Open Chronicles A long day in the library

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Severin Bellerose

Drunken Scholar
Elbion College
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Character Biography
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It has been months since the acquisition of the Áerdyn codex and the book has seen little to no time in the library of Elbion.
From the day of its acquisition, Severin seemingly disappeared from the public surface of the collage, appearing only to tutor students and hold his regular classes. And that one-off excursion outside the town he was practically forced to attend.

Deep between some winding corridors, through a spiral tower staircase and through some shelves lay one of the many dedicated reading places. Magic areas resonated between the desks and shelves, completely isolating the areas by sound noise for those that did not wish to hear a mouse squeak from the opposite end of the library.

A thick red book, open at the last third lay atop a lectern. Severin had a fair assemble of books at his side. Some of them including Madame Honeycutt's book on fey and demonic afflictions of newborns, Marcel Hillarious' Cyclopaedia Infernum, The Apocrypha by the name: The Lesser Letters on Demonology and some other books.
Plenty of them were bookmarked here and there while Honeycutt's book was only once. Severin gripped his hair briefly before leaning to the side a little and shifting his weight from one leg to another. The scholar has practically become a hermit, the only thing his eyes would see were letters.

Severin turned the page.
 
Selina was ready. She had been perusing the library for a half hour and had finally accumulated a tower of books. All of them on magical theory, history, and a few tomes on various other topics. As a wizard she couldn't use magic as quickly or easily as the mages could. She was forced to study the spell, learn it's every detail to the ninth degree, and then practice it and memorize it for hours on end. It was a much slower process, but in the end her spells were usually more powerful and controlled in casting.

She brought the book tower with her on a floating disk till she found a relatively clear study space near one of the collage teachers. The last book she brought was her own spell book, the most important tome of all in her bid for knowledge. She took a seat and opened the first book, a tome on ancient runic languages that she hoped would provide some insight into a new school of magic that she learned of called Lithomancy. She wanted to puzzle the mysteries out on paper and then see if her exhaustively studied theories would bear fruit in the practice rooms later.
 
If there was one place in Elbion that was the most natural-feeling place for a Dwarf, it was deep beneath the college, sifting through its ancient tomes. Mining for knowledge, one could say. It was here that he spent most of his time when he was in residence at the college, rather than out and about. He had few students, as most preferred the newer, flashier magics.

But he preferred the older, honest toil of runes. The study of the runes themselves, both their physical forms and the language in which they spoke, was one for the mind and the linguist. Then there was the true toil of runes, an art form and craft. Not only did one need to consider how to connect them, but they had to be crafted artfully and with skill. It soothed him, even in the challenge and precision required. He could set his hands and mind both to it.

There were others down here as well. Another of the professors who looked ill and like he had been consumed by the books that he read. Another was a student he recognized, and she too had books on the runic languages.

He stumped over towards her and peered at the book, fingering his beard. "Well-met, young Selina." He said softly, voice deep and rumbling, but not enough to carry far through the quiet stacks. "That is an intriguing choice of a tome you have there. What led you to pick such a text for whatever project it might be that you are working on?"

Severin Bellerose Selina Altas
 
Severin's eyes shifted at the two new arrivals, there was still much space and a little company never hurt much either. He briefly gazed at the young student and Maester. He focused a little...More so out of curiosity. Was that? Runic magic, of course. Severin wondered why it's still taught, as primitive as the art is.
Something unusual to come from a connoisseur of graphology, or maybe he just had an irrational hatred towards it for one or another reason, like being slighted by a rune mage in his early childhood or something.

The scholar scoffed a little and he buried his face into the Codex of Devious Illusionism. His lips moved slightly as he entered the reading trance once more.

there were still so many books, their meaning interconnected.
 
She looked at the dwarf looking over her shoulder, she whispered with an excited smile and a greeting in dwarvish, "'Kazahar, delok var' Runecarver!"
She picked up the book, "I'm taking the course on Lithomancy, the concepts are a little difficult for me to understand so I'm going over a few of the tomes you recommended for your course in hopes to have a better understanding of it."

She turned to him in her seat a bit, her voice still a whisper, "Are you familiar with Lithomancy, 'Kronok'? Perhaps you can help me understand it?"

