Open Chronicles The Official Skill Fair of Magics sponsored by RGFC

RGFC

For all tournament needs! Royal Games/Fights Co.
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The day had finally arrived, where once was open land now stood a large fair ground. Within there was all one could ask for: rare food and drink, entertainment, and to many who had traveled from all around Arethil something even more outstanding: Knowledge.

Every kind of mage, or whatever they preferred to be called, could be found somewhere within the fair grounds, be they Calligraphists from Jaleyaana, Kivren Tidelords, Clerics of any faith, or even obscure Diviners from all around Arethil, the variety was truly endless. Within the fair grounds there were countless stalls laid out for people to show off their talents, be it ones for the mage to visit and show off a particular skill, or for a mage to stay and teach. For many particularly famous mages there might be a large tent so they might give a lecture to many at a time, while for more obscure ones they might simply have a stool, and a table. If one was particularly lucky within these stalls one could find countless treasures, be it insights on magic, new spells, invaluable scrolls and books, training, or magic items.

As for the stalls to show off one's own particular skills they varied in countless ways allowing one to show off skills in ways unthought of such as: How much force could be exerted from ones spell, or measuring tools for insane temperatures, even a game they had made to see how many things one could predict that would happen within the tent in the next minute. You can think of it they had it here somewhere.

The smell of magic was impossible to ignore in the grounds, with the elements themselves being controlled in uncountable ways. Still one could not ignore another smell that pierced through the smell of smoke and dust: Food. Just off the middle of ground in four walled off sections there were the food stands, protected from the rest of the grounds by those walls. Many a magical chef would be showing off their arts inside, a lot with their apprentices following along with their orders with a shout of, "Yes Chef!" So with them all they made many exotic foods from all over Arethil, one offered some kind of frozen milk treat with the consistency of snow, while another turned sugar into a sweet kind of string or cotton with air magic he claimed.

The middle of the grounds was filled with seats, in these chairs all the wary would come to sit, so in these chairs was where conversation bloomed beautifully. Here while sitting an old mage might sit next to a young and they might talk of all sorts, be it current events, interesting spells, magical theory, or even simple small talk. Simple enough to say it was common place for to find a mini lecture taking place within, as well as the sharing of ideas.
 

Harrier

Necromancer
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For once, Harrier opted to show up as herself. No nondescript clothes, no shabby backpack, no guise of a hedge-witch or a College magician. Talismans of bone hung from her hooded cloak, each one inhabited by a faded old spirit, each one the last remnant of some vanquished undead. She walked with a staff possessed by a bound soul: the pyromaniac High Priest Sroga Sule, destroyer of Van Helth in northern Epressa. Two skeletal warriors flanked her as bodyguards, and an undead secruyu lizard rode on her shoulder. She wore a ghostglass on a silver chain around her neck and a strange knife at her belt. Wispy souls hovered around her, visible only out of the corner of your eye.

Ostentation had never been her style, but recent events had woken her up a little. Surviving Van Helth, protecting Crossroad Mire and the College of Elbion that had exiled her, voyaging far into the ocean, teaming up with an arch coven against a minor god, killing a Dreadlord, supplying a king with an army of the dead - any one of those experiences could have changed her far more. So maybe appearing in her power, as herself, really was the less ostentatious choice.

Besides, when she looked at respectable magicians it was nice to see more fear than contempt for once. And not just fear, but interest.
 

Baron Idris

The Artificer
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A stupidly large crimson tent boasted an equally large banner, which read in flowing, ostentatious gold script: ARMS AND ARTIFICE - SCIENTIFIC CONSTRUCTS

Inside was a host of elegant weaponry and armor ranging from a simple bassinet to a full on zweihander. Each, however, seemed a bit more than ordinary. There were etchings on the metal in strange runes, glowing rocks as pommelstones, and odd metal pumps with tubes.

In one corner of the tent sat a large mahogany desk, littered with magnifying lenses and jeweller’s tools.
 

