Fable - Ask The New Generation

[Vance Calgrave]

His ears rang from the cracks of his lightning as it flashed out across the little arena. As before, his motions were rapid and aggressive, and it seemed impossible that Eva could avoid them. As before, she did. Before he had even stopped his momentum from the final swing she was behind him.

Her words sent a cold rod right through him. How, how? No one could move instantly, it was physical law. The greatest magical powers in history couldn’t blink without tremendous effort, and yet Eva had been in front of him and suddenly she was not. Had she perfected it? Was this why she had survived the revolution?

No… no this must be trickery. She must be casting illusions, making him swing at specters. He bristled at how foolish he must look to those watching, baring his teeth in a snarl as the cane sharply hit the back of his leg and sent him to one knee.

He looked up. How he hated her in this moment. How he despised her, this new proctor who had waltzed in after their world had been turned around. The air around him did not cease its crackling of sparks and little arcs, leaping through the air in a glittering haze.

She wanted quicker? He’d show her. Nothing was fast than his lightning.

He threw out his hand with a yell of fury and a bolt, larger than any before, instantly bridged the distance between Vance and the magical barrier beyond, which crackled and showered the sand in sparks as it contained the raw energy. He didn’t wait to see if it had hit her before he conjured another, this one spinning out from his boot as he swept around and rose to his feet.

Finally he flipped his blade and drove it down into the ground. This time the copper rods along his arms and legs glowed under the strain, and skipping currents ripped through the sand like vipers of impossible speed, dozens of them in all directions.

Vance hissed a heavy breath through his grit teeth while his armor steamed and sweat dripped off his nose. He had spent so much energy in so short a time, he wasn’t sure if he could ride to his feet just now.

 

[Evangeline]

Any student that wasn't conjuring shields or, frankly, immune to lightning would've been fried by now. Hell, half the proctors she'd met since coming back to the Academy would've been smoldering ash. Vance's lightning was as volatile and dangerous as elemental magic got, and that, at least, impressed Evangeline.

Raw strength of one's magic was not nearly all it took to win a fight, however, and what the initiate had failed to realize was that the speed of his lightning wasn't what mattered. His lightning could have, and nearly did move instantaneously, and it wouldn't matter as long as his own movements were so sloppy. The goal was to fluster and frustrate him, and he'd taken that bait in spectacular fashion; from that fury-filled shout to the overly aggressive use of spells, it was clear that Eva had backed him into a corner.

Icy cold eyes watched as Vance's arm started to thrust toward her. Acceleration kicked in, and she was gone, some twenty feet to the left. She watched him move his leg, noticed the way his boot scraped the ground; a sweeping attack? Again she accelerated herself, and once again she was at his back and out of harm's way.

Then came that last attack. The proctor's eyes darted about, calculating as quickly as possible. He was overexerting himself, letting loose a random attack he hoped she couldn't avoid. In truth, she hadn't expected to have to put any strain on herself, but for this one she was going to have to.

In one quick motion, Evangeline popped her cane up, grabbed it by its head in one hand and its haft in the other, and unsheathed an elegant blade from its innards. Then, sword-cane in one hand and sheath in the other, she began swatting the sand beneath her, her acceleration making her motions a blur. A huge plume of sand began to burst up near instantly.

Lightning surged by her on both sides of the plume, but the sand in front of her served its purpose. Every electric serpent that struck it created glass, white hot and jagged, but didn't touch the proctor. Only once she was certain that the onslaught had ended did she stop, letting glass and sand alike shower back to the earth like some apocalyptic squall. Near where she had stood, a fulgurite pillar splayed from the ground looking somewhere between a chaotic monstrosity and a work of art.

Evangeline let a small puff of air pass her lips as she moved out from behind the tower of glass and stepped towards Vance, forced to limp slightly without the use of her cane. Walking pained her these days, but she was no worse for wear, despite having a bit of sand scattered across her now.
"Better. But now what?" She asked frankly, making sure he had laid eyes on her before she accelerated one more time, skipping the space between them and pointing the end of her cane-sword at his neck, just inches away. "You're exhausted. You've burned through your reserves of magic. You've overloaded your equipment."

