While the plot to summon Vargrimst to the Material Plane had been thwarted, it did not come without cost. Many lives had been sacrificed to stop the Infinite Destruction from coming into being. While it was true; some of these lives needed to be ended to stall such plans. Still, many innocents were caught in the crossfire. Emerging from the depths of the subterranean temple, those who had saved the Prime Material were met with only discord and chaos. The King and Lords of Kingdom of the Eastern Reaches had been killed, the most powerful warriors throughout the Kingdom were dead, and the Highwaymen were little more than mercenaries and swords for hire. The average citizen of the Eastern Reaches was much worse off now than when this had all started. Despite this, there was still one being who might be able to bring the disparate pieces back together; Headmistress Isshyim. Now that she had been resurrected, along with the other fallen members, the power of the Scholia Arcana was now unmatched in the small region. Days having passed since the death of the mysterious cult leader, the unique Priestess Wynlynn Casilltenirra would find herself again amongst the living, along with the Master Ramando Brightwood. The former being brought back through the power of their Ki-Rin ally, the latter through the power of Headmaster Akacen Amastacia's will alone (for the second time). While Akacen, Brightwood, Wynlynn, along with Captain Caelynn Erenaeth, took only enough time as was needed to fully recover, it as by this time that rumors had reached them of the pandemonium that had started to take hold throughout the Eastern Reaches. However, the four individuals still had responsibilities elsewhere. As such, they would need to make a choice as to what they would do next. Early in the morning, the humid warmth of late summer hung in the air, almost stifling any breathing that might be attempted. Streams of sunlight pierced the high windows of the third story, the meeting hall, of the Scholia Arcana. The sandstone tower, rising nearly three hundred feet into the air, was but a pebble next to the peakless Uhl Mountains to the West. Built upon the foothills of these mountains, it was a rather secure place to still be a part of the Eastern Reaches while at the same time being mostly removed from it. The Chymal Run, fed from streams from the northern edges of the Uhl Mountains, cut wide into the countryside, making for a rather effective natural barrier from the rest of the since fallen Kingdom. Isshyim, whose platinum hair framed her impossibly beautiful elven face, sat with Awoan stationed at her side. For all of Isshyim's beauty, Awoan was rather plain, being a wood elf to her master's sun elf. Awoan's brown hair was only a few shades darker than her skin, and while her features were clearly elvish, they were not nearly as striking as her resurrected Headmistress. Having taken the place of the late traitor, Im'lye, it would seem Awoan was now set to be designated as Isshyim's personal protector. The pair would wait for the others to meet with them to discuss what was to happen next. [hider=Headmistress Isshyim] [center][img]https://i.imgur.com/2ab4pln.jpg[/img][/center] [/hider] [hider=Awoan] [center][img]https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/44e37c52-a520-40a7-a12b-648561d322d7/daqx80s-68d2b6d3-a48e-4a3f-8ede-a930fffd94cc.jpg/v1/fill/w_774,h_1032,q_70,strp/commission__lavellan_by_inar_of_shilmista_daqx80s-pre.jpg?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7ImhlaWdodCI6Ijw9MTA4MCIsInBhdGgiOiJcL2ZcLzQ0ZTM3YzUyLWE1MjAtNDBhNy1hMTJiLTY0ODU2MWQzMjJkN1wvZGFxeDgwcy02OGQyYjZkMy1hNDhlLTRhM2YtOGVkZS1hOTMwZmZmZDk0Y2MuanBnIiwid2lkdGgiOiI8PTgxMCJ9XV0sImF1ZCI6WyJ1cm46c2VydmljZTppbWFnZS5vcGVyYXRpb25zIl19.N30_sx3PbS1fOsGTGJgp-k4ScKfUxFy0v9hVd7q0TKQ[/img][/center] [/hider] As it was, Akacen would be waiting along with Isshyim and Awoan, having taken time to speak in private with the pair about matters that did not concern the other three. Akacen sat on an oversized, plush couch of emerald velvet adorned with graceful lines of metallic embroidery. The couch contrasted well with the elaborate rug of bright yellows and oranges, greens and blues which found itself as a centerpiece within the space. The remaining room, for what it was worth, was decidedly plain - the sandstone, while roughly cut, had been since smoothed by time. Still, only the windows, ten feet wide and thirty-five feet tall - spanning from floor to ceiling - broke the monotonous reddish-tan. Akacen, for his part, didn't quite match with his surroundings. He had taken on the robes of a proper Archmage - stark white with gold and silvery thread over the chest, shoulders, and around the cuffs and hem of the bottom. While it seemed to sit heavily, once in motion it revealed its weightless nature. However, what was most odd was the black cape he wore atop - the sigils along the edges glowing a light, subtle pink in spite of the beams of light filtering unfettered through the windows. The two items decidedly clashed, but were paired regardless. The only saving grace, perhaps, was the cape matching the depthless black of the moon elf's hair. His pale, blue-tinted skin gave him a sort of shining, midnight persona - if not a sickly one - and his sharp, slight features made him seem frail. Beyond this, his thin fingers grasped a silver staff of hard geometric, yet still subtle, lines. Placed within the tall, slender cage these lines made at the top was a rather large emerald that, at the moment, hung dull in the air within the space. [hider=Headmaster Akacen Amastascia] [center][img]https://i.pinimg.com/originals/42/30/26/4230264189408fc87f85ba9724274bff.jpg[/img][/center] [/hider] With Akacen's green eyes, the gold flecks would flash when they came to meet the first that would make their way up to the meeting. His hair would be tied back in an easy ponytail to keep out of his face.