Selina Altas

Student Wizard
Elbion College
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108
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A comparatively nondescript girl entered the fair grounds. She wore dark traveling clothes and a wide brimmed pointed hat, in her right hand she carried a staff of twisted wood and roots with several stones and spell components imbedded in it. On her right hip was a satchel containing valuable herbs and spell components and on her left hip was a thick book held in a leather harness bound by a chain.

So yeah, nothing special compared to all the other mighty mages, witches, wizards, alchemists, sorcerers necromancers and what-not who all looked just as eccentric or gaudy as their professions would indicate. By comparison she didn't stand out in the least.

Selina had heard about this annual fair and ever since had vowed she would attend one day. That was while she was a student at the college, she's lost much of heir naïveté since then but she still wanted to go. her own divinations revealed where this event would be held since she was off the grid from regular forms of receiving news and so she packed her bags and made her way here.

When she arrived it was every bit as awe inspiring as she dreamed and more. Magic was thick in the air along with conversation and the sharing of knowledge and she thought she died and gone to heaven died again and ascended even higher!
She could only dream of this sort of knowledge sharing when she was a student, or even in her training to be a witch. Eagerly she began looked around at every stall as soon as she arrived, seeing what amazing forms of magic she might find and take notes on. Perhaps she'll find a program and see what lectures are going on that she could jump in to.

She was on a learning high, literally everything absolutely fascinated her! Everything had a magical property to it in one way or another and she couldn't stop herself from opening her spellbook, dipping her quill in some ink and jotting down notes and observations on each and every single one.
Even when she crossed paths with a necromancer escorted by a guard of undead she couldn't help but stop and watch in awe, taking notes on what spells must be in place and their components to resurrect the dead like that!

She was smiling to herself and in a constant state of giddiness, on the verge of giggling maniacally if she weren't so busy gasping and oohing and ahhing over everything she saw!
 
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TTamark

Steve Will's son
Eternum
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Steve was so filled with excitement he could barely contain himself. He would often start suddenly heading in a direction towards an amazing feat of magic only to just as suddenly switch targets. There was just so very much to see and do, how on Arethil could Steve come to any decision.

There were three particular types of things that that Steve would often be distracted by wanting to see more of: the food sections, the magical beast tents, and the tents with necromancers teaching openly. Magic as being used along side food had a special importance to Steve. Steve hoped that from the magic chefs he might be able to not only be able to make potato stew that was even better, but also new interactions that food and magic could have with each other.

Steve loved animals ever since he was a child. His experience from raising them on his fathers farm also gave him a deeper understanding, as well as the experimentation he had done with them at The College of Elbion. Even in undead Steve made a point to never simply use his animals as tools. Ever since the incident with Ella however he had been hesitant to mess with animal biology. Perhaps here Steve might regain his lost confidence.

Finally, but equally important to him were his fellow necromancers. The College of Elbion had outlawed necromancy so he had only a simple understanding of the art when he had first left. Even now, besides a few things he had picked up from the undead and necromancers he had met in his travels, he had never actually had a formal lesson in it. One can learn a lot from being self taught and imitating what one sees, but they are no replacement for proper teaching. Perhaps also the reason Steve had never received the training from any member of the Eternum was because he simply did not trust them. Maybe studying the necromancers present could provide some insight into the evil that was associated with necromancy.
 

revenant

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After many long days of travel, Elianora had finally made it to the place of her dreams: Elbion. She paused, speechless, at the ornamented decor that marked the entrance to the fair. This is it. This is where I'm supposed to be. This is where my life begins, she convinced herself. Having been born in, raised in, and instilled the fear of never leaving the smallest town of no significance with only just enough resources to maintain itself, life got stifling for the girl with eyes bigger than her attention span was long. But maybe, maybe this time she would stick to her word. And... if not,... well, she knew if she went back to O'lthalas, she would have to face a great deal of scrutiny.

Elia was suddenly knocked out of her train of thought by a very tall wizard nearly toppling her as he skirted past, equipment stacked on top of tomes on top of tomes, teetering towards some unknown destination. So, drawing a deep breath and clutching her one bag of possessions, Elia ventured forth into the market, with two goals in mind: one, see something incredible (which was arguably already completed just by the sheer eccentricity currently surrounding her), and two—the more secret, hidden objective—find someone to teach her. If possible, of course. Who knows what she would find in the fair?

