Dreadlords In the Eyes of Others

[Gallagher Grande]

"Just don't want to look odd in front of th' proctor. Gotta be on my best behavior to hopefully graduate and become a whole Dreadlord, so that means no fights." Gallagher said with a yawn, utterly unfazed by Grendel's display of power. It was super early, he had just realized, which was odd. Without the money to go to school and the like as well as his age meaning less jobs were open, he slept in as late as possible before nipping off to the library to read stories and textbooks. No, not the time, it was best to make sure he wasn't going to be the target of a very angry rock fixer at this moment.

"So. I'll take your offer." he said, turning away and beginning to leave. Just then, he thought of something to ask, a totally genuine question. For however much Strand hated him, they also seemed the most likely to give an actual answer. Turning around, his posture would relax. Grendel had confirmed that there was about one thing he could do that would make them eternal enemies, and at this moment Gal did not need anymore of those. “Actually, wait a minute. Tell me, why do you think I’m a thief? Do you understand how my power works? I think we could get along better if you did.” he offered, trying to explain himself.

Truth was, not even he himself had an idea of the extent of his full power because at present everything was just random. His conundrum brought to mind a little image, of a mother in a store with their children. While she looked around for the absolute essentials, they ran off and began grabbing things left and right even if there was no need. It was a serious problem, his lack of magical control, thanks to the possible drawbacks. No, he knew what those were, he had seen them.

One day at a street show, the showman had decided to do a few tricks with orbs of light. One of them involved taking a tiny light and clapping, which turned it noticeably larger. After doing this three times, the man juggled them, which was rather impressive to a young Gallagher. Thusly, he began clapping as well, which made the orbs much larger and many times less stable. At this point, something seemed off to his mother, so they began to filter out of the small crowd that had formed. They reached the back just as the giant lights exploded and left not only the showman but everyone in the first two rows of the circle blinded permanently with terrible burns. The next day, the two of them read it in the news.

A chill ran down his spine recounting the tale to himself, and he realized that whatever act he could manage to put on, he was far out of his depth.

Grendel Strand

 

[Grendel Strand]

The thief knows nothing and is disrespectful.
"I know because it is my duty to know. To understand what my magic is and why I have it, as it is for us all."
The real answer was obvious, each source was unique and he noticed that the source created by Gallagher was identical to another initiate, which he knew to be impossible, even the same ability would result in a different source due to the individual but Grendel felt imparting a different lesson was needed.
Humility.
"You steal what you have not earned, what you do not understand. The bloodline magic of Anirian's..."
He pointed an finger loaded with judgement at Gallagher.
"IS who we are. To master it is to master yourself. You cannot EVER master it because none of it belongs to you! You are a parasite, a thing that feeds off the power of others for relevance. I know you are a thief because I know that you are *nothing*!"
At that Grendel turned his back on Gallagher and promptly forgot that the thief existed.

Gallagher Grande
Vittoria Larrainth
Fabien 'King' D'Amour

 

[Gallagher Grande]

"I know because it is my duty to know." What you're doing is assuming. he held back, at this point just confused. His contemporary appeared to be trying to make about three points in one point, which just muddied them all, especially when they said: "To understand what my magic is and why I have it, as it is for us all." That literally has nothing to do with your prior sentence or the conversation in general, though. These inconsistencies did not seem to stop Grendel, who simply continued to rail at him like most who didn't actually know what they were talking about do. You steal what you have not earned? News flash, genius, NOBODY here "earned" their magic.

Finally, the finger point gave Gallagher hope this was the final part of Strand's tantrum. He walked away and muttered to himself, just kind of annoyed he had to sit through whatever that was. "...Well, he must really be new to this magic stuff, because my mother has mastered herself to a greater extent than him." Thinking on everyone back home made him pause and refocus, running through his mind the list of people he owed everything, those he would help as they had helped him, Mother and Brother and Kolin who played chess with him outside the library and became his first friend. They'd be ashamed at how oddly petty and distracted he was right now, surely.

