Dreadlords In the Eyes of Others

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Spring had arrived, but the cold winter chill still clung to the early hours of the morning, waiting to be warmed in the sun that was still rising above the treetops of the woodland behind the Academy. One's breath could be seen in the air, but the Initiates in the class two years from graduating were all called to meet here. A number of Proctors were present, staring at the assembled class. "We called you out here today to work on something you are all lacking in, severely lacking." A Proctor... no, a Dreadlord, came forward and took precedence of the exercise. "Personal training is not something to scoff at." He added, turning to pierce a few Initiates to his right with a stony look. They ceased their giggling, but the smiles were still present.

"Of course, this does not apply to each and every one of you. Some of you have made great progression with your magic... but some of you need to branch out and prove that your magic is not just reliant on one move." The Dreadlord turned to look at the Proctors, nodding at them. Slowly, they began to depart, leaving the entire class to the Dreadlord. "Now... without them breathing down your necks, I am here to show you all how you each could take your magic up a notch. I am Dreadlord Ophir. First Rank. The first exercise, I would like you all to find a marked rock." He gestured out to the bordering clearing just behind him. There were many rocks in question, spread out in the large expanse of clear ground.

Vittoria Larrainth took the first few steps to lead, giving the Dreadlord a smile that was without any actual warmth or pleasantry, walking beyond and towards the clearing. Many other Initiates wordlessly began to follow, and Vittoria did not stop until she was at one of the rocks towards the center. Minutes later, Ophir took to the middle of the clearing and scanned the group. Finally, his eyes fell on Vittoria, staring at her as it sizing her up. "Initiate Larrainth. We met briefly at your father's memorial service. I was---"

"You were in the same unit that got him killed." She finished for him, that same empty smiling quirking at her lips. "I remember."

Ophir set his jaw and nodded.

"My magic is one of destruction, like many of you would have the pleasure of wielding." His gaze drifted from Vittoria, addressing the class as a whole now. His voice could be heard by all, well and clear. He was an older Dreadlord, nearing fifty like her father had been. Vittoria crossed her arms and turned her ocean hued gaze to the rest of her class. Some of them could possibly do well to learn from this exercise expected of them, but she also knew not everyone of them would be able to survive. Times may have changed, but once they were out of this Academy and into the real world, she knew which of her peers would not be cut out for the work of a Dreadlord.

At least they had the choice of joining the Guard.

"See your rocks? Your magic, at it's purest, can be malleable. Some of you will fail in this task, but that only means with practice, you will be able to master it. Time will tell. It is the kind of task that sets you apart and see yourself rise within the Ranks of the Dreadlords. If you are a wielder of destruction, this may prove difficult for you." He looked at Vittoria again, and it was clear he was aware of how potent her magic was. The smile on her face turned smug. It did not budge as Ophir lifted a hand and closed it to a fist. Every rock before an Initiate cracked and crumbled apart.

There were many confused faces, and Ophir even let out an amused chuckled. "In order to work well as a team, we need to work on ourselves first. Finding the root of our magic and learning how to manipulate this in our favour... for this exercise, you are to attempt in repairing your rock. It can be done, and so simply... but there are Dreadlords out there that still have not mastered such a skill. Now, go on. Have a crack at it."

And he would not speak again unless a question was asked of him. He wandered out towards the outer ring of the assembled class, speaking to the Initiates there when they questioned him.

Vittoria crouched down and inspected the clean cuts in her rock. Ophir... that was the one able to manipulate the earth, she recalled from the many reports she had read of that incident. "Hm..." She dusted her hands off and stood.

Many others called upon their magic and stood there a moment, getting a feel of it before attempting to find the source of it. Some Initiates tried with their magic as is, and of course resulted in failure immediately. Bits of rocks flew in all sorts of directions, some broke into more pieces, or nothing at all happened.

 

[Grendel Strand]

Grendel Strand sat in front of his rock and looked at it.
He knew Vittoria, or at least, he knew OF Vittoria. They had been introduced once at a New Year Celebration when they were both young. He had longer hair then.
He knew some of the others as well but they were not about to think on the past.
They needed to fix a rock.
Grendel felt the damp of the grass seep into his slacks and bring creeping chill with them.
House Strand was not particularly gifted with its magic, it was a hard and practical power.
His brother had been able to make his skin tough as steel with a thought and his mother's ability to manipulate gold was legendary among Vel Anir artisans guilds.
Grendel had a different ability.
He took off his glove and held it over the assembled broken pieces.
There was metal in it, the red hue was iron but there were traces of other common metals as well, zinc and copper.
He oxidised them. Picking up each piece and rolling it over in his hands. The metals turned to rust within the rock pieces.
He felt the metals die, give up what strength they had and move around, ebbing out in dry little rasps from the pours and imperfections of the stone.
Picking up another piece he did the same and wove the rusted metals into each other, creating a reddish brown net of decayed bits that held the rock pieces together.
The process was involved and absorbing. He had no strong idea how long he was there but he repeated the process many times, attaching more bits to the central chunk as the net grew to hold more and more.
Before long he had assembled a clump the size of a small dog and was halfway finished with his rock.
A smile of contentment grew across his twisted lips. He liked putting things together.

