[Ethgan'tor] Return from the Abyss...(Adept Sorcery, peer-mod)

[Tiyribi Andares]

~ Timestamp ~
The twelfth candlemark of brightening 45 of the month of Cryxatum, Summer.
Era II of the Celestine Mandate, Era XIV Post Fractum.
The second era of the regency of Milo L’Evienne.

She had returned.

There was something awe-inspiring when one took in the sight of the suns glinting off the white marble turrets of Ethgan’tor, something that recalled a strain of what had endeared the ancient Ke’trala to Phedos so. It was here that the Esh’lahier retrieved a sense of pride and purpose, ironically in the midst of anonymity. The city itself was known but not acknowledged by the rest of Telath, existing quietly in the shadows of forgotten memory.

But the power of the Elfs laid in their ability to remember what other races had long-since forgotten.

The ability to remember…that was a skill Tiyribi had lost during her foray into the oblivion of madness. Past eras still blurred for the young Elf when she attempted to reach back, though a great deal less often than they once had. Perhaps the skill of the Human Lucreatia had done its magic indeed. Or perhaps it was the air permeating the mystical Forest of Light here in the Gracelands.

The young Esh’lahier closed her eyes quietly and inhaled deeply, feeling the crisp air fill her thin lungs. Yes, there was something heavy in the air here in Ethgan’tor. One could almost taste the refined and delicate spirit of the Pale Elfs in their own city. There was something beaten yet defiant, weak yet victorious in its scent that exhilarated her very soul.

And it was here that the young Lady Andares had always intended to return. Here again to pick up the pieces of the life she had abandoned over two eras ago. Patterns before she had come to the City of Justice and had garnered the patronage of the Houses Yeranthas and Linalantava. And here, again, she returned, back to the city, and back to their gaze.

And back to Sorcery. The Elf smiled softly to herself. Yes, she had returned to pick up the art of Arcana once more. Though she may not have fully recovered the strength of youth she once had carried, the Esh’lahier had determined to once more continue her quest to bend the powers of the Plane of Force to her very will. It was the only way she could form reality to her own liking, and that, in itself, was enough to bring her to the far edges of Telath in search for greater understanding.

That understanding was to be provided for by her former teacher, Kyetrih, the Master Sorcerer in the employ of House Linalantava. Though the young female Elf had been out of touch with the politics and goings-on of Telath in the recent eras, she could not mistake the change in the city air at the upheaval of the Housal system. Details, Tiyribi had not asked, but she assumed that Kyetrih would know…and perhaps would care to enlighten an inquiring mind to more than just the art of Arcana.

She knew the Istimamen’ Selu from a memory she could recall. She even knew the rough layouts of the rooms. Thus as the Esh’lahier approached the doorway for her appointed meeting, she carried a sense of familiarity, as if reviving a moment long thought dead. In a way, she had indeed been dead…and this had become her way of returning to life.

The Esh’lahien words came slowly to the young Elf’s tongue as she approached the doorway to the classroom. “Greetings,” she called before her, softly. The consonants were clipped oddly and the vowels rounded, evidencing her upbringing far from the Ethgan’torian accent. Her pale cheeks flushed red at the thought, but it was inevitable. Charismean was not accepted in the city, at least not from a Pale Child herself. “Master Kyetrih? My apologies if I am too early.”

OOC: Let me know if you need any more details, but I think it’s pretty open. Should just be taking place in a typical classroom in the city. Kyetrih is a political advisor as much as a mage, but I’ll try to keep this thread to Arcana only. Thanks again!

[Straylor Leonard]

Master Kyetrih was sitting behind a heavy, wooden desk when the expected voice of his former apprentice rang from behind the solid oak door that barred entrance to anyone without either his specific permission or prior appointment. And with a soft sigh, he placed his quill back on its stand and momentarily entered Clara to access the various enchantments that he placed within his classroom.

The ordeal took several cycles but they were worth the time and effort. Nothing fancy, nothing obvious -- those were some words that the Master Sorcerer lived by. As a politician and one of the most powerful men in Ethgan'tor, he quickly learned that protection meant more than attaining power or position. It meant trusting in his environment even when he was sleeping or resting. That was key, as far as he was concerned, to living a long and purposeful life.

"Enter", he said simply. And, as if on cue, the door clicked on its hinges and opened slightly to let the lone female to enter the spacious classroom.

Master Kyetrih rose from his seat as soon as the Pale Child approached him. It was a sign of nobility, if anything, and the Sorcerer rarely regarded anyone worth respect enough to trouble himself with standing. "You have been promoted", he added in low tones, "Who approved of your Promotion?"

So much for warm welcomes.