A determined look crossed his eyes then and he sat down on the spot he stood, studying the orb of power he had, white like the core magic of the initiate he had learned how to drag out raw mana from. He took a deep breath and sighed, taking a single glance at Grendel before coming back to reality. If he already thinks I'm a thief, surely he won't mind me stealing a spot at the top of the class. With that he put nobles and harsh words and judgmental gestures out of his mind and waited for the inevitable confrontation with Dreadlord Ophir.

Vittoria Larrainth

 

[Yuric]

It took some time for Yuric to find the exact location his broken and crumbled stone had been resting before it had been retrieved for the lesson. Many of the remaining rocks looked similar to it, if not nearly identical. Even so, with one eye aglow with sight into the realm of the beyond and one peering into the land of the living, discrepancies between the two stood out as though he were crossing both eyes at a fixed point.

Rocks were not living. They did not cross into the afterlife when they shattered. This field of stones was fewer now that they'd taken some for themselves, but in the hazy realm of the spirits, all of the stones remained, exactly as they'd been before today.

Yuric smiled as he knelt down on the grass before the spot where his own rock had been only minutes earlier. Spreading his fingers, he allowed the broken pieces of stone to fall to the ground before reaching down to the empty spot. A strange blue aura enveloped his hand, and for a fraction of a second, it appeared to vanish from the wrist up entirely.

In that blink of an eye, Yuric reached beyond his own dimension, grasping the complete, unblemished rock that rested in the spirit realm, identical to his in every way. With gritted teeth, knitted brow, and a sharp tug, he pulled the stone free of the veil, and into his reality. Springing to his feet, Yuric proudly held the rock high, beaming ear to ear at his success.

"I've done it, sir!"

 

[Fabien 'King' D'Amour]

Well...he'd hardly wanted to go about fixing his rock the old-fashioned way, but Ophir was applying too much pressure at this point and Vittoria wouldn't be able to go about fixing hers any other way. Evangeline had, in fact, taught him all about breaking magic down to its roots when she'd started teaching just after the Revolution. While it was hardly in a D'Amour's nature to fiddle around with something so droll, his sister had made a point to ensure that King had a solid foundation to build upon.

King paid Ophir no further heed as he and Vittoria accomplished their given task, and he returned his dear friend's nod despite the task making him want to either wretch or fall asleep--perhaps both.

Grande and Strand (oh, gods, they made a rhyming pair) continued to bicker for a while, and while King wanted to protest at the idea of the mountain that was the latter..."defending" him, King was smart enough to not put up any more of a stink right now. Perhaps Strand was better than he seemed, perhaps not. That could be rooted out more properly another time.

Grande, meanwhile, had earned himself a proper crushing during the next sparring class they shared. A lippy little worm like him needed to be put in his place.

"Are we quite finished with this waste of time? I've got drills I could be running."
King asked the question half to Vittoria, half to anyone who might be able to give a proper answer. Ophir should have done his research on who actually needed this kind of remedial course before dragging the entire class out into the woods.

 

[Vittoria Larrainth]

Vittoria would like nothing more than to be excused from this lesson.

Very few in their class level performed at the same caliber as herself and King. They had worked themselves to the bone, to the very ends of their beings and only for the Proctors to kill all weakness and imperfection from them. To stand here, present with the entirety of their class, and show them up by out performing them?

It was a tactic of the old ways.

If the Revolution had not happened, Vittoria would very well be looking to eliminate those that only held them back.

"I am curious of this next lesson you wish you teach us, Dreadlord Ophir." She piped up, hands clasped behind her back and looking innocently devious. "We should call this first venture a failure, and perhaps leave it up to Proctor D'Amour to reacquaint those unlucky in their efforts what it means to be Initiates." There were some things better left to the actual Proctors of this Academy, and yet their venture in getting an active duty Dreadlord in would inspire... what?

If they wanted her inspired, they needed an Archon, someone Vittoria could aspire to becoming.