 

[Sabrina]

Sabrina was in no rush to find a rock. Lessons did not interest her. She did not seek to be amongst those who considered them the paragons and exemplars of her class. Only her survival, long enough to score amongst the lowest ranks, seemed a priority as her glittering silhouette trailed behind her slowly before dying out. After several minutes, she picked up a rock she wished to curse at as it collided with her right foot only a few steps away from Vittoria. She shuddered at the look on her cruel face and picked up the stone.

Close enough, she figured as she studied the marking. A rock was a rock.

And just as quickly as she picked it up, the rock crumbled to bits and the demands of them to figure out a way to repair it began. A task Sabrina could not perform. In privacy, she would feel nothing but relief in failing a task...but in front of her classmates...Tears threatened to form in her eyes and she looked up at the sky, swallowing hard at her own embarrassment as she willed them to stay put.

The shattered dust of the rock fell to the ground and she stood for a moment before she could muster the energy to kneel before them and try, try to force them back together.

 

[Fabien 'King' D'Amour]

"First Level." What a fucking joke. Ophir must have been a hold over from the old days that chose to defect during the Revolution. That was the only thing that could explain how someone so incompetent could have maintained that rank. To be a First Level was supposed to mean something, and from what Vitt had told King of this guy, he wasn't it.

Vittoria jeered during the middle of the man's little speech, and King cast a smirk her way. Ophir deserved it. What was he even going on about? Working on yourself to work better as a team? Kress' sake, who needed this shit? Of course a Dreadlord needed to know how to be versatile with their magic. That was the first fucking thing that his older sister taught initiates. Not to mention, versatility was the D'Amour family specialty. Big Sis Eva could do just about anything.

King looked down at his rock, crumbled to pieces. He could do just about anything too. He just needed to figure out how to apply his power.

"Leave it to a geomancer to make his lesson about fucking rocks, eh, Vitt?" he nudged her and joked in a hushed tone.

The silver-haired boy felt no urgency in fixing his rock yet. He already had a plan in mind, one that would likely work rather well given that Ophir had been dumb enough to pick the woods as the locale for their little exercise instead of one of the training yards. Instead he'd been gracious enough to allow King access to trees. King could have his rock patched together in seconds if he wanted to.

 

[Cormund Augur]

Cormund was seemingly just looking at the sky while Ophir gave his instructions. In reality he was attempting to process the vision he was seeing of some Anirian guard he never knew taking a spear to the side. It was over some no name town Cormund couldn't recognize, and he quickly snapped back to the present in order to listen to the instructions he was being given amidst the screams of the future damned. He didn't even know why he was here, this seemed far too advanced for someone with his...limits. If Cormund could reach the source of his magic by now, he'd be able to control it, probably.

The boy knelt down at his chosen rock, having shattered in his hands moments before. The cuts were so clean, almost smooth to the touch.

"Like a hot knife through butter..." He muttered to himself.

He had all the pieces, so it wasn't difficult putting them together. Getting them to stick was the difficult part. He looked around to try to get an idea of what he should do, but he saw little success from his peers. One seemed to have been blessed with a similar geomantic power, allowing him to assemble his stone successfully, if not slowly.

Cormund winced, getting a vision of yet another student's rock exploding in his face. He hoped that one wouldn't come to pass. A yelp from across the group told him that it did, in fact, come to pass.

One of his fellow failures next to him looked particularly affected by her difficulties. Cormund was almost instantly mesmerized by the stardust falling around her. She seemed to exude an aura of it, an instant trap for someone as easily distracted as him. He came back to reality soon though, realizing just how long he'd been staring. Oh gods oh fuck he should say something everyone is going to think he's a creepy staring weirdo.

Cormund tried his best to put on a sympathetic smile.
"It's-it's okay, I can't seem to get it either."
He looked down at his pieced together but otherwise untouched rock, letting out a nervous chuckle.
"Although I haven't tried too hard, I suppose."

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

"Leave it to a geomancer to make his lesson about fucking rocks, eh, Vitt?"

"Useless talent." Vittoria agreed, turning her head to King.

Proctor D'Amour had taught them this lesson at the beginning of their magical studies, but she had struggled then. It was only through King's assistance, which further cemented their friendship, that she could pass that lesson. Now? She was no longer a child, was much stronger and deadlier, but she refused to be lumped into the same group of failures she no doubt knew would consist of Sabrina and Augur.

The mixed hues of blue and green peered around her, studying their cohorts. Grendel made quick work of his rock, but perhaps missed the mark when they were asked to find the root of their magic. Despite the alliances, as ancient as it were, between their two houses, she kept herself from telling him so. She was not a Proctor, and preferred to watch failures just for that entertainment that came freely with being an Initiate.

"I did not think we would have to do this sort of lesson again." She sounded bored, as if the task expected of them was too simple for the likes of her, but her eyes fell on King. "I may be out of practice." A lie, and one so easily told. She never tried again, nor did she make attempt at perfecting it. It had been a hurdle at the time, and one she did not want her father to hear that she was struggling.

But he has since passed. A dark thought, but Vittoria now had her uncle to impress. He had a son, a babe, but now acted as her guardian. Connell was more brother to Tamhas than his twin, and often wrote to Vittoria to see how she was getting on. Every week, he asked of her training and lessons, and Vittoria knew there was no point in lying to him.

Not when Ophir was present, and no doubt would throw concern on her that she was unable to do this simple task.

Across the field, she watched as an Initiate break past their shadow magic and hold onto the raw magic the class were expected to achieve. It had come so easily to them, and their looked around, smug, before being faced with the idea of repairing their rock. The magic looked as if it were an orb bursting with white light, malleable and shaping between his hands as he now tried to will it to repair the rock in front of him.

Fabien 'King' D'Amour || Grendel Strand Sabrina Cormund Augur

 

[Grendel Strand]

He had almost done it when his creation, a woven net of rusted metals and stone, burst into even smaller parts.
His wide head lead his great body to turn and look right at Ophir who gave Grendel a subtle shake of his head.
Grendel decided then that he did not like Ophir and looked about to what the others were doing.
Someone was... upset, she was hard to look at for him. Like she was covered in shimmering surface water. He cast his glance then over Vittoria and Fabien. Grendel had not met Fabien before but Vittoria seemed familiar with him and they were talking out their asses.
"You're both wrong."
He said in a voice which was both higher and softer than one might have guessed.
His hand pointed towards the Initiate who managed to tap into the purest form of their magic.
"In that form, even our magic can take on anything we wish. We can create food, heal, destroy whole buildings. As we are our magic is, tailored to fit but that, that is unmolested fabric. Able to be put to any use you can devise."
His small lecture over Grendel turned back to his rock and gathered up the rust flakes.
"It's been a while Vittoria, you look well."

Vittoria Larrainth
Fabien 'King' D'Amour
Sabrina
Cormund Augur

 

[Gallagher Grande]

The boy at the very end of the line, trying to block out the rest of the class speaking to pay attention quickly found his rock and watched as it fell to pieces in his grasp. Why, though. Indeed, Gallagher Grande was quite confused. Their first assignment was to put together…a rock? What skill did such an activity impart upon its participants? It appeared as though the Dreadlord Whatshisname expected them to all have a talent for mending things despite, and this was a rather educated guess, Gallagher believed, him knowing exactly what they each possessed in terms of magic. It was a rather sophisticated type of hazing, or perhaps not?

Having grown up in a place where the biggest worry was where to find food for the day, he didn't quite have the sort of built-in confidence most of the others appeared to possess in spades nor the mindset required to guess at the motives of their teacher. "What a pain." he murmured, looking down at his rock and sighing. How was he supposed to do something like this when his magic he couldn't even call on command wouldn't listen to him? Ugh, that instructor was probably trying to humble them in an utterly annoying way: experiencing failure. As some people groaned at the mention of their task, Gallagher believed he saw a momentarily smug smirk cross Ophir's visage.

Well, fuck that, first of all. He couldn't fail at this, not if he wanted to continue and save his family from spending the rest of their lives back in a place where one had to check scraps of food for rat poison. That idea ticked Gallagher off so much he began pacing around, looking for anyone who had made progress. Finally, he spied an initiate noted by their other classmates, the one with shadow magic that they had turned into that white, bright, raw magic. How had they done something like that when no one else had? He walked over and whilst asking for instruction, the initiate's shadow magic curled around his hand, their magic having been duplicated in a matter of minutes, no, seconds.

He looked down at his hand and momentarily tried to shake the darkness, but it remained. As far as his magic was concerned, he could now control the energy. "What is...I don't..." he muttered, confused for a second before the gears finally turned in his head. My magic is copying other magic, huh? He guessed, almost sure that was the case. He exerted his will over the darkness, sensing it's power. Magic without form had huge potential, but needed to be directed, if his trip to the library the day before had taught him anything. Jump to my other hand, now, he thought, watching in amazement as the simple command was performed and his opposite hand now held the midnight mana.

This was a breakthrough, as far as Gal was concerned, so he continued to experiment alongside his colleague. Eventually, he managed with some extra advice to wrestle it out of it's contained state and into the same kind of ephemeral white that appeared to be the standard. Witnessing his classmate continuing their search for how to translate the mana into a mending sort of spell, he came to the realization that this next part was going to be more of a challenge. As he tapped into the raw mana, however, he suddenly felt the pain equivalent to being stabbed shoot through his head, momentarily turning the world white as he reeled forwards and barely managed to land in a kneeling position in his original spot. The magic I used wasn't mine...is this the consequence?

Given he didn't even know how to control his power, he certainly wasn't going to gamble on the toll by overextending. Looking around, he was shocked to find most hadn't made as much progress as he, so perhaps a break was in order for more reasons than one. No need to stand out as the teacher's pet, not that he respected Ophir enough to live that role anyway. Finally, he spotted a girl who was rather shiny just kind of kneeling there looking a tad saddened. Even though his eyes still stung, he picked up the pieces of his rock and beckoned the ball of light alongside him as he walked over to her. "Are you alright? Y'seem a bit...troubled." he said, thinking that adding a note on the girl's shininess was likely not appropriate.

---

Sabrina | Vittoria Larrainth Grendel Strand Cormund Augur Fabien 'King' D'Amour

 

[Sabrina]

On the ground, knees now digging into the soft earth, Sabrina tried to use any one of those stupid lessons to aid her. A healing spell? Her hands glowed momentarily, but yielded nothing except a warmth where it had healed a paper cut on her left thumb. A relief from the burning, but not ideal for the task. “Hmmph.” She grunted.

A second attempt, this time at a mending spell was disturbed by not one, but two of her classmates. She glared at both behind a set of thick, black eyelashes. “Mind your own business.” She said to neither in particular- possibly the most unkind thing she had ever said to a classmate. Then, her attention turned back to the handful of stone pieces and she tried. Focusing all her attention on the fragments, they shifted in her hand- like they were planning on joining together finally.

And, just as they came close enough to touch- Sabrina cursed the gods and apologized. The pieces touched and immediately went flying in different directions, trailed by that same shimmer that followed Sabrina. Tiny little shooting stars. Two aimed at…Sabrina swallowed hard...Vittoria and King. One more flew off, far into the tree line.

 

[Fabien 'King' D'Amour]

King's face contorted into a wicked sneer.
"'Useless' is right. You don't have to be a mage to throw some dirt around," he continued to jeer, then met Vittoria's glance. He knew that tone. This was no real challenge for her, more of a chore than anything. Who could blame her? "Ugh, it's not something we should be meant to be practicing anyways. College magic. If I wanted to be casting mending spells I'd have fucked off to Elbion. We're war mages, are we not?"

Just then that portly Strand kid decided that their business was his business. King straightened up and turned to look at the other boy. He cast an exasperated look at Vitt, then looked back at Grendel just to confirm that he had indeed dared to interject.
"What the hell are you even going on about? Who gave you permission to speak to us, anyways?" King approached and casually flicked a finger at the crumbling pieces of rusted stone in his hands, using amplification to send a jet of wind pressure along and hopefully send the pieces flying. Once more, King sneered.

"Oops. Clumsy me," he deadpanned with all the sincerity of a con artist.

Without warning, a shining chunk of rock struck King in the side of the head. His hand instinctively shot up to the point of impact, a yelp of surprise and pain escaping him. His teeth grit as he inspected his fingers--no blood--before returning them to put pressure on the bruise. For a moment he'd wondered if Grendel had hit him, but no, that little projectile had come from somewhere else.

"Who the fuck threw that?!" King shouted, whipping himself towards where the rock had been launched from.

 

[Cormund Augur]

Cormund flinched at the words directed at him. A Dreadlord in training really shouldn't be hurt by such petty things as words, especially when he constantly saw all the worse ways he could get hurt, but he found himself sulking for a moment anyways. He turned away and tried to focus on his rock, straining to turn it into that bright and malleable form he saw a few others do.

Not even a spark.

Cormund took to looking into the corners of his sight at his visions. From the outside he seemed as if he was trying to recall something so very distant in his memory. He saw what he thought was Alliria under siege, A burglary gone wrong, and a little girl getting sap stuck into her hair by some older boy. Nothing of note to him right now, although the burglary sent a few shivers down his spine. However, he looked in the upper left and saw something more disturbing...

Was that Fabien D'Amour? Being struck in the temple by three shiny rocks? And being knocked unconscious??? Oh gods that's Sabrina's shine, he really should warn her. Cormund whipped back around towards Sabrina, putting up a finger and about to issue a prophecy, but he hesitated. Shouldn't he mind his business like she said? He really shouldn't interfere where he isn't welcome. In his moment of hesitation the fragments were already shooting off, and Cormund covered his eyes.

"Who the fuck threw that?!"

Hearing King's certainly conscious voice caused Cormund to lower his hands and see the incensed Fabien shouting and looking towards Him and Sabrina... and apparently Gallagher who'd moseyed his way on over as well. He saw new visions now, of amplified shockwaves and blinding lights and weapons being drawn and quickly unmade and Ophir having to step in and sending a stone just a bit too hard into an initiate's skull.

Cormund's eyes were wide with anxiety at this possible escalation and he looked back and forth from King to Sabrina to Vittoria to Gallagher to Grendel and he dreaded whatever might come next out of all this.

