NationStates

Wolfenium wrote:

Charmera wrote:Jyn smiled back, comforted that they were both comfortable in this line of conversation. "I suppose it is nice to have family around. We haven't seen each other too for some time before we came here..." Jyn commented, when they had got the summons for the accademy, Vyna had just happened to be nearby and so they went together. "Though considering how many of us popped up I half expected to see brother Alris to show up too..." She shrugged.

Jon noticed Mehran's discomfort with a degree of empathy. If Vyna was here, Jon was sure he would be more than a bit embarrassed, and not just because of anything Vynaria had to say. He honestly hoped the source of that discomfort never came up in conversation. Pushing that from his mind for now, he looked at Niloofar. ""Indeed, apart from somewhat recently we've been a package deal... I suppose our lifestyle and the rest of our family encouraged us to form tight bonds."

"Lifestyle," wondered Niloofar inquisitively, "I always assumed noble families cared about nothing about that. There are many who were willing to kill just about their entire clan just so they inherit their fortune and castle. It's a rather scary thought compared to how austere our society is."

"Greed," Mehran mused, "there's little else that could drive men to depravity more. At least it's good to hear that you're not adhering to such twisted mindsets. Travesty will come the day kinship is worth less than gold."

"Ah, I just recalled," blurted the girl out of the blue, rushing off to the side of the kitchen out of the blue. Returning with a marker and a small card folded into a prism, she scrawled a sign onto one of the faces as she displayed it in front of the pot. Returning with a satisfied smile, Niloofar appeared oblivious to her brother's strange looks. A quick glance back showed that she had written the name of the curry on the card, on display in front of the pot like a buffet item.

"You should put a warning on that," Mehran nervously alerted, adjusting his shades with a trembling hand, "I don't want to be the next person who gets a helping of it."

Defensive, Niloofar growled, "how rude. Don't blame me for your weak stomach, brother."

Grimacing quite clearly, Mehran was clearly more concerned than before. Shifting his eyes back and forth at the pot, he seemed very disturbed at any sign of people lining up in front of it. But with Niloofar just as attentive at the reception, he was quite torn at how to act. Should he try to stop anyone from eating her instant hellfire, or should he just let them take the risk?

But as he pondered over his options, a figure mysteriously popped into view beside him. Shocked, he watched as a pale-faced young man in long flax hair* silently scooped up a bowl of curry with a ladle, swallowing a piece of beef with an almost robotic expression. For a moment, the Xorshid was not sure if the lad was going to burst in panic at the searing spiciness like he and Jon did. After a few seconds, the sullen lad uttered a monotonous praise, "tasty," walking off with the bowl as if he had only drunk chicken soup.

Equally astonished as her kin, Niloofar wasted no time to mock the guardian, chiming, "see? And you said no one could take it well."

"'Well'? He was practically inhuman! A man of steel! He didn't even as much as bat an eyelid eating that! That can't be normal," Mehran yelled in a startled tone.

"What does it matter if someone could take the pungency that calmly," Niloofar retorted, "he said it was tasty."

"He hardly sounded like he liked the taste, though," mused the disturