RP:Illusions of Nepotism
Part of the Lies Within Us Arc
Part of the A Few Fox Tales Arc
This is a Mage's Guild RP.
Synopsis: Ernest is in the Archmage's body! That makes him the Archmage! At least in the eyes of the Xalious villagers, gathered here today and who the truth was kept from. With his illusory authority, Ernest promotes Lanlan to Sublime Master and welcomes "Aya Reynard" (Arlyeon) and Ernest's body to the rank of apprentice. They also attempt to mollify the villagers and others who still haven't heard much about their missing families.
Mage Tower
Ina is -exhausted-. And not just because her early morning had been partly consumed by the rigours of wrestling with a hungry salamander over the continued existence of her iron supply. (Spoilers: She lost, and Lump the salamander is a marginally fatter, but happy boy). No, what has left her a grumpy, worn-down mess was the singular bit of acting genius that consumed her afternoon. After all, who else could have so flawlessly shapechanged into a physical replica of Odhranos, and ensured that the awful lie she'd perpetuated in her missives could be interpreted as factual. And she'd done such a good job of co-ordinating her outfit to be Authentic Odhranos level's of bland- though, she'd taken a bit of onus with the blindflod. Like yes, the guy was blind- but she wasn't, and there was only so many times she could afford to bump into walls before it seemed suspicious. ...That, and it cost her an icecream.
Which is why, ultimately, she'd settled on stylish and entirely anachronistic shutter shades to sport while she was lounging on a beach chair, slurping down a pina colada from out of a coconut, or an extra large margarita. Perfection. Or something.
But that was then- and this was now. And now? Well, now sucks. Whilst she was back to her actual guise as a pale-skinned foxkin, her hair was a tousled, frizzy mess of red - and her clothes were a motley collection of rags befitting a miner.
It helped to establish her as a plain individual- but, it wasn't glamourous. Nor was the bumpy carriage ride. She was absolutely unsure if she was even going to reach the meeting on time.
"Hells. All seven of 'em, in fact. I really oughta figure out some fashion on the go, amirite?" The driver of the carriage grunts, side eyeing his ragged passenger. What could she even afford- the foxkin had to -haggle- with him to afford the ride back to Xalious. And she wasn't even done bemoaning her situation, "Ta get a meal in yer stomach, a warm bath. This gig bettah be good."
“I was in charge of invitations,” Lanlan mutters to himself, as he peeks out the tower’s front door. “Who invited the mob?” Lanlan was reluctant to include too much information in those invitations. He and the people weren’t each other's favorites and hadn’t been anything like it for a while. So he wouldn’t approach the stage quickly, being reminded of a time not so long ago when the mob was roused against him. He didn’t forget. Neither, he realized, did they. “Fine,” he pouted. “I’ll wait for Odhranos. Ernest.” This was supposed to be a joyous occasion! These fools were ruining it before it even began.
“And where is Ina!?” There was a late carriage, arriving from the West. Fashionably late? No as it turns out. Lanlan catches her as she disembarks, as he quickly appears once the carriage is between himself and the crowd. “Why are you dressed like that! Did you forget this is a big day for -you- as well? Let’s go.” Like an impatient mother with an unruly child, he grabs Ina by the arm and leads her into the dilapidated Mage’s Tower.. “You were only supposed to pretend to be on vacation. A real method actor, huh?” Lanlan’s displaced aggression wasn’t seeming to let up, even as he took great care to dress Ina in a dazzling robe of illusions that made her look both regal and innocent. Honest and brave. “They’re acting like we’ve done nothing for them,” he says as he determines the appropriate sleeve length, width, and yaw. Not too rich, but not like a monks. Capable of hiding something up the sleeves but not something pretentious like a book. “Free them from a tyrant. Rescue them from sadistic experiments. Now what? They want more? More blood? Ears or no ears?” He places a hood on her head and removes it. Back on. Off again. “Ears. They need to see you. Alright, let's get out there."
