The Grey Dust

The Blood Compact

Omg Bedi, I'm only halfway through and you've got me dozing off. Surely Mithias will have actually died by the time it's over.

@Silent Observer

Bedivere attacks you with a Block of Text. It's super effective.

The Blood Compact

Afraid of death.
Why be afraid of it?
One's life has amounted to nothing.
What will be one's legacy?
Nothing but ash and dust and corpses.
All things end.

"Drink your tea and cake, tea is best served warm along side a sweet confection."

The commentaries on Mithias' soul bearing spiel? Cast off and shrugged away, dismissed like the crowd before?

"A man of honor it would seem. You have no debt to me boy, you have come here on your own accord, and surely not by some sense of moral rectitude which ties you to become a servant to another? Be wary who you owe your life to Sir Varomere, and be fortunate I find your abilities most useful in the chess match here. In time, I foresee you becoming a great vampiric overlord, though Merlin here stays mum on your potential. You had said it yourself, you have much to look forward to, but you seem too attached to life to be of much use. Perhaps he would take like his sire then Merlin? A drifter amongst the kin, aimlessly wandering and ever escaping the judgment of death? You very well know he is far older than you and I, and we are but relics. Twice-fold I have become a legend by fang and sword, and you have all but faded into the tales of your death Merlin. Our ranks are numbered, and I would see it fit to invite this one to Camelot and under the tutelage of the brothers, may he ascend into the next generation at the court."

Rambling on yet again, almost seeming to forget Mithias' presence as Bedivere 'conversed' with the tree.

"But no child, the war is not endless." The elder suddenly snapped his attention back at Mithias. "It has merely become a war of attrition. A game of endurance on either side, just as the rabbits and wolves. While I am uncertain of your position in such matters, I assure you, I have grown adequately bored of waiting and would rather see a final cataclysm vastly approaching. Lord Magnus as I believe you may have met, has atempted to initiate the impetus within the global scale, although few of the Ancient ones or Patronatium answered his call for as a whole, vampires are vile and foul creatures of schemes and undying backstabbing, thinking both of the long and short gains while missing the point all together."

There was no end to it.

"You see, while unlike us, the humans have a scant few lives, it is not a story of the tortoise and the hare. While Aesop may have stated that the hare lost due to overconfidence and disregard for the tortoise, it is blood traitors as yourself which create the watchdogs of the hare ever vigilant against the strides of the tortoise. While placating the masses of cattle is not such a difficult task for a vampire who may has ruled a region of the world for centuries, the damage done by rogue vampires such as Void make it impossible to restore the status quo without decades passing. But the one saving grace we, the tortoise, have is the gift of immortality. For by the time the generations after generations of hares and rabbits die, marked with shallow graves, we shall still watch. surviving through and through."

No seriously, Bedivere began his long-winded proposal to no apparent end.

"But forgive me, I did not believe you come here to listen to an old man babble on. And if you did, perhaps you are here for the wrong reasons. I have brought you here to invite you to represent Gabriel should he not attend the Council meeting at Carfax. He is rather unpredictable, and easily predictable at the same time, hence should he show, I suspect having two representatives of his lineage should be sufficient to vie the nod towards collaborative efforts on the global scale. We are after all a twisted society of democratic processes, and each Sire-King get a vote by the ancient agreement. That being the case, you must actually be a sire, to which I must inquire if you have any progeny spawned under your own fang mark."

And on it went with hardly a pause between.

"If not, I have the perfect suggestion for a candidate. Consider your perceived debt to me official annulled if you Sir Varomere, can successfully turn a Mathew Stone esquire into a creature of the night. He shall be a very important playing piece as I believe once given the dark powers, he shall see the world in a new... Light. Hrm? What say you then? I know the choice is far less easy to make within the minutes I have granted you, as such I would suspect no party would be discontented should I extend an official invitation to join me per your request in the sacred halls of Camelot until the moment of your descion, a great honor I assure you as no other guest has been thus far invited to Camelot since Arthur left. What so you then Old boy? I will escort you there this instant should you accept."

