Eventualities (Alses)

by **Thomas Cosa** on March 22nd, 2016, 1:17 pm

"You drove a Shinya guardsman mad?" Thomas gasped, loudly exaggerating his emotional feint. "Oh, wait, no. You almost drove one mad," his smirk so wide he practically snickered, "Please, Alses," he sighed, bored and obviously unimpressed, "Don't be so...post-Valterrian. Gods, a sleeping potion? Even if this potion was oh so particularly potent, I highly doubt the guardsman in question was ever in danger if all you had to do was put him to sleep. Unless, of course, they weren't that sane to begin with," the wizard shrugged casually, other's people sanity never having been much of a concern to him.

As he listened, Thomas broke off his spell. He strangled it, folding it against itself, let it bubble into nothingness. It was apparent, frustratingly even, that Alses was far too powerful with Auristics that'd he be able to see anything she wouldn't chose for him to see. There was little use to beat into her aura when she so easily deflected and detoured him magic.

"Have we reduced ourselves to name-calling? And we've only just met," Thomas pouted, his voice dangerously soft. His own offense warmed his skin to a delicate rouge, and he hated that his aura would be practically bristling and bright for her to see. He entertained setting Stranger on her, needle and all, imagining how silly she would look: a pretend aristocrat bleeding from the ankles, barking at him to stop. Gods, he wished she'd give him a reason. "Cautious and concerned? What a funny way of saying prude," he snorted, "And let me tell you, overgiving is the price for greatness. Oblivion? Please, I count the wizards on Sahova who haven't overgiven seriously or managed to somehow avoid permanent physical or mental damage by magic on one hand," Thomas offered his left hand for show, flailing it in front of her face idiotically. "And those same wizards are the ones whose names aren't worth remembering. I wouldn't expect you to understand the difference, of course. A real wizard, the great ones anyway, accept that price willingly; easily even. What's an arm worth when your studies could result in a new application of your chosen field? And sanity? Only the insane have done anything impressive. Only the insane dare to think their wildest thoughts a possible reality," He spat the words at her, daring her to argue back.

"What folly! Magic demands respect, and the more one understands, the more one should fear, I'd argue," Thomas breathed deeply, a pathetic attempt to calm himself. Should any of his students suggest such ideas, thank Avalis he'd be there to squash them out. "Unless of course you'd argue that simply teaching the city folk about Zith or Symenstra would be a simple enough remedy to their rampant fear? Or perhaps the city can arrange an exchange. Maybe having a beast here, one from which the people can learn, so Lhavit can truly start to understand their culture? Maybe then they won't have to hunt, since the people here will surely stumble into their caves in pursuit of whatever interest settles in their stupid heads!," he huffed, his anger well observed. It was more than obvious that he wasn't going to be buying Alses' argument today, or anywhere in the near future. "Let's not pretend that learning the basics of anything justifies understand of any kind, and of magic even less. You teach them, what? That magic is simply a tool, something for the benefit of all, and magic-users are only ever kind people who want to help?," Thomas' voice was hushed by his disbelief, incapable of understanding this dazzling creature or her opinion. Not that he tried very hard.

"It sounds to me like this city's mage populace is hardly anything more than children pretending at wizardry," he decided, a sudden passion overcoming him. Oh, yes, he would teach readily. If only to wash the masses of their idiotic notions of magic. No one would leave his classroom believing such ludicrousy. Perhaps Avalis had shown him here, to save these people from themselves.

"Who saw me worthy? Avalis herself," he displayed his gnosis, dark violet and black glimmering in the sunlight as he offered her the back of his hand. "Zarik Mashaen nurtured my talent as his own apprentice, nominated me as an ambassador from Sahove to Ravok, and gifted me Stranger's body as reward for both my ability and my service. So, a Goddess and one of the great masters of Animation saw me fit for a mage. What about you, Alses? Or did you just wake up one day and decide to continue where your past lives died off? I wonder how many of them died in overgiving accidents, since the whole of you is so stepped in magic, so you claim," he added, no longer caring to negotiate anything with her. Still, she'd asked what he could do and he would tell her.

"What can I do? Certainly more than anyone outside of Sahova, I'd wager, or I promise you, I would know their name," he started, his chin pointed just so to make their differences in height even more obvious, "I've ripped souls from flesh, stolen memories from unwilling minds, and demanded control over life itself," Thomas claimed, a slight overzealous than he would have otherwise, "I've created golems that continue to be used by the CItadel, and with a master Alchemist, I forced my own directives on living beings. I known the blueprints of Alahean war golems by heart, and I've studied under the greatest undead masters of Animation. And what about you?" he asked accusingly, wondering what she had that allowed her the fantasy that she would ever have anything he wanted. Like she could ever hope to understand Stranger in anyway.

by **Alses** on March 29th, 2016, 9:56 pm

“Saturation is quite capable of driving people mad,” Alses replied calmly, not bothering to rise to an obvious piece of bait. “Particularly those who aren’t used to receiving extra-sensory input. The effect is amplified if it becomes total peripheral stimulus, as with an expert aurist, and amplified again if a master decides to play. The acute solution, if the source cannot be choked off, is to shut down the conscious mind before it breaks under the strain; hence a preparation to bring on rapid and dreamless sleep. But of course you already understand all the nuances of auristics and every way in which it can be used. Do forgive me.”