('Greetings, teacher')
('Master')
(This is the dwarvish translator I'm using)​
 
“Kazahar,” Sigfrith answered with a brief smile. “Your Dwarven is excellent. Soon I’ll be sending you to deliver messages to the clans at this rate.” There was a joke there, but humor was often hard to find in a Dwarf’s deep rumble, but it was there for those who sought it out.

He nodded as she spoke, running his fingers through his beard as he considered. “A reasonable conclusion, as both runes and Lithomancy are linguistic magic. And while I know the ideas of Lithomancy, I am no practitioner and certainly no expert. It is of the Elvish kind, as theirs is often of air and spoken word in a way that we Dwarves do not have the same sense of.” His fingers waved through the air as he spoke, gesturing roughly before tightening into a fist. “Lithomancy is an ephemeral magic and we Dwarves have little skill with magic of any kind, let alone one such as what you learn.”

Sigfrith shrugged. “I can try to explain what you might be unclear about. But perhaps, it is best to think about it as reverse runic magic.”
 
She was thoughtful. 'Reverse runic magic'? Rune magic used words of power in the runic language carved into a physical object, at least so she thought. If that were so, then was he saying that Lithomancy was runes written in the air?

"Hmm... I'm not certain that I catch your meaning... Runic spells are words of power carved on a physical object, correct? Or am I off the mark?"
She chuckled a little bit, "Perhaps I'm not that good a student after all if I need you to explain the basics of your craft again."
 
Sigfrith held back a laugh behind his beard as she spoke, but shook his head. "Not quite. You are thinking reverse in a literal manner." He tapped the side of his head. "Magic principles function in the abstract."

He pulled out a sheet of parchment and set it on the table, pulling out a quill. "Any magic spell has three elements- the intent, the source, and the object. For rune magic, it is forces a quality onto the object to transform it in some way. The quality comes from the rune and as long as you know the runes, you can use them anywhere."

The Dwarf sketched out a quick rune of toughness onto the parchment before trying to tear it. "I have added the quality of toughness to this parchment." He waited until the rune lost its power. "But from what I understand of glyphs, they are qualities already inherent in the materials around you and transform it through writing. It draws the source and intent from the area around you rather than imposing it."
 
She nodded as he gave his example.
"I think I understand. You can use a rune to change the nature of an object, such as making paper tough... But a glyph describes the already present nature of an object."
She furrowed her brows.
"But if that is so, what is the use of glyphs? Lithomancy seems to speak of translating those glyphs, but also of altering them, redefining definitions assigned to objects. Such as taking a word derived from it or an abstract association with the word."

She wrote on the now clear parchment.
"Taking the word 'Parchment'. We could think 'Paper', 'Delicate', 'Brittle', 'Flammable', 'Cut', or maybe even 'Tree'. We could even possibly use the dwarven word 'Paprumm' and find a slightly different meaning."
She set down her quill.
"I know the dangers of magic as well, if not better than anybody. I can map out the effect I want when I write it out as a spell. Wizardry has all but a safeguard against errant spells, but if I use the glyph for 'Flammable' will that create a fire? Make the target of the spell vulnerable to flames? Or will it simply make the target like paper?"
 
Sigfrith ran his fingers through his beard as Selina spoke, listening. What she said made sense and seemed accurate. However, he was, as he said, no lithomancer, neither practitioner nor theorist. "Precisely. If anything it transfers a quality from one thing to another."

He watched as she spoke, making short notice of what she was writing, but in the end, he simply shrugged. "I do not know. You would have to speak to a true lithomancer for those questions. I know only the basic concepts. Perhaps Severin Bellerose over there has a more developed understanding of how it works."

The Dwarf pursed his lips for a moment and turned to survey the vaults around him. He had come down here for something, but couldn't remember what it was. Besides, any chance for an impromptu lesson was worth a lesson.
 
»You find yourself agreeing to opinions and thoughts that you would have never before conformed to. First, it starts with small suggestions that stroke at your mind, wholly innocuous. Slowly, however, increasingly transgressive suggestions from the subject train your mind until every lie from them seems like the ultimate truth. And you would have not even noticed the manipulation you underwent if you wouldn't have questioned every thought in your mind or had the willpower to resist. This, this is the work of a sweet-tongued...«
Severin stopped whispering to himself, his tired face slowly turned to gaze at the two, then at his book before shifting back at them.

