Event: Ascent of the Archmage

Posted 2 years, 9 months ago (Edited 2 years, 8 months ago) by anathema_rpg

Ascent of the Archmage
🔸🏰🔸

Upon the steps of the King’s Palace, three candidates vye to be the Order’s next Archmage. They have convened for a session of robust discussion and lively debate. Audience participation is encouraged.

Welcome to the Ascent of the Archmage open thread! Players will receive double gold for posts here, and may choose to support or sabotage any of the three candidates for +/- 1 point of approval per post.

To support or sabotage a candidate, end your post with the following phrase: [Name] (supports/sabotages) (Sabora/Miriam/Guro).

Diregull

For a brief moment, Divos allowed himself to relax.

And then Miriam opened her mouth.

Divos, reluctantly, had to give her some credit: the Witchfinder was remarkably well-spoken, to the point that Divos (who would literally be arrested by her policies) saw the reason and logic in her words. If she did not stand for everything that Divos was and would continue to be, if she was not the greatest enemy that would stand to Siregal, Divos could almost admire her.

Yet, alas. She stepped and dodged around questions as easily as a politician. Bless Enchanter Guro, but she was not a public speaker. Who in the world coached her? Divos, too, was not a public speaker, but he had dealt with the general public since he was 12. Learning how to placate an angry crowd and keep the discussion amicable was ingrained into his very bones. Enchanter Guro lacking that much was... grating.

No matter. Most of the mages were worked up against Miriam anyways. They would listen to anyone that wasn't attempting to placate them with nonsense that someone with the title of "Witchfinder" truly had their best interests in mind. Divos watches as the deer snaps back, as an antelope with skeletal arms gesticulates. Out here, Miriam is getting eviscerated.

However, Guro still needs help.

"Ivras has a bloody past, one that they still need to make up for," Divos echoed. He did not wander to the podium this time; instead, letting his natural height look over the crowd. "All mages have seen first hand the ways that Ivras once dealt with their unwanted, their soiled and their damned. We need someone who is going to listen to mages. We need someone who is not afraid to look a mage in the eye, who knows the ancient traditions of magics far older and far stronger than anything Ivras could dream of. We need someone with experience, who does not keep their heads to books in the Order and attempts a middling ground that pleases no one. We need Enchanter Guro. With Enchanter Guro, there will be more friends than enemies. With Prince Consort Sabora, Ivras will continue to rot under its own corruption. With Witchfinder Miriam... there will be a reckoning, and the Magocracy of Siregal will not take kindly to the chains proposed."

Now, did Divos believe half of what he said?

No. By the damned gods, no. If anything, Enchanter Guro's lack of tact meant that the council of mages in Siregal would loathe her bullheadedness as they worked so hard to maintain their Senate. Divos would give anything to have a more reasonable mage as a potential ally to Siregal's best interest. But, that is why he is here: to push the conversation toward what Enchanter Guro can do, and let the other mages ruin the reputation of the Witchfinder and the Prince Consort while he attempts to keep the pathway clear for Siregal's best and brightest future.

Perhaps he can interest Enchanter Guro in a public speaking class. He doubted she would listen.

Divos supports Guro (WC: 515)

Leveret (Anathema) JLynn

Feast.

That is all they need to hear. His rabbits, his peripheral eyes and ears, are nothing more than shadows as they escape the confines of his skin and slither out among the gathering crowds. Their beady eyes are wide, and their ears ever so tall, seeing and listening to the world in ways he could never on his own. How restless they had felt, starving for the whispers and secrets these kinds of gatherings were plump with. He wanted nothing more than to dig his teeth into the political upheaval and sway it in his favor.

Many of the gatherers take to the podium and raise their opinions loudly and with such force, such emotion clouding their eyes and catching in their throats. Others are steely in their delivery, their feet planted firmly in their ideals. Curious, each of them were, but they were not who he wished to listen to that day. They did not have his ears.

No, it was the many in the crowd who did not raise their voices. The many who stood upon the fence between each candidate, their whispers wary and unsure and misguided, wanting deep down for someone to show them who to choose. They were scared and overwhelmed, and why shouldn’t they be? A beast had torn through their homes, and now they had to choose another monster to take its place.

Leveret Delmore moves along the edge of the crowds, watching each candidate take the podium and defend themselves against the onslaught of questions and concerns. Of the three, it is Sabora he is most in favor of, finding that their position is the least likely to rock the ship he intends to sail into the social elite. Miriam earns a curled lip for the strict grip she intends to have on mages like him. But he doesn’t see her as a threat - not yet, at least. No, he is sure she would be eaten alive by an angry mage if she didn’t keep a wary eye over her shoulder.

