As if things weren’t pecular enough, her gleaming eyes were soon drawn to the statue stationed in the center of the circular room. Her sparks immediately flickered with interest, humming with power. Velaine had never felt anything quite like it. Was that the thing that had called to her back in the tavern? The thing that carried her here?

She looked to the grumbling man sitting next to her. He was a Rupturing mage from the Death Nels, unfortunately she had a difficult time recalling his name. Still, the familiar face gave her a bit of comfort. “Do you know what this place is?” Once their eyes locked, her spark extended a curious hand, searching through the man’s tangled emotions out of habit.

There was not much time for further questioning unfortunately when a woman stood up. Her words… well, it didn’t entirely made sense to her. Sanctuary? State of magic? Who were all these people?

A man stood up, seemingly not at all disoriented like her. “Magic in Rynmere is dying. The boy king and his Mantis, aided by those scum from Hiladreth, have killed or ran off the majority of our mages. If something doesn't change soon, Rynmere shall be lost to magic.”

His words made her heart ache, but before she could dwell on it another man stood up.

The man seemed very familiar. Blonde and striking. It took a few trills for her to realize that he was from Rynmere as he spoke. She wondered where she had seen before. He was someone she should know but her brain refused to be any assistance at that moment. Besides, his words immediately snapped her attention away and her whole body tensed.

That the Seekers were reveling in their freedom in Quacia.

“Seekers?” she asked, loudly enough as the anger that she buried deep for these few seasons came bubbling up again. Her eyes traveled over the crowd, wondering if there were Rynmere Seekers present. Those who fled. The burnings, the screaming, the bolts tearing into her body. Her voice rang clear but not raised, sharp as a blade. “The only Seekers I know were the people that wreaked havoc and throw their magic around at my home, only to flee so innocents can suffer the consequences of their actions instead. Men and women and children who had nothing to do with them were burnt alive while they lived on who knows where.” Her hand wandered to the scar on her waist, hidden under her clothes. Another thing to remember the Mantis by. The least painful thing they had given her. “Even if we run, they will hunt us down. So no, we cannot lose. We will make them pay for what they have done.”

Velaine turned back to the woman who had asked for news of the world. Her knowledge of Yaralon and their mages was very limited, but she gave them what she could if it would make them tell her faster about what the hell was going on. “Yaralon has always been welcoming to mages as far as I can tell. Although, one particular fracture had been opening up and spewing out creatures. Emean creatures that are attracted to magic yet also being insusceptible to a lot of magical attacks.”

“There you have it. Now, may we know why we are here?”
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Sephira
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Re: The Lost

Mon Apr 01, 2019 6:39 pm

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Once again Sephira was pulled away from Scalvoris, from her home. The woman was drawn away to a foreign place, carried by her Sparks who flew there with her as a willing passenger. She had wanted this. She had wanted to run away from her life and her problems.

Such was typical of a Rupturer.

One moment her back was pressed against the base of a door in the Flame Troops headquarters and the next Sephira found herself seated within a large circular room filled with over a hundred other individuals. The soldier took a deep breath to still her nerves. This was not what she had expected, but at the very least it seemed that she was in no immediate danger.

However the last thing she had expected was the appearance of Charlie Wood along with Charlie Barkley, the two residents of the Vault that the mage had met previously. Sephira briefly felt her hand move toward the bright crimson and gold mark on her chest that tied her to the Vault.

Right then a woman came to stand at the center of the amphitheater that she and the amassed people were seated within. The onyx eyed mage stared at her with a calculating gaze, trying discern if the woman was friend or foe. The lady spoke and finally clarified her intentions and Sephira felt her right hand relax away from the hilt of the saber that was sheathed at her hip.

The Seekers? The Element had never really heard of the group before, expect for perhaps in whispers during her mission in Rynmere. Even then Sephira had not the luxury of time back then to even listen to rumors and stories on the streets of Andaris. She had been too busy trying to evade the Mantis while trying to recover the Portal Stone.