Ophir begrudgingly looked to Vittoria, seeing that wickedness behind the veil of politeness. She was the very soul of her father, someone you did not wish to cross in fear of his kind words and even sharper tongue.

He wanted to refuse her, to not allow her this win, but as soon as the Initiate a few feet from him declared he had done the task, Ophir could see the broken rock on the ground, and yet a new one in hand.

"I did not say to multiply it." He hadn't the first clue as to what the boy's magic was, but the lack of preparedness in this class had him thinking a better way to get out of this. It had been some decades since he was an Initiate, but surely they have not fallen this far off the course so soon after Revolution?

"Alright then... it is apparent a lot of you will need repeat lessons, and I will need to get you all up to speed. If not... then I daresay your survival as Dreadlords would be an ill advised venture."

Perhaps it was time to dabble in the old lessons.

"We are splitting up into two teams. It is time we test your abilities, and there is no better way than to pit you against winners. No kill shots. You shits are not worth the paper work or worry." He looked over the assembled class before the earth split through the clearing. Some Initiates shouted, scurrying back and doing their best not to fall in.

"Line up, one by one you are facing off."

The shadow wielder was first up on the other side, waiting to see who would take up the challenge opposite him.

 

[Grendel Strand]

Grendel stood at the end of Vittoria and Fabien his height in clear contrast to both he was easily one of the tallest in the class.
"One day Vittoria, that mouth of yours is going to get you into trouble."
He chuckled conspiratorilly then addressed Fabien.
"Nothing like a vulgar display of power eh?"
In truth he was placing himself after them and rightly so. Despite the potency of his magic he was unfortunately not blessed with a seemingly endless supply of it unlike some others. Magic cost and tapping into the source drank deep from his reserves. He wanted to rest a bit before going into a bout. Still he was confident that he could best almost anyone here. Most relied purely on their power and did not have the training to think in hard tactics. Beating an opponent was rarely a matter of raw ability. Skill, planning and intuition were needed. He began to assess the others that lined up opposite them.
One seemed to be able to draw green glyphs in the air. What they did he could not guess but it was a very eye catching display. The unknown was always something to pay attention to in a conflict.
Another made copies of herself, intriguing in its own way. The only question there was whether all of them needed to be stopped or just the "original".
His mind began to run scenarios as he planned for whichever foe he may face.

 

[Gallagher Grande]

The proctor seemed rather annoyed, for some reason, as though he hadn't just asked them to put together a broken rock. Surely he didn't have anything worse planned, though, right? It was a test inherently biased towards people that actually knew what the fuck was happening with their magic. Gallagher was not mad at himself for failing. In fact, after a lot of effort, he managed to connect a little bit of the rock together, which was a win in his book. Ophir was an old man with old values and sometimes you meet people like that and that's all there is to it. The rock was a game of headhunting, he was sure, for those who were weak or unprepared like him.

Ah, so it was fighting, then? Well, that was just great. He didn't know much about everyone else, but there were people he knew would probably not be much fun to battle. Vittoria probably would have to hold back because of how kill-y her magic seemed and also was probably better trained, King seemed like he was in the same boat as her, Grendel might actually attempt to kill him, and that shadow guy was the first to get their raw magic. Well, time to go to the back. He had like...three realistic victories here, possibly? Not that they couldn't win, but that he had a chance to win. The guy with the piercing grey eyes seemed relatively normal, the shiny girl seemed shiny but also normal, and the strength guy.

That last one seemed pretty dangerous, but if he could accidentally copy it or however that worked, it might actually be harnessable. After all, it was just getting stronger, yeah? Taking a second to think, he waited until everyone else had gone to get in line to place himself at the very end. The logic made sense in his mind: Those confident in their power would step up first, knowing or thinking themselves to be strong. Those who saw themselves as weaker would go last, meaning a less difficult fight for him. However, the reason he put himself in the back was two-fold: Studying everyone else to try and figure out exactly what everyone did.