Not even 20 paces into the fairgrounds and Elia was having the time of her life. From the outside, one could easily see all the mages about, but to stand in the middle of it all, with them, was a different feeling entirely. She wandered from stall to stall, eyeing each vendor's items with an engaging eye, almost numb from all the diversity in magic and people and clothing and scents and colors, but still, she was happy. And while she was definitely plain compared to all of these folks, she more saw it as an opportunity to garner some flair instead of simply feeling self-conscious.

Moving past a tent wrapped in sheer, shimmering silks, the young girl found herself at a rather large red tent with a rather... ornate sign detailing: ARMS AND ARTIFICE - SCIENTIFIC CONSTRUCTS. Curious, she stepped inside, instantly met by an impressively beautiful display of weapons and armor alike, all with a tinge of... something else.
 

Jeremiah

Machina Gratuiti
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While Jeremiah was hardly one to ask about how magic worked, he himself was a product of extremely powerful magic! Aha! He could be a display himself! Walking into the fair there were many who witnessed steam eject from his various bronze pieces and metal gears. The automaton was not one who could even explain his own existence.

Which brought him to the real reason he was showing up to the fair: Answers. Answers to who struck down his master, answers to who would be willing to kill for formulas that created him and more. Who would be willing to sacrifice their good nature in order to achieve greatness. Someone here had that answer.

And as luck would have it, there was a stop that caught his eye immediately.

ARMS AND ARTIFICE - SCIENTIFIC CONSTRUCTS

This was uncanny. This place had to have some idea to what he was and how he was formed, and who may be involved in his murderous and mysterious past. He walked into the tent, walking in right behind Elianora.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, miss, I must speak with the proprietary of this establishment!" He said to the woman, tipping his hat to her as he passed.

"Excuse me!" The gentleman bellowed. "I would like to speak to the creator of these magnificent tools as I have a great deal of questions for them!"
 

revenant

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"Oh, I beg your pardon, miss, I must speak with the proprietary of this establishment!"
Elia turned over her shoulder towards the voice, instinctively going into a shallow curtsey with a nod of her head, but she was caught in the middle of it by the man's strange appearance. Already during her time in the fair, she'd seen the greatest collection of the most peculiar people she had ever come across in the entirety of her (short so far) life. But this man was different from the usual decked out mages with hundreds of shiny baubles and enchantments drifting around them.

"It's fine," she murmured, entranced by the steam and sound of the little bits and cogs clicking. In the mostly empty tent, it was easy to hear the sound of the metal, but the longer she looked upon him, the more details she noticed, from the curve of the carapace that was the plate over his face to his choice in color of clothing. And, the longer she looked, the more evident it was that "man" did not quite accurately describe him.

"Uh, right...," Elia said to herself, snapping out of it. "Excuse me, sir? I do believe the one running this tent has stepped out for at least a moment. I'm not sure how long it'll be...," she managed, looking right at the two bright circles that made up this strange man's "eyes".
 

Jeremiah

Machina Gratuiti
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Jeremiah whipped around to meet the voice of the woman he'd passed by when he entered. He took his hat off and placed it to his chest as he let out a deep, distorted sigh.

"Of course! Curse my luck. The one person that may have answers and they aren't here at the moment! But I shall wait with baited breath!" The automaton laughing at his breath comment, knowing full well that air was not a necessity of his. He peered over the various weapons and trinkets that lay within the confines of this tent with a slight hum.

"These are truly exquisite, aren't they?" Still talking to the woman but having changed the subject dramatically. He leaned over a warhammer that whirred with magic energy, just as he did. "Oh!" He turned, keeping his head to his chest.

"How deplorable of me! If we're both to wait for the return then the least I could do is offer my introductions!" He made a sound resembling when one would clear their throat, though he clearly could not do such a thing. He bowed deeply.

"I am Jeremiah! Magical construct from the Ixchel Wilds and a connoisseur of all things beautiful in life! Be it the smile of a child when they've been given a frozen treat, or the tears of a family who's just been offered shelter in a storm! THAT is who I am!" He rose from his bow as steam ejected once more from his wrist and the back of his calf. He placed his hat back atop his head and adjusted his bow tie.