The proctor eyed him, ever calculating. There was no malice in her expression, but pride. She was proud of his performance, and eager to teach him more. There was potential here, raw, exponential. He could grow so much under her tutelage. He simply had to embrace her as a mentor.
"Well?" She pressed him, offering a half smile.

 

[Kristen Pirian]

How?

How could she compete with the likes of what she was witnessing? Vance commanded the powers of the storm in such a breathtaking manner that he was worthy of being called an honorable Pirian, and Evangeline, "big sister" as Kristen had heard other Dreadlords loyal to her House refer to her, seemed quite literally to be anywhere she wanted, when she wanted to be. Evangeline even had the power to command sand as well. Incredible! She'd made a shield out of it and weathered Vance's storm as though it were mere rain pattering on a parasol. Vance was already a force to be reckoned with among the initiates, and yet Proctor D'amour had him effortlessly down on the ground and exhausted from arcane fatigue within moments.

Kristen gulped. She knew that she ought not, that such displays were...how to put it...not recommended. Yet it could not be helped. It was a rare sight to see a Proctor in action; they needed only their stern presences and firm voices to keep any initiate in line. Yet seeing it, seeing what the Academy had produced, and what war had refined...

...a thing of awe.

And a thing, perhaps, of a bygone age. An age Kristen would never know, an age whose final remnants surrounded her. She was not one of them. And it terrified her. A lamb, told to blend in with wolves. Could she?

Could she survive in the land of wolves?

 

[Mars Pallatrix]

Mars clapped his hands once, the sound of it echoing through the courtyard. Then, he stepped forward and heel-turned to face the rows of stiffly-postured Apprentices.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Arne Kellmir.

"Let this be a reminder," he began, "that despite making it to this point, all of you still have a long way to go. Control, output, and endurance. Train these aspects of your magic to the very limit. Proctor D'Amour brings with her what none of you have yet to accrue: experience. It would serve you all well to pay close attention to her instruction. Dismissed."

Mars turned to face the duelists and made a straight line for the Proctor.

"I would like a word with you later when it is convenient."

And without hearing her answer, he strode off to meet with yet another new arrival.

"Arne Kellmir..." Mars said, holding a smile back with applaudable self-control, "I cannot believe it."

 

[Vance Calgrave]

Vance had no idea what Eva’s magic was, but it was clear he was outmatched. The air just above him shimmered with the heat radiating off the cooling metal. He leaned on his sword more heavily than Eva had ever leaned on her cane, and he turned to look up at her with a hatred as white hot as pure as the lightning he’d sent her way.

He had expected to lose, but he had hoped to land at least one hit. He glanced over the mangled sculpture of molten sand and thought maybe she had some sort of geomancy? But that would not explain her ability to teleport, not unless she moved through the earth itself.


Now what? Now was when she hit him, he assumed. He wasn’t sure how to feel about her not beating him to a pulp. On the one hand his body appreciated not being in crippling pain. On the other hand, it was ever more obvious that she was just playing with him. That threw an annoying wrench in his plan to look good in front of his peers. Taking a beating from a teacher was expected, and even something to be proud of. Being run around and exhausted in less than a minute… less so.

He had no response for Eva, being left more or less intact after such a demonstration was new to him. That… and if he spoke he wasn’t sure his voice would hold steady.

Mars gave him a reprieve from replying with his proclamation of Vance’s errors. That, at least, was familiar.

Eva’s face was weirdly jovial, friendly even. She was pretty enough, for a proctor. Maybe he should count himself lucky to have caught her eye rather than the pummeling he would have had from Pallatrix. He really didn’t understand exactly what her game was. He gave a weary grin, half of what he’d intended.

“You’re good.”