Charlie whispered to her just as the woman below finish speaking. The mage turned toward him with a gleam of worry in her eyes at his words. How indeed could he and his wooden companion be outside of the Vault?

“Is it possible we are in the Vault? Or in a place that is connected to it?” She asked with concern knitting her brows together.

It became clear as others spoke that they were indeed all mages. There were a few familiar faces in the room that spoke up, giving their report as asked. Sephira herself eventually stood as well, her hand resting on the brass hilt of Wyvern as she spoke.

“They speak the truth, The Mantis have seen to the mass extermination of mages across Rynmere. The lucky ones they burn, the others they try and remove their Sparks from them if they can.” There was a heavy pause before she continued as the memory of Rey’na emerged within her mind. She had watched her Spark removal and she remembered what it had taken from the young woman.

“The ones that survive the process are not the same afterwards. Their souls are damaged...irreparably.”

Sephira frowned deeply before continuing. If these ‘Seekers’ wanted a report of magic then she would give them what she knew, even if the truth she had given them so far was a hard one to hear.

“Mages fare better in Scalvoris than in Rynmere. We are not loved, but most are tolerated well enough.”

Memories of last arc swelled into her mind at the mention of the treatment of mages in Scalvoris. It had been a hard road back into the light for the Elements as well as mages after the events of the dock’s collapse. The Element’s Cult had been filled with Defiance mages and that fact had not been lost on the public.

Just as she began to seat herself again Sephira glanced over her shoulder and had to stop her worst instincts from taking hold right then and there. Her grip had tightened on the saber at her side and the blade was already just barely drawn simply out of instinct at the sight of the unremarkable face seated behind her.

A thousand thoughts rippled through her. Her gut told her to strike him down where he sat, right next to his lying whore of a wife. Sephira knew he’d had something to do with the Element’s cult plot, she had seen him there that night, overseeing his underlings. She knew that Earth Mask had been terrified of Orrick, and that fear was likely not misplaced. But the Element had no real hard proof of his crimes, only a deep seated suspicion, and the obvious lies of his wife Leshlie.

An arc long investigation, and the man she had been hunting all this time was now right here in this room with her.

She couldn’t just attack him right here and now. Even if her every instinct was telling her to do so. The soldier in her was smarter than her worst instincts. She needed evidence, and she needed to learn more about him. Orrick was a mystery, and he was clearly a mage, as was the lying bitch on his arm, given that she was also there.

Sephira turned her mutation marked eyes on the man she had sought for the last arc.

“It's been a long time Orrick.” There was a deadly intention woven through her words that even her discipline could not hide.
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Aegis
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Re: The Lost

Tue Apr 02, 2019 8:11 am

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The questions of why everyone was here, where here was, and other such matters were not answered immediately. Various reports came in from all the known areas. Viden mages were mostly left alone, though some were taken to be experimented on. Etzos mages were put into service but well cared for. Rharne mages were uneasy, feeling a growing unrest against them, but one that had not yet boiled over. Most of the reports were innocuous enough, though there was one clear, common theme.

Their numbers were dwindling.

Even a glance around the room showed more than three quarters of the seats as empty. Both of the Charlies leaned toward Sephira after her words uttered to Orrick, the mousy one speaking up, "I... Think this place was built by the same that built the Vault." Orrick, meanwhile, flashed a polite smile at the special assistant, joined by a bright smile from Leshlie.

Tio would find that attuning to the statue sent wave after wave of every emotion he'd ever felt crashing over him, so long as the connection was made. These were not mild emotions either, but amplified to their absolute highest of forms.

Fridgar would detect no visible exits. The room looked to be perfectly sealed from the outside. But his Echoed sense of smell did manage to take over.

The man that Velaine was entangling with shook his head, having no idea where he was or what this was. There was caution in his tangle, but not fear. Curiosity too.