And Guro- it is Guro that he harbors the most contempt for. A monster hunter, so the stories go, from the Wild Clans that had kept Ivras free of beasts and corruption. He hears whispers of approval for her from fear-driven individuals, but there is doubt, too. He can taste it in the air, fed to him by the rabbits as they slip from one shadow to the next. They make him restless, emboldened, until he exhales a question to the many that still sat upon their fences.

"Who will decide what is and is not a monster?” His voice slithers among the wary, his brows raising in carefully woven curiosity. "Are you a monster for your wings?” He hisses to an antelope with great leather wings. "Or you for your eyes?” He meets the gaze of a pale-eyed boar with slitted pupils, a third opening upon their forehead. What was Guro’s definition of a monster?

He moves further through the crowd, trailing fear for Guro in his wake, until he catches sight of someone familiar. Slender gold antlers arch above his head, a long delicate tail sweeping out behind him, and eyes that made his cold heart stir within its iron cage. He draws in closer, as he always did - as he always would. "Who is to say you are not her next hunt, Seth LeClerq?”

Leveret sabotages Guro.
(569 words)

Prince Consort Sabora anathema_rpg

During their time in the Royal Court, Sabora has learned the importance of patience. It’s best to hold one’s tongue until an opportune moment presents itself. They were diligent with their studies, honing their magic into a finely tuned, intricate instrument. They were equanimous when courting Gladius, waiting in the wings until the time was right to take a seat at the King’s right hand.

They are patient now, listening attentively to the din and discourse. Sabora wears a mask of unflappable poise as the crowd delivers their judgement. Miriam takes the brunt of the critique, and they are content to stand back and observe how she combats the barrage with a shield of eloquence. They hear their own name, too - flung at them like a rotten fruit.

An outlander with a ghastly visage mocks them with sarcastic contempt.

What a fantastic idea it would be, to appoint Haiga’s protege as the follow-up. I’d say they will make a beautiful worm as well, all in due time.

Another outlander - a diplomat from Siregal - delivers thinly veiled threats.

Sabora is not the ally that Siregal needs.

Miriam, wet in the face, voices her verdict.

The Prince and their Council do not have what it takes to do what needs to be done. They are afraid, and, I’m sorry, but they are weak.

Sabora closes their many jewelstone eyes. They inhale, then exhale. The babble of the congregation, the contempt of their peers - they allow it to wash over them. It’s water off a duck’s back. As they open their eyes, they slick on an expression of renewed serenity. A cocky smile graces their delicate features.

“Such riveting speeches from the audience today,” they say, slipping to the front of the stairwell platform. “And such powerful words from my opponents as well. I would very much like to address a few of their points.”

Their gaze settles on the Witchfinder. Her popularity among Ivras’s non-mage majority is the largest threat to their victory - and she’s a formidable orator to boot.

“Miriam claims the Order’s research is futile. Her proposed regulations would discourage further investigation in favor of remaining ignorant,” they begin, meeting Miriam’s stare steadily. “But, of course, we cannot blame a non-mage for being ignorant on matters of magic… So, allow me to enlighten you, my dear Miriam.” Their tone is silky and amused, rather than accusatory.

“You see, magic is not a nebulous hazard. It is a science. To control magic, you cannot simply restrict its use. You must learn to harness it - to understand it. Miriam seeks a surface-level solution to corruption. I seek a holistic cure.”

Next, they turn to the Enchanter. She is not as large a threat as Miriam, but they know better than to underestimate the tenacity of a veteran battlemage.

“I do agree with Guro, in that collaboration between the Order and the Clans is crucial. However, it is barbarity that she preaches. She prefers regression over progression, and would rather hunt monsters than curb their production. She clings to traditions that were useful only hundreds of years ago, and fails to adapt. I intend to advance the Order in a sustainable fashion.”

Sabora’s attention flits back to the crowd.

“My fellow Ivratians,” they say, lifting their voice graciously. “I have great respect for my opponents. Their passion is admirable, but their policies are nothing short of the ideas of extremists. Only I can secure the freedom that Miriam opposes, and the peace that Guro threatens.”

(575 words)

Lasair (Anathema) GoId

CW: Lots of swearing

Lasair wanted to badly to speak again, to continue the debate, but to go up and speak a third time would reflect greedily on her, especially after her impassioned speech. A gracious lady never overstepped how outspoken she appeared, and the acknowledgement of social restrictions bit at her.

