Location: The Crossed Swords.
Interacting with: Keystone, Nor
The discovery of the Auroplumbic Transformation Sequence is a story told to every young apprentice.
The series of equations which govern the spell itself was useful in providing the recipe for the philosopher's stone.
As well as the lethal spell of Bigby's Midas Touch, which summoned a spectral hand that turned anything it touched into gold.
The tale, though often embellished and certainly the truth lost to time, each story goes something alone the line of this:
Once in the early days of wizardry, a clever, aspiring, apprentice sought to glean the secrets of transmutation from his/her master.
Though told the art of turning flesh to stone, or bark to steel, or whatever other tampering (s)he had in mind was particularly tricky.
His/her master refused to teach such a dangerous art, as back in those times, transmutation required powers beyond most mages.
Playing with the fundamental fabric of the planes after all, was the way it used to be done by rewriting reality directly.
The clever apprentice however wrote upon his/her mentor's writing desk half of an equation (s)he derived in her studies.
Though simple, it was a novel approach that the master mistook for the elder's own and by the time the master finished it.
The apprentice had already turned his/her master to a statue made of gold, inheriting all that the cautious wizard never gave him/her.
Thus, the lesson imparted here is not of the apprentice's treachery, but how to...
Offer Lead to Obtain Gold.
"Hrmph." Thomas shook his head, what did information did they know that the enemy didn't already know? Shutting up and not discussing the nature of the beast was a great way to limit one's resources and knowledge pool. Imagine if books were never written, although some technically were in sense black books which were cloistered away for safety or concern. Yet they were vastly ill-informed and lacked any sort of knowledge that could further discern what was happening, so unless someone has had a divine vision or began talking to the dead, there was no harm in letting people know just how little they knew. Conjecture and guesses, nothing shy of speculation, pooling an offered tidbit to see if anyone cared to pick up on the dangle. But some people had their secrets, and preferred to keep them that Thomas guessed, Kyra might be screaming and slamming her fists, but honestly it wasn't like she knew anything more about the situation. Or did she and didn't care to let anyone else know? Where they all supposed to just leave it be? It's not like they discovered any crucial information, and more importantly, if and if someone had been listening, then they'd glean more information about the web of shadows surrounding their mystery in response no? Even if it means another tussle. And then it was better to cloak yourself in knowledge than scraps of armor.
"Didn't you just hear her outburst? I'm not supposed to trust you, or anyone else here who didn't come in with us." Thomas looked at Nor with a questioning glance. Like really? Did you not just hear the murderous arrow-thrusting girl just make quite a commotion? Wasn't he sitting at the table?
"Besides, I'm not too keen on Steak, or getting on her bad side, again. So if you'll excuse me sir I'd rather talk with our healer." Thomas tried to be as cordial as possible, brushing aside the dwarf's ill-timed offer and passing up the smorgasbord of meat to sit with Satilla given that Kyra, Sana, and Keystone had gone off. One after the other like a mouse chased by a cat chased by a dog.
"Um... Satilla, are we... Um... Are we okay?" Well this was probably the most awkward bit this evening. And there was a man vomiting up his insides over yon. Thomas slightly at a loss for words, given everything. Satilla was the group healer, and more so the only other person at the table Thomas could talk with evidently approved by Kyra.
"I-I mean are we, like, you and I, is our... Relationship, not a relationship relationship but like friendship? Err I mean uh, are we okay? I'd rather not have you mad at me, and if it means anything to you I'm sorry in advance..." A twisted grimace, hoping for Satilla not to bear a grudge against him. How's that for etiquette and propriety? Thomas could talk ad nauseum about magic and magical theory, but feelings, emotions and relationships? Despite his usual charisma the boy was a tad inept at casual social interactions.