»Lithomancy, you say? Isn't the librarian also the scholar of the craft?« The scrawny wizard mused, tilting his head slightly up and then around them to see if he could catch a glimpse of her, giving up not long after starting.
»Perhaps some study into semantics would do you more good. I am a scholar of Incantation and Scripture magics, a... related discipline. so to say«
 
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Severin curled his ginger moustache lightly.
»Scripture magic is the realm of the written spells, those that lie dormant until called for, their effects range greatly and it is an efficient discipline in the right hands.« The scholar brought forth a book that was on his person, he fluttered through some pages before tracing a finger down the page and stopping... » And as how much this craft could help you... Perhaps Madam Ephimem's The Secret World of Semantics would come useful in your endeavour. I have reason to believe that the two arts are related in this aspect.« Not long after he spoke the keyword, a book came flying, albeit slowly from one of the nearby shelves and landed on Severin's hand. It was a nice, green book that Severin offered to miss Altas.
He then returned his index spellbook to its rightful place, no doubt a light display of what this discipline had to offer..
 
Selina contemplated this, accepting the book.
"So, scripture magic is like the spells I have in my spellbook? I study and record them down with my own notation and then memorize them. I can't cast spells on a whim like the mages or sorcerers can unless the spell is a cantrip."

She gave an example of a cantrip, casting prestidigitation to snuff a nearby candle, "I can cast a cantrip as much as I want, but for more powerful spells I have to memorize them and copy them down into my spellbook in order to use it, or even create them from scratch."
 
Sigfrith settled himself comfortably on a stool and listened as they spoke. As he said, he had no skill with magic beyond that of the runes. Not that he lacked theoretical knowledge, but Dwarves were not known for their connection to the magic of the world and it was only the runes that had passed down his family line.

He pulled out a few of his own texts- ancient and forgotten ones that cataloged something of the earliest rune mages and he was scouting them for something of forgotten runes. Hints, clues, even tantalizing rumors would be sufficient.
 
»Some write magic to memorise spells, or to transcribe them, the difference is if the magic comes from you, or from the texts. Like...spell scrolls.« Severing mused, leaning against his lectern and lightly gripping the Codex of Devious Illusions.
»I heard children of this generation are interested in this topic. Demons and other such things.«
 
Once again she was reminded of the drawback of her universalist focus of magic. The many studies and expressions of magic were simply overwhelming when fully considered. But she thought it was beginning to make sense.

"Alright, so scripture magic and rune magic are similar to spell crafting and enchanting. And lithomancy does a bit of both I would assume."
 
"If I may, ring in with my opinion, honored Teachers? And fellow student?"

Focraig, busy comparing notes from his Cryocodex and the Arcanum he had found, was drawn to the discussion regarding the same class this... Selina had attended. Lithomancy. He had participated as well, to great yield and reward.

The black ice hovered still on his work desk, suspended by craft he had yet to dissect. Chill and frost emanated from this spherical ice, but no sensation was to be felt from the object itself. The notes on the Codex left little to be explained.

But the Arcanum had topics which... skimmed part of the truth he sought. And mayhaps the masters next to him could have clues upon where his answer lay.

Bringing the levitating ice in his hand, the ice mage introduced himself. "Rith'Equisid Aeonic Cryomancer and fellow Lithomancy student, Focraig'Diin. Honored to learn."

Settling the ice on the desk between the four, he gestured at its seemingly lack of cold and its levitating nature.

"This is a byproduct of both Lithomancy and my own ice." He explained.

"With the word named and written, 'Void', this ice formed into being. Miss Naderi said I had grasped a general feeling of the craft after a moment of examination. I am unaware as to what exactly I have created with this construct and the corresponding word, and would be delighted if I could find out with your help."

He rapped at the construct. "So far, while it radiates the chill of ice, there is no sensation from direct contact. Sense of weight, gravity, touch, volume - I know I am grasping it because I can see it. But touching it, I feel nothing. It would be like grabbing air, were it not for the fact I cannot close my hand. Give it a try yourselves, and I would appreciate any opinion."
 
Features shrouded by his hood, Alistair sifted through spine after spine, running his finger along the edge of the shelf in search of titles which piqued his interest. He muttered to himself, his voice more loud than he had realized. On his shoulder, sat Roly, one of his pet, giant cockroaches who clicked away as he reached into the shelf and picked a book on empathy. He grabbed a few more on innovative methods on conjuring and placed them in a big pile on his lap.