Lanlan makes his way to the stage and almost nobody is happy about it. But his smile seems easygoing, optimistic even. With a little magical enhancement, his voice carries over the crowd. “Good evening! I’m sure you’re all wondering why we’ve asked you here in the middle of the night! I’ll get to that. Or rather, the archmage will get to that.” There’s a small uproar of many people asking the same question, or some version of it. ‘Where is my sister or brother or mom or dad or this or that?’ Lanlan bows with his hands in a placating gesture. “He’ll get to tha, he’ll get to that! He hasn’t forgotten about them,” Lanlan says, believing Ernest probably never knew about them in the first place. “I assure you. What I can tell you with certainty is that they are alive, and they will be returned to you soon. If you’ll just be patient! An archmage is very busy but he must be on his way.” Inwardly Lanlan was cringing to the core.
Ernest had been practicing his crystal conjuring ever since that first encounter with Odhranos's ability to produce diamonds from thin air, and decided that these skills would be put to perfect use for his entrance to the stage tonight. Building on the public face of Odhranos that he'd started--one more intimately connected to the moon than anyone had previously believed--he began by unveiling the red crystal sphere he floated inside, directly in line with the moon, so that to the crowds below his peculiar vehicle seemed to congeal into existence out of moonlight itself and descend silently towards the stage with the weight of a bubble. In fact, it even shimmered like a bubble and seemed to trail bubbles in its wake thanks to a hydromancy cantrip and a fair amount of soap. As it touched down, it disintegrated with a bright shimmering sound as Ernest sublimated the crystals and dispelled the water, allowing the soap bubbles to fly off in all directions and reveal Odhranos standing on stage, dressed in the finest robes fit for an Archmage and a wide-brimmed, conical, star-and-moon-spangled hat.
"Good evening, good folk of Xalious," he started, scanning the crowd with a Hand-Eye Coordinator hidden under the stage to make sure nobody was going to jump him. "And I do mean that. It is a good evening! It's true, some of you are still missing loved ones." The nice thing about floating in an invisible bubble above the stage is getting to hear some of the outcry directed at you and the chance to improvise some lines. "And you may rest assured, we are doing everything in our power to return them to you. But even though we are still struggling together, this is a good evening, because there is light at the end of the tunnel, and friends, this light will shine so gloriously when the day finally breaks that the darkness, the hardships you've endured thus far will be a distant memory of a fading dream. Xalious will become a shining beacon of hope, an example for all the world to see of how we can defeat any evil when we stand together." Inwardly, Ernest was struggling to keep himself from either bursting out with laughter or retching something vile into the front row. Hero speeches. Why did it have to be hero speeches?
Ina's making her own adjjustments as Lanlan expertly plays the part of phantasmal couturier. She's close to a foot shorter to him, so a few minor adjustments to her height come- Not so that she'll be taller, but more so the difference won't quite be pronounced. There's a moment, too- where her features grow sharper, her skin taken on a pallour much resembling his. "Arm Candy For Fer effect?" Her eyes still maintain that brilliant shade of green, but her hair gives way to back length snowy locks. It's some pretty good effort, all in all- which is why she pouts over his quickly hissed, "No. Professional appearances." This -was- professiona- "...Oh, Professionalism." It -would- complicate things if there were whispers about any sort of impropriety with a student. To that end, her appearance does change a bit more, a couple inches lost- still not the disparity it was, but enough to make her look more cute. While her skin does lighten up, it's a bit more tanned- complimented by the addition of some freckles on her nose and a more rounded face. "Mmm. Red, or..." No, she'd been spotted with red already at a glance, the most she can do is just dim it down a bit with brown, getting it closer to a russet red. The ears definitely had to stay- but that doesn't mean they couldn't be tweaked, their size and shape rounding out to be closer to an Artic foxes ears- in order to emphasize cute, but in a way that would likely not have people think twice about apprentice ship. "Arright'- n' I'll jus' leave tha' talkin' ta you two." That's not to say she doesn't spend a few seconds trying to practice a few bits of suitably bumpkin accents. "Yer humble Student, Aya Reynard- reportin' in." Yeah. Totes.
