Open Chronicles The Burning of Elbion

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

"Here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it."
- Shakespeare, King John, iii, 1
______________________________________________​

Elbion was such a world away now.

Jerik remembered when he and the other Sorcerers and Professors at the College had to defend it's walls and students from an attack. It wasn't that long ago, but within his mind - it was a lifetime away. To think he'd defend a college that, the whole time, wanted him dead. There was trust - a bond - and they broke it. When Jerik read that letter, he remembered how broken his heart was, as he laid ugly and deformed from the battle of Ninagal.

What truly broke him though was Alistair Wren. Since the disappearance of Myles Widogast, Jerik had given up almost all hope of taking on another apprentice or protege ever again. He never thought he could have that close a bond with another. He'd provided Myles with all the time he could, and tried to turn him into the Sorcerer he could've been.

But no.

Like all the others, he'd turned his back on him. All he saw was a monster. A murderous, terrifying monster, who'd rather see him die, and be cast out like a leper, than even think about giving him another chance.

He'd killed hundreds more since then, far more than he'd killed at Belgrath.

What did that make him now? He was sure who it didn't make him though,

Maho Sparhawk.

Entering the walls of the city once more was not much of a challenge. He simply cloaked himself in a large, black robe, concealing his skin and face. More importantly, it hid his clay-hands, and the rings which they were adorned with, which would have arose much suspicion from those with a keen enough eye. Gerra had gifted him with some of the Ancient rings of Amon-Thun, granting him immeasurable power. He had not bothered to bring his mask with him. He wanted the College to see what they had created. He wanted them to feel the deaths that were on their hands. He wanted them to suffer the screams of the children he had taken, as if they were the ones to have cast the fire. He wanted them to look him in the eyes, and know that they brought this upon themselves.

Jerik didn't care how many lives it took to get the message across. At this point, life simply wasn't that sacred anymore. Women. Children. He wished he could say he felt anger, enjoyment, remorse even. But the sad truth was...

He really didn't feel anything.

He was just in constant pain. Ceaseless suffering.

The power the lives had afforded him though was undeniable. He could melt steel with ease, and burn through various metals at lightning quick pace. He felt invincible. He felt strange, not having the voice of Imamu speak to him at every moment. He supposed that giving into the clause of the contract pleased him, and knew Jerik no longer needed a push in the right direction. He could always feel him though, his presence unquestionable.

The College gates were close now. As much as words could not go to length or detail the extent of which he hated it, and all those who worked and studied there, the building was magnificent, and it almost felt a shame that he'd try to destroy it, or at least some part of it. Oh well, he thought to himself, closing in on those tall, strong enchanted gates.

He entered, not a word spoken. It was the middle of the day, and students were bustling around the courtyard, enjoying the sun in the sky, or finding themselves lost as to where to find their next lesson or study session. As he walked forward, one student looked towards him, and ran for him, looking flustered. A young girl, must of only been 16.

"E-excuse me, are you a Professor?" She asked, looking for breath, clearly from running around the College.

"I was." He spoke, coldly.

"Oh- well, I kinda need some need some help- I-I can't find my way to the introductory conjuration class... it's my first day..." She shifted around nervously.

"What's your name."

"Oh- well, it's Emblen, Professor."

He was building up a small energy in his hand, telekinetic runes forming around his fingers under his robe.

"Emblen, I am truly, truly sorry."

"Sorry? Why wou-"

And then, seemingly in an instant, her head turned violently in the opposite direction she was facing, and made a crackling snap. It echoed around the courtyard. Her body immediately dropped to the ground. Lifeless. Her long blonde hair spread across the stony floor, her eyes glazed over with fear. The energy in Jerik's hand faded.

I'm sorry.

Soon, the few others that stood in the immediate vicinity, all students, saw what had happened, and almost all ran into the College, shocked expressions on their faces, some screaming out of reflex. He thought it unfortunate that she had to die. She simply picked a poor time to start her career as a Sorcerer. Her blood, like the others, would be on the College's hands.

As they ran for help, Jerik focussed himself, unbuckling his upper robe, dropping to the floor, revealing his scarred, mangled torso and face. He felt strong, his figure smeared by a mosaic of cuts, scars, burns and deep inlays in his skin. It told a story of suffering which, soon, the entire college would be aware of. He began to glow that familiar shade of red, his eyes fiery with hatred and furious anger.

Live or Die, you'll all suffer for what you did to me.

You robbed me of everything.

And now, I will take what I am owed.

 

[Harrier]

Harrier stayed just outside the perimeter of the College. Some of the spells that kept her unrecognized might not work if she crossed onto campus. Otherwise, assuming a degree of prudence, she had the run of the city where she'd grown up.

As she walked, she savored the old familiar taste of Elbionese street meat and Liadainian beer. If not for the necromancy-related elements of a rogue mage's trial, Harrier might never have found occasion to come back. She hadn't realized how much Elbion still resonated with her. It felt like home in a way that even the Bayou Garramarisma didn't. Not for the first time, she considered staying here: abandoning what she'd built at Crossroad Mire, making certain disguises permanent, and gambling that she could stay ahead of the many agencies that did not allow necromancers in Elbion.