[Tiyribi Andares]

The Esh’lahier bit her tongue at the Sorcerer’s question. She could keenly feel the red burn on her cheeks as a deep sense of embarrassment began to overwhelm her. The Elf was fully aware of Ethgan’tor’s attitude toward outside races. Most Esh’lahier rarely ventured out of the city their entire lives, let alone consorted as often and much as Tiyribi had had in her few hundred ordinances of life. And now she was being required to admit how far her consorting had gone.

She was acutely aware that the mere mention of the Arconis’s Headmaster’s surname would probably anger and definitely upset Master Kyetrih. Life as an Esh’lahier within the public realm of the Aelryian Empire required great sacrifice, however – sacrifice that few that had enjoyed the safety of the white marble walls of Ethgan’tor would truly understand. The young Elf had swallowed her inbred pride and dignity on many an occasion in order to survive and succeed as a member of a misunderstood and mistrusted race in the Empire. And she strongly doubted that Kyetrih would understand why those sacrifices were so necessary.

“Yes,” she finally spoke. This time her blush had less to do with her pronounced agricultural accent than it did with trepidation for what she would say next. “I have been Promoted and taught the basic Adept skills, such as Unbind, Imbue, and Create Spell, at the Arcana School in Arconis in Enamoria.” And here it came. The Esh’lahier inhaled deeply before plunging into it. “The person responsible for my Unbinding was one Master Motito Gil’dae, Headmaster at the school there. I am afraid that…responsibilities kept me from completing my Adept training there.”

A slight lie, yes, but the young Esh’lahier wasn’t about to admit the true reason why her Adept classes had been cut short, particularly to one as keen and demanding as the Advisor to the House Linalantava. Thank the Gods Kyetrih wasn’t a Mystic. Her embarrassment about the lightblood of her Sorcery teacher was great enough.

[Straylor Leonard]

A slight wrinkle appeared on the Sorcerer's brow as his former apprentice spoke. So, she was out gallivanting with light elves. That was hardly less annoying than the fact that she was taught by one. Pehaps sneering wouldn't help the situation, but Master Kyetrih sneered nevertheless. He shook his head then sighed.

"So this is why you have returned, then?", he asked but the Adept probably knew it was less of a question than an accusasion. "You have come to further your training and nothing more. Very well, my pupil." He raised his hand and the door behind her closed abruptly. "Enter Clarity. We will see if I approve of your sudden advancement. Begin."

[Tiyribi Andares]

The tone of distaste was evident in every syllable of Esh’lahien that Master Kyetrih spoke. And yet the female Elf was not much surprised, although she was taken aback at his abruptness. Kyetrih, despite being an advisor to the former Sun House of Ethgan’tor, had little tolerance and less patience for outside races, particularly those of Light Elfish blood. Politicians within the White City had little need to parlay with those not of Pale blood, and they had little understanding for those whose very lives were intrinsically intertwined with other races.

But the young woman was not disappointed in her teacher’s response. She herself had found it initially hard to swallow her pride and deal with those she would normally never consider even speaking to. But that very sacrifice was the reason why the House Andares had become known in both the Empire and even here in Ethgan’tor – the most successful Esh’lahier line in secular politics, and ever continuing their rise in power. And that was a fact that gave the name Andares enough pull to justify the attention House Linalantava had bestowed upon Tiyribi, to the point of allowing Master Kyetrih to advance her in Sorcery.

The questions Master Kyetrih asked of the other Elf had been relatively rhetorical. The student merely nodded and, at the command to enter Clara, responded by closing her eyes and allowing her mind to drain. Thoughts fell from consciousness as leaves drifted from their trees during the autumn as the aspiring Esh’lahier began to seek out the quiet understanding of the state of Clara. To focus upon nothing…to enter a state where all reality became clearer as one’s sense of Ara and Vis sharpened. This is what she sought.

[Straylor Leonard]

The Master Sorcerer watched on as the journeywoman proceeded to enter that meditative trance of Clara. It was a common sight to see magi suddenly freeze, their eyes closed, in hopes of draining their minds. But not all magi lived to reopen their eyes after that -- let alone cast a spell. This was the catch-22 per se of spellcasting. There, you have ultimate, raw power; but you need to open yourself up for a raping before using that said power.

Kyetrih sighed inwardly at that thought, memories of his former mistakes coming up fresh. He was a bit interested in his former apprentice's practice, though. He wouldn't tell her that outright but he sensed something different about her. She may not be the apprentice he once knew.

"Good", he said when Tiyribi reached Clarity, "have you attempted to Create any spells lately?" Another rhetorical question. "Perhaps you can help me", he continued, "I am standing in a room much like this." He gestured at the space around him. There was enough room here for a tiny library, considering the amount of shelves that were filled with books. The room only had his heavy oak desk and four chairs. The rest were either portraits, rugs, or other minor details. "Three thieves decide to pillage my office and hold me hostage. One enters from the door, one from a window, the other Teleports inside. Now," he drew a breath then regarded the adept, "What spell would I cast? I have no intention of leaving my office for I have something hidden here of great value. I have neither a Stave nor enchantments. I have a few moments to achieve Clara, if that. Well?"

