Open Chronicles The Schools of Magic[Elbion & Vel Anir]

[Talus]

Aberresai Savannah - Terin

"I can't believe we're doing this." Talus growled as he shifted slightly and stepped out of his tent and into a solid patch of mud that had formed from the night before.

Around him were dozens upon dozens of similar canvas structures, some big, some small. Most seemed to be placed in orderly lines, though a few had been scattered about almost at seeming random. In the distance one could hear yelling and cheers, though Talus hardly seemed to pay any attention to that at all. Instead he continued to complain.

"They're kids!" He growled. "Students who've never taken their noses out of books."

He sounded almost disgusted.

The young Apprentice of course referred to the students of Elbion.

In the north of Arethil, Elbion was considered the most prestigious school of magic in existence. The mages produced there made some of the greatest discoveries in the world. They were scholars, learned men and women of education. Respected the world over and sought after for the wisdom and guidance on all sorts of problems.

The Dreadlord's of Vel Anir were weapons of war.

There was a parody between the two groups, and that was truly where Talus' outrage stemmed from. This entire thing, this festival set up by the masters of his city and those that lead Elbion was a farce. The purpose behind it was noble enough, though most Proctors at the Academy laughed when they'd heard, but the tournament set up around it?

Ludicrous.

The apprentices of the Academy pitted against the Students of Elbion in various tests and challenges. Some magical, some not.

It was a display for the local townspeople, he assumed, a way to make everyone feel safe and secure. While the masters of the respective cities conversed and hashed out deals of trade and other such nonsense, the Apprentices would play against each other.

That was why this massive tent city had been erected just outside of the small town of Terin. The competitions were being held in a large field extending all around the town, with different contests occurring daily. Today Talus was set to his first bout, though in truth he'd been too angry about all of this to actually learn what it was.

He was supposed to be a weapon, not some stupid game piece.

 

[Ryan of Tel Idris]

“Stop being such a pissant, Talus,” Luther sneered as he adjusted some straps on his armor.

“It’ll he loads of fun. Personally, I can’t wait to slap one of those bookworms around. The practice dummies just get so boooring.”

 

[Kara Orin]

Kara stood outside a small tent on the Aberrasai Savannah. Several other members of the College – both students and Maesters – cheerfully chatted away while the Dreadlords loomed in the not too far off distance. Kara only frowned while surrounded by the festivities.

---

Before ever setting foot for the Savannah, Kara made it very clear she did not wish to participate. A professor with significant influence demanded her to participate in this competition.

“I’m not trained to fight!” Kara used as an excuse.

The College had a deserved reputation of being a place of bookish wizards. However, not all students in the College could hope – or had the desire – to be court mages and the next Nokev. The College did provide an optional path for magic combat curricula – which many of the student participants were a part of. Kara was not one of these students.

“This isn’t a game to them!” Kara continued, “I could get hurt!”

The exact details of the Dreadlords’ abilities were not known to the general public, yet their reputation of being deadly, ruthless battlemages stretched across Liadain.

Kara had continued to express other reasons for her to not attend these games. Yet the professor was unmoved – making counters or outright dismissing her concerns.

“I’m not going to risk my life in something I can’t win,” Kara claimed, “If I go, I’ll forfeit my matches!”

And in response to that, the professor presented an ultimatum to Kara. Roughly a week later, she arrived at Terin with the rest of the College’s participants.

---

With the first round of competitions to start, Kara approached the board displaying all the bouts. She looked for the one she was assigned to.

“I hope this goes by quick…” Kara mumbled.

 

[Harry]

Hal suddenly walked between the two of them, his gambeson appearing to glow as it reflected the sun's light. He slapped both hands down on their shoulders and gave them a slight jostle. A chilling sensation radiated from his palms.

"Now, now," He smiled at Luther and Talus, "We should play nice with them."

 

[Talus]

"Play nice?" He scoffed. "What, only kill them a little?"