Someday, maybe. For the moment, common sense demanded she keep her visit brief. Beer and street meat in hand, face shifted by a precise use of mimicry, she kept wandering. Her old family home was gone, and half the places she remembered were smaller and duller than they should have been.

Not the College gates, though. She paused outside, sipping from her pewter cup. How many thousands of times had she taken this place for granted, passed through without really seeing?

She was just turning to vanish into the city again when the screams began.

 

[Ezra Archiva]

Ezra sat in the courtyard for a change, resting his back against a tree. In his hands was a spellbook, a textbook borrowed from the library laying open on the grass. He scrawled formulas on the page in black ink, on occasion referring back to the text before returning to his own notes. He recalled Alistair Wren's interest in hydromancy, deciding to write down a few spells and formulas that could be helpful before flipping to the chapter on conjuration.

Midway through one intricate drawing of spell components and magical theory, he heard somebody ask for the introductory conjuration class. He started to stand up, about to answer with its location. Suddenly, he froze. A sickening crack of bone filled the air, the girl hitting the ground with a lifeless thud. His expression turned from confusion to horror within an instant.

As the robed figure who caused the death unveiled himself, Ezra watched in horror as he realized just who it was. Professor Sparhawk. Though he had some classes with him, his mind immediately returned to the self-defense class he held within the college. He had disappeared until this moment, where he stood amidst a screaming and fleeing crowd in front of a mangled corpse.

It was at that moment where he became painfully aware that he had not yet moved from his position yet, frozen while others ran. Unless he felt like dying at the ripe age of 26, it seemed favorable to leave immediately. His fingers traced a rune in the air, a simple telekinesis spell. The books lifted themselves off of the ground, following the running student as he rushed inside the college.

Finding shelter inside one of the many classrooms, nearly all of which were now crowded with students hiding and fleeing. It was chaos unlike any he had seen before during his time in Elbion. Stashing the books in his bag, he poked his head above the other students to see if he could find anybody he knew within the chaos.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

Jerik watched as the swaths of people ran into the College, seeking protection or relief from the onslaught that they knew too well would come. He would not sneak past wards and hide in dark alleys this day - No. He would make everyone know he was there. He would command their attention.

He took a deep breath. He took time to recognise how the air entered and left his lungs. And then he set his eyes forward. Forward onto the entrance way into the main-hall.

It took powerful magic to break down those walls; enchanted many times over by ancient, fortified magic.

Time to tear down the walls that betrayed me.

He lifted his hands before him, and began to shout word after word. They didn't seem to stop, as the runes that formed before him created a raging inferno within his hands, that seemed to envelop more and more of the area around him, his magical essence pouring straight into this terrifying ball of magma he was forming. He could feel it's heat upon his face, and so did the greenery of the courtyard, as they all began to catch fire.

"TOU MIG'ME EEN!"
He screamed.​

The ball, like a meteor, struck against the wall at a mighty velocity, the ward that protected it suffering under the tremendous weight of it's power. The building seemed to shake as Jerik's sorcery rattled and struggled against it, until it could take no more, and shattered under it's weight. The fire seemed to burst and combust, the brick-work of the wall caving in and smashing it's way through the main hall-way, the debris falling onto various running students, all screaming equally loudly for help.

The whole front of the College entrance was opened up, with various rooms being revealed, unfortunately empty, apart for the select few who'd decided to risk themselves.

Jerik simply began to walk forward slowly, waiting for any form of struggle or resistance.

His blood was boiling for a fight.

 

[Spencer]

The sound of a quill scratching against a hand made bound book. A figure drawn out as the girl drew over what should have been her notes and homework. A soft humming came from the girl as she continued to draw ignoring what her studies were supposed to be. Nothing bad was going to happen, especially at the college. This place was super safe…right?

While the girl scribbled on her paper a sudden chill worked down her spine and the quill fell. Something wasn’t right and she sat up closing the book in the process. She poked her head out the nearest window and watched as people ran in terror for some reason. “Uh oh.” Spencer dropped from the window and landed on the bookshelf top. Another couple of jumps, the girl landed on the ground.

Much like her feline friend, she enjoyed high places that no one can get to you. Looking around, Spencer pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail. The girl looked around for her cat, the animal was no where to be seen. Cursing, she stopped her foot, “Where are you?” As she looked, she gathered her notebook and quill shoving them into the leather messenger bag. Pulling at her over sized black robe, she stomped her brown loafer with her calf high socks once more.

“Meow meow where are you?!”

 

[Trajan Meng]

A clap of baleful thunder. The rattling of plates and glasses and tankards and tables, and the hush that descended in an instant inside the tavern, as if awe and reverence were duly rendered onto the almighty sound.

Trajan Meng, like the other patrons, shifted his attention up from his afternoon meal. Glances about in the tavern. Murmurs. The apprehension palpable. He stood slowly from his seat at the long table and took up his warhammer and walked calmly toward the door and pushed it open and stepped outside.

He looked. And he saw it. And though distance obscured its clarity, the great cavity in the front of the towering College lay open for all to see, high above the walls, like a wound in the sky stretching from horizon to horizon. Trajan regarded it for a moment. Considering it with a hard gaze.