[Tiyribi Andares]

Three thieves? Consternation drew itself across the Esh’lahier’s face in the form of a few wrinkled lines as she began to consider the situation as the Master had described it. As her level of concentration increased, her sense of Clara began to waver and the Elf found herself in a bit of a quandary. The harder she thought, the more difficult it was to keep the easy quietness of the state of meditation.

She released. Her eyes closed, and the Pale Elf allowed herself to become lost in the gentle flows of Ara, sensing the collisions of the Planes and the Arcanic composition of her surroundings. Three attackers were entering the room, Kyetrih had described. Tiyribi’s thoughts narrowed onto the sensation of the Plane of Force, so familiar to her mind. For a moment, the female allowed herself the pleasure of its mere feel within her mind…seething with power, pure and unadulterated, so ready for manipulation by a willing mind.

And manipulation was precisely what the Esh’lahier had intended. “If one could reach Clara, then I would assume an alteration of the Apprentice spell Force Lariet could be used,” she began to explain her thoughts aloud. “Using the threads of Force as a tie extending around the three figures but, instead of pulling toward you, one could perhaps angle it such so that the threads would pull the thieves together and disable their capacity for movement.”

“I am not sure which would be easier – extending the size of the Lariet to encompass all three, or creating three smaller ones for each individual.” Her eyes remained closed, though she didn’t put her words into practice. She had missed this…this feeling of deeper and clearer and softer understanding. Involuntarily her pale hand clenched, then relaxed, as anxiousness to once again reacquaint herself with the flows of Ara overtook her reflexes.

[Straylor Leonard]

"Why don't you try and see?", the Sorcerer offered with another flick of his left hand. Already in a state of Clarity, Kyetrih quickly produced three figures made of pure Force. The only thing that made them more visible was a complex alteration of light that made the figures look opaque if not a dull white.

The three figures took the basic humanoid form complete with a head, torso, arms, and legs. The first one appeared just beside the large window that sat behind Master Kyetrih's desk; the second stood a few paces from the door, as if surprised to see occupants in the room they were suppose to be looting. And the final, third figure appeared in the approximate middle of the two previous thieves which happened to be just a couple of paces from the Adept.

"We will assume that you achieved Clara before they attacked. You have a moment to cast whatever spell you wish -- however you wish it", he waved his hand dismissingly and proceeded to move away from the fray. With his hands crossed beffore his chest, he found a spot near a corner and watched his former apprentice mold any spell she deemed fit for the situation.

[Tiyribi Andares]

So the Master wanted experimentation. That, Tiyribi supposed, was the difference between an Apprentice Arcanist and an Adept – the ability to manipulate and alter what appeared to be “set” boundaries according to one’s will. It was innovation, invention, and adaptation. The more formulaic side of the female Esh’lahier rebelled at the thought; thus far, her Sorcery teachers had insisted on a rather rigid regiment of Arcane techniques and imparted spells. Yet now Kyetrih was insisting that the aspiring Sorceress experiment.

Unconsciously the Pale Elf chewed on her lower lip as she thought. Her eyes flickered open in time to watch the formation of Kyetrih’s figures of Force, her mind registering a measure of amazement at the effortlessness of their appearance. To imagine the gap between herself and the Advisor, and then to the common Unbound populace? The thought was humbling.

Her concentration faltered at the appearance of the thoughts. The Esh’lahier waved her hand, as if to brush them away from her consciousness and maintain her gentle hold on Clara. Now her mind narrowed, pulling itself into the sense of the world of the Arcane and Focusing upon the all-too-familiar Plane of Force, the source of power for those in the art of Sorcery. The brightly-colored swirls blew past the Elf as she began to Channel the energy sparking throughout the Plane, bringing it into contact with her own Vis and allowing it to mix.

Now, to shape it into something useful. The Elf, through the fingers of her mind, began to push and pull the energy she had gathered with the techniques of Evocation, to pull out pull energy. Alteration began to braid the threads of mana into the shape of a rope, stretching and pulling itself out into an elongated form. She attempted to cut the single thread into three separate circles, bending them but still allowing the energy to pulsate through their strands. Pulling upon all her strength as an unbound Adept, the Esh’lahier chose her third technique to be Abjuration, manipulating the Force braids to grant them movement.

Then she released. She let the spell crash into the Material Plane as she attempted to aim one strand at each of the figures, her mind alert in aiming her spell in three different directions toward Kyetrih’s creations as her alteration of the spell Force Lariet took shape.