"May I ask your name, stranger?"

revenant
 

revenant

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While the steam form the mechanical man quickly dissipated and became near impossible for the eye to see, it certainly made the air in the two's general proximity very humid. "I can't imagine they'll be long," she reassured, not quite struggling for breath, but finding it just mildly uncomfortable enough.
"These are truly exquisite, aren't they?"
"Yes," she replied, running her fingers across a rounded shield with a figure carved deeply into the woods and painted with a cerulean blue that seemed to emanate mist. "They truly—" she began but was abruptly cut off by the mechanical man. She was just about to give him a piece of her mind when he began speaking.

Suddenly, eyes wide, the young woman listened with amazement to the mechanical man's— to Jeremiah's introduction. And what an introduction it was. Elia had to admire that. Succinct, informative, charming, but most importantly: very fun. Elia suddenly felt like she had a lot to compete with.

"Oh, my name?" She asked. "Well,... I am...," she started, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin, "Lady Elianora... uh, Gwenyth von Ardor of O'lthalas! Most just call me Elia, though. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir." The smile that played on her lips quivered as her eyes shifted from him to assorted artefacts in close proximity.
 

Jeremiah

Machina Gratuiti
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"Ha! Wondrous!" He clasped his hands together making a loud clang as they connected. Jeremiah's voice was ever booming but had an air of happiness and morale to it despite its crushing volume.

"So then, Lady Elianora Gwenyth von Ardor of O'lthalas, what is it that brings you to the fair on this day? Intrigue? Power? Curiosity? Wait, that's the same as intrigue, isn't it?" The automaton turned around for a quick second, humming once again. This time pondering why else anyone would be at the magic fair for any other reasons. Oh! His own reason!

He swung back around blindingly fast and raised his pointer finger to the air.

"Or perhaps it is answers that you seek!"
 

TTamark

Steve Will's son
Eternum
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232
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Steve finally managed to get himself to the cooks district. There he had some of the orcs who had taken to his craft set up his stall where they would be serving his stew. Though none of the animals that were being used were immediately being revived they were having their bones and souls be preserved so that after the fact Steve could revive them, maybe if Steve could get his own stall in the outer region he would show his art off, his identity hidden though better not risk souring relations from the ignorance that was prevalent among some. To such people as that it would be better to reveal his craft after they have gotten to know him first that way he could as a friend help guide them to better understanding.

In the mean time Steve began roaming around the food stalls learning from, and trying the many dishes.
 
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revenant

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Elia laughed, greatly entertained by Jeremiah's demeanor. Many of the other people she'd seen walking in were frankly quite intimidating. Elia couldn't exactly wield magic, per se, so the possibility of any which one of them was rather terrifying, though an element of entertainment was there too. But to meet someone who was simply so nice and agreeable was definitely calming.

"No, it's not answers for me," she explained. "There are no mysteries about me." Not entirely true when she lies about her name and title, but if you eliminate that, then it was the straightforward truth. "Would that perhaps be what you seek? By any chance?" Elia countered, raising one sculpted eyebrow like a cat eyeing the next tapestry it would play with.

"But as for me, I do believe intrigue would agree that intrigue (or curiosity) is what brought me here." Elia dug her fingers in her belt, thinking. "Heard about it from a passing traveler and, well, I thought that there could nothing that could possibly compare to this. So why not come, right?" She said, exhaling. "And so far, I think the journey has been worth it!"
 

Jeremiah

Machina Gratuiti
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Elia was a charming girl. He expected there to be many a snooty mages in the fair and maybe there were, but his first encounter has been pleasant so far. One could only hope the proprietary of this establishment would act the same. Though Jeremiah didn't hold his breath, or steam, or whatever.

"It is indeed!" He replied. "These machinations have a similar imbuing of magic that I have, and was therefore hoping the shopkeep may have some information on beings such as myself. Seeing that I have never met another person like me, I am ever hunting for the truth behind my existence! Haha!" Though the topic was a bit existential, his demeanor didn't change. He was ever ecstatic about this pursuit of knowledge.

