Stones

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Alistair
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Joined: Thu Apr 21, 2016 6:12 pm
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Stones

Ashan 93, Arc 719
Well-Craft was the final ability of Transmutation - pre-Revelation at least - that Alistair needed to learn. With the addition of it to his arsenal, there was nowhere else the magister could go within his four sparks save for learning lost abilities he'd not yet been informed of.

It appeared simple enough. Damien had informed him of such measures long before - of Transmuters who could craft wells via their own ether, as if they were acting as keys to Fractures far outside of their reach. They only needed to focus and consolidate their ether, fully mastered, into a space before them and crystallize it into a well's earthly shape. To Alistair, this concept had always seemed trivial. He'd wondered why a Transmuter would even need to craft such mundane wells - apparently Imedyte at best, without risking severe overstepping - when they were so skilled at delving into Fractures.

Nonetheless, he supposed as an entry platform it was not the worst of ideas. He could craft minor artifacts with Ezymite and Imedyte wells, if only using Well-Craft as a quick method of acquisition for such wells... for research purposes. The mage sighed as he found himself far from blown away at the ability's benefits, though that was Transmutation in general. It was a wide plethora of quality of life augmentations that had scarcely interacted with his life directly, yet often did in subtle ways at the same time.

Yet as he began to crystallize his ether, he was interrupted by a sudden call from the cabin's acute darkness. It was nearly the final hour and yet Alistair remained awake, diligently attempting to keep his mind, spark and body honed so that he could protect the family he was sailing northwest.

"Alistair," the Lich called from behind him. The mage turned to greet the other man, and nodded once as he viewed the Undead Yari.

"Hello, Damien," the Paragon hesitantly replied. Of late, Damien had acted strangely and their interactions had become more distant and tense. The Necromancer had thoroughly disapproved of his apprentice, offering him naught but scowls and grim stares whenever he spoke of his ambitions or the things he wished to do within his next steps. Yet he also approved of his changes - leaving Helice, life-bonding with Kleine, and abandoning the dream of following Zarik who all of the men of the household seemed to unanimously perceive as a danger to him.

It was a strained relationship with ups and downs, not unlike the relationship between many fathers and sons... which was what they were, in every way but the biological.

And so regardless of how Damien seemed to look at him, now, after everything; Alistair's shoulder remained within reach and his ears were more than privy to the Yari's wise counsel... which he supposed was soon to come.
word count: 482
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Alistair
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Re: Stones

Alistair crafted a failed, mangled well before him as he attempted to consolidate his ether into a stone. He kept his face slightly turned to view the Lich behind him, who had spoken his name and been replied to - only to proceed to stand emptily within the doorway. He supposed Damien was, quite uncommon for him, demanding Alistair's full and unbridled attention.

And so, he turned to face him. "Yes?" The Paragon inquired.

"I wonder why you are still seeking to progress your magic - what goal are you in pursuance of?" he asked.

"Nothing... particularly," Alistair replied. "But there's no reason not to expand on one's horizon. Remember how often we've spoken on how mortals have a sort of... obligation to meet their full potential? I am trying to meet mine. That is all."

"All?" Damien questioned. "Are you certain it is not for some other purpose?"

"No," replied the mage, "...and your suspicions are unwarranted. I have to wonder, Damien - what is it suddenly about me that infuriates you so? After so long with such perfect unity... you suddenly seem to feel a great deal of disapproval for my actions. Have they truly changed your perspective of me so much?"

Damien scoffed. "Yes," he spoke, lowly. "Indeed, they have. Your abandonment of Fridgar -- your manipulation of Kleine in order to achieve what you wish for. It is a good thing that you Revealed in order to save him, but to push him to that extent so selfishly... and to utilize your power to terrorize the people of Helice, only to then leave them behind in the clutches of another..."

Alistair almost snapped. "You told me we had to leave. To go somewhere else to pursue my destiny - that Quacia and Helice were bringing me down. So yes, we have now left, but given your advice you cannot claim I am abandoning the people of--"

"Alistair," the Lich interjected. "You never should have conquered them. I know you killed very few, but -- what was the point? Did you really ever intend to actually linger upon some southern archipelago as an Island Lord for the rest of your life? No... you knew that wasn't enough for you; that even Quacia would not have been enough for you. Gods, even Rynmere would likely not be enough for you. So why waste your time, and tug along at the dreams of others only to lay them around you, discarded? You must focus - focus yourself, and focus others around you. Where are we going now? And why? What do we intend to do?"

"To... Gauthrel," Alistair began to reply. "To return home, for a while. And to meet with Kaelrik's family; to offer Kleine and the others some reprieve. Peace, rather than what I have given everyone of late."

