RP:We Make Our Own Cages

Part of the Lies Within Us Arc

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

Summary: After Brenwyn’s unfortunate end, Valrae has taken it upon herself to keep tabs on the weak and ineffective councilmen that remain over the guild. After a surprisingly productive conversation, Val returns to her office only to be ambushed by the Ossian Order and trapped within the cage of her own emerald crystal skull.

Mage Tower

This room is huge, and the entire place is covered in blue and white marble, with many torches and eight pillars reaching up to the ceiling to reinforce the room above, and keep the tower standing. The columns are covered in mystical runes, probably magic to keep the pillars strong, making them able to withstand pressure that normally wouldn't be possible. In the center of the room, there is a spiraling staircase made of glass, and also inscribed with the same type of runes as the pillars, leading to the higher levels of this magical tower. Next to the stairs there is a small desk here with a sign on it. At the top the sign reads... directions for all new mages. There is a door to the south, and you now notice that it too, is covered in the strength giving runes, that leads outside and a door to the west leading to the dormitory, a place for young mages to rest after their studies here.

Josleen :: Kyl’oriel and Foreza are all that’s left of the council in Xalious. Kaaname is in Larket, Oriyan stepped down to leave on sabbatical (in hindsight, that was “big brain move,” as the students say), Odhranos is MIA, and Brenwyn is dead. With the council reduced to two members, Kyl’oriel and Foreza couldn’t bring themselves to meet in the Shrine of Grand Magic. The stately room would only highlight their failures to meet the moment. Terrible things have happened on their watch, and yet neither Kyl’oriel nor Foreza has the courage to admit that they share in any of the blame. They believe that they, too, are victims, just like the guild, just like poor Brenwyn, and it is this latter point which drives the agenda for this meeting. According to Quintessa’s letter, there is a grand conspiracy within the Guild, an organization called the Ossian Order, that seeks to dismantle the Guild from within. The men have been deep in discussion for the past 10 minutes. What can be done? Who can be trusted? How does the Order operate, and how can they identify its members? Poor Kyl’oriel in particular, a man who has devoted his life to arcano-naturalism, the study of magical flora and fauna. What does he know of possessions and secret societies? He hasn’t the mind for tactical, aggressive planning. Foreza fairs better here, an experienced battle mage, but he too is stumped. He’s better with a fireball than an augury spell. He’d have fared better in a war with Larket than whatever this is. What in Xalious’s name should they do next?

Valrae had arrived in the early hours of the morning, tending plants around in her office and flipping idly through mail that had been left on her cluttered desk. She was shocked to find the rather urgent one from Quintessa, filled with claims that a shadowy Ossian Order had taken root within the guild. With a show of temper, she tossed the new letter on to her desk, right alongside the letter she’d received earlier from Odhranos that rather boldly stated he had no plans on returning. In fact, he was seemingly content to tuck himself away from the world and work on research. Hopefully, Karasu and another carefully persuasive letter could change his mind. Even after her previous conversation with the Steward, frustration and annoyance of the reminder rounded the edges of her need for more information from Quintessa. She made tea, content to mull her words over before putting pen to paper in a reply to either, when it dawned on her that her time might be better spent putting a fire under the councilmen. Or the two that remained, in any case. She’d told Odhranos she would insert herself in their affairs, but that was when the foreseeable future meant his return and it was sustainable. And so the illusioned witch was off, abandoning her tea and letters, to find what remained of the Mage’s council. She was surprised to find them in the unusually empty meditation room. Her heels clicked loudly against the stone floor as she approached and greeted both men formally.

Josleen :: Kyl’oriel and Foreza stiffen when Provost Grace joins them in the meditation room. She’s loud-mouthed and inserts herself in things she shouldn’t and has little respect for seniority and hierarchy, but her loyalty and priorities have been consistent. On a hunt for Ossian Order members, she’d be among the least suspected. “Provost Grace,” Kyl’oriel says with a civil nod. “If you’d like to use the room, we’re happy to give you space.” Foreza smiles thinly and is already moving towards the door.

Valrae returns their thin smiles and weak welcomes with a saccharine one of her own. “Oh please, no,” She chirps, “I’m not here for the room, I was looking for you two, actually. I was wondering if there has been any progress in deciding on another member of the council… Or perhaps one of you has managed to persuade Magister Odhranos out of wherever he’s tucked himself away?” The witch lofts her brows expectantly.

Josleen :: Foreza frowns at Grace’s brash approach. He says, “We have not spoken to Magister Odhranos and we’re not being hasty with introducing new members to the council. I am sure you read Stewardess Quintessa’s letter...” Kyl’oriel mutters in the background, “So ill-advised.” Foreza nods for Kyl’oriel to continue. Kyl’oriel vents a little to his fellow councilman and the trustworthy Provost, “By writing a letter to so many guild members, she has essentially guaranteed that the Order will hide and be even more difficult to find.” Foreza nods sympathetically to Kyl’oriel and says, “She is just a Steward, go easy on her. She is young and has much to learn. It is good she told us.” Kyl’oriel sighs. “It is done. But indeed, it will be harder to find the Order. Until we root out that cancer we must be cautious. A small council is preferable to a large one riddled with enemies.”