He hummed at nodded at her reasoning. A common one, but valuable nonetheless! Curiosity drove the world to grow and he was happy it existed in his and many other minds.

"Are you a magician yourself?" He asked with a genuine tone.
 

Malak Baske

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Malak found himself at the Magic Skills Fair not to demonstrate his own talents, as he was but a humble potion craftbrewer, but as a customer. Work had been slow lately, few job postings in the guild that he had sufficient rank to be accept. Save for one; the expulsion of a spirit haunting a minor noble's estate. Spirit expulsions were odd jobs, in that they required specific skill sets or equipment to handle. The higher level jobs were taken fairly regularly, but the lower paying jobs often sat for months before a new adventurer could take of it.

If Malak could find a solution at this fair, it would be a niche way for him to get a steady source of income, and perhaps rank up in the guild quicker. Thus he traveled from tent to stall to find something, until he found what appeared to be a Necromancer. Harrier Wren was accompanied by two skeletons, and what appeared to be a decomposing lizard atop her shoulder. Malak took a deep breath and walked over to the Necromancer.

"I need to expel a hostile spirit. Do you have any tools that can help me?"
 

Triam Akovin

Treasure Huntress
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Triam Akovin of Cortos had wandered a long way on her own, crossbow and quiver on her back, rapier at one hip and a buckler at the other, a dagger strapped to her forearm and above her boot. She didn't know exactly where she was when she came across the scent of food and... something other. It reminded her of Val Anira and their Dreadlords. She had heard stories from her father before he died, and more from the army itself, before she abandoned it. The smell was similar to what she remembered after visiting the outskirts of their latest conquest on her homeland, and it made her stomach nauseous with rage.

Nonetheless, she followed the smell as a hunter might, and came across quite unexpectedly some kind of... carnival? A Fair? Curiously, she walked through, eyeing the various stands and signs. She came across one sign, ARMS AND ARTIFICE - SCIENTIFIC CONSTRUCTS which seemed to have attracted a pair of individuals conversing with one another. Others walked about, stinking of despicable magics, and decided this would be the tent she investigates first.

"Pardon my intrusion," She said both gruffly but politely, as she got past the pair of individuals to look at just what scientific constructs and arms this tent goer might have...

Jeremiah revenant Baron Idris
 

Harrier

Necromancer
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Harrier gave Malak Baske the kind of look most reserve for a pie of unknown filling. Her skeletons only grinned.

"That depends on your budget, friend. A little haunting is manageable, but 'hostile spirit' is a broad category."

The skeletons commingled and became a small bench of bones at the side of this stretch of green. Harrier sat down with a clatter of talismans and smoothed her dress over her knees.

"Tell me more about the depth of your problems and your purse."
 

Malak Baske

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Malak watched at the Necromancer gave her a look that most closely resembled curiosity, while her skeletons seemed to stretch their skinless faces to a wide grin. She began negotiations as the skeletons performed some wretched dance and mixed their bones to form a single bench. The Necromancer sat down as some other mages began to stare, and others turned the eyes of their children away. Malak gave the bench a good look, then sat.

"The problem doesn't seem to be difficult. A minor lord's new manor throws paintings, candlesticks, glasses and the like whenever someone arrives. Little laughs when you wander around the place. Think it was a child, previous owner."

He held a small purse for the Necromancer. "I don't have a lot, but I can offer what I have." He offered the purse to Harrier . It was roughly a month's wages, but he wasn't the most profitable of sellsword.
 

Baron Idris

The Artificer
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A chime suddenly rang in the pavilion of Arms and Artifice and a nobleman entered - who else could wear such sumptuous garb with a gleaming, gold livery collar encrusted with rubies?

He sported the type of mustache that was all the rage in Cortos these days. No doubt he was once incredibly handsome, but his dark hair was shot through with early gray and a series of scars marred his face almost as bad as those who had had the pox.

“Hello, I am Baron Idris,” he said with a blindingly white smile, “This is my emporium of arms.”

He spread his hands wide.