"Peace?" Damien asked. "You do not know it, and neither do I. It is yet another waste of time -- we should endeavor, instead, to cut through the West... to return to Etzos and seek out our resources within that realm. Though we would have a great deal more if you hadn't abandoned your budding relations with Vuda. If you had betrayed Al'Angryl as he'd asked--"

"I don't need such lectures, Damien," the mage softly replied. He was not his same, outspoken self. Instead, he appeared tired and frustrated, with no intent to carry on such a conversation. "But perhaps you're right. Though I don't know what we'd possibly find there. That place is like Quacia; slum, filth and degradation. Just without the Creep... for now."
word count: 603
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Alistair
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Re: Stones

The two continued to speak, and amidst the process Alistair continued to focus his ether into an etheric stone, attempting to materialize the defunct reality into an actual physical manifestation. It was difficult, though, even with his understanding of ether - in many ways it was a form of alteration of reality, a difficult concept for any mage outside of the limited principles of their craft.

"We can cull and re-purpose Rosenthal. With you as you are now, I'm certain you and I could clear out that base of operations. Then, we could utilize it as a facility and war-room to stage our next steps in Rynmere. We could consolidate rogue Coven members and remnants of the Seekers, as well as the Travelers you currently have and any interested Etzori magisters. You cling to this idea that Quacia is the end-all of magic, but Etzos tolerates the arcane to a similar degree, and with a much wider pool of people to pull from. We could form an ethereal force and bear down upon the Cassandrian regime. If you are so prepared to utilize violence to achieve your necessary gains, I don't understand why we don't do so for something more impactful."

Strategy - again. Damien had grown a sudden fondness for tactics and logistics of late, obsessively prattling over how Rynmere needed to be sought after rather than whatever 'meaningless' venture Alistair sought in his pursuit of a free existence.

He had become obsessed, perhaps due to the shame of being thrown from Murdoch an Keene and being made to follow Alistair around as a side-kick rather than a man with his own purpose. As the mage finally crafted an Ezymite well between the tips of his two fingers, he nodded in understanding of the Lich's deep frustrations. In many ways, he shared them, for he had always felt he had an inability to ever apply his power to some sort of purpose or change. Instead, Alistair was forced to wander much as Damien was, filled with insight and a wealth of magical knowledge yet with nothing good to bring forth into existence.

Only, truly, loss and pain.

"Perhaps," he said, pocketing the Ezymite well and brushing past the Lich in order to stand at the deck. Damien followed him, somewhat irritated, and the conversation continued.

"Perhaps we will go to Etzos," Alistair said. "But Gauthrel... I want to go back, Damien," he whispered as he stared out at the sea. "It's not all about their happiness -- the millions of masses that I'm as likely to fail as I am to save. It's also about my own. Do you remember that fact, old friend of mine?"
word count: 455
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Kasoria
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Re: Stones

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Name: Baba

Points awarded: 10 points, can be used for Transmutation

Knowledge:
Transmutation: Well-Craft
Transmutation: Well-Craft: Ezymite

Notes:
Blah de blah, your shit rocks, bloo be bloo, enjoy your weird-ass magical real estate and danke schon for the further instruction on wells and whatnot. But seriously folks, very, VERY interesting reading about the thoughts and ambitions and conflicts of a man at Ali's level. I love Damien already: he has the cold blood of an enforcer yet the paternal concern a true adviser needs. This was almost like reading a Warhammer novel, seeing the Dark Lord being questioned (politely) by his liche underling lol

Been a whole since I read roleplays unfolding at this level. I look forward to more. And watch ya step around my hood, muhfucka. Kas is coming home, too. ;)

If you have any questions, comments or concerns in regards to this review, feel free to PM.
word count: 156

Appearance

  • Habitually dressed in boots, breeches, tunic, and cloak.
  • Long hair down to the shoulders, usually swept back or in a rough ponytail
  • Prefers a trimmed beard and mustache

Mutations

  • Star-shaped scar on each palm.
  • Air around him seems to thicken and become more turbulent the closer a person gets to him.
  • Pitch black eyes, from tear ducts to the pupils.
  • Arms from shoulder to palms appear as if heavy chains are wrapped around them.
  • Wisps of black smoke constantly drifts around his body, forming the rough outline of a cloak. The more agitated he becomes, the thicker the layers get.
    Note: the torch-motif medallion Kasoria wears negates the visible effects of this mutation.
  • Roughly circular pattern across breastbone, constantly transforming, and resettling
  • Sunken, closed eyes in the back of hands; they open when stared at
  • Skin takes on the tone and quality of whatever material he's just Transmuted
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