Gods he was starting to sound like Luther.

The thought sent a shudder down his spine, and briefly he wondered if Hal wasn't right. Still, he couldn't help but dislike all of this. The parody between them and the students of Elbion was laughable in any martial competition.

He could kill some of those students with one hand tied behind his back. He grumbled against quietly, shaking his head. "Come on, lets go see what the fuck I'm doing today."

 

[Phillipa Ebonheart]

Phillipa had laughed herself silly hearing about the proposal for the Dreadlords of Vel Anir and the apprentices of the College to put on a display of abilities for the public. A sly way of forcing the Dreadlord welps to display some of their undocumented skills for future purposes. It also forced the college to show its hand, but the college was at a far more strategic advantage given that they could circulate their students and associated skills with a fresh batch of students.

The Dreadlords could not do so as readily in her opinion.

Though that was beside the point of all this farce and flare. The public wished for a spectacle, and regardless of the outcome, the show would be put on. The Ebonheart noble walked beside Kara and listened to her complaints. The fur mantle being fluffed as she expressed her lack of combat training.

"Then this will be an excellent chance for you to see, and possibly gain some combat ability." Phillipa quietly informed her as she made another protest.

"It is never a game when magic is pitted against one another, regardless of the arena. At any time, anyone could be hurt, even here at the College and never you mind on the battlefield. Friend and foe alike can be harmed or destroyed when power is unleashed." Phillipa again informed her, beginning to edge her tone into reprimand. She dusted her coat of imaginary road dust as the final bit of defiance came from Kara.

"If you do not attend, I will end your studies here at the College and send you back to your village with a permanent blacklisting and you will be unable to persuade anyone from removing it from you for the rest of your life. This, discussion, is over." Phillipa spat, fully finished with the arguing.

---

That discussion had been a week ago now as Phillipa peered at the canvas city before them. She was intently curious about the apprentices the Dreadlords had sent them, and this opportunity to catalog their strengths. The choker and mantle were present, announcing herself to those that knew her.

 

[Sigfrith Runecarver]

Sigfrith stomped through the tent city, looking fairly nondescript except for the chain around his neck that marked him as a Maester of the College of Elbion.

He wasn’t sure which section of the tents he was in. They all looked human sized and humans all looked the same to him, especially the beardless ones. Youths? Lasses? Women? He’d gotten better than some in his time amongst humans, but it was still difficult. How could you know someone when they didn’t weave their identity and history into their beards to symbolize their own existence and amongst the learned among his kind, there had once been debate about whether the beardless were fully a person.

Whomever these beardless one were, they were ripe with arrogance. It practically clogged his nostrils. He tucked the chain of office inside his tunic and pulled his cloak closer around his shoulders as he approached them.

“Kill them a little? Slap a bookworm around?” A deep chuckle emerged from his throat and bright eyes peered up from under the cloak’s hood. “Go into battle with such attitudes and you’ll be dead before you realize. Trust an old Dwarf, beardless ones. Such thoughts lead only to catastrophe.”

He looked around the tents. “What would your trainers think to hear you talking so? If this were a real battle? Would any sergeant brook such speech?”

 

[Ryan of Tel Idris]

“Who the fuck is this?”

Luther looked at his companions for some sort of explanation. They gave none. Typical.

The apprentice looked the short, squat, hooded figure over. A dwarf? He couldn’t help the disgusted curl of his lips. Ugly, hairy little creatures. Even worse than elves in his opinion.

“Who the fuck are you?”

 

[Harry]

Hal was honest to a fault. Almost innocently honest at times. He spoke over Luther's questioning.

"Sir Dwarf, our Proctors would encourage an efficient and swift resolution to a duel. However, I think if we dueled to the utmost of our abilities, it would defeat the purpose of this competition. This was organized for a spectacle, and us so one-sidedly crushing the competition would be no spectacle."