“That isn’t funny, Trish,” he sternly remarks about her dark elf disguise. “You’re not one of them. Us.” He disturbs himself slightly with his own slip, some emotional trigger being slightly tripped. “Fine, you look fine.” Wait, now that she’s in character, he must be too! “Ah! Aya Reynard, you said your name was? Yes, we’ve definitely been expecting you. I imagine you’ll hear your name called soon enough. As long as we can get this beast,” he gestured to the people, “under control.
With Ernest, Lanlan was pleasantly surprised! He wasn’t sure if the Ernest who would appear here today would be the button-pusher who intruded in his privacy. There was a vulnerable crowd here today, and they could’ve been tormented further by a dismissive, or even heckling archmage. Instead, he was actually mitigating some damage! Though the crowd was enticed to hear more, there was still a simmering rage, stoked by their still-missing families. “Haladavar’s dead!” shouts a middle aged human from the front of the crowd. The sneer in his lips is hardly hiding the concern in his eyes. “So why haven’t you returned them to us? How do you know they’re alive? If they’re alive we deserve to see them. Where are they?”
Lanlan couldn’t answer this. Not truthfully anyway. Imagine if he said he didn’t know where their bodies were, but he just knew they were alive because Odhranos survived that time? They’d burn the place down! “You can’t see them. Nobody can. Their recovery is too sensitive, and if disturbed, they could lose their souls forever! But we have our best people working to ensure that. Doesn’t. Happen.” After that, the questions didn’t stop. They were hardly mollified, but their voices were now just audible confusion.
Lanlan takes this chance to scan all about himself. “Where is Fingolfin?” He whispers. “Where is he? He’s supposed to have the things.” Of course Lanlan meant the Lamen of Arcane Mastery, presented to upper level members, and the Xalious-wood staff. Given to all who first enter the guild. They were nice tools, yes. But they also made it official!
Ernest struggled for a moment among the clamoring of the crowd to raise his voice enough to be heard, but eventually he decided he'd had enough of their yammering. With a twisting gesture, barely managing to suppress a curled-lip snarl, flames lit themselves behind him into the wooden structure of the stage, burning a few runes into the surface which then lit up with a faint glow. Invisibly, a concave circle of force had sprung into place, which would act like an amphitheater and serve to amplify his voice. The undOdh managed to bite back the "Rothik's nose hair, shut up you idjits" that he wanted to spew at them and instead simply roared, "PEACE!" while subtly grabbing at the local terrain with Odh's terramancy and shivering it--not a lot, but enough to be noticeable. "These things. Take. Time. We weren't even able to start the recovery process while he was alive. Now he's dead, and we're working on it. Be patient." With that out of the way, he took a second to unclench his fist and relax his shoulders, regaining his composure. He kept the amphitheater active behind him, though. "Now then. As great as my magic may be, you all know that I am but a man, and cannot do everything myself. So, in light of their contributions during the battle, their tireless efforts to help bring your people back afterward, and their dedication to the cause of restoring Xalious, I'm here tonight to present to you two new members of the Mage's Guild and one extra-special honor: I'm going to name my Sublime Master!" Wait, two new members? Ch-clink, ch-clink, ch-clink came the sound of spurs up the stairs to the stage. A longcoat rustled in the wind, and a mischievous grin flashed across a desiccated face with sunken, yellowed eyes. A bony hand lifted to his wide-brimmed hat and tilted it lightly. "Howdy," said the mummy quietly, though to anyone who knew Ernest's voice... this wasn't quite it.