Finally it was over. And to make his point more clear that Mithias was merely given the illusion of choice, Bedivere drank his tea with a single quaff. Rising from the table as to imply he already knew what Mithias would say.

"It is better if you drive, I shall provide directions. I am afraid I have never quite required the means of localized transportation in my vampirism, and hence I have never quite learn how to use one of these automobiles."

The Blood Compact

"My my, Arrow Straight to the point. Very well then, business before pleasure, I can respect that: a man who can get things done in proper order." Either praise or indignant insult, perhaps a bit of both intermixed, like a good cocktail of two parts insult to one part praise. "As you already seem to know who I am, I need no introductions, nor did I plan on giving one in earnest. As to your debt, I need no groveling from you old boy, remember few vampires as Old as I act as altruists. I will be frank with you and state that you are an essential part of my plans dear child for a unified vampire nation. That being said, since you are not one of my bloodline, I honor your own free will and would ask that you hear me out before making rash judgments against me. After all, over a cup of tea, the most bitter of enemies may become good friends." Bedivere, risking the monologue as always with his excessive rhetoric and long-winded speeches.

The pot of tea arrived with two cups, and two fruitcakes, blood in both as Ted personally poured out the first two cups out of the silver pot to reveal a thick red fluid against a silver strainer hanging over the cups. Blood soaked leaves fell through the spout, properly brewed vampire tea with two sugars placed in each cup. They were vampires after all, not diabetics and as such sweets and luxuries such as twilight tea were a sign of upper-species upper-class superiority was it not? Far better than wasting a night on human liquors scrounging for drunks looking for a romance.

"Theodore, Let us call it an evening shall we? Take the rest of the night off. I have business matters to discuss." He'd imagine what Mathew Stone would kill to be in Mithias' seat. The man after all did threaten to incite international war to meet with him. Perhaps he would take up on an offer and become a vampire to gain entrance to the Inn without being killed by the mob of vampires which trickled away into the night before Theodore bid Bedivere evening and left. It was now just the two of them as red eyes gazed over Mithias sitting pretty.

Taking the first sip and a tiny sliver of cake so casually to offset the clear establishment of clearing the establishment. "Ah, Darjeeling Sanguine, it is quite a shame that Syth'kas did not live long enough to see the colonization of India by us. His fruitcakes needed something to offset their delectable sweet tang." Bedivere seemed to reminiscence of his acquaintance for a moment before cleaning his lips with a pocket square. "Now that we three are alone, we may discuss the matters of Britain. My sources tell me you are of European decent, German if I read properly on the dossier I skimmed through before getting here, a Crusader even. So tell me, where do your loyalties lie Sir Varomere? The news brings me word that you had resigned your position ever since your brush with death, so if I dare ask, are you afraid of your own death?"

A pause.

"Or are you like I more afraid that one's immortal life becomes meaningless to the point of becoming forgotten and a relic of times past? Is that not right Merlin? He does show potential does he not? I had already ask the brothers and they had no answer, no King either, but we all await for his return to the Isles so that the Queen may see the Glory of Heaven on Earth. You are still loyal are you not Merlin? Or has your years imprisoned by her beauty made you grow bitter?" A sign of madness as Bedivere seemed to interrogate a tree, rather than Mithias speaking of himself and of a "Merlin."

The Blood Compact

Lady Mo would most definitely be getting an invite the Meeting.

Forwards Unto Dusk

Ah. My mistake then. I thought magnus in itself is a field of study. However it is now clear that the schools of magnus themselves are the field and magnus is not a science but rather science in itself. That is there is no direct study of magnus as by the analogy they are different fields where each specialist can fund their niche.

I'll go with something far more simple then as it seems I am confused by the mechanisms to create something complicated as a psionic illusionist.