And he made his decision. A decision which could prove to be the end for the lives of many good men and women. A decision which could prove to be his very own demise. But the fate of Mankind rested with him, here in this singular moment. Here, he had the opportunity to change Mankind's dismal course, to raise it up and out of the languishing depths to which it had fallen. He had take steps small and steps large toward the dream of a United Humanity, toward the realization of that which men and women the world over so desperately needed: the reinvigoration of the Human Spirit, which at present slumbered in a deadly idleness.

But this. This was a step monumental. The potential to destroy and reform the traitorous College of Elbion. The College which in its complacent and sympathizing and outright treasonous blindness imperiled all Mankind by wantonly arming the xenos of the world with the deadliest weapon known to Arethil: magic.

Today. Here. Now. It could change.

Trajan took out the bird stone from his pants pocket. Activated it with the motion of his thumb upon its smooth surface. A moment later, a raven descended from above and landed on his shoulder. Looked at him expectantly, awaiting his message.

And he said, "Dio. Thronefall."

The raven took off from his shoulder. Flying to repeat his simple message to one of his associates, Dio. A codeword, not unlike the many codewords used in the Luminari, yet it was one he had set up personally with Dio for an occasion such as this. An occasion whereby the College was under attack and might potentially suffer enough physical damage and personnel deaths to prompt a reformation, a reconstruction effort so massive it would be as if erecting the school anew. This the Luminari could take advantage of, leveraging the latent speciesism in select professors and staff, those who were already allied with the Luminari and those who were not. The success of such a reformation would mean a singular, powerful thing:

The College of Elbion existing for Mankind, and Mankind only. And thus all humanity made safer.

Thronefall, the codeword, expressed a simple and urgent command. A command that Dio would need to send many birds out to fulfill. The command: Gather all the faithful in Elbion, and prepare. Quickly.

For, as it was said, the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Trajan did not know who, or what, was assailing the College. But the Luminari had to be ready, the situation assessed, and the opportunity--if prime--seized upon. Thousands upon thousands of lives, in the present and across the great sea of time into the future, depended on this moment, if indeed this was the moment Trajan had long sought. And he could only pray that it was so, and that he would not fail.

Trajan turned from the tavern in the Merchant District and walked at brisk pace toward the Port. They would all be meeting there.

And the day would be seen to shine throughout all history, or no.

 

[Harrier]

The screaming came from many voices just past the gates. Squinting between panicked students, Harrier saw two figures at the heart of it: a dead body, quite small, and a shirtless man riven by scars. He seemed familiar but at the moment she couldn't place him.

She let herself go with the current, the College folk fleeing out of the gates. Blending with them as one of them freed her focus. The food and cup fell from her hands. She stretched out with the barest hint of necromancy and found a panicking spark already going dim.

<Who are you, little one?>

<Emblen, I'm Emblen. Why did Maester Sparhawk use a spell on me? Why can't I see myself? Is this a test? I'm already late for class. Who's that on the ground, Maester, please->

<Ssh now, Emblen, you're safe. You're safe. I've got you.>

Harrier glanced back -- was that really Maho Sparhawk back there? -- and saw trees ignite. Inside the courtyard, past her line of sight, something exploded in cursefire.

Even this far away, half-protected by the College's outer gates, blistering heat shoved her off her feet. She and a couple of running students tumbled against the wall of a popular off-campus tavern. Stray fire already smoked in its roof. Harrier struggled upright, half her focus on the immaterial.

<Ssh now, I've got you.>

 

[Chadwick Strongpants]

There are many rumours about how Chadwick Strongpants came to be: Some say he fell to Arethil from an outer space crystal into a vat of magical sludge. Others say he was stung by enchanted scorpions, and also bitten by a dragon person, making him a weredragon and was trained by Savanna monks. Stories tell that he was so strong that just by blinking he could blow away an entire town, he was so fast that when a cross bow fired he could run around all of Arethil before the bolt even left the crossbow. They talk about how Chadwick Strongpants doesn't eat but subsists on nothing but the raw fear of his enemies.

Chadwick heard the explosion Jerik caused, It took him a moment, but quickly took charge and made sure the students stayed in the library telling them to hide under the desks, and leave protecting the library to him. He moved to the main entrance and began funnelling the panicking students inside. While he did that he used whatever brain power he had left to put up as many enchantments as he could on the entrance to keep those inside safe.

 

[ZafiraJade]

Zafira was alone in her professor's classroom as she usually was - candle after candle burning - vision bleary from staring too long at the heavy, antiquated books in front of her. The room was getting stuffy, hot from the large cauldron cooking in front of her.

She'd been in the room for three hours, trying to master a new concoction that would allow for mages to recover quicker from their use of magic. Zafira had been limited more times than not because of her zealous nature, opting to use magic for miscellaneous tasks to finish them faster.

Progress had been good ever since her breakthrough two months earlier, but it hadn't been perfect. There was one element she was missing. Zafira could feel it in the depths of her bones and despite asking from many of her professors for help, they were unable to give her the aid she needed. She had all but given up for the day, slumped back in her chair, and let out an aggravated sigh.

Then the screams had started.

Zafira's heart lurched and automatically, an unsettling feeling tugged at her. She forced herself to calm down. She didn't know it was anything for sure. Maybe it was just the students playing another game. Possibly another prank.