Ina takes a good luck at Lanlan's poise, trying to figure out if there's any last minute shifts to her demeanour or posture. To grapple with the idea of what sort of pupil he'd take under his wing as a Pupil. That said, perhaps this was one of those moments where a hint of honesty really was the best practice- after all, hadn't he chosen to take her along as a partner in his endeavours? That's the sort of thought that lets her channel the full force of the same happy-go-lucky expressions she manages in the midst of her capers. Like when she Vandalized Olrics temple. Good times. Good Ti- "Uh. Bo-..Master. This innit in tha' script, issit?" It's a sidelong murmur, but she definitely doesn't recall being briefed on anything of the sort. The grin she'd been sporting briefly grows overexagerrated, her eyes trying to size up Lanlan's expression. Definitely not according to plan. "Well- I suppose I'm definitely gonna need ta'- to be a quick study in future." If this sort of thing is prone to happening. Her grin shifts, just a bit sharper then what it was, before it begins to resume something closer to the chipper air she'd formally exuded. They hadn't been thrown under the bus - yet. No, things could still be salvaged, and it was with that bit of self-reassurance that she pats down the side of her illusiary robes and begins to step onto the stage. The expression she finally held seemed to be stuck between reverence for the figure currently speaking center stage, and a more muted awe for the sheer number of faces in front of her. Quintessential bumpkin, in other words. One that she caps off with a suitably awkward wave and wriggle of her fingers. She let's it hang in the air for a moment too long, before she recovers with a partial bow that sees her nearly tip forward, and a sideways shuffle meant to place her proximal to Lanlan & Erndrahnos. Artful.
Lanlan was impressed! Odhranos taking authority and commanding peace from his people! Of course, it wasn’t Odhranos, privately. But here in public it was, as far as anyone was concerned. Lanlan was grateful he didn’t do anything too out of character. Particularly he was glad nothing sinister just happened. At least to the villagers. Lanlan slid a sneaky eye over to his young “pupil”, and she heard his voice. “It might’ve been part of the plan, but this isn’t how I imagined. Let’s just see what he does. But be ready.” Lanlan’s smile never fell, his mouth never opened. Those with the knack might know subtle magic had just taken place. It seemed to be going well. The crowd has been lulled into a curious silence. And Lanlan encourages it. “Yes! Ernest, it’s an honor to meet you here again,” says Lanlan offering whoever this was a gloved handshake. Then to the crowd. “Ernest was critical in our reclamation, indeed, but he still has much to learn from us! Things like, like magical etiquette, mostly!” And Lanlan laughs as if it was a joke. “That’s why he’s being welcomed into our guild.” Lanlan quickly reclaims his hand, puts it behind his back, and peels off the glove.
“And then we have...um. Uhh, Aya! Aya, come here would you?” Lanlan extends his hand once more, and curiously it has been re-gloved! “This young prodigy is one I’ve scouted out myself,” begins Lanlan exuberantly, “forced by her drunken father to mine coal in a wretched cave. From morning and well into night! Can you imagine? But I, I noticed the spark in her, the spark of magical potential, and so I liberated her, tested my instincts. Tested her talents. And she passed! Easily, she passed! Here she is! Aya Reynard! And it is our hope,” says Lanlan somewhat more solemnly, “That she with her natural abilities, will be a great asset in restoring the damage Haladavar wrought. All of it.” Fingolfin for his part, has been standing next to them on stage, waiting very patiently. Perhaps for the entire time, holding a wretched branch and a box.