Forwards Unto Dusk

What you came up with is inaccurate, then. Naturally I know what decides upon an Arcanist's magus, but it hasn't yet been divulged because it's a plot point to come. I can however tell you that there is no inherent link between an Arcanist and a hypothetical vast omnipotent universe. Magus is something specific to Luxas and has an origin point. The long and short of it is that magus is demonic mathematics, it's knowledge from The Nocturne, which itself is a vast unknown.
What decides upon an Arcanist's magus is not something that can be appropriated. You've said that the information isn't inherited, just the ability, and that Ibyxx learns through observation, but that's akin to learning how to speak Russian through lipreading without a dictionary: You have all the tools you need to speak English (and use your own magus) but the language they're speaking is an entirely different one, the internal processes invisible and the point of reference basically non-existent, the only thing you have to work with is that both of you are definitely speaking some sort of language. And again, I've made it that way specifically so nobody can use the "every power" model.

@Captain Jenno

Hrm this puts a new spin on it. The new information and analogy makes it more clear that there is no true fundamental/universal formulae and that the patterns are in fact then unique between spell formulations. That is there is no similarity between the methodology in casting one spell and another of similar concept/design. Since there is absolutely no reference point, this makes consistency impossible, and I'd say it's much less of a science than a personal art since if there is no basic premise that all spells can be and are formulated the same way, yet yield varying effects within a given degree of variability unique to the individual, there is no way one Arcanist can aid another arcanist in the study of Magnus as between the two, there is no commonality in language, synthax, grammatical structure, or even alphabet most likely. Thus between both ends now the technique would be baseless. Which brings me back to the drawing board.

Would an illusionist work?

The Blood Compact

The moonlight over Wales.
The pagan moon of the celts.
Round and bright, the cloudless sky.
Reflected upon the lake.

Ted was most certainly not the barkeep's name, Theodore really, but everyone either called him barkeep, bartender, or something of that nature. He was not the first vampire behind the counter, placed so many years ago when the foundation was laid. Despite the mix of young blood, Ted was most likely the eldest after "Aldaric". While picturesquely serene by the moonlit lake, the Whispering Oak held many secrets within the wood walls and stone floors, and if one listened carefully, the tale of the ages could be sung from the stones which prate with every step and creaking wood. A Tavern rustic, still serving foods from the renaissance period, perfected by the First Keeper of the Oak Syth'Kas as entrusted by Bedivere. A vampire bar to conduct business, to swap stories and share in blood, bottles of the stuff stored in the cellar below within Oaken barrels. Blood stew and blood soup for a hearty meal, blood wines to fill the blackest soul with delight, blood beers and spirits to go with a classic dish fried fish from the lake itself. To reveal in the debauchery of human suffering as they gathered for the feasts as blood poured as freely on the taps as any other.

Curiously in the middle of the Inn was a large and mighty Oak, rotund and far more ancient than any vampire present. The gnarled boughs supported the floor above, the rafters of the rooms for the would be patron, while the twisted roots dug into the cellar dungeon. Its leaves were faded, perpetually brown and orange as if in eternal autumn, a lonely tree by the lakeside. The spiral staircase which encircled it led to the scant rooms of the inn, merely for décor perhaps as few vampires ventured up the stairway to reside in a room given the amount of activity on the ground floor. There was a simple set of rules to be followed, keep the weapons sheathed and tongues guarded. Any vampire caught trespassing these rules would have to deal with the owner of the bar.

"Good evening." Speak of the devil. The newest vampire entered the building, primly dressed in a business suit, an umbrella held in one hand as the other took off a coat and hat to be hung in the corner. The room silenced itself for a moment as the white-haired pale one wandered in, eyes taking in the masses as they edged themselves away from his presence. "Welcome to the Whispering Oak Sir Varomere, the second finest establishment in all of Wales." Bedivere had made his way up to the counter, spying Mithias in his suit shooting the bull with Ted. This greeting had also revealed Mithias' identity to the crowd who paused, a slight tension filled the inn only to be dismissed as an equally cold stare from Bedivere challenged any would be hostilities towards his guest.

"A table for two then Theodore. Tea, and treats by ten." Bedivere turned to the slightly flustered barkeep to put in an order, well more than just an order, perhaps a demand or command really. Of course everything in the Whispering Oak was served with blood, as macabre as this may be, what more did you expect from an old vampire bar? The younglings barely fanged and fledged could have their nightclubs and raves, the more cultured and sophisticated would gather here as they had through the centuries.