But even Zafira knew that she was fooling herself. The screams she had heard were blood curling. Swallowing hard, she made her way out of the room and to the grand window, offsetting the front of Elbion College. On the floor, she saw a small figure with a pool of blood surrounding her and a woman's hand gently on her back. With a gasp, Zafira practically flew out from her professor's back door- the one she was told to never use.

She went up to the woman and noticed that the girl she was dealing with was dead. Zafira bit back a gasp. Necromancy, she automatically identified. Hearing the woman try to comfort the now-dead girl though. Zafira didn't mention it.

"What happened?" she asked, and she was surprised to hear the sound of her voice clear in her ear.

 

[Alistair Wren]

The aging light of an afternoon sun cast a balm over the college grounds, warming Alistair's cheeks as he strode along the grass. Hood swept over his features, he waved to his friend, Ezra Archiva, shooting him a mischievous smile. He had been writing down a few hydromantic spells for him to practice, having recalled his interest in the school. The end of Alistair's mouth kinked upward and he chuckled, his cheeks dented as he approached.

"How are those spells coming along?" He asked, eager to practice them.

Gripping his robes, he swished over to Ezra and motioned to sit down, when the shade of a black robe pulled his attention to the college gates. There was a masked figure approaching a young girl, most likely a student, who appeared to be speaking to him.

Alistair squinted. He did not recognize the robed man and had never seen him around the college before, then again, most of the mages on the college didn't walk around wearing creepy black robes and masks. He turned around and watched the exchanged, and within a split second of him stepping forward, the robed man snapped the girl's neck.

Alistair's heart leaped into his neck. He froze, unable to believe what he had just seen. Panicking, he gripped his robes and waved a hand to Ezra, beckoning him inside. Stopping midway between the grounds and the entrance, he turned around to face him, the colour drained from his face.

"Get everyone out," he uttered, his voice barely lifting above his breath.

He left Ezra, then turned and ran into the college. Swinging past the entrance, he sprinted down the corridor, only to feel his cheeks heat.

Flames erupted from the main entrance, the walls liquefied in a storm of magma.

"Oh no," he thought to himself, "not again."

Gripping his hair, he stared, petrified at the flames, memories of how Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk had died resurfacing in the back of his mind. The fire, it roared, bringing a sweat of a hundred degrees to the back of his neck. His heart pounded. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes, but he held back. Yanking at his hair, he shook his head and saw a young girl sitting in the corner drawing. She quickly packed up her notepad as the flames hurled in.

Lunging forward, Alistair grabbed the girl by the shoulders and turned her around to face her, "come on, you need to get out." Not wanting to scare her, he spoke calmly.

Before he could direct the young mage to the exist, a booming chant rattled the foundations of the college. The walls shook, and a colossal ball of fire hurdled into the hallway where Alistair and the girl were standing.

Quickly, he shoved her behind him.

Forcing the images of the flames to the back of his mind, he thrust out a hand and drew the moisture from the air. He coiled both his hands. Fusing the water particles together, he threw his hands forward and cast a torrent of water which smothered the flames. Steam hissed as the water hit the fire, rising from the ruins of the college. Sweat gathered on the back of Alistair's neck and he felt his throat dry up. He stepped back, a hand outstretched, and shielded the young girl from the figure who emerged from the steam.

"Run!" He shouted.

As he turned around, the figure departed his robes, revealing an older man, charred to the bone and burnt from his former visage. While his face, as Alistair had known it, was gone, his presence remained. And even though his mind was distorted and his vocal cords destroyed, Alistair still recognized the voice that had cried out to him as Ninagal burnt to the ground.

"No," Alistair shook his head, his words lost for thought, "it can't be!" A hand outstretched, he gasped at the figure, unable to come to terms with the visage of the man who beheld him.

"No," he repeated to himself. It couldn't be Maho. His master would never murder innocents like that. Shaking his head, Alistair denied the truth that he was facing and held out his hand, preparing to cast again.

 

[Ashara Raja]

With an ale in hand, Ashara followed the old back alley paths the urchins used back when she lived in Elbion, a homecoming of sorts for the Kaliti. She’d already tossed most of her coins to Mother Gretha, the elderly elf woman that ran the orphanage she had grown up in and the rest she’d given to the street kids only after showing a few of them how to snag coins out of a purse worn on the belt.

‘It’s all about patience and knowledge. How does the purse open, how tightly is it closed, how full does it look. It might seem like a good idea to grab from a bursting open pouch, but those jostle around when opened. It’s not just about misdirection and team work.’

They were all lessons she had learned from older children when she had been in their place. She was sipping on the mug of ale when the explosion happened in the direction of the college. Screams and shouts of panic echoed in the distance. Ashara’s initial reaction was that one of the students had tried experimenting with magic far beyond their skill and now the unfortunate repercussions of such experimentation was playing out. As nature intended some people weren't blessed with magical talent, and for those unfortunate souls like her, they had to remember not to push their limits too far lest the universe remind them of their place.

Then the next, far larger explosion occurred. Ash drained the mug in one fell swoop, chugging the remaining drink and tossing it away. Even if she was right, there were probably kids her age there in trouble. The woman began running in the direction of the college, her mind racing as she thought of scenarios she might be running into, the chaos, the panic.