“Ward-etched breastplates? Sun-harnessing focalizing crystals? Daggers with venom reservoirs? Exploding crossbow bolts? I make it all.”
 

Harrier

Necromancer
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266
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Malak Baske

Truth be told, the skeleton bench wasn't that comfortable. It was, however, eye-catching and also convenient.

"Nine times out of ten, a child haunting can be put to rest by rectifying something left undone. Burying bones, outing a killer, that sort of thing. One time out of ten, though, it's not what it seems and nothing I give you can empower you to deal with it. So what I'll sell you for what you've got there is the means to tell the difference."

She produced a palm-sized quartz lens and raised it to her eye.

"This is a ghostglass. You look like any other mortal." She handed it over. "Look at me and you'll see the souls in my baggage. Look around the manor house and you'll see either an unquiet child or...very much not."
 

Malak Baske

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Malak listened to the Necromancer's words and tried to suppress the thought that a femur was digging into his lower back. She explained she had little that would accomplish Malak's task, but did offer a roughly cut piece of glass roughly the size of his palm. She handed it over to Malak, who noticed shortly afterward she didn't give him any change.

Such was to be expected, but still felt humbling.

Malak held the ghostglass to his eye and observed the world around Harrier Wren. It seemed Necromancers lived quite the exciting life. He also looked around at the other mages frequenting the fair, and confirmed it didn't just 'ghostify' people in general.

"Useful. I like it. What is the magic's Price?" He asked not about the coin, but rather the toll the magic took. Some items simply worked until they didn't, but others took something from the user. For him to do his job, he'd need to know.
 
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Harrier

Necromancer
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Malak Baske

Harrier raised an eyebrow. "So you know the Laws. Are you a practitioner yourself? The price is simple enough and shouldn't be a problem. Every time you use a ghostglass, you become, permanently, a little more perceptible, interesting, even appetizing to the incorporeal beings you see. You'll only need to put it to your eye a handful of times, so the effect won't be significant. I've used a ghostglass hundreds of times and I get...approached...by a spirit once or twice a day. I also have to tread lightly at old battlefields and similar places. It's a modest price, all things considered. Would you agree?"
 

Malak Baske

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Harrier

"That seems perfectly equitable." Malak replied to the Necromancer's explanation of the ghostglass's Price. "Practitioner is perhaps a bit strong of a word." Malak replied, tapping a bottle held on a leather strap fixed across his chest. "I can store magic, grow it even, in alcohol and mix it with other ingredients to make enhancery brews and concoctions. Wolf tallow and some basic herbs give one a wonderful sense of smell, for example." Malak was ill-suited for more traditional magics such as the manipulation of objects or conjuration of elements, but had learned to make due.

"It's been a pleasure." Malak stated, then began to rise from the bench of bones. Part of him figured that he may be looking for this same necromancer in another five years asking how to dissuade spirits who thought his taste divine, but that was a problem for the Malak of tomorrow.
 
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Harrier

Necromancer
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Malak Baske

"In alcohol, you say..."

Harrier reached into her clattering bag and pulled out a small bottle. Inside, the three-eyed head of a gristo eel blinked mournfully.

"Ever see a deadfish? Here, on the house. Just send me a message - Harrier Wren at Crossroad Mire in the Bayou Garramarisma - if you learn anything useful from it, o pickler in alcohol."

She tossed him the bottle.

"And on that note, I sold an undead army recently, so I'll happily buy what you've got to sell. Your magic's a curiosity, and I love a curiosity."
 

Severin Bellerose

Drunken Scholar
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61
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Late to the party as always. That's how Severin Bellerose always seemed to work.
And he could barely even hide his liqueur canteen. His eyes seemed to spark up at the Jaleyaanan scripture mages.
You know. Rare a place harbours so many mages that just do by writing.
Nothing of that fancy slog with waving your hands around and shouting like a maniac. But hey, perhaps it is just bias.
Severin certainly did not think that way.

Making his way from the Jaleyaanan tents, the wobbly mage figured to see what was on the market.
There were many intriguing options for sure. But right now, he'll just observe to see what fancies his interest this time around.