Sabrina Fabien 'King' D'Amour Gallagher Grande Vittoria Larrainth Grendel Strand

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

Fix a rock.

What a curious sort of exercise.

Among the many Initiates of the group, Kilien appeared to be a little bit perturbed by the task, but perhaps not for the same reasons as the others. Rocks were, invariably, already broken pieces of a bigger self. The toes of a mountain that had simply walked away from the boredom of being still.

Kilien stared at his rock, heavy brows furrowed, a hand lifted to itch at his beard. There was some sort of kerfluffle going on behind him. Pebbles and words flying. Nasty looks. He maintained his attention on the rock.

​

There was a litany of college magic spells he could use to fix broken things, but none specifically made for fixing rocks. Really, how often did one come across a rock that required fixing? Statues, maybe, but that was a bit different wasn't it? Art beyond nature. This wasn't art. It was a rock. Was a rock. Presently it was several new stones.

A bird flew overhead. A slight breeze gusted through the clearing. Earthworms burrowed beneath, clouds passed above. Kilien prodded his broken rock.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

A dainty hand went to inspect the back of her head, turning as her ocean hues fell on no blood at her fingers, just a dull ache. Those same eyes fell on Sabrina, as if she had witnessed the girl doing it. Of course, everyone else gave a wide berth of Vittoria and King, but there was that telltale paleness to Sabrina that made her so sure she had been responsible.

Technically, this was a lesson, during appropriate hours she could remove her nullifying cuffs at her wrists. The runes etched in them seemed to fade, and Vittoria knew she could wield a partial strength of her decimation magic. A lesson was being taught here, but there were only a few that were not actively paying attention to the First Rank Dreadlord running the session.

"Of course I am well." Vittoria ignored Sabrina and the other runts, giving Grendel a joyless smile. "I just wish they stopped lumping those with elite control of magic with those that should be dead already. Guess the revolution is a blessing for some." As she spoke, she slipped the cuffs off of her wrists, pocketing them into her coat.

Amusement now coloured her facade, widening her smile as she glanced at King. "Oh, I suppose he deserves that. After all, he said we were wrong."

Without her cuffs, her magic was no longer suppressed, and in a flexing move to test it, every rock and crumble cracked into smaller pieces. Her own and King's were left untouched, grinning at her friend at the show of control she exercised.

Ophir watched the Initiate from afar, not moving to discipline her. That was not what he was here for today, and there were Initiates keen on his instruction. Kress, they were going to need all the help they could get if they were putting up with the Larrainth girl and D'Amour boy.

"Take your time, the smaller pieces are a hurdle but your magic can form it all back together."

 

[Grendel Strand]

"You ARE wrong."
Grendel reinforced, unphased by Fabien's childish retort.
He outstretched his hand and gathered the rust dust into a tight clump in the palm of his hand.
"Is there anything more to you than hot air D' Amour?"
Then his rock crumbled to further bits and he knew Vittoria was showing off. Which was entirely beneath her.
Standing up he was like a boulder that grew legs and placing himself in front of Fabien and Vittoria with his grass stains on his wet breeches. His scarred lip granted him a permanent sneer that only added to the disapproving look he gave them both.
"Stop it. We are not here to prove anything. We do not have to. They know who we are and if not then they will learn without us making displays of ourselves."
It was a failing of some houses, often of those with the most power to not respect the structure that held them there and unlike these others House Strand had learned the price of abusing those that held you up.
"You're better than how you are behaving, don't sink to their level."

Vittoria Larrainth
Fabien 'King' D'Amour

 

[Gallagher Grande]

Gallagher watched with an annoyed expression as his rock crumbled to smaller pieces, annoyed that a snob who was upset about someone felt the need to take it out on everyone else. Grendel had seemingly been trying to give advice at this very moment and assist them in correcting their views, which was polite but ultimately stupid. His time arguing over nothing more than a discount with other people had taught him that humans tended to be partial to their views and instinctively resist others.

He also wanted to be annoyed or whatever slightly passive-aggressive thing the Strand kid was fueled by to say such things, but it would achieve nothing, he was almost certain. He had no leverage or superiority whatsoever, and no evidence and such. Besides, it was a bad way to handle things, or so his mom explained. “Be the bigger man, Gal, because it’s just that much easier to make fun of someone at your level.” His mother’s words had stuck with him since then, and though he had enemies, there were less fights after his attitude change.

The image of the model gentleman was what he strived to be when the situation called for it, all so he could come home and explain to his younger brother how to act maturely as well. He saw a bit of Frye in the way his stout contemporary confronted his tormentors without losing their temper. He sighed as he stood, still holding his glowing globe of light beside him as though he was trying to keep it from losing power. Something told the boy his student mentor would not be so willing to help a second time, so it was a priority not to screw anything up.