The robed woman from before stood, and spoke. "I know many of you are confused, for this is your first time among us, as Seekers. This place is the Sanctuary, built by the eldest of ancestors of this world, built long before the Immortals were born, built before the Originals arrived. It was discovered by the earliest of Seekers, found locked away from time, sealed away from the outside world. Through its history, it has been used as a forum for the most pressing issues plaguing us Seekers and mage kind at large."

"When it Calls, it selects the most worthy of Seekers, both current and new. And then we discuss, with civility." She then looked at Velaine, "And we do not use our magic on our own kind in this room." She took a breath and continued, "We are the new leaders of the Seekers, whether we chose it or not. We must deal with the crisis at hand." She then sat down.

And Orrick stood and spoke.

"It is time to give that which our oppressors seek. Destruction. Many wish to destroy us simply for being. Last arc, Scalvoris hosted one of the largest gatherings of Defiers in history, in the hopes of contacting one of the Eternals, to gain their strength. It was a failure, thwarted by the government, if one could even call it such, and ended up summoning a mere Induk. Many sparks were lost that trial."

He cast his eyes around the room while pausing. Then continuing, "Scalvoris has a prison with an army of sparks locked away. They care not for even treating them, us, like people. We are simply monsters." He then smiled, "So let us be monsters. I call for a vote to unlock the Eternals."

Murmurs filled the room at this. The eldest of the members spoke with a worrisome knowledge, while most others spoke in confusion, unsure what that meant. Orrick smile, "The Eternals are quite real my friends. One is here before us now." He gestured to the shifting statue, "But that is merely one of them. Others are stored here, safely away from the Immortals that stole their power. Some are lost."

A man's voice rang out from the crowd in Rynmere, "That's a myth! There's no proof of such malarchy."

Orrick glared at the man, "The proof is in this place. The proof is in the history, written by the Shay. There is one among us now, able to confirm it. The Eternals are real, and they are what give power to all. They empower the Immortals, they empower us mages, they even empower the spirits of this world. The Immortals know not of this power, they simply wield it blindly, ignorantly. We know better. It is time to secure our place in this world. My vote remains open."

On the back of every person's name plate would glow three gemstones. An emerald on the left, a sapphire in the middle, and a ruby on the right, all the size of a chicken's egg. Every mage there would know that the emerald would signal a yes vote, the ruby a nay vote, and the sapphire would be an abstention. Ether being fed into a gemstone would cause it to glow. Feeding ether into multiple gemstones simultaneously would open a drain on the mage's reserves until they selected simply one. Votes could be changed, and there was time for discussion before and during the voting.
 ! Message from: Aegis
Any questions your PC will ask IC will be answered by a PM/DM, so as to be added to your post if so desired.

Any OOC questions are welcome.

This round is open until the morning of April 9th.

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Tio Silver
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Joined: Thu Apr 13, 2017 3:04 pm
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Re: The Lost

Tue Apr 02, 2019 7:15 pm

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Tio yelped like a kicked puppy as the statue he started to attune to sent wave after wave of intense emotions back at him, temporarily overwhelming him until his concentration faltered and the attunement broke. What the hell had that been?! Some kind of feedback loop? All those emotions he'd felt; excitement, rage, desire, were human emotions. What were they doing coming from a statue? For such a grandiose looking hall this place had a strangely ominous atmosphere.

From all around the room people gave reports of the situation of mages in their respective countries. Some dyed their reports with personal opinions and agendas, and some gave only the facts. All in all it was pretty clear that the situation for mages everywhere was pretty bleak. Thankfully once the reports were finished the robed lady (who may or may not be Thena) spoke again, explaining that this was a place built by beings predating the Originals and discovered by the Seekers. It was used as a place for not just the Seekers but all of mage-kind to debate what to do in times of crisis. The explanation was enough to set Tio at ease. A peaceful debate was a good idea, and if representatives of all mages could agree on a solution to the problems facing their kind it could only be beneficial to them.