"Oh, I did not expect your arrival so soon my Lord. Your usual seat is empty of course. But I'm afraid we are short on Ceylon this evening. May I have permission to use the Darjeeling instead?"

With a nod the old knight replied as he return to face Mithias, "Well then my boy, shall we?" He directed an open palm to suggest a seat in front of the oak tree in the middle of the room. "There is much to discuss business-wise as you know, however before we begin, I would like to know a bit more about the vampire I had invited to share meal with me. Come, introduce yourself to your elder will you not?"

Forwards Unto Dusk

Also, as a rule of thumb it's healthy to remember that roleplaying is a team sport, if you're ever under the impression your character could take on a couple of the other PCs from the very start then there is something wrong with the distribution of power.

@Captain Jenno

Indeed. The intent was never to actually take PC abilities (without consent, unless given for plot purposes) but rather NPC arcanists, as given the plot there is no need for Two of a particular mage in a party, but one could always use a First Light arcanist.

As for no one really knowing how it works, I considered this and wrote in the Order of Twilight Monks as part of a more ascetic group of arcanists who believe since the magnus varies from person to person, regardless of channeling point, their research is into the element of the self and its relationship to magnus. They do not directly study how to use it, but rather how it behaves and manifests in the Arcanist who uses it. A more quasi-mystic aspect of the art, rather than the pure science which is why they retreated into the Dusk Isle to hide themselves away from the more scientific community.

Thus it would be logical to state that Ibyxx knows his own magus (which was onset so late, but is a relatively simple technique requiring little variation) through the dedication of non-scientific study, he still is required to observe and study the techniques of another arcanist to actually learn the abilities before use. I had stated knowledge of how to use is not transferred, only knowledge of how it can work for the self which is gleaned through his study and knowledge of how to see into the understanding of Magnus. In essence, he has the formulas and equations required to solve for a complex expression, yet he does not know what the expression is until he finds this.

As for the science of the Magnus, if we take that Magnus is some form of variable conversion of energies channeled from a given source used to manipulate the universe around it to create, destroy or control forces and objects within the universe of which the exact mechanics are not well known (unified theory of Magnus) but known to require a conduit of will to be harnessed properly. In such consideration, it is not that the Arcanist holds inherent power in itself, but rather the ability to use power to the desire of the Arcanist. And since the Arcanist is observed to be for the large scale "unique" such that the same set of mental evocations produced variable results for the Arcanist, it can be argued that it is not the harness or method of channeling said power which sculpts the magnus, but rather this is unique to the one casting it. Thus by this line of logic, there is something inherent between the universe and the Arcanist who wishes to shape it such that the Universe would seem to "assign" identities to the Arcanist it interacts with as anyone with enough study can become a magnus, there is no special condition required to become a magnus user ergo one can surmise that the key relies in neither biological factors nor mathematical mechanics. Thus we can go into the question of what then makes the magnus unique and special to a given person if such cases hold true? I hypothesize it is the interaction between the caster and the world. As such I considered the main factor is simply what the universe permits the magnus to do given the identity of arcanist who casts it. Perhaps the universe knows the inner identity and self of the arcanist and thus grants that arcanist a particular magnus. The mechanics of this remains unknown and perhaps even arbitrary.

How it all ties in with Ibyxx is that his magnus works on creating a link between another arcanist and he. Such that when the universe sees him, it instead sees a psychic pointer directed at another arcanist within its system. So the Universe then treats him as said arcanist for spellcrafting purposes if he can formulate the combination of mental equations to use to get the spell desired.

Or at least that is what I came up with when I designed.

Forwards Unto Dusk

This is why the Order of the Twilight Monks fits into his theme.
The science is an internal understanding of how your own magnus works, or rather in this case how another's works.

Any suggestion then on what to do?

The Blood Compact

I wonder if I should have Bedivere invite Mathew Stone to the upcoming vampire council meeting.

Someone has to Cater the event after all.