Upon coming closer, he would stop a normal distance away. “Grendel.” he spoke, completely and visibly ignoring Vittoria and Fabien’s presences. The “Elites”, as they seemed to consider themselves, were just puffed up attention seekers with nothing better to do than screw over others. It was undoubtedly a biased view, but so far the events seemed to track with his thoughts perfectly. “I think you make a good point, about how we don’t have to prove anything.” He said reasonably, taking a little breath.

“I suggest you follow your own advice and quit trying to prove yourself to them.” He said, suddenly struggling to hold back laughter at how formally he was speaking. The topic at hand was one a person should be cautious about, but even he began to think he was being a tad silly. Perhaps his intrusion was a bad idea more than a good one, but he waited for the consequences anyway, unable to erase what he had said and unwilling to.

Grendel Strand
Vittoria Larrainth
Fabien 'King' D'Amour

 

[Sabrina]

Who the fuck threw that?

The color drained from Sabrina's skin and she feared she might throw up the moment Vittoria's cold stare lingered on her. She was a dead woman. She held her breath as if she could disappear, but only seemed to make that annoying glow about her skin brighter and more obnoxious.

By some higher power, and just as Sabrina was mustering up the courage to apologize, Vittoria changed her target onto the fella with no neck. The one who looked more like he had been built with brick rather than flesh. A body that could certainly withstand the elements.

She let out her breath and watched as whatever rock remained at her feet crumble away into dust. She took advantage of their distraction to observe who all was there. And what poor souls were attempting to stand up against Vittoria and King. Poor, stupid souls.

And then there was Kilien a few meters away, undisturbed by the scene at play. She admired how relaxed he was. Worried he may be in the line of fire, yes. But his casualness about it all was something she wished she could portray on her stupid sparkling face.

 

[Yuric]

"I don't think I can help you here, Yu..."

Another Initiate had taken a cross-legged seat with a broken rock, seemingly unaffected by the commotion around him. Long, black hair framed his face, concealing it save for the strange blue glow that flowed from one of his eyes as he looked down at the crumbled mess in his hands. To his classmates, it looked as if Yuric was all alone.

In Yuric's eyes, he had all the company he needed.

"I agree... It's broken up pretty badly." Yuric lifted his head to reply to the tiny, shimmering shape of a woman floating beside his head. "Thank you for trying though, Lily." He smiled, and the pixie-like ghost that flitted about in one dimension of his vision took a bow and blinked out of sight. Yuric had met many ghosts since his childhood, but Lily was the only one who ever traveled with him, never leaving his side. The bite-sized spirit was more or less his only friend.

Not that denizens of the spirit world were particularly good company. To cling to the realm of the dead as a ghost usually meant you were holding on too tightly to life, or the regrets that come with it. Even the most rueful of them were often curious about the young man who could speak with and touch them as though they were still among the living.

"This is what they have the Initiates doing now? Fixing rocks?"

Yuric looked over his shoulder to the ghost peering over it, a ghastly pale and emaciated-looking man wearing the armor of a Dreadlord, albeit outdated in design. He'd seen quite a few of his 'predecessors' since arriving to the Academy. Most were rather crotchety, stick-in-the-mud types. The young man shrugged and smiled. "I suppose your generation is the one that blew apart these boulders to leave the rocks in the first place? I have heard stories about the Academy's old ways..."

The spirit seemed shocked at being addressed but nodded sagely at Yuric's words. "Isn't what it used to be, this place..." The words seemed to trigger something within Yruc, his gaze narrowing for a moment as he looked away from his new interloper towards the field of rocks they'd all combed through.

Yuric stood up, cupping the rock bits in cupped hands as he headed back to the clearing. The blue glow of his eyes ceased as he focused on the here and now, the living realm.

And the bickering classmates he knew so little about.

The Proctors had tried to get him to interact with them, but so far it had been a losing battle. Yuric simply wasn't used to being around anybody his age. He'd lived alone with his mother, speaking with only her and the spirits. He'd found little common ground with any of the other Initiates.

"What it used to be... Indeed. Thank you, stranger. I think I have an idea."

 

[Kilien Basmarc]

There was a healing spell created specifically for the use of mending broken bones and for a time Kilien presented this as a plausible approach to fixing the rock. There were maybe enough similarities between rock and bone that it might work if he concentrated hard enough. With an itch to his beard, and a curl of his fingers, the incantation muddled through his memory and tumbled as mumbling from his lips.

Was is men-dra or mend-ro?

Syllabic emphasis was everything and short only of proper enunciation.

He tried the former, eyes looking down his nose as he tapped a finger upon the largest chunk of his rock and watched as for several moments nothing happened at all. The furrow of his brow and the low hum of thought followed. Perhaps it was mend-ro?

Then the pieces crumbled quite suddenly and turned to rubble and dust. The eyebrows slowly arched in response. Well fuck. Did he do that? Fingers pinched around the crumbled remnants as he stood from where he'd been stooping, working it over fingerpads and letting it loose into the light breeze. There were always potential blow-backs on incantations if performed incorrectly and a bone-healing spell could result in further splintering - but full disintegration? He really must have botched the words.