It was more words than he normally spoke, as he was the simpler one out of the group of three. However, he spoke honestly. Hal truly believed that this whole event was a waste. He almost felt bad for the poor students from Elbion. Almost.

 

[Velaeri]

And in a rush of wind did the Dawnbringer arrive at the outskirts of the encampment at Terin. Word of the competition had spread far and wide - and why shouldn't it? The great Elbion College pitted against the Academy of the Dreadlords? To miss such a unique occasion was truly an opportunity gone by.

If nothing else, it would show to her what powers be on the rise in the younger generations. People to keep her eyes on as they grew over the years, to either add to her exclusive collective of honorary associates or to her list of disgraced and ill-kept individuals.

Besides, where there were festivals there was also an abundance of food, and far be it from the powers that be to deny the Dawnbringer a hearty feast for her welcome.

 

[Selina Della Altas]

Selina was far from ready for such an event, but even so she was excited. She had her current abilities and wanted to put them to the test outside of the protective circles of the college. She held her spell book tightly against her chest as she skipped through the tent city. She already had the spells she would use memorized, but it never hurt to carry the precious tome with her at all times. She wore her collage robes and a light scarf around her neck. Her wand in a sheath on her belt.

She was chipper and excited, even though it was a bit hotter than she was used to, a quick casting of prestidigitation brought it down to a bearable level for herself. The savannah was a truly amazing place in itself, as a wizard she saw simply the chance to visit this place as an opportunity for discovery. She remembered the long cart ride she made through the savannah with her family to join the college a few years before.

She had set up her belongings in her tent and decided to explore, maybe meet some new people and possibly see some of the wonders of the savannah!
She skipped past the apprentices from the Academy of the Dreadlords speaking with the runes professor of the College. She meandered around the tents, hoping to spot a lizard to study or an interesting face to strike up a conversation with.
Good or bad she just knew she would come away having learned something.

 

[Severin Bellerose]

Severin Bellerose would not attend such an event, but some of his comrades were quick to egg him on to go. Relentlessly even.
It'll be fun they said.
I don't care, he'd shrug them off.

---

»Ah, Phillipa, there you are. My oh my, isn't it an amazing day to see students blast each other to smithereens?« His voice was as unenthusiastic as ever.

Severin was a lot paler around the face than usual and as scrawny as a wet cat. Likely from becoming an utter recluse in studying that damned codex acquired months ago. Perhaps also the reason that he was almost forced to leave his study and attend this little 'friendly competition'.

At least he was sober, but one couldn't quite get the feeling off their mind that he was most likely juggling a nice flask of strong alcohol under his cloak.

 

[Talus]

Talus couldn’t help but feel a vein of disgust run through him as the Dwarf stepped up to them and spoke.

He wasn’t as closed minded as other Anirians. He didn’t despise other species just for being species, but seeing the smallish humanoid set him on the edge of something. The young man couldn't really put words to it but, there was just… something unnatural about dwarves.

Didn’t feel right. ”Plus they’d beat us for even thinking anything else.”

The words were said so quietly that the only one who could possibly hear him was Luther, though the comment was more for himself than anyone else.

Talus knew that if one of the Proctors had heard them speak in anything but full confidence they would likely earn a lashing simply for not believing in the training that had been instilled in them. Defeat was simply not an option.

For more reason than one.

Though many Dreadlords thought that this entire exercise was stupid, there was still pride on the line. Pride that rested on the shoulders of Talus and his fellow apprentices. If even one of them failed, it would very likely end up badly for all of them. The Proctor were not kind with this sort of thing.

He was so focused on that thought that he didn’t even notice the girl skipping by. Too wrapped up in the idea of being thrown to the wolves.

 

[Sigfrith Runecarver]

Sigfrith's eyebrows knit together as the first of the youths spoke and he nearly reacted rashly but instead held his tongue. He certainly hoped these were not Elbion apprentices. If they were, he would have them mucking out the stables with hand-trowels for a year. Courtesy was as crucial to mages and wizards as power. Moreso, in fact, for without courtesy, one might invite enemies that magic could not stop.