Then a man amongst the Scalvoris mages stood up (and hold on, was that Sephira sitting nearby him?) And began to speak. He spoke of the destruction of non-mages, and of a gathering of mages that had tried to contact something called an Eternal but ended in disaster. It didn't take Tio long to connect the event he was talking about to the one he'd gotten wrapped up in around that time.

When the man had finished speaking Tio stood and cleared his throat to gain the crowd's attention. "I remember the gathering you just mentioned. Specifically I remember a group of wackjobs kidnapping a bunch of innocent women during a party, trying to ritually sacrifice them, and then blowing up half the docks. Believe me I had front row seat to that last one."

He looked around at the assembled mages. "My point is that yes, there are many people who treat us like monsters. But who remembers what life was like before you received your first spark? If you were a normal person and found out the bloke sitting next to you in the tavern could set you on fire just by looking at you you'd be scared, and have every right to be. We can be scary people. And when people like him go around acting like monsters then of course people are going to treat us like that's what we are."

"It would be so easy to answer hatred with hatred. Easy, but wrong. There are so few of our kind left these days, and if we turn into terrorists then all it will do is turn the rest of the world against us. A mage may have the might of ten men, but we are outnumbered a thousand to one! It would be a war we could never win! And even if we could, where would we find new initiates when the rest of the world hates us? If we want a future for mages in Idalos we should be focusing on building ourselves up, not knocking others down."

"Idalos is vast. There are places like Yaralon where fractures open every trial, and beasts with unique alchemical properties are spawned. It's dangerous yes, but not a challenge a mage can't handle, and a perfect place for us to prosper. How many other places like that might there be in the world, just waiting to be discovered? Why fight to conquer cities that don't want us when we can build our own, better cities? Cities where we can be safe and prosperous without having to worry about discrimination! We can leave the ignorant to wallow in their own blindness, and welcome into our gates those who recognize our civility and search for a better life! That is how we go about bringing magic back into the world: by using our gifts for creation, not destruction!"

He pointed a finger down at the statue in the middle of the hall. "I don't know what an Eternal is. Nor a Shay for that matter. I'll admit that I don't possess enough knowledge on the matter to form an opinion on whether setting these things free will make them want to help us or kill us all. But if Captain Cuckoo over there," he thumbed at Orrick, "in his professional opinion believes they'll grant us power then you know what?" He raises his arms into the air. "Let's go for it! Let's set these things free and see what happens! Setting ancient powers loose on the world aught to make it even more interesting! But if these Eternals are as incredible as I've been led to believe then let's seek their help to build something new, not destroy the old."

Bringing his hands down, Tio touched his finger against the emerald and pushed a drop of ether into it, signalling his vote for Yes.
word count: 903
Fast Facts
Noticeable quirks your character can see when threading with Tio.

Bone Mask

Tio has a white bone mask permanently fused to his face. It has no features besides a pair of ram-like horns.

Terrible Shirt

Tio wears perhaps the most horribly ostentatious jacket on Idalos. It is magically enchanted to make him feel good as long as he wears it, but is so awful that most people can't help but cringe.

Skeletal Shadow

The shadow Tio casts is that of a skeleton. It looks pretty spooky, but doesn't really do anything special.

Cold Wind

A gentle breeze of slightly chilly wind clings to Tio, following him wherever he goes.

No Reflection

Tio has no reflection, nor do the clothes he wears.

Floats

Tio floats.
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Alistair
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Re: The Lost

Tue Apr 02, 2019 11:08 pm

It was not a particular surprise to him that they were not in a place of normal means. To be called in such a manner was beyond the scope of any one mage, and any one place of convening. In order to bring so many mages to such a sanctuary, he knew, they must have wielded an ancient and powerful artifact. That artifact appeared to be the place itself, one they claimed to have existed before the time of man and mage alike; before even the Immortals. Alistair wondered of how they knew these things, though he supposed a faction of several centuries solely dedicated to the obtainment of information would possess such knowledge.