 

[Evangeline]

Ah, what a shame. Evangeline had been intent on making a very specific point to the whole crowd of students by the end of this demonstration, but Proctor Pallatrix had ended things just a few moments too soon. Oh well, at least she'd shown these initiates that she wasn't to be taken lightly. At the very least she could leave an impression on one.

"I would like a word with you later when it is convenient."

She heard the words and memorized them, but she knew that Mars wouldn't wait for a response. Evangeline didn't offer one. Instead, she flicked some stray hair from her eye, sheathed her blade, and offered Vance a hand up. She'd seen the rush of emotion wash over his face. First that unmistakable glare of hatred that she was all too familiar with; then apprehension, or perhaps fear, as most initiates might when they believed they'd failed; and finally that tired, hesitant smile.

"You're sloppy." She returned, pulling him to his feet if he accepted. "But you've got potential. Potential I could tease out of you."

Evangeline was certain that Vance would be confused. What sort of proctor didn't end a failed exercise without a beating, after all?
"You can relax. This was not a failure by my standards. I asked you to come at me with all that you had, and you did." She explained, that same half smile and glint in her eyes marking her face.

The former Second Level turned on her heel and began to walk away. She proceeded a few steps before pausing thoughtfully, heel and cane digging into the sand. Evangeline glanced over her shoulder, back at the fiery haired and tempered initiate.
"If you're interested in some proper learning, I suggest you attend some of my classes." There was a pregnant pause as she considered her wording, that icy blue stare finding Vance from behind her shoulder. "You'll find I don't batter or torture my students...but you'll likely be wishing for death halfway through, all the same."

With that, she walked off. She caught sight of the familiar visage of one relative of the Great House she loved and served, that ever-so-tall Kristen Pirian, and offered a knowing smile but proceeded on all the same. They'd catch up later; the students had classes to get to, and Evangeline D'amour had a pot of tea in her office that was calling her name.

 

[Arne]

"Excuse me." Arne said to Meredith and Eleanor, slipping from between the two girls and stepping towards Mars Pallatrix.

The man had not changed much from the last time the two had seen each other, even though that seemed like a lifetime ago. It was said that Dreadlords did not age as fast as others, though Arne knew that wasn't true. Most of them simply died before they had a chance to get old.

A cold fact most would have preferred to ignore. "And I can't believe this place is still standing."

He said in all honesty.

"I thought they would have torn this place down." Arne sounded none too enthused, and as he reached Mars the venerated Dreadlords leaned in. "From the talk I heard in Vel Anir, we're lucky to still be alive."

His voice was a quiet whisper, loud enough only for the other man to hear.

 

[Mars Pallatrix]

"They are lucky to have not come for us," Mars corrected the one-legged man.

Mars thoughtfully stroked his beard and let out a sigh. Then, he began to walk towards the keep as the Apprentices resumed their activities.

"They may tear the tower down. There are no plans to use it. The final test is changing, though even I haven't a clue as to what it may be." As he opened the keep's door for Arne, Mars turned his green eyes onto the veteran. "Why Proctorship?"

 

[Vance Calgrave]

Vance accepted her hand up, and Eva was correct: he was confused at the gesture. He braced for some sort of blow to come as soon as he touched her but, luckily, nothing did. He wouldn't have done anything about it if it had, of course. He felt the familiar leadenness and nausea that came from overdrawing his magic, and he would probably feel like shit all through tomorrow as well. The air still smelled like copper, his armor having siphoned off the majority of the energy he'd conjured, but he did his best to control his breathing in spite of it.

He wasn't sure what to say to the Proctor... he wasn't used to any of them giving him a chance to respond. So he said nothing and watched her go, but he remembered her words exactly. She had run circles around him... or teleported or whatever, and if she could help him reach power and control of that level he wasn't going to let that slip by.

With the fight over, he sheathed his sword and walked as steadily as he could to the side of the yard. He needed to sit down. For... at least a year.