"Who I am matters far less than who you think you are," Sigfrith said after a moment, fixing the first beardless one with a scowl that had curdled Elven princelings. "But fortunately for you, I am one with more emphasis on courtesy than on pride."

He turned to the other youth who spoke and gave a nod of his head. "Indeed? Is that so? And how could you know what is the most efficient way to end a duel without knowing the identity and powers of your opponents? It seems most foolish of your instructors if they desire to charge into something while knowing nothing of what might come."

He tugged at his beard for a moment and shrugged. A third had spoken, but it was too soft for Sigfrith to hear. Above, a flap of wings and rush of air caught his attention, and he looked up as a massive griffin landed at the festival grounds. He had met her once before if he recalled rightly.

"And spectacle, perhaps it is, perhaps it is not, although I suspect that the greater spectacle would be when this flawed training of these..." He paused to remember the word. "Proctors and their ill-guided philosophy backfires." A deep rumble emerged from his throat as he shook his head. "Take it from one who has been fighting battles since before your grandsires were born, beardless ones, confidence and bravado have killed more warriors than enemy competence."

He let out a quiet laugh that rumbled in his chest. "But if you wish to speak more of such things," he pointed to his own smallish tent, "I am there and I will be doing some time baking and watching the youths of today make fools of themselves."

 

[Ryan of Tel Idris]

Blue eyes wandered past the dwarf and fixed on a brown haired girl with a carefree smile who skipped past them. His gaze lingered on her backside for a moment, contemplative, then returned to the dwarf.

"Is this thing still talking?" He scoffed, vile in his words dripping like venom from a serpent's fangs. "I think we've better to do than banter with a half-man. Come on, boys. Let's get to the grounds before we miss the fun."

Nevertheless, Luther made note of the grotesque creature's tiny tent in case he needed to burn it later, or something.

 

[Sierra]

A girl with auburn hair and stormy eyes stepped up next to Luther Urahil . The empath felt her fellow student's salacious intent. Latching onto his anger, she'd try to siphon some of his energy for herself.

"Stop looking at asses and stay focused."

There was no bite behind her words just an eerie hollow, emptiness. There were many feelings here. Ripe for the harvest. Not that she would use her magic in battle. The Dreadlords would frown on a victory that didn't use the physical skills they'd ingrained in their students.

 

[Selina Della Altas]

As she skipped along she noticed two things. One was the griffon who had just landed! What?! a griffon?! here?! Her heart leapt in her throat in excitement. She wanted to take notes, study the magical creature. Could they speak? what secrets could they tell? Was this dangerous? why was a griffon here? All she knew about griffons was a mention of their magical origins, otherwise she only knew of their taste and rivalry for horses.
The second thing she saw was one of her professors walking away in a grump, as always. The dwarf Runemaster Sigfrith Runecarver . She enjoyed his classes especially, as a linguist she was intrigued by the concept of being able to use a language to create magic and spells.

She was torn, she was excited to see them both but in the end she decided to speak with Sigfrith, maybe she could ask him about the griffon before she risked getting eaten because of her ignorance.
She turned around she skipped up to Sigfrith, she waved and called out to him, "Professor Runecarver!"

 

[Harry]

Hal pondered over the Dwarf's words. He just could not picture a scenario where he would lose to students of the college. To him, they were sheltered. He thought it irrational to compare the Apprentices to students in terms of combat. For a decade, he and his fellow Apprentices have lived day-by-day with death nipping at their heels.

Before Henry could respond, Luther led the three away. Three soon became four as Sierra joined them. She was one of the more estranged Apprentices. Hal found her hard to approach and rarely spoke with her.

"Stop looking at asses and stay focused," She had said, which earned a small chuckle from Henry.

