You should be happy Sifr wasn’t there to go “Femoral Artery” and make Ciara deal with a bullet digging into her Barrier for the entire rest of the incident.
So, it still wasn’t able to bypass a Personal Barrier.
Otis wondered briefly what exactly the boy had been expecting when he confronted Ciara in such a situation, but the more concerning thing was the pocket of darkness that it created. She didn’t continue the assault, however, and despite her grievances towards him (entirely misplaced; the shadow-witch had dug her own grave), Otis was pleased to see her scramble away in the direction she informed her of. She had even responded to Chunji, who seemed to see the state she was in and moved to assist instead.
Troublesome. Did he know he was damning himself by becoming her accomplice?
Chunji, so you are aware, Ciara is currently wanted by the guards of the Iris Record on suspicions of being an Umbralist.
A quick message via his Adapa and there, now he knew.
With that 'itch' scratched, Otis resumed his work.
The chaos in the first floor was beginning to settle down. Otis reached into the arcmage’s Adapa through the connection she had granted, sending a message over to the guards of the Tower:
I will now begin to incrementally remove the bulkheads. Note that Ciara has regained some of her strength after draining two more students, and that she will likely continue to do so. Anyone without the ability to manipulate light essence and form a Personal Barrier should stay back to reinforce the exits, rather than risk becoming fuel for her. Currently, she is in the northwestern staircase, heading upwards.
He paused for a moment, beginning to raise up the bulkheads and allowing grounds of isolated tower guards to gather or separate.
The cameras on the third floor are non-functioning, so she will likely take advantage of that; I doubt she will go further up into the fourth floor. Proceed with caution and keep communications active. She may have taken other students hostage during her ascent, and will likely act irrationally, so do not engage unless you are certain you have a clear shot.
Another manipulation of essence through his Adapa, as he drew closed the bulkheads on the fourth floor. A barricade against any further ascent, just in case she did choose to throw away the advantages present in the third. Ideally, the guards themselves would slow down their chase too, get their equipment prepared and their last wills written. Give Ciara a breather, give Chunji some time to investigate the situation. Reduce the pace at which the situation devolved, so that Otis himself could continue running his own programs in the background. He rummaged through one of his pocket-pouches, unwrapping a ball of hardened syrup and popping it into his mouth. Leaning back against his comfortable seat, he gnawed against the hard candy as he turned his attention onto the arcmage who served as Principal Raja’s expy in this situation, tracking her movements.
Surely, an exhausted Iraleth could not surpass her in speed. What then, was she planning on doing?
Are you waiting for me/others to add to the collab pad? Or are you planning on posting that into the IC and then having everything progress via IC posts?
Aaaaand that's a wrap for muh collabs. What else is left on your end, Est?
A couple things to note in your direction as well, @Crusader Lord.
itselff covered in arcane runes and so forth, but for all anyone knew it was simply a cool-looking sphere that did nothing.
If the core is literally covered in arcane runes, and a child can learn magic directly from it, why would anyone else be oblivious to the fact that it wasn't just a cool-looking sphere? As well, to note, Althius is specifically a portion of the ocean, not a portion of land. I'm guess you meant the orb to have been found on either the Grand Banks or Agrovia then? Might wanna figure out why an elf was so far away from home, when Arrowfell as a province was never at peace and Aethera is on the other side of the map.
Might be good to clarify as well just how old elves can even be. You've mentioned centuries, but on the other hand, elven advisors from Aethera are literally only 30 years old, with Safina being the oldest known elf at 146. Also should probs have a ready answer for why he didn't just kill himself after being free of his 'master'. It was only in the last 22 years that there was peace in Arrowfell, so prior to that, it's fairly likely that a potent caster like himself would be thrust into the battlefield or find himself in a position to train kiddos to be sent off into the battlefield. And I guess since its a yapping day today, I'll toss up my own thoughts on teleportation:
Teleportation can only be utilized on willing targets in most cases. Exceptions are made for Mirie's Seed, Kronos (because lolPC), and the undead (they don't die from getting their MP bars drained to non-existence). This is mostly used because even teleportation near the ground is pretty fatal. Think about any situation where you just teleport an armored person into the ocean, or a swamp, or literally anything that you plan on teleporting people on top of to kill them.
Teleportation mana cost and spell complexity ramps up exponentially as you try to include more people into it. Set it to an upper limit of 10 people, for practical purposes, so no group of mages is out there teleporting armies into capitals and all that. Due to that same complexity, one can say that it's fairly easy to ward a place against teleportation, so you don't have people teleporting bombs into bedrooms for a quick laugh, unless you specifically use Mirie's Seed.