The opportunity.

The thought ran across Ashara’s mind and stuck there, echoing whenever charity and chivalry rose to the forefront of her thoughts so too did the memory of the library. Always out of reach, always closed to a streetrat of her ilk. And now, in all this, its secrets could be anyone’s for the taking.

Anyone’s.

Ash chewed on her lip as she ran, resolving to help anyone she saw that was hurt on her way to the library. They could consider whatever tomes she took as payment for her kindness if it helped them.

Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk Alistair Wren ZafiraJade Harrier

 

[Former and the Foal]

Nemesis had gone quite angsty lately. Sensing Maho's return, it was inevitable really.

The horse stomped at the gates more violently than ever before. Reinforced with magics, of course, the mages wouldn't dare let out this fabled Runehorse out.

 

[Severin Bellerose]

With delicate brushstrokes, the mage coloured in the most intricate of flower patterns on the side of his scripture.
Occasionally, of course, he had to rest his eyes. His gaze pointing outwards as lazily as ever.
Tip tip tap tap. He leaned his cheek on his arm.
Today the yard was not as lively, aside from the girl and the uh...nevermind.

Severin had felt his sobriety streak would be over prematurely. He leaned towards his left, took out his bottle of strong spirit and chugged down a good measure. Oh well, he should probably fetch Philippa, nothing than some highly trained mages can do stop some rogue wizard, right?

He pulled himself to his personal bookshelf... Antimagic wards... antimagic wards, where did he place them even, ah there it is.

A blast shook the building and Severin gazed outside again. Anti-fire magics too...so it seemed. Perhaps some general magic would come in handy, but he was not prepared to take an entire library with him.

He pulled out the Gelumagics codex and started to make his way through the building.
The best idea was to evacuate the students.

 

[Smiling One]

Willis leaned against Philippa's desk.

He twirled the bouquet of flowers between his fingers: Blue winter roses Philippa's favorite. He and Philippa were together for a while doing missions for the College of Elbion. Willis always found work for the College to be monotonous and full of bureaucratic nonsense but Philippa usually pulled strings to make filling out the paperwork smoother compared to the average sellsword. She also usually accompanies Willis in missions as a supervisor but mostly it was an excuse so they can have time to themselves.

Willis never felt this close to anyone not since his relationship with Eryn Pere or Ayreal Mellbrand, Philippa Ebonheart was a woman whom Willis thought he can just fuck and leave. However he eventually became drawn to her. Philippa's intelligence, determination and empathy for others (though she does not show it) had a profound impact on Willis. She saved his life multiple times and vice versa. Philippa was one of the few people whom Willis confided with his past. It turned out both of them were lonely and broken people desperately tying to escape their pasts.

He and Philippa were bonded by the desire to be free and to explore. They may have different approaches to life but it combined to be a harmony of a fulfilling relationship. It made Willis afraid as every time he fell in love it ended in disaster. It happened with Eryn and it will definitely happen with Philippa.

But just like his mentor: Captain Davis, Willis was a man who always lived each day as if it was last.

A sapphire ring lay within his pocket, taking out the ring Willis frowned wondering if this was the right choice. Philippa was a noble which meant that her prospects for marriages was limited to other nobles. There was no way that her family would approve of a mercenary/monster hunter when a noble gets married it's for business not for love. Would Philippa care? Would she forsake her family just for him?

Willis had no time to contemplate this further as a loud explosion was heard outside. Many young mages were running in fear for their lives saying that a masked man was slaughtering the students. Immediately drawing his Cutlass, Willis placed the ring along with flowers on Philippa's desk as he rushed to the courtyard.

"Time to party," he mumbled.

 

[Thane Jackdaw]

It would've been a great day.

A well-paid reward for a contract worth a day or two in the sulfur baths of Elbion and a brothel to spend the night. After wandering for a month across the frontiers for jobs, he really needed this rest.

But no.

The loud snap of an explosion rattled the bath house and a panic among naked men and women ensued. Another explosion shook the building and the panic turned into a stampede. From the pleasure of the pools, Thane observed silently trying to ignore it all. He needed this rest, he really ne-

"Fuck." the monster hunter growled and stood up. His senses going wild at the malicious and intense use of magic from the explosions. What the fuck did they do now?

He was the last to exit the bath house, still adjusting his leather armor and shoulder pads. The feeling without them was refreshing while it lasted.

Before him the streets were in panic. In the distance he saw the looming tower of the college where smoke and ash rose into the sky. He frowned. This was no accident. He disliked magicians intensely and he had long abandoned the naive desire to be a hero, so why did he hurry down towards the College to seek problems that were not his?

 

[Phillipa Ebonheart]

Phillipa shrugged to her supervisor, unsure of what further protections could be added to the basement that they hadn't already either thought of or implemented. They had lost several gargoyles from the rank of them, and replacing them was a slow procedure, not that they were hurting for anymore of them. It was just a slow process of making the cold and unfeeling things.

The fur mantle about her was gone, as was the high collared shirt. Small changes that had come about thanks to Willis, though most around her were now curious about the thin lines of scars that ran from her collar bone and down. Her shoulders also bore these tiny lines, beginning at the shoulder and tracing their way down her arms.