Ernest wasn't pleased with the idea that most of what he needed to learn was "magical etiquette" and allowed the face of the mummy duplicate he'd been baking in the sun and sand of the Nameless to briefly flash a curled lip while he himself laughed along with Lanlan as though the joke were intentional. When he noticed Fingolfin--mostly due to the man's proximity to the mummy, who had eyes Ernest could see out of--he stepped towards him to retrieve the items. Staves first--save the big one for last, that was how these things usually went. "And so, it is my great honor and privilege, by Xalious himself, here beneath his holy tree," the one that was still looking quite sickly and should really have someone look into, "and the light of his moon," which had recently been demonstrably proven to really be Odhranos's moon, at least in the eyes of the Ossian Order and, hopefully, the world at large, "to formally welcome to the Mage's Guild: Aya." He handed her a staff with a nod and a handshake, as though he was a professor handing out a diploma. "And Ernest." Then he passed the staff to the mummy, and as both their hands held the staff at the same time there was a noticeable pause. A mage and their minion, both holding an item of powerful magical conductivity, with the mage's soul not native to the body it was in. The experience felt dangerously close to getting yanked by Vakmatharas again, and it took all of Ernest's willpower to release his grip on the staff. Once it was out of his grip, the feeling subsided, but now he knew that he'd have to be very careful with those. Playing it off as though nothing happened, he then went back to Fingolfin and grabbed the lamen of arcane mastery and held it aloft for the crowd to see. "And by the same, I hereby pronounce my Sublime Master to be none other than...!" he briefly made it look like he was going to place it on Fingolfin with a playful expression towards the crowd before turning around and placing it on Lanlan, "Lanlan!"
Inas' eyes are locked on Ernadros through the whole of his speech, her breath hitched in her throat at the possibility of some last minute betrayal. And yet, it never happens- something which has 'Aya' beaming in an altogether genuine manner when her admission to the guild is officially announced. When the staff is presented to her by Ernadros, she can't help but run a hand over the divine touched wood- marveling at it's simple construction. "Thank you, Mister Er-m. Odhranos." The handshake is enthusiastically reciprocated, before she turns to the crowd and offers a small bow to the gathered folks, "And thank you for your hospitality, in upcoming days. I'm glad it was here In Xalious I could find the opportunity ta' learn." And then she's straightening up and scooting over towards Lanlan's side- that display of humble appreciation having reached it's natural conclusion. Admittedly, she really wishes she could crack out some popcorn for the final part of this particular prank. But appearances -are- important.
In jubilant anticipation of the present, Lanlan’s features twist into something utterly grotesque and foreign. He smiles. Sincerely! He smiles, and spreads from ear to ear and shows all of his teeth so perfect and white. As Ernest pronounces his name, he even appears to glow, as if the thing he’d been toiling fruitlessly for, for such a long time, had finally been won, and now his inner light, the radiance of his spirit, the burning passion of his heart, was awakened. A morning sun that permeated his pores, its brilliance was barely contained in flesh. Or it was an illusion. “Oh! Haha! Oh thank you,” he says as the artifact is bestowed. “Thank you! You almost got me there, haha!” Then he turns to the crowd, unknowing now what their feelings on this might be, for he was too proud in this moment to think of it. “Our Archmage, everyone! And congratulations Ernest, congratulations Aya. And now, my people of Xalious, I assure you. We will find and restore your families. Every one of them."
“But there is a more solemn news to address before we commit to working day and night on that task.” With great effort, he pulls back the corners of his mouth and straightens them. “Something that must be addressed. I personally was slandered. Attacked. I am…I am scarred.” He closes his eyes, nearly choking on the painful remembrance. “It happened some time ago, but it has taken this long to address it, and for the facts to come out. But they always do.” Lanlan takes a deep breath, and holds his own hand. “It is regret that I must declare, by my authority as Sublime Master, that for his heinous crimes of assault and battery, attempted murder, vandalism, and slander, Kasyr Azakhaer be stripped of his title of Auxilia Veneficus. Henceforth he is banished from the Mage’s Guild and exiled from Xalious Village and its lands and properties.” A magical walking stick with a hooking handle, sometimes called a crook, appears in Lanlan’s hand. He taps it forcefully on the stage. “It is done. Now I believe the Archmage has business to attend to elsewhere, regarding another location Haladavar is known to have used as a checkpoint. Myself and Aya will begin immediately on working to save your friends and family. Thank you for coming out tonight and hearing what we had to say! Goodnight, my friends.”
With that, Lanlan descends from the stage, intent on making use of his new privileges before they are suddenly taken from him. He leads to the Mage’s Guild library.