It was warm that day, and somewhat humid. He clenched his left hand a few times and felt confident. He possessed powerful magic, yet still struggled with controlling it. Too often will he overexert himself and cause unnecessary damage to himself and his surroundings. Today, he had complete confidence.

"Do you think they will force us to do arithmetic?" He thought out loud to his fellow Apprentices, dreading the thought of any competition that would have them stray from their martial upbringing.

 

[Talus]

Talus very slowly turned his head towards Hal, lips thinned and his expression a complete mask of stone and distaste. "Arithmetic?"

Though The Academy's education mainly focused around combat, magic, and that sort of thing none of the Apprentices were spared daily classes in more ordinary subjects. Everything from History, Writing, to yes even Arithmetic.

They were most definitely not the focus, but none of them were dullards who couldn't read or write.

Still, the more he thought about it the more Talus realized that the students of Elbion likely excelled far past any Apprentice Dreadlord in such subjects. His fingers tightened for a moment and then his head shook as they turned a corner directly before the tournament grounds.

"Nobody is here to watch tournaments of Arithmetic." He told the other lad. "They're here to see us fight."

Anything else would be madness.

His gaze swept over the grounds for a moment, his eyes catching sight of a large wooden board. "There."

It was the postings for who would be doing what and matched against whom.

 

[Phillipa Ebonheart]

Phillipa gave Severin a sincere smile, being just a handful of people that actually would ever recieve such a gesture from the woman.

"Severin darling, it is always a matter of students blasting away at each other. This time, the public gets to watch." Phillipa informed him sarcastically as she made her way towards the announcement board.

 

[Ryan of Tel Idris]

Luther turned and his lips pulled at the scar across his cheek as he smirked.

“Jealous, Sierra?”

He leaned closer conspiratorially as they walked toward the grounds, tousled white blond hair blowing back in the breeze, the scent of jasmine perfume thick in the air around him.

“Come now, I know you’re obsessed with me.”

 

[Severin Bellerose]

He tilted his head slightly while paging through some letters with his off-hand, not even gazing at them. The scholar was still very much the eccentric self he always was.

What would be the first competition even? Bah.

Severin gazed back at her, brushing his mustache a little as he followed side by side. »But with some Dreadlords? Well, Elbion sure knows the best with whom to pick a fight.«

 

[Sigfrith Runecarver]

A deep hrrmph emerged from his chest as the beardless ones departed. Fools, they were, but also dangerous. Few were more dangerous than fools with an exaggerated sense of their own importance. The thought of them trying something brought a grim smile to his face. He would inscribe some runic wards later in the day to leave some surprises for them. See how they liked that.

Someone saying his name caught his attention and he turned to see one of his pupils greeting him. He gave a nod of greeting. "Ah, Selina Altas. How good it is to see you here." He tilted his head towards where the tournament rounds were posted. "Will you be participating in these shenanigans? Or come to watch?"

 

[Sierra]

If Hal was watching Sierra closely, he'd be rewarded with the barest twitch of her lips. She tried to picture the giant arena set-up with boards for writing out equations for all to see. Perhaps one day...

Head canted to the side, sharp nose twitching in Luther's direction.

Was he wearing cologne?

That would certainly give his position away on the field. Fingers shifted the quiver of arrows and bow looped around the curve of her shoulder. She was, naturally, entering the archery portion of the competition first. It would be interesting to see if they would be aiming for live targets.

But because it was Elbion, she thought that unlikely.

She finally addressed her fellow classmate, voice emerging dryer than the deepest part of the Wasteland.

"Oh baby, baby. You caught me. Baby. Baby."

 

[Phillipa Ebonheart]

Phillipa smiled and waved her hand once more to her compatriot. "When another magical entity enters the fray, it is the duty of the college to gauge strength and intent. A convenient cover making a show out of it. If it were to be a true competition, we wouldn't be using barely weened pups." The devilish glint of fire was in her eyes at the mention of competition.