"Any further additions are just going to hinder access for us into the basement. Just shy of adding a large door with magically activated rune filled tumblers, what else-?" Her supervisor's eyes went wide at the suggestion.

"That's actually rather brilliant." He seemed to hum with pleasure at the thought while she put her hand to her forehead. She had intended for it to seem like a superfluous bit of ranting, rather than a well thought out idea. Cursing herself silently, the room shuddered, even deep inside the college.

Both narrowed their eyes as a gargoyle knocked once on the door. The door opened with a singular wave of her superiors hand and it entered.

"Report."

"There is a mage attacking the campus. They were able to enter the gate. Using fire magic, and in a similar manner to Master Sparhawk." It spoke quickly, and the name made both of the mages shudder. The rumors about his revival, undeath, survival, whatever you wanted to call it might very well have been true then.

"Go deal with it, I will coordinate the gargoyles." Herman hissed, standing and waving his hand to her. She stomped out of her superiors office and to her space in the basement. The sharp click of heels on the floor filled the somehow silent vault. The gargoyles were moving around her, with no murmurs of what was happening, no whispering of what to do or worry to speak of.

Like silent and task driven bees, the lot of them swarmed and surged out from the vault as she entered her private office. Long leather gloves went on, the thin metal plates on the top of her hands were rune covered and similarly was the metal plated leather gaiters she put over her legs. The heels came off, and on went flat soled boots.

She pondered a moment as she pulled on a belt with three pouches on it, all heavy with small orbs of metal, spell filled clay, and finally just sharp, jagged bits of metal. The daggers slid into a spot in the belt towards her hips, nodding as she poked her hand into a small recess and revealed a hidden staircase up to her main office.

She quickly took the steps, noting the ring and bouquet on her desk, a sigh and shake of her head as she headed to the front of the college.

---

The gargoyles swarmed throughout the college, filling the hallways and classrooms. Corralling students out and gathered them toward the rear of the college towards the dorms. A large number of them held their place in the library as Phillipa tread through the room prepared to help as Herman, her superior saw fit.

Her steps never stopped as her hand came up to her throat, her hand stiffly bending against the plates on her glove as a finger went to her throat.

"Clear the area, move to the back of the college towards the dormitories please. Once their activate wards and please listen to the gargoyles once there." She projected her voice through the entire room. Her violet eyes never wavered from the walk to the front however, hands coming together to crack her fingers as she sighed.

She mentally prepared herself for the task ahead. Whether it was actually Maho or not, this had to be dealt with, and quickly. These attacks against the college were getting old, making teaching here a bit questionable when everybody decided the largest center of learning was a viable target for their personal agendas.

She spied a pair of figures in a hazy mist, one appeared to be Alistair having used his hydromancy it seemed while the other seemed to be the attacking party. One hand dug into the pouch of ball bearings, the other tightening into a fist and activating the runes on the gauntlet.

It snapped the two pieces together into a solid piece, hand and forearm locked in place, and less likely to snap her wrist when she added her kinetomancy to a punch.

 

[Tabatha]

Meow Meow?

Just five more minutes, Tabatha thought, curled in a ball in a patch of sunlight several windows along from her mistress. The curse of being tied to the girl was that no matter where she was, what quiet hole she’d find to get away from her for five minutes, she would always hear the girl.

Where are you?

Ugh. She uncurled herself, stretching her tiny body out and yawning. She gave the world outside a nonchalant glance, looking away and then froze. Turning back slowly to stare at the panicked students fleeing for their lives.

Meow meow where are you?!

Tabatha scrambled to the window ledge edge and jumped for the nearest bookcase, trotting along its top till she was above Spencer. She leapt, aiming for the girls shoulder and missed, claws raking the girls shirt before she twisted and landed on her feet.

“Curse this ridiculous four legged prison!” she stared up at Spencer with one brown eye and one blue. “Pick me up!” An explosion rattled the walls and the floor, shaking the large cases around them. A few books toppled from their places as people began to flood into the room.

“Pick me up! Pick me up!” she did not want to end this pitiful life trampled by a horde of terrified students. Fear made her jump and begin to claw her way up Spencer's leg.

 

[Neremyn]

Nere was taking a bit of a nap. He felt a bit tired after taking an exam early in the morning so once he got back to their dorm, the young man just collapsed onto his bed after taking off his shirt to stretch his wings. It was in the middle of such a glorious nap that he heard something fly by the window, followed by screams and the smell of fire.

Jumping up out of his bed Nere tossed on one of his leather armor he had hidden under his bed, throwing open the window he waits for a gargoyle to pass before he took after it summoning one of his ice spears. Nere saw glimpses of bodies on the ground, the fires spreading throughout of the college, his heart sank. His home and the place he felt most at home was now a battle ground. His thoughts went straight to his roommates well being. Hopefully Alistair Wren was okay, he has not heard of Cosmin Lowdust nor Tristan Morow all day. Hopefully they were all out of the grounds and safe.

The quick second that followed was short lived as another gargoyle rammed into him by accident, sending them both through a window. The two of the crashing into the wall, causing a creator in the shape of the two beings. Nere quickly dispatched the gargoyle by freezing it from the outside by accident, not knowing if it was an enemy or no for the moment. It melted quickly as he takes a few deep breaths standing up.