Portals are more costly to maintain than singular instances of teleportation spells, and in almost all cases, are simply not worth it. I'd say it'd make sense to have it be that portal magic only exists via using Dremora's Shade as a medium, meaning that unless you're Melisande (Kronos-assisted hijinks means the side effects are bypassed) or Evelyn (Seed bullshit do be like that), opening a portal is inviting in the demons. The advantage of portals, ofc, is that you can remotely send magic through it, and you can look through the portal before you step into it. Due to associations with Dremora's Shade, church magic can fairly easily break it to bits.
The nobility of Arrowfell have had access to teleportation magic for the last century or so, but its been fairly finicky and there's always the chance of teleporting to the other side in bits and goopy pieces. Only recently (within the last ten years) has it been useful enough to utilize for transportation by the nobility, but while you can teleport somewhere instantly, the mage doing so would be unable to teleport you back until a day later...and, ofc, that mage needs to be with you in order to do so. As such, when matters aren't pressing, it's more likely the case that nobles would travel to a location via carriage, while keeping a teleportation mage (call em a 'porter') on hand to teleport them back home, if there's any possibility of danger.
Guess in terms of rarity, you could say that the number of mages capable of actually performing feats of cross-province teleportation are more rare than Seeds at this rate, and it could be deduced that Ravenfell's deathlessness allowed them to work around the usual costs and difficulties of learning teleportation magic.
The Church of the All-Force in Odonfield may be a more artistically-inspired building, but the Church of the All-Force in Hathforth was nevertheless the more historically-significant building. It was here, after all, that King Ludwig had consolidated his power whilst acknowledging the need for that power to be used to the benefit of the people. It was here too, that he had shook hands with the former leader of the Church, an act that gave the masses the idea that royalty and religion were equal, allied forces of change within the province of Arrowfell.
That old leader of the Church disappeared when the regime changed. There stood only Potentate Brinyar Heavy-Handed now, kneeling in moonlight, his halo glinting like a blade as his hands were cupped in offering, supplication.
Duke Rhinecliff waited until he was done. The nightly prayers of the faithful ought not to be disturbed, after all. He cupped his hands as well, as if to capture a fragment of that alabaster shine for himself, as if a mortal could grasp upon second-hand divinity and craft a miracle of it. But the duke’s lips only parted to address the man before him.
“Potentate Heavy-Handed.”
A slow exhale, before Brinyar stood, and turned to his visitor. A hand came to rest on his chest, and he bowed slightly, his halo glinting in the light.
“Your Grace. You honor me with your presence.”
Brinyar smiled, straightening. The moonlight shone between them in the calm, empty church as they stood underneath the stained glass and raised podium.
“I wish we were meeting under better circumstances. Alas, I've been unable to make any headway with Her Majesty. Stubborn as she is, especially with her new-found power.”
Before Brinyar sighed, clasping his hands behind his back. “But I'll refrain from regaling you. What can the Church help you with tonight, Your Grace? Confession services, perhaps?”
“It’s natural for those who obtained power through violence to fear the same. As for confessions…yes, such matters should be kept private before the fact.”
Without waiting, Duke Rhinecliff strode towards an isolated booth, his fingers tracing sigils over the exterior to cast a simple privacy spell as he stepped in. Moments later, he heard Brinyar enter, the door closing, before all sounds from the outside disappeared. They were in an isolated space now, safeguarded from the eavesdropping of all except the All-Force.
“Potentate, what are your thoughts on the sovereign in the North, King DuFairre?”
Brinyar sat forward in his seat, staring at the duke's silhouette through the booth's screen.
“A man, as unfeeling as he is disconnected from the teachings of the All-Force. To transform your people into ghosts numb to simple expressions such as love or joy, it's a crime of undue proportions.”
Brinyar sighed, hand cupping his strong jawline.
“He's always had shadows in Arrowfell, but as to his end goal, or what he hopes to glean from us, it has remained a mystery to me.
“Why do you ask, Your Grace? …Has something happened?”
“His end goal may yet lie further in shadow, but for what’s most pressing…” The duke’s silhouette shifted, a thumb grazing his moustache in thought. “Her Majesty and King DuFairre have a history with one another. One that will see Arrowfell trampled beneath. You are not blind to the changes around Hathforth, yes?”
Duke Rhinecliff paused, giving the Potentate a moment to gather his thoughts.
“The Wizard Queen seeks to make a leviathan a weapon, to crush Ravenfell. King DuFairre has reached out in turn, offering a leviathan-culling sword in exchange for the nobles of Arrowfell sitting by as he marches his undying army southwards to take this province for himself. Due to the manner of my refusal of his offer, that sword is now lost, but there is still need for it.” The barrier between the two men glowed for a moment, before the image of that ghostly blade emerged upon the screen. “Odonfield’s records do not contain anything of this artifact, but the Church of the All-Force predates my House. Brinyar, have you heard of such a weapon? I can only imagine that a sword capable of slaying a leviathan is mythological, rather than historical, in nature.”