His arms full of books, Alistair walked over to the table where Severin, Sigfrith and a young, female student were sitting. The two older mages he recognized. Sigfrith was one of the greatest rune mages the college had produced and Severin an equally reputable master of incantations and the language in which spells were recited. Peering over the top of the pile of books, he glanced over the three of them, only to see a new face emerge, a mage who manipulated ice, by the sounds of it.

The young student appeared to be asking questions about the difference between lithomancy and runes, to which Alistair perked up. He would have liked to offer his own thoughts on the matter, and the chance to talk to a girl his age wasn't one he would pass up. Books in arms, he walked over to the table and carefully set them, stood and brushed his hands, the sapphire ring on his finger the colour of his eyes. The end of his mouth turned up and he smiled, withdrawing a hand to pet Roly as he scuttled across his capelet.

"I couldn't help but overhear your conversation about runes and scriptures," the young mage said, blushing slightly as he looked at the female student.

"I recite my spells vocally, as chants and songs," he said, his thick, black robes trailing along the floor. The rose gold trimmings glistened beneath the light of Severin's lantern, "they are the spoken translation of the runes which are used to write them, although much of it is my own innovation," he chortled.

"Alistair Wren," he held out a hand to the young woman, offering for her to shake it if she wished, "what's your name?" He asked.

As the ice mage offered the other to hold his block of ice in their hands, Alistair stepped forward. Chin cupped, he took the ice and held it in his hand. Just Focraig had said, there was no feeling. Alistair raised an eyebrow. It reminded him of what happened when conjured too much. His connection to the source of the energy was severed, so he could no longer draw from it. It almost felt like Focraig had overspent his power casting ice, so his connection to the ice itself had faded, but then again, neither Focraig or Alistair could feel the ice.

"When I overspend my powers in conjuring, I pay with my connection to the source from which I conjure, this feels similar, but then neither of us can feel the ice," chin cupped, he weighed the ice up and down in his hand.

"Perhaps the ice itself is lacking in terms of it's connection to the caster, so the way it reacts to external objects is dulled, that's why we don't feel how much it weighs or how cold it is when we touch it," Alistair mused aloud, tilting his head towards Focraig. While Alistair wasn't very good at casting ice or other elements of the natural world, he did know about the elements themselves. Chin cupped, he creased a straight eyebrow and weighed the ice up and down in his hand, trying to feel it's undetectable weight

"Try a lyric that enhances the presence of the ice, draw it from your inner being, so your connection to the product of your spell is heightened," shrugging, Alistair handed the ice back to Focraig and cupped his chin curiously, eager to see what the other mage tried.

Severin Bellerose, Selina Altas, Sigfrith Runecarver, Focraig'Diin
 
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They were joined by two new faces, she recognized the ice mage from the lecture but was less acquainted with the hooded one with the large cockroach on his shoulder.
The ice mage had created something interesting already with his craft combined with Lithomancy and desired opinions. She would have been jealous of his quick grasp and usage of Lithomancy, but such things were swept aside in her mind as her attention was captured by the strange anomaly.

Alistair Wren introduced himself to her and she shook his hand, "Alistair? nice to meet you. Selina Altas."
While she was a bit intrigued by Alistair she was caught up in the floating orb of nothingness. She poked the orb with her quill.
"What was the impulse you used to create this? You said you used the word 'Void' and combined it with your ice magic? Did you use any defining words? If not you may have simply created a ball that is literally 'nothing' given shape defined by your ice craft."

She took notes, analyzing the orb, it's apparent lack of substance and sensory presence defied by its existence. It was a rare opportunity to witness the total absence of anything in a single space. Such an environment would be perfect environment for testing and scientific discovery. It definitely warranted further investigation.

"Do you think this may be a transmutation of your ice? turning the ice from one substance to another?"
 
Nodding to both Selina and Allstair Wren's explanations, Focraig then formed a separate sphere of his original ice, an icy pale blue to its pitch black. Having it supported by a pillar of ice no thinner than a toothpick, the presence of this construct was well felt. Its chill and cold and presence of frost defined. That, the audience themselves could also sense.

Focraig tried establishing a connection, a link, reaching out with a tendril of misting frost towards the black ice. No reaction. Nothing.

The ice mage could only scratch his head in curiosity. "I was using the word Void, as a focus of my own mental state while casting. And... I did not use a combination of mine magic and lithomancy. The Ice formed virtually of its own admission after the Word was spoken."