Nere looks around and his eyes fall onto Ashara, they had unfortunately nearly hit her in the process of their clash. His eyes however shown mistrust and coldness within them, “Are you okay?” He asks her shaking the dust and rumble from his hair and wings.

 

[Maecey]

Maecey had no idea why she had taken this job from the guild.

It had seemed an utterly foolish proposition then and it seemed even more foolish now. She could still remember what she felt when the words had been said out loud to her. The reaction had been so visceral, so compounding lay strong that she had broken out into a laughter loud enough to silence the room.

Yet when she'd asked for the patron to repeat himself he'd simply cleared his throat and said the words a second time; "I want you to kill Maester Alreon Banwick."

Maecey had not needed a lesson in who Maester Banwick was. He sat on the council that lead the College of Elbion and had made his name as one of the most powerful mages alive. It was said that a single word from him could turn you into a toad, and another could make that toad explode.

The idea of killing such a man was…frightening,and at the same time utterly thrilling.

It was for that reason that at the exact moment the screams began Maecey Littlefoot found herself glancing down at the courtyard from her perch atop a stone facade halfway up one of the outer towers of the central college. She wore a simple cloak of gray, matching the colors of the cobbles.

As she looked down into the courtyard she could see the mad scramble of people, even saw a flicker of flame.

"What the hell?" She asked herself as the screams struck her ear. A frown touched her face, and slowly she shook her head. Whatever it was it seemed to be occupying the college, and that was good enough for her.

Nimbly she continued to climb higher, eventually reaching a window and grasping its ledge to pull herself inside.

 

[Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk]

It's happening.

Jerik could finally see his wishes coming into reality. The flaming, falling debris crushing those who had wronged him. Those who were part of a system that betrayed him, and would no doubt betray others. He was preparing for another assault, when he saw it.

When he saw him.

Alistair Wren.

He could feel his entire body shake in place, as if something wanted to desperately escape forth from his body. He could feel his blood boil, his eyes bulge, and his teeth grind. He didn't know what he'd do. He didn't know what he'd say. But his feet kept moving himself forward. He couldn't avert his eyes from Alistair's gaze, full of terror and disbelief.

With each step he could feel the depths of his fury burst from within. He could physically sense the ground beneath him super-heating under his own feet, as the grooves that made up his scars became brighter and brighter with their sick, red colour.

How could you do that to me Alistair?

How could I put all of my trust in you, when the whole time, the college wanted me dead from the beginning, and you went along with it.

I believed in you.

I... I still...

You're dead to me.

Do it Maho.

Finish what you have started.

Do it.
​

He held out his arm, his palm facing Alistair. Energy built up within it. He would use his Fire-bolt technique that he had researched. A single, powerful, super-heated bolt of fire lightning, that would kill anything in it's path.

Do it Jerik.

Do it.

DO IT.

But, no matter how much he tried, no matter how much he hated what Alistair had done, he could not bring himself to destroy something he had once loved. He wished he could. But he just couldn't. He could feel the spell in his hand twitch and shudder. His hand began to crumble under the pressure of the spell, until, suddenly, it burst, his hand melting into nothing, and he was sent flying backwards, his back hitting the floor hard.

He stood back up, in some considerable pain, but not any more than he could handle. Some of the rubble below him travelled back up to the stub of his arm, and his hand was reformed.

He continued to walk forward, not sure what else to do.

He just wanted to destroy anything in his path.

 

[Eren Damar]

It wasn’t the screams that roused Eren from her slumber. As a tried and true native of the Elbion gutter, she was far too used to the sounds of the city’s underbelly to let such paltry things ruin what precious few hours of sleep she managed to steal for herself. No, the screams and the kerfuffle barely registered or warranted more than a brief stirring and a whispered curse to the gods above.

The magic, however. The magic was a different story altogether.

With her rooftop lodging situated so close to the College, perhaps too precariously close for someone stricken from the rosters, Eren was used to the regular ambient ebb and flow of the magic that spilled forth on an almost hourly basis. Even going so far as to siphon the odd strand or weave that managed to escape the vaunted wards and glyphs on occasion. Rarely was it enough to empower all but the most meager of spells - cantrips and parlour tricks for the most part - but it was enough to sate the ever present vacuous hunger that was her particular condition. Yet today…

Today she was all but yanked from her blissful repose with an electrified start. The dwarven dagger from beneath her pillow clutched defensively in her hand to ward off an attack that would never arise. Her head humming, skin buzzing and senses alight with the sensation of raw, unfiltered mana being brought into play a scant handful of streets over from her flop.

“Blood and ashes,” She swore loudly, tugging on a loose leather jerkin from the heap of clothes and accouterments that littered the warren like nest that was her bed. All but stumbling to the narrow box window that opened on to the tiled roof and the city beyond. “What the hells are they doing over there?”

She knew, instinctively, of course. That mana was far too concentrated to be the work of some grand experiment or over eager class of mages. Too purposeful and... Malevolent, if such a word even applied to that miasmic knot lurking on the edge of her awareness, to be anything but an attack. But who would attack a college full of mages, some battle trained and hardened no less? No one she wanted to tangle with, that’s for sure.