And as he thought of them and their toiling for lost information, his new 'role' with them was brought to light.

The new leaders of the Seekers. Alistair did not care - the Seekers were an obsolete faction, and despite his technical membership of them, the thought of ruling them left only a bitter impression. There was a reason they continued to create nightmares like Ellasin - they were a stifling group, driving mages of strong ideologies to madness through the repression of any action. No one leader could right their centuries of decadence. Talesin had tried and had only created the conditions necessary to produce the Coven. And Talesin was a much more patient mage than Alistair was.

Shortly afterwards, a man began to speak. He spoke of Scalvoris, and a gathering to call upon the... 'Eternals', whatever those were. Alistair - present for the riots - thought that perhaps he might have had an idea of what he referred to, but due to his passivity in those events the mage could not relate to the information. He only knew that the man's beginning verses - that of offering back destruction - painted him clearly as the radical sort that often led mages to dark paths. He was like them; the Coven of his arcane upbringing, always seeking lost stories of powerful things in order to eliminate opposition. And as far as Alistair was concerned, the opposition could have been anyone present within the room.

He spoke of these beings. Powerful. More powerful than the Immortals, he implied, though equally they had to cower from them. It was suspect, all of it. One line in particular stuck with him; that he wished to be a 'monster' like he was painted, and so he wished to release the Eternals. And so this inferred that the Eternals were not a benevolent force. In fact, they were likely destructive or adversarial. And the promise of undue power was always a source of much devastation among mages. Each line he spoke painted his lips with further poison - this was the type of man who would destroy mage-kind once and for all, by the brevity of his maniacal ideology. No.

Alistair would rather anything than whatever he sought. There was so much he wished to ask, and to say. But first, he allowed the other man - Tio, as per his nameplate - to speak. And his words... the magister literally cringed; he wished to unleash such vestiges of power simply for the sake of entertainment?

"What will this thing do for us? Why would it help us?” he asked. The mage stood, questioning 'Orrick' immediately.

And the man replied. "It will let you surpass mortal limitations of magic, to harness a power even the Immortals cannot manage."

He shivered at his words. He sounded... so much like a woman he knew. One he was certain that they had all heard of - yet few really understood what she sought to obtain. A thing like this, always.

"Does not magic come from the Originals, and ether from Emea? I have been told as such by Ralaith himself," he questioned further. The man's claims of the Eternals supplying mages their power was too vague, and contradicted arcane lore.

But Orrick elaborated -- sort of.

"Sparks come from the Originals, magic comes from the world and Emea alike. Ralaith has but a child's understanding of the power he wields."

He rose a brow. Ralaith was an ancient and wise being, who had compiled knowledge across his follower's Compendiums for many centuries. He likely knew more of such things than the Seekers did - and yet this man, ignorant to Alistair's Immortal, claimed his knowledge was child-like. How could he claim that the Eternals supplied mages with power when the sparks came from the Originals, their supposed adversaries, and ether from Emea - the font of all reality?

He shook his head.

"Then to the motion I say... absolutely not," he began. "And frankly, I question your premise in the first place. How do we have the power to awaken this being? Will you not simply siphon the ether we offer these switches in order to acquire your goal?" he inquired. The mage did not intend to pull any punches, and did not vote yes, no or abstainment; he refused to offer a single trickle of his ether, until the mage explained his method of reawakening them.

"Further, I implore all of you to think of what this man offers. A miracle that has simply been sitting here beneath the purview of the Seekers for centuries. A thing that will offer us all powers that even the Immortals cannot manage. Do his promises not sound to you like the sly urges of your spark? To take the risk - to press yourself further. These are the sorts of silver-tongued words we have always been taught to resist. They are the words of a man who seeks power for himself at our expense; who offers us not a solution, but a cataclysmic war between us and the Immortals. Many of them remain neutral to us, or even favor us - would we really wish to be remembered for returning their great adversaries to the world? We will be hunted not only by men, but by Gods as well. All in an animalistic lash against our oppressors. No."