So she turned to her prepared hired man, an incredibly tired nonmage draft stallion who raised a dry brow at her when she slipped him a note she’d been writing since her last speech, full of speaking points and questions. He walked away into the crowd to appear unaffiliated with her and read over the note with a sigh, waiting for Sabora to be done before stepping up to the podium.

He glanced over his notes one more time before eyeing the three candidates, letting the pause stretch out longer than was comfortable, before saying dryly, “You do know that when you all say, “I’m the best choice,” it doesn’t mean anything, right? It’s a waste of air. You can make all the fancy claims you want, but if it’s not backed by, what, actual plans, then it’s complete garbage. Granted, mostly what's been said has been a lot of people yelling instead of actually asking questions like we're supposed to, so here goes.”

He directed Miriam first. “You. You want to keep all the mages in Namarast, right? Make sure they never leave, make sure they aren’t taught anything, whoop-de-fuckin’-do. Saying that ain’t locking people up is absolute bullshit and you know it. Question for you is: you do know that you can’t find every single fucking mage in all of Ivras, right? It’s impossible. You get one mage who can like, I don’t know, burrow underground and eat rocks because they don’t want to be locked up, and they corrupt on their own, blah blah blah. You’ve been asked the question and avoided it like a thrice-damned coward so just answer it already – w h e n it happens again, because no rule is absolute and there’s no possible way to regulate everyone, what backup plans do you have w h e n another monster attacks.” His lip curled in a sneer. “You’re a teacher, right? An evacuation “master”. If you don’t have a backup plan, and another one if it fails, that just makes you an idiot who doesn’t know how reality works. Who’s going to fight the monsters twenty or thirty years down the road when nobody remembers how to use magic? And don’t start up again with that ‘rules will save us’ crap, ‘cause all it takes is one idiot who says ‘fuck the rules’ and then hundreds of people are dead. No singular plan is perfect, and pretending the possibility of another monster attack won’t happen is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. 'm asking you to entertain the idea, the fuckin' hypothesis, if you will, and just answer what you'd do if the worst case scenario happened when you've taken mages out of the equation.”

He then turned to Guro. “You. Listening to you talk was like claws on a goddamn chalkboard. You need like...a napkin for all of that slobber. Anyway. There’s been a lot of talk about whether or not you’re going to keep the forced conscription or not and you just – ignored it? That’s probably the one selling point you’ve got going for you over these two clowns so just answer it plainly and in as few words as possible, cause hearing you speak makes me want to leave. Sabora’s probably just going to keep things the same as usual, which is fine, good for them, whatever. Questions for you: You gonna force people to sign up and fight or make it voluntary? What’re you going to do with mages who have no fighting talent? Just...ignore ‘em? You gonna try and have preventative measures to maybe, I don’t know, keep people from dying in the initial corruption attack before responders can show up or what?” He looked up from his notes in a tired drawl. “You’re the warrior one, right? Just tell us your battle plans or something. It’d be a leg up from these two flowery assholes to either side of you who won’t tell us shit. We’re all tired of empty promises that don’t mean anything, and you’re probably the only one who doesn’t care for worthless wastes of breath, so use that.” He sighed. "Yeah, listening to you talk is an effort in-and-of-itself, but you've got a point. The Wild Clans know better than us about where corruption comes from, because we all know that the monsters have been getting worse as our mages have gotten stronger, and that they didn't show up killing people until Faline decided to be jealous of the clans. It's some big messed up circle, and Sabora, kinda-sorta fuck you for calling that useless just to make yourself look better."

“So that brings us to you.” He glanced at Sabora, just as evenly and cynically as the last two. “Everyone already thinks you’re a full of shit snake who just sways from side to side, saying what everyone wants to hear. It’d be really nice if you actually told us what you planned to do to maybe change our minds about that, huh? Nobody likes a politician who avoids issues and throws all the blame onto other people instead of having an actual plan, and you’re the one who’s said the least about what you plan to do. The only mention you’ve had is research, and that’s because someone else brought it up in your favor first.” He rolled his eyes. “Granted, like you said, you're the only non-extremist option and for the most part, the Order's been decent so far at doing their jobs at responding to monster attacks and improving our lives with cute, harmless magic, 'cause yeah, shocker, harmless, constructive magic does exist, if you chucklefucks have forgotten! But like someone else already yelled at the Lock-‘em-Up option, speak plainly about what you’re actually going to do or fuck off. Question for you: what the hell are you on about, really? You just going to be a copy of Hagia or what? Cause what Hagia did isn't working anymore.”

He sighed, once done, and threw his piece of paper off to the side carelessly after reading the post-script. “There. Rant done. Fuck Miriam. Sorry for all the cursing, kids.”