And yet, while the smart play would’ve been to relocate and keep her head low, the thief found herself tugging on a scarred and weathered set of breeches all the same. Tucking and squirreling away a bracer of daggers for good measure before unfastening the window catch and disarming the corresponding wards and traps she’d hastily set only a handful of hours previously.

“Blood and ashes.” The thief intoned again, now more akin to prayer than a curse this time around. Although she long had come to terms that no god would answer such a plea. Still whatever was going on in the college, she really wanted no part in it, but she couldn’t overlook the opportunity it might present to someone in her situation. If nothing else, information on the attacker would be a valuable currency in of itself. The broad bladed dagger bounced in her palm. The reassuring weight a welcome and familiar companion. “Blood, ashes and to all the bare asses of the six divines. Watch over this wretched soul, for I must be crazy.”

With that she lurched out the window and towards the college, a set of practiced feet navigating hazard of the terracotta tiles with barely sound.

 

[Harrier]

On the floor, she saw a small figure with a pool of blood surrounding her and a woman's hand gently on her back. With a gasp, Zafira practically flew out from her professor's back door- the one she was told to never use.

She went up to the woman and noticed that the girl she was dealing with was dead. Zafira bit back a gasp. Necromancy, she automatically identified. Hearing the woman try to comfort the now-dead girl though. Zafira didn't mention it.

"What happened?" she asked, and she was surprised to hear the sound of her voice clear in her ear.

Emblen's soul needed a rest. Harrier anchored it to a small necklace the girl had worn and tucked it away. Smoke wafted around the courtyard from the burning trees.

"It's still happening." She gestured across the courtyard at the flaming rent where the inner doors had been. "Maho Sparhawk is burning his way in."

She breathed in, coughed hard, and drew on concepts she'd explored in correspondence with the elementalist Ava Gilleth. She drained strength from the burning trees -- the fire, the departing life. The flames died down somewhat. Other magicians were fighting those fires and she'd just made their job easier, but that wasn't her main intent. This chaos was lousy with prices half-paid, from a certain point of view. What she'd do with the power she accumulated...

...well, she'd burn that bridge when she came to it.

She refocused on the pale girl, the living one. "Maesters study for decades. They'll stop him. You've got a clear path out the front gates, so take it. Plenty of apprentices would die for that opportunity today, and probably will. Understand?"

 

[Gaheris]

Smoke billowed from some far off section of the College, as whatever was happening... Happened. Gaheris observed these proceedings through a spyglass, from the third floor of the inn he was staying in. His lips twitched as he observed some other plumes join the first. The fire must have been spreading.

"How long has this been happening for?"

There was an armsman with him, the one who had alerted him to the event. "Uh, a few minutes now."

Fire was a novel distraction, but this was no ordinary fire. Something more serious was transpiring. Gaheris could feel it, however disconcertingly. It felt like bile rising in his throat. There would, likely, not be a greater opportunity for some time.

He snapped the spyglass shut, sweeping away from the window. "Get everyone ready. We'll leave in thirty."

Hopefully enough gargoyles would be dead or otherwise preoccupied by then.

 

[Spencer]

A worried voice pulled her and dragged her from her attention. This wasn’t a good situation and it was a good thing that this other student or advisor who ever he was found her. Spencer found her slender frame behind the young man, despite his urge for her to run she didn’t. Something pulled her to stay and at first she assumed it was the small kitten that clawed at her and slide along her. Spencer tried to catch the kitten as she slipped down, at least the cat could keep up for the most part.

“Wait my meow meow!” Reaching down, Spencer grabbed the small white kitten by the scruff of her neck and tucked the animal into the hood of the oversized black robe. After picking up the sassy cat, Spencer watched Alistair Wren come face to face with the terror (Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk ) that was causing the chaos in the school. He raised his hand as if he was preparing an attack on the boy that had protected her, frowning Spencer rummaged in her bag for a scroll. The only source that she knew of for her magic was scripture magic. She had a few spells prepared and as she rummaged she drew out a defensive elemental spell.

Spencer ducked under Alistair’s protective cover and threw the spell into the air, calling forth its power with the word she etched into the scroll binding it to her. “Glacies Murum!” The scroll popped and a short wall of ice formed between them and the man whose hand had blasted off. It seemed his spell had backfired? She was curious as to who and why was he attacking the school. She looked towards Alistair and questioned, “Who is that?” As she spoke, she grabbed the white kitten and snuggled it closely. “I got you Tabby, I’ll protect you.”

Tabatha

 

[Tabatha]

Tabatha caught a brief glimpse of the source of all the trouble before she was stuffed into the young mage's hood. This was a safe place, curled into a ball she could hide from all of it till it was over. "Why. Are. You. Not Running?!" she spat at Spencer as she rummaged for a spell and raised an ice wall .

"Who cares who he is?!" she mewed, wriggling against the cuddle, before giving up and glaring at Alistair Wren like it was somehow all his fault. "That wall is not going to hold. He broke the protection wards without breaking a sweat and they've stood against hundreds of idiots who thought they could break Elbion." She extended her claws digging them into whatever flesh she could she try and loosen Spencer's grip.

"We. Should. Run. You. Stupid. Child."