He tapped at the black ice, then brought up a note. "One can say my craft could be a branch of this magic, as one such spell of mine possesses similar effects." Of course... him using it would diminish both skill and knowledge of his magic, requiring training to reattain the lost potential. He would not use it here, not for such academic matters.

"Or perhaps like Miss Selina says, I have accidentally created absence of existence within this ice itself, reflecting my state of mind and self onto this construct. I was using... Feeling, as my Impulse at the time." He explained, writing down hypothesis after hypothesis.

Willpower was an aspect of his Cryomancy, so there was a possibility the magic responded in reaction to the use of the word craft, as emotion was also an aspect of mental will and self. But why would the magic trigger reactively, as opposed to manual activation like all the times before...?

"I am tempted to shatter it, but as I am in the middle of a library, I am also loathe towards harming so much as a slip of paper." He added.
 
Selina nodded, "If you want to attempt to break it, I would go to the practice chambers and have one of the professors activate a strong containment circle before you make the attempt."
She took a small slip of paper and began writing.
"Your creation may have given me some insight into Lithomancy. If I were to write such a magic spell out... Using one of my own impulses, 'Daring', and using a spell as the target of the change I want to enact and then used the word 'Void', theoretically I should be able to recreate a facsimile of your ball of void..."
She held up the slip paper, "Does this look correct? I at least need to know how to picture casting spells with lithomancy in my mind."
Impulse: Daring
Base Spell: Ice Manipulation
Modifying Word: Void​

If she were to cast it now it would play out in her mind like this, 'Cast: Ice Manipulation, then speak the word 'Void' modified by the impulse 'Daring'.'
It was tentative outline, but she hoped she was hitting near the mark.
 
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The mage looked it over, nodding in understanding.

"Theoretically, yes. Should a procedure be applied in such a format, similar effects could be produced."

Or perhaps not. It was dependent on emotion, he hypothesized. Lithomancy was largely a... empathic craft at its base foundation, utilizing one's own emotions instead of others to imprint upon reality an effect of their choosing.

Since Miss Naderi's explanation included linguistic terms, it was not a far fetched tale to claim one's limits were simply of context, other than magical capacity of course. Dry Ice operated on similar principles, but their effects were more... simplistic yet profound. His mentor had shown it capable of reversing Death with but a word, like how Miss Naderi created that heat wave earlier.

"Shall we put to practice, next time class rolls about?"

It was capable of breaking the Laws of Magic if he was skilled enough. Or stupid enough.
 
Severin leaned back a little, caressing his beard stubble while raising his head a little.
The man had odd relationships with students, often enough they described him as a loathsome person, but in all honesty, when students shoved some sign of interest in their chosen topics and dedicated it in a scholarly way, that was an admirable trait in them.
 
Alistair shook Selina's hand and smiled, "the pleasure is all mine!" He chimed.

Roly scuttled down his shoulder and he patted him gently, his attention pulled towards the block of black ice. After handing it back to Focraig, he watched the other mage try to heed his advice by establishing a connection to the object that was being cast, but there was nothing. Cupping his chin in curiosity, Alistair raised an eyebrow, even more intrigued by the ice than he had been before.

At Selina's mention of the word Focraig had used to conjure the ice, Alistair nodded, "I agree with Selina, I believe your use of the word "Void" sucked the ice of it's weight and the texture we would usually feel when touching it," he spoke assuredly, mimicking a sucking motion with his hands to convey the ice being stripped of it's weight, texture and temperature by the word Focraig had used to cast his spell.

Focraig then explained that he had not cast the ice as a product of lithomancy and his own magic, which was especially curious.

"So you drew on your inner self when casting?" Alistair asked, tapping his chin in curiosity, "then I would recommend defining the spell by a derivative of your feelings, as miss Altas suggested," he nodded, then reached around and picked up Roly, putting him on his head. The giant cockroach clicked and cleaned his feelers, sitting comfortably on Alistair's head. Chin cupped, Alistair stared at the black block of ice, just as tempted to see what would happen if he shattered it as the other curious, young mages.

"I too, employ empathetic techniques when healing, although I siphon the negative emotions from mages rather than drawing from myself, which can transfer the negative emotions to me," Alistair commented, gazing at the block of ice.

Alistair smiled when Focraig mentioned that he dared to harm even a slip of paper. He was clearly a very gentle person, as many mages of the academy were.

"Yes, I would like to see what happens if we break it," he nodded.