NPC sabotages Miriam. (1065)

PurposefulPorpoise

"Very loud today at the podium, aren't we, dear friends?" Flanked by a pair of musk deer, a dark figure parts through the crowd, donning a silken scarf of translucent fabric. Golden, burning gaze cast towards where the candidates make their debate, ebony hooves step across the cobbled stone, and his owlish face is held undaunted, the faintest sign of a smile hidden beneath the moon white feathers of his features as the Lord steps forward toward the front of the crowd. Around him, strangers utter his name in whispers and gasps, astounded by his appearance. Such is the case for a noble, whose name many of heard, and whose ears were pricked and filled with plenty of news on the goings-on of the new Archmage. As a former professor of the Order and a representative of the Royal Council, who would Lord Eisregard be if he did not present himself in the thick of political drama? It simply would be unbefitting of his reputation.

"Dear nobles. Mages. Workers and friends. I'm sure I am being redundant when I say that I am sure we are all grieving, and frustrated, at the unfortunate loss of Hagia. The late archmage was my superior for many years, and she held my utmost respect. What lead her cave into temptation and corruption, I can only begin to wonder. But it is a sad, terrible, heartbreaking loss, and one that has forced me to ponder even my own stance, amidst the search for her successor." He pauses as he steps out into the open, between the crowd and the three contesting for his superior's position, before him.

"Prince Consort Sabora. Greetings." Jotunn dips his head to the King's beloved. A lord must remain subordinate to their rulers and he does so, to maintain his respect. Then his head dips to the other candidates. To Guro, to Miriam. Either of them could become his superior soon, regardless his own feelings. The need to stifle a small glower towards both comes. It's harder to do so towards the boar. The uncouth, unrestrained, thoughtless pig only sought to turn their Kingdom into a hunting ground, like the reckless patriarchs of old that he had the shame of calling his ancestors. Yet, Jotunn maintains the poker-faced look, aided by the pale cast of feathers that shrouded most of his expression. The lord taps his beak together, and then turns to face the crowd once again.

"What a fine crowd we are, today. Even finer are our candidates. Each in their own unique ways. I am sure they all thirst for the same objective; to alleviate the growing threat that now plagues our kingdom, in the wake of Hagia's demise. Yes, I cannot sugarcoat the situation of our Kingdom, my friends. I emphasize, a growing threat." With strength and eloquence dripping from each word, Jotunn tips his head, and lets the crown upon his head gleam beneath the light of the sun above. "Monsters grow in number. And with each monster that appears, a thousand more mages must raise arms to win the fight. I cannot disagree with dear Miriam's objective. I, a fellow scholar and a professor of the Order, have sought to find the true source of Corruption since my days as a fawnling. Research has not yet come to a precipice. Our wives, mothers and children, are still forced to cower in fear that a beast may arise within our very capitol, as it did earlier this year. And I can only be honest with my words; there will be no stopping them, so long as magic continues to exist as it does in this day and age."

"As a member of the Crown's Royal Council, I can only offer my unwavering support to all parties, and I trust that his Majesty will select only the best individual suited to fulfill the role of Archmage. But as that day soon approaches, my fair people of Faline, I can offer you my wisdom. From since the birth of our beautiful capitol, mages have always been there to protect Ivras. Where one monster rises, hundreds of brave and loyal mages have always and will always come to the call for aid. Remember that it is mages that built this kingdom, and it is mages, who, alongside you fair people, conquered the wild and untamed stretches of this peninsula with undaunting strength and perseverance."

And then, he turns toward Miriam. Though his head dips in respect to her, the lord's eyes, which burn with the very same unwaverying determination and firmness, glower toward her. Whereas Guro is uncouth, Miriam is naive. Her vast stretch of knowledge as a scholar, and her unyielding love for her people, could not dare compensate for her scarce understanding of the history of mages and magic. They had the same drive; to contain and control, but not the way that Jotunn envisioned. Guro's desires practiced too little restraint. Miriam's practiced too much, at least for his untouchable, powerful faction which was the order. "And it is mages, still, who will save our kingdom and our families from the very beasts that emerge from the darkness. For who will come, if no mage can? What sword will pierce the armored, fiery hide of a monster, if not one kissed by a mage's grasp? What city will be able to protect itself, if not guarded by the those blessed with wondrous enchantment?" A pregnant pause.

"Remember, that we as members of the Order, seek to understand magic in this world, and protect non-mages as best we can. With discipline, understanding, research," he glances toward Miriam, "and restraint." And then, to Guro. "There will always be mages to protect you. Because without mages, our kingdom, and our very way of life, will crumble beneath the might of voracious monsters. Remember, and revere your proud history." He smiles. And then, makes his departure.