Kilien glanced around ponderously for the Proctor, but instead found first Gallagher and then Sabrina, both having been dealt the same dusty fate of their own rocks. The sparkle appeared somewhat dimmed around the latter.

"Yours too?" he asked as he approached, oblivious to current squabble mere feet away, "Think the Proctor might be enjoying himself a bit too much..."

 

[Sabrina]

Her cheeks flushed a horribly embarrassing shade of pink when she realized she had been staring at Kilien and he had started walking over to her. Her spine stiffened and she looked up at him while he spoke. "Yeah..." She smiled, but the shimmering remained dim and she remained a disappointment by her failures. "He's just having a laugh with this lesson. Should know by now that we don't all share the same proficiency for fixing rocks."

She sighed and let the rest of the dust fall from her hands into the dirt below. "I think I have given up on such a pointless task." Wiping her dusty hands on her legs as she stood up, she continued. "If he wants to waste our time, I'll just waste his. I'll never be proficient in the things my powers cannot do." She sounded just as defeated as she looked. "I don't know what the proctors don't understand about that. Some of us just can't do things." Maybe they should just let her leave.

Kilien Basmarc

 

[Grendel Strand]

His great body went stiff, as if some unsightly thing was slithering just under his back.
With slow anger Grendel Strand turned and looked down upon the feckless weakling who dared presume he knew the first thing about who or what a Strand was. Added insult at the fact that this fool had clearly no magic of his own. Even at his level Grendel knew that each representation of a persons unique magic was itself unique. So for this pup, this thief, to have one that so resembled the first Initiate to actually manifest it was a betrayal of the concept of honest learning and the integrity of the Anirian spirit to achieve self actualisation.
Vittoria and Fabien were forgotten.
This little bastard held all of Grendel's frightening attention. His keen mind focused on him like light through a lense at an ant.
"Excuse me?"
It was the kind of "excuse me" that people who were not completely stupid knew to pay attention to. Soft words that held back a veritable floodgate of justified anger.
The kind of "excuse me" often used as a warning shot.

Gallagher Grande
Vittoria Larrainth
Fabien 'King' D'Amour

 

[Cormund Augur]

Cormund was calming down a bit, seeing his visions fail to come to fruition. It was about then he realized he'd been silent for a while, but everyone seemed to settle into their own conversations... or further arguments. Tuning into the conversation on his left he realized he zoned out bad enough to miss out on Kilien approaching the shining girl to his right about their collective failure. He was really interesting, another aspiring Dreadlord who carried a curse in place of actual magic.

He opted to chime in after Sabrina, finding her words to resonate with him.
"I agree. It seems a bit much to expect us to reach the very roots of our magic in so short a time."
Cormund's sharp teal eyes stared off.
"Having our other magic react so violently seems a bit far too. Could blind someone with how big some of these rock explosions are."
He looked over to Kilian who was standing just past Sabrina.
"We got off easy with the disintegration, some of our fellows will be picking sediment out of their noses later."

Sabrina Kilien Basmarc

 

[Fabien 'King' D'Amour]

Of course no one was going to fess up. Everyone else here--besides Vitt, of course--was a pathetic weakling, and cowards at that. A sucker punch would be the most any of these imbeciles could muster. Whatever. If he ever did find out who nailed him just then, they were dead meat. He ran his hand through the short hair on the side of his head, the blood trail barely visible behind it.

It was both Vittoria's jab at Grendel and the big lad's own comeback that pulled him back into the conversation.

"Is there anything more to you than hot air D' Amour?"

"Plenty more, you sanctimonious troll. And I'd be happy to show you exactly how much 'better' we are in the training ring. I'd be more than happy to teach you a--hey!" he cut himself off as he realized that Grendel had apparently lost interest, focusing instead on some scrawny worm that had wriggled up behind the mound of Strand. King gave an exasperated look back towards Vitt. "Kress, am I a fucking mirage today?"

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria's gaze cut to the Dreadlord now making his way over to them.

"I doubt you escaped his attention." She canted her head to one side, assessing Ophir as he came to check on their progress.

Ophir's blue gaze behind aged eyes glanced between them before addressing King. "I thought your sister would have taught this lesson already."

It was true, that Proctor D'Amour had taught one of the first classes they all had taken on magic. The fact so many in her class were struggling struck annoyance in her, her brow twitching a few times went unnoticed.

"They all merely lack confidence, Dreadlord Ophir. Absolutely no discipline or drive to be better than the runts they are."

Ophir cut his gaze back to her, lifting his brows. He had no doubt the daughter of a feared First Rank Dreadlord would have been any help to their confidence over the years... "I am yet to see results from you, Larrainth. You too, D'Amour."