Valrae resists the urge to roll her eyes with hurcelian will. “I’m aware of her letter,” She begins, “And I don’t disagree. It was a little short sighted and it would have been more ideal to play our hand a little closer to the chest… However, it also gives us an opportunity. As you said, they’ll retreat now. Knowing we’re aware offers us a rare opportunity, one that will be wasted by shuffling our feet. We need action, firm decisions, and we need a plan.” The witch turns thoughtful for a moment. “We should conduct interviews. Everyone should answer a series of questions on their whereabouts when Peter was murdered. We need more information and if we can catch someone in a lie, we can follow that trail to the Order.” What they would do when they’d been revealed well, that remained unknown. “As it is, the council is not small,” She emphasises the word, “It’s miniscule. I’ll continue my efforts on the return of Odhranos, his wisdom is surely needed. In the meantime, perhaps real action and a few thoughtful interviews could offer some insight into how far this corruption has spread.” Her tone was suggestive and light but underneath it was an air of annoyance. She’d spoken about their weakness and corruption before, when she’d blamed Gevurah for it, and was clearly not ready to let these men forget that she’d seen their past failures and predicted worse.

Josleen :: Foreza nods emphatically with Grace’s plan, “Absolutely, we were just discussing the exact same plan.” They were not, actually, but Foreza is too proud and vain to let an obvious plan slip past him without his signature on it. “Perhaps you’d serve well as an interrogator. I will also be in the room to detect lies. Kyl’oriel can order the list and order of interviewees. Of the three of us, he has been in the guild the longest and knows its members best.” Kyl’oriel nods at the plan, his brows perma-lifted in surprise at how obvious Grace’s plan was all along, and yet it never occurred to him or Foreza. ...Are they incompetent? Is he ill-suited for the Council in matters unrelated to scholarship and research? The thought unnerves Kyl’oriel, but now isn’t the time to stepdown and thin the Council’s numbers further -- or is it? Is he really that incompetent in any aremas outside the academic? Unnerved to his core by his own self-aware thoughts, he cuts the meeting short. “I will return to my office immediately to begin the list.”

Valrae is surprised at how little resistance her plans were met with but easily masked this. With another smile, she simply nods. “Excellent.” She makes no remark on Foreza’s assertion that they’d been discussing something similar, holding her own doubts privately. If she could have heard Kyl’oriel’s inner thoughts, she might not have replied kindly, and so it is better that some things were left unsaid. “I’d be happy to join you. As it were, I have some letters to write and a few other things to tidy in my own office. Good luck to the both of you,” And with that settled away, Grace clicked back toward her office. Her mood was greatly improved. With the ever mounting pile of tangled problems that seemed to be falling directly in her lap, it was nice that something went smoothly for once. And while she shared doubts of the remaining council’s competency, she would be there to help guide things along and was hopeful for their success. As she want to do, Valrae sailed through the halls deeply lost in her own thoughts. She would sense nothing amiss even as she neared enough to open her office door.

Josleen :: Kyl’oriel and Foreza feel good about their interaction with Valrae, and they feel even better about themselves. They’re the type of bureaucrats who confuse making a plan with carrying out a plan, and are ready to declare victory before rolling up their sleeves. It’s no wonder the Guild is in the state it is in. It’s no wonder there is a secret society within the Guild, the Ossian Order, disgruntled enough by the state of things to accept a shadowy new leader with rousing and dangerous rhetoric. The ineffectual leadership serves Haladavar’s goals, and Valrae’s irritating insistence in leadership has made her a nuisance, a fly in his eye. Arcane Steward Saruir Aedihle, a high elf specializing in transmutation and runes, awaits Provost Grace in her office. On the floor he has drawn a pentagon within a circle dotted with five robelous runes within a pentagon with five more robelous runes within a circle. At the center of the sigil is the most intricate rune of all. On the interior-side of Grace’s door, on the frame and knob, are another set of runes set to activate when someone touches the door. The runes effect quickly render the single target unconscious for at least an hour. Steward Saruir sits in Grace’s chair, behind her desk, and facing the door. An amber amulet is looped on a chain around his belt.

Valrae, while riding on a similar wave of false accomplishment, was usually more inclined to follow through with her plans. But she wasn’t the only one working, the only one planning, and because of her current carelessness the disguised witch was walking unawares into this trap. There was only a second, a heartbeat of a moment just before her fingertips reached the door, that she’d sensed something amiss. It was a chill, a rush of sensation along her spine that came too late. While she used what power she could, the moment her hand touched the door to her office it flew open and sent her reeling. There was a moment, before her world went dark and her body tilted in a dead weight fall to the cold floor, that her eyes took in the scene her office had become. It was a flash, only a moment that faded quickly, that she saw the pentagon, the circle and the runes. The face of Steward Saruir Aedihle, the sigil that sat in the center of the ominous ritual site. Her sight darked, inkiness descending from the edges of her vision as the floor rose up to greet her, and before she even met the ground it took her and there was only the black.

Josleen :: Saruir rises quickly from the desk to retrieve Grace’s body and close the door against busybodies who may be tempted to peek inside the provost’s office. He lays her body prone at the center of the sigil then hunts around her room for the proper soul cage. As Haladavar (who possesses poor Saruir’s body) knows, some people, especially those of great magical affinity, tend to already possess their perfect soul cage, as if their spirit instinctually recognizes something kin and seeks it out. He finds Grace’s emerald skull. His millennia of experience whisper to him ‘this is it.’ He places the skull on Grace’s belly and begins to chant the ritual, activating the runes and slowly drawing Valrae’s soul from Grace’s body. Soon Valrae is trapped in a familiar void of nothingness, a second form of death. Grace’s body reverts to the corpse it once was before Valrae was thrust into it by a coven hopeful witches seeking the return of their hero. All that effort wasted. Grace is all but dead. Val is trapped, and no one knows to look for her - at least not yet. Soon Haladavar will lead a magister mouse to his perfectly laid trap. Soon.