He spoke further.

"We must be known for our ability to bond together as one identity; as brothers and sisters in this moment of our greatest despair. We must show the world - humans and Immortals alike - that we are not the terrifying creatures they paint us as. To this man's assertion that we must become monsters ourselves, I say no. We must become allies; we must become advocates, we must become the pillars of what mortals can achieve. The rhetoric this man speaks is akin to that of the woman who has brought us to this precipice, Ellasin Dathlande. And as Seekers, we have always encouraged coexistence within society rather than war against it."

He looked to all of them. To Sephira, to Tio - urging him to reconsider with woeful eyes - to Fridgar and to Velaine. To them all.

"Whether or not we believe in the actions we have taken as a collective thus far, we cannot act again in a way that will bring about great cataclysm. I fear that if we incite one more catastrophe in our lifetimes, it will be the end of all mages as we know it. This measure must be denied."

His vote was a no - but a verbal one. No lights were lit, no ether was funneled. But Alistair had one further question.

"I came here with another mage who felt the Call," he stated. "If he was Called, then why is he not here? There is much that you have failed to mention."

The robed woman quickly replied.

"You must be mistaken. The Call only brings us here. If he’s not here, he wasn’t called.”
Last edited by Alistair on Thu Apr 04, 2019 3:36 am, edited 1 time in total. word count: 1291
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Sephira
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Re: The Lost

Wed Apr 03, 2019 6:31 pm

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Immortals above, she was ready to wipe that smug grin off Orrick’s face. However her jaw nearly dropped when he stood and began recounting the events of last arc when so many had died because of his actions.

“Largest gathering of Defiers? You mean those men of the Scalvoris military who were brainwashed into kidnapping dozens of women? Women who were to be sacrificed if we hadn’t managed to stop it!” Sephira’s eyes flared before her face creased with outright anger. It was as if the frustration of hunting this man down for the last arc had finally risen to the surface.

“I saw you there that night, I saw you overseeing the transport of unconscious women to the amphitheater below. Was that all they were to you? Fodder to awaken the Eternals?” Her lips frowned in disgust.

Orrick responded all too quickly.
"No, they were much more valuable than that. But you, Blackwood, and that short sighted farce of a government, are responsible for those hundreds of deaths, and even profited off of it. Without your meddling, none would have died. Careful where you throw those stones. Never know who you might hit."

The Special Assistant didn’t even blink at the insult flung at her. She simply stood there unmoving with her night black eyes peering at him. When Sephira spoke her voice was grim with the truth of what she knew she had done. If he had thought that she would be caught off guard by his words then he was wrong.

“I know my sins, I don’t pretend that I didn’t make mistakes. I have lived with those mistakes every trial since that night. But do not pretend that you had no ill intent. We found the bomb in the rubble, I saw Vega being burned alive during the ceremony. People suffered all because of a desire for power.”

Sephira spoke to the other mages then, following what Alistair had said and echoing some of Tio’s own sentiments.

“Of course the Sparkless fear us. Like Tio said they have every right to fear someone who can set them aflame with a glance, walk through walls, or spy on them from afar. Maybe they do think we are monsters, but that only means that we need to give them evidence to the contrary.” The woman turned to look at the other Rupturer who had spoken, nodding to him in agreement.

“For too long we have isolated ourselves from each other. We have hidden away in the shadows for fear of being discovered. Too many of our kind must learn to master their magic on their own and are left to do unintentional harm to themselves and others.” The woman frowned darkly. This is much how her life had been. Her teacher had vanished when she needed him most and she had been forced to make do on her own. Nearly everything she had learned about her magics had been done alone. Mistakes had been made along the way and people had died because of them.

“If we worked together, we could strengthen and support each other. We don’t need to be the monsters that people fear. We can be a part of this world, rather than those who would doom it by bringing back these Eternals.”

With that said Sephira cast her vote as a “no”, funneling a whisper of ether into the voting device.
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