Vittoria scowled to show her displeasure at his doubt, and almost the same time as King, Vittoria summoned her magic and watched it take back to it's root form of malleable energy.

They had done this before, herself and King, in order to help her keep control she had to do it the same time as her best friend. Her magic was almost corrosive to improving, as she had broken and molded herself to only take things apart. Together, King and Vittoria's rocks came good as new, and Ophir could only nod and move along.

Vittoria looked bored, turning to face King and giving him a nod. A silent thank you for assisting her with the task.

"Alright, enough talk. This is simple magic, each of you learned this once you came to the Academy. If none of you can produce what I have asked, then you do not leave here until it is done." His voice was raised, adding a sharpness to his tone as he looked around to the Initiates. Some of them flinched, averting their gaze once his cold blue eyes fell on them. "The Revolution has coddled many of you. How quickly things can change, and I bet you the many years I have served as a Dreadlord, I can pick out which of you would have been killed off already."

"AGAIN. Identify the root power of your magic. Mold it to fix your rocks." Ophir pointed at another Initiate, their magic manifesting as strength. Within two minutes, they too joined Vittoria and King in completing the task.

"Now, you." He came to round before Sabrina and Kilien, watching them expectantly.

Ophir could not help the stray thought cross his mind, how that he could only hope a culling could be made. He had no doubt that Larrainth, D'Amour, and even Strand would be amongst those victorious to survive.

All magic had a source, a root to it all.

 

[Gallagher Grande]

"Excuse me?" The edge in the other initiate's voice was unmistakable. Whatever they were thinking, it certainly wasn't that they wanted what he had said to be repeated. It was the type of question that was intended to be threatening, a common tactic among even the ragged of Vel Anir where any answer was to be met with an escalation. Well, any answer besides that of retreat. He couldn't quite do that either, though, because social credit was the only thing he could so far tell some of the more high and mighty types respected.

In the case of Vittoria, she seemed like an absolute pain and not someone he wanted to be on friendly terms with, but being blown up like his rock was even less appealing. Perhaps a compromise would have to do, then. His suggestion had been calm and though his wording was somewhat inflammatory he had only intended it as such. Now, though, it was clear (to him) that the Strand kid viewed himself as equally superior to those he was arguing with, good enough to look down on everyone else.

Suddenly, trying to associate with Grendel became a much less appetizing idea. "I suppose I said it a bit harshly. What I meant was that you too have better things to do than snipe at others like them. But..."He clicked his tongue and looked at Grendel, a bit disappointed. "I don't want a fight, so continue your argument." he said, having lost actual interest. They had come to an amicable solution for both sides, so at this point all that was left to do was exit stage left.

To achieve his goal of bringing his mother and brother so high up in society they could safely live without watching their backs, he would need to operate with a small measure of caution. His method of playing the long game left many variables to be predicted, but one thing was absolutely true: A fight was surely not in the cards. "Would you care to say something, or can I leave now?" he asked, just wanting to make sure he wouldn't get sliced to ribbons the second he turned his back.

Unfocusing from the situation at hand, he would watch as Vittoria and King easily put together their rocks and almost be impressed but then figure that five or so pieces were probably easier to stitch together than a million and one like they had left everyone else with. The Dreadlord whining about ol' times was now walking around, seemingly impatient with their lack of progress. His next targets were shiny girl and a guy who looked very rugged who hadn't been there before. Godspeed to ya both, and know I empathize, he thought.

Grendel Strand

 

[Grendel Strand]

"No thief, you don't want to fight me!"
Grendel reached within, deep into his well of hidden anger and pain. Farther into himself than most knew they had.
The core of his magic was the link to his family. His magical bloodline was metal oriented and metal came from the earth. Cupping his hands in front of himself as if to hold a ball he drew on it, the ground held the keys to many disciplines. Geomancy of course Allomancy as well, which the Strand family mastered but also Floramancy, Pyromancy and even, in extreme cases, Necromancy.
All relied on the earth to give of itself for something to happen and the earth gave only grudgingly.

The broken bits of his rock moved and were pulled as if by gravity to compile together in his hands. The raw manifestation of his magic was a dry form of green and orange that chipped, flaked and fell before succumbing to its true gravity and coming together again.

It took a lot of effort to keep it together, a struggle this peasant could not appreciate in a hundred lifetimes with his stolen power.
For a moment Grendel was one with the very planet itself, and the scope of such experience threatened to crush him but he was used to tempering his mind at this point.
He did his job quickly and within a moment his rock was fixed perfectly.
"You may leave but know this. If you ever steal of my magic, or that of Vittoria or Fabien, it will be the last thing you do."
To punctuate his sentence every other rock in the area simultaneously fixed itself as he dissipated the manifestation of his magic and a smile spread across his face that promised all manner of unsightly things to Gallagher.
He had good reason to smile.
Grendel liked fixing things.

Gallagher Grande
Vittoria Larrainth
Fabien 'King' D'Amour