- Lord Jotunn Eisregard

"Be ~~Not~~ Afraid."

| WC: 985 | Note: Jotunn sabotages Miriam ;)

Scowle

Leveret liked to talk, he notes. He decides this somewhere between the glint in his eye ( so bright he sees it from across the room, bright enough that it blinds him before it winks from view ), and the moment he approaches him.

Seth has never been one for politics. That was his sister ( wasn’t it? Politics was his father’s thing, and therefore it was too Blisse’s “thing”. At least, that is how he always remembered it going. What was his was hers, even if she did not particularly like it. ), born for the complications of it all. For the speeches and the rambles and the big words and the show. It was never Seth’s thing. No, he’s here out of some obligation, not out of interest. He’s here for appearances, not to speak.

He’s here for the pretty girl in the corner, who is smiling at him, and he is smiling back.

There’s little room to flirt when half the people here are at each other’s throats. He thinks of dogs when he sees nobles like this. Sometimes, the hounds would be left hungry for a day or two so they’d hunt better come the dawn. And sometimes, they’d fight so violently over the smallest scrap of food ( mind you, there was more to be had ) when they were finally offered it. They’d foam and bay and the whites of their eyes would nearly consume their pupil. And that’s what this crowd was, wasn’t it? A bunch of mad, hungry hounds?

He’s sighing into his drink each time a candidate speaks. He knows none of them very well, one of them not at all. His eyes find the pig, and he squints as though that’d bring him her name. He decides that if he simply must pick one, it would certainly not be her. He has not heard anything from her ( she’s spoken, but he’s been engrossed in anything but the matters at hand ), but he bets she’s abrasive. She’s got that look about her - one that tells him he’d find better company in a feral cat, and he’d certainly want someone easier on the… Well the everything, if they were to be archmage. Easier on the eyes ( not for her physical appearance, no. Everyone was beautiful in their own way. But for the ghastly dead thing she draped around her neck.

It was no normal fox. Only magic could do that. He elects not to linger on the implications of that fox, and its appearance, and exactly what monsters are before they became monsters. But he decides he’d not like to become someone’s fashion, even if he were something horrible like Hagia. )

Then, the Prince.

And he thinks it’s a bit greedy of him to be here at all, really.

They’ve got power already, don’t they? They, in fact, arguably have the most power out of all of them. The king’s ear, his eyes, his heart, his everything. What more could they want? What would being archmage do for them that they cannot already do themselves? He’s heard Sabora speak, once or twice, and he can certainly say it isn’t change that they want. They sound like he does when he’s asked to settle an argument between Blisse and Lorcan, wherein he does his very best not to take a side at all for fear of angering them both.

It is then that Leveret moves, and Seth catches sight of him between the throng of angry bodies.

Now there was a man who wanted change. Not for mages, or the world, or the Order - but for him. There was a man who was not afraid to make enemies, and knew how to play his friends. He doesn’t know much about politics, but he’s quite certain Leveret would be a very effective one.

He plays the crowd like an instrument, and they soon sing his song. Seth feels the energy in the room shift, the approval wavering into the rabbit’s favor. He smiles. He knows Leveret is dangerous, and selfish, but he loves to watch him work.

"Who is to say you are not her next hunt, Seth LeClerq?”

And suddenly, Seth is no longer a flower blooming on the wall. He is addressed, eyes are on him, he is expected to speak.

His brow creases immediately. At first, in anger. Leveret knew him well, and he should certainly know he has no desire to be entangled in such messy things. Seth cared little for Archmages and their laws and rules. He did what he pleased regardless, in the end, and he couldn’t imagine any of these candidates being so bold as to truly enact any changes. Why waste his time? Why waste his breath on what affected him so little?

Then, in thought, because he remembers the fox on Guro’s back. And he thinks that if he were ever to turn into a monster, that he’d be rather beautiful. That maybe they’d cut him down as well, and they’d peel his fur from his skeleton to drape across her shoulders. That maybe they’d melt down the gold of his horns and adorn her with his crown, glittering along her neck in a delicate chain and her fingers in fine rings.

And he thinks that, maybe, he agrees. Part of him wonders if it is just Leveret’s charm working on him as well, self aware as he is. But he cannot imagine a world in which Guro was archmage.

“... Perhaps it is time for a new perspective? One who is not magical at our fore front?”

"and the birds will cry for us alone" | word count: 926

seth supports miriam

Franknsteins

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