Brinyar gave a careful look to the projected sword, his eyes narrowing slightly. “...I'll admit, I never thought I'd hear mention of this blade again.”
A pause, before Brinyar spoke again.
“There was a time Her Majesty came to me seeking as to the nature of this sword. It wasn't always a leviathan-slaying sword, curiously enough.”
Brinyar glanced at the duke's silhouette, his voice dropping a note. “It was a king-slayer sword.”
He leaned back a little in his seat, eyes glancing up to the roof of the booth. “As I was told, the sword was used to kill the previous False King of Ravenfell, King DuRant. After the deed was done, light descended, and imbued the sword with pure white light.”
A hand ran through his silver hair, air escaping through his nose. “Her Majesty wanted to know how to destroy a sword imbued with the touch of the All-force. I told her a sword like that should be revered and placed in one of our churches for safekeeping. Of course… Her Majesty disagreed.”
A pause, before Brinyar’s eyes were drawn once again to Duke Rhinecliff's silhouette. “Attempts to find the sword proved ineffective, from what I was told. Her Majesty eventually gave up. But… how this sword turned from a king-slayer into a leviathan-slayer… I am unsure what King DuFairre did to it, but he is a rightful king. Perhaps the Benevolence imparted knowledge to him that I am not privy to…”
“It proved…ineffective?”
The Duke’s tone was questioning in that moment. How could that be, after all? It was common knowledge that the current King of Ravenfell had raised the banner of revolt and disposed of the previous despot. If she had known all this, then she too would have known that the sword used belonged to the undying King.
“Still, I thank you for such information, Potentate. I had hoped that such weapon would have been crafted by mortal hands, that it could be replicated by one with sufficient talent, but if it is a holy relic, then I shall not pursue that matter further.” It simply meant that more attention would be paid upon the initial plan. He wouldn’t have to draft an extra letter after all. “Regardless of its holy nature, however, it appeared that King DuFairre had no issues with getting his court mages to teleport it away. I reckon that the Wizard Queen would have simply used that same method to handle this king-slaying sword.”
Curious indeed, that a spell once considered the pinnacle of magic was now so commonplace. A pity, even, that the genius of Melisande was due only to the age in which she achieved her dimension-folding magic. If she had been born twenty years earlier…
“Moving on from that matter, Brinyar, what are your thoughts on Duke Willowsteel’s pending fate? Drunkenness makes fools of us all, without doubt, and his protests against the Queen’s policies have been vocal over the last year or so, but Nordor has nevertheless paid its due.”
A laugh.
“Unlike myself.”
Brinyar gave a sympathetic nod. “The situation with Duke Willowsteel is a sad story. A man so desperate for revolt he'd hang himself to see it happen.
“On one hand, he's right to feel and act the way he does. On the other, the Wizard Queen has to maintain her image. Tolerating an outburst… Well, if she allowed this to slip, it would mean allowing a revolt one step closer to manifesting.”
Brinyar shook his head, his halo glinting slightly. “Ultimately, he will be put to death as an example, and for trying to spark a revolution. But, it won't end there. More will rise in his place, I'm afraid.”
“Such an even-handed response,” Laurent remarked, leaning back against the wall of the booth. “Beloved as he is, I suppose one would imagine Nordor itself to rise up in retaliation.”
And in turn, that would give the Wizard-Queen reason to deploy the weapon she sought within Althius. Not to fight back the corpse-horde of Ravenfell, but to cow the people of Arrowfell into perpetual submission, for as long as she held the creature’s reins. The path to Nordor, of course, laid Odonfield, and she no doubt would exercise her privilege there too. He sighed.
Those twenty years were kind, but none yet possessed the capability to even give a peaceful life to single generation of humankind. All that power and possibility, yet wholly impotent.
“The monopoly upon the Glasic Fields will be broken. Potentate Heavy-Handed, I know of your own concerns of the region. Will you be willing to join my allies’ ventures into that garden, if only to elucidate the Church’s inquiries?”
Brinyar was quiet for a moment, before he leaned forward in his seat. “...I imagine you've weighed out the options, Your Grace. You know I'm not one for politics… but if you feel it's time, maybe not to overthrow Her Majesty, but to at least make her think of her dukes and duchesses… Then I, along with the Church, will follow you faithfully in this endeavour. There are many troubling rumours springing from the Fields, after all.”
“Thank you, Potentate. I pray that balance, at least, may be struck between the forces within Arrowfell, and between Arrowfell and the neighbouring provinces.”
The Duke held his hands up in supplication.
“May a single generation, at least, be born and die without worry of war.”