[Straylor Leonard]

Master Kyetrih's eyes narrowed as he allowed his mind to enter Clara once more to study his former apprentice's spellcasting at a deeper level. It was one thing to see spellcasting with one's eyes, but to see it at work with the mind's eyes is to understand its caster's personality, their strengths, their weaknesses.

Focusing on her task, the Adept commanded her essence with all her experience and training -- first evoking a suitable amount before altering the Force essence into strands that intertwined for added strength; the final touch required abjuration for movement -- a worthy addition in the eyes of the Master Sorcerer, though he'd never openly admit it.

When released the Journeywoman would witness her creation first hand --appearing as a near-invisible rope about twice the width of a man's arm. It ripped through the air like a giant snake, attacking the closest figure before continuing forward to chase and destroy the other two with surprising speed and accuracy.

"Decent", her teacher merely said before approaching his desk and sitting behind it, "Too much like Force Lariat, however. Accuracy is of great importance here so should these thieves have been agile, you could have missed. Remember, simplicity is key. Instead of making one 'rope', you could have forged three for instance, and have them act as a sword, or spear. Simple. Accurate. No fancy movements necessary. Understand?"

"But still", he continued without allowing much time for the Adept to reply, "you have shown control and confidence with our sphere. Perhaps you will be worthy of your title soon enough, Adept Andares. Now, your spell list, I believe is in order. I have little faith in the standard spell list that many schools seem to find useful. Though there are a few spells in there that are, by tradition, stepping stones. One such spell is Teleport. Please cast it when you are ready. I suggest Teleporting to any place you can fetch me a glass of fine white wine. Then Teleport back here please."

[Tiyribi Andares]

Nodding in mute agreement, the female Esh’lahier took her teacher’s criticism with the quiet restraint that defined her, face showing nothing more than acceptance. She knew well her weaknesses; she was not a creative mind, nor was she inventive or innovative. Her mind instead sought to define and understand the rules already in place, and from there worked out what she predicted to be the most efficient and pragmatic path. She manipulated what was already set and rarely deviated from the accepted custom.

Thus it was hard for Tiyribi to truly understand how to blend imagination in with her spellcasting, despite her promotion and her continuance of study. She wasn’t keen on improvisation. She preferred careful planning and weighing of options and consequences. It made her a consummate politician but a poor artist. She could foresee a possible chain of events, but could not create a spell very far from the basics that had been Imparted to her from teachers before.

Her fingers planed softly against the cloth of her dress as she rolled her lips inward, thinking. Kyetrih seemed content to move on with their lessons and forget her rather poor showing of her lack of creativity. She nodded as the Master Sorcerer explained his next task and immediately began considering her next spellcast. Her hold on the state of Clara had broken as her mind concentrated on Kyetrih’s words, but she quickly began to perform the practice of Meditation to reach it again.

“White wine,” she softly repeated as her eyes closed, focusing quietly on the world of the Arcane with its twisting and swirling masses of Ara. Teleport. She knew the meaning of the word, but not the spell. The realm of Sorcery was concerned with the understanding and manipulation of Force. Thus such pure, raw power should be able to bend the laws that governed basic motion and physical mechanics. Sorcery fought against the limitations of both space and time, and for this, Tiyribi would have to defeat both.

She felt her mind slip into the grasp of Clara with the familiar habit of one who had met the Arcane ordinances past. She began to Focus upon the Plane of Force and Channel its surging strands toward her, mixing it quickly with her own personal store of Vis. Gathering a larger amount of Essence than she would typically take for a lower level spell, the Esh’lahier Abjured the energy to force it to go in a directed motion, letting the pure nature of Force remain to make it energetic while manipulating it around herself, intending to allow it to propel her outside the Istimamen’ Selu to a small tavern she knew was a few blocks down the street.

[Straylor Leonard]

In truth, Teleport was not a difficult spell. Kyetrih occasionally skipped over this spell with his students, maintaining that imparting the spell was usually enough. In this case, he made an exception for the sole reason that he was quite thirsty.

Altering and abjuring the pure essence of Fore, the Journeywoman produced a 'coat' of Force that protected her as she essentially warped the space-time-bounds of the Material Plane and momentarily altered a secondary field that folded the two locations so that they were at the same place at the same time, no matter how temporarily. Only a ripple of purple light showed evidence of her success -- one momentarily appearing in her Master's office while another burst inside the tavern of her choosing.

Several minutes passed, and with another Teleport spell, Tiyribi reappeared inside Kyetrih's office with a bottle of white wine in her hand. The barkeep even offered to give her a gree wineglass when she informed him of her teacher's request.

"Good", the Master Sorcerer noted, "please return on the morrow."