She looked skywards, unerringly aimed to where the sun’s burning orb was, seemingly entirely unaffected by its impossible brightness. “We fell back to Mizahar with our magic,” Alses replied coolly, distantly, her mind elsewhere, far and high above Mizahar and across a metaphysical border few crossed voluntarily and fewer still had right of passage. “So you may say Syna made us a sorceress. I have become the most skilled aurist in the city, and we advance the cause of magic in Lhavit at every opportunity. When the Anchorite – Zintila’s champion – was driven to insanity by five hundred years of life on this mudball and began killing every Ethaefal she could get her hands on, we were the one to put her down.” Alses was cold, and grim, an iron statue beneath the glittering skin, and she spoke of the death of a god’s champion in calm, matter-of-fact tones, a contrast to Thomas’ own bombastic delivery.

“We have governed, too,” she added, as though it were of little import. “In our ambit the doings and interests of every mage in the Diamond of Kalea, and the interactions of the starry city with the outside world. We have been into the stygian darkness of the ruins of Suva, and brought Syna’s light to bear; we stand as the city’s servant and bulwark. When necessary, anyway; we would much rather spend our time sipping gin fizzes and exploring new avenues of magic, but.”

She came back to earth abruptly, golden eyes regaining their sharp, hawk-like gaze and the bright fire of intelligence – and no small measure of enjoyment – burning merrily within them.

“If you overgive severely, then your planning has been deficient,” Alses replied dismissively, having just as low an opinion of Thomas’ views as he appeared to have of hers. “And your control lacking. Overgiving is the price of carelessness and pride; it has nothing whatever to do with some numinous quality of ‘greatness’. If you need more magic to achieve your objective, then store it up! Accumulate it! Recruit some other mages, even, if you absolutely must, but burning bits of your soul away is an idiot’s endeavour.” She smiled, suddenly. “But then, the world is full of idiots, and some of them get lucky. Most don’t, of course, but Kelwyn smiles every so often.”

Alses chuckled lightly at Thomas’ next attempt, managing to turn a derisive snort into something a little more graceful. “Oh, my dear sir, people aren’t unreasoningly afraid of the Zith and the Symenestra! We have some Symenestra in the city, as it happens – no need to bring in an exhibit! Not many, we grant you, but they’re here nonetheless. Usually as doctors up in the Catholicon, for some reason. But the Symenestran practices of Gleaning and Harvest are well known here, and feared for good reason which the historical records – and the occasional current crime – bear out. As for the Zith, well, if they stopped raiding the city and started to show some tendency towards civilisation rather than blind rape and pillage, people might not be so afraid of them. In the fullness of time, of course, changing opinion doesn’t tend to happen overnight.”

“A good, kind mage who uses his or her power to good ends is the ideal,” she continued crisply. “Of course people don’t always measure up to the standard, but the instilment of certain values early on seems to make it less likely we produce a psychopathic lunatic as an end product. It’s called professionalism; I wouldn’t expect you to have heard of the concept, of course, living as you have done on a dead little rock somewhere to the east. One has to make allowances, I suppose.”

She shrugged. “We have other concerns about overgiving that are specific to our kind – you’re a mortal; in a few decades you’ll be dust. Your body is already failing you in a thousand little ways, and over time they add up until you’re a doddering old man in a rocking chair, and then Dira comes calling. You’ve not got much to lose by shredding your body and soul with reckless experiments, whereas I have one body to last me until the sun goes out, and I rather like it the way it is.” She paused, and blinked, then, slowly. “Ever overgiven yourself, Thomas? Or are you one of those mages whose name isn’t worth remembering?”

Alses wondered, briefly, whether to tell him not to practise forcing directives on living things in Lhavit. The concept was abhorrent, of course it was, and she knew exactly which law it would fall under, too, but...

Well. Either he would be smart enough to leave well alone, or he would be found out and punished. Either way, Alses couldn’t bring herself to care very much and kept her mouth demurely shut.

by **Thomas Cosa** on April 4th, 2016, 2:24 pm

Thomas laughed at her, a harsh crackling sound, like splintering ice. "Oh, but of course. There isn't a real reason to fear magic, to try and detour the less than determinded from learning, right? We can all pretend the Djed Storm never passed, or that little thing called the Valterrian?," he only knew enough to know them both for wild magic, untamed and free, but still, his metaphor stood in his mind. If these mountain people pretended to control magic, why not pretend to control their beastly neighbors. "I would have imagined someone of your kind might feel a bit more sensitive towards the issue, Alses. Didn't the moon shield the sun, or her him?," he touched a finger to his lip, desperately trying to remember. If only he paid his mother more attention as she bumbled on about those old stories of hers. "Neither of them particularly strong enough to fend of the worst, and then your kind stumbled back, dumb and naked?" There were the rumors too, crying beauties stranded on beaches, adorned with horns. Sahova had only been too quick to take Schon from him when they'd discovered the man for what he was, and Avalis alone knew what they'd done with him. Thomas had been sure he was dead, or worse, and hadn't been in the mood to probe. Once he saw it, he doubted he would forget it.

"What, for all your power you can't see? Can't you glimmer it from my aura, or aren't you the power I thought? A shame, then, you can't see if I've overgiven or not. You wouldn't have to ask the question," Thomas answered, annoyed. Obviously he hadn't, but he was young and dedicated. Greatness was always in his future, as was overgiving. What kind, and how it would affect him was unknown to the Seer, but he would pay that price and more. There was too much he wanted to accomplish, and his humanity would only carry him so far.

"I think we won't come to any happy conclusion today, Alses. A shame that your ideas chain what you could be, you do seem like quite the talent," Thomas huffed, a deep sigh as he brushed the dead grass off him. He'd sat too long before he'd bothered to get up, and now he only realized how dirty his clothes were. "Perhaps if you change your mind, we might try again. I do believe this is goodbye."

And with that, Thomas carried off, not bothering to look back.

by **Izuyanai** on July 30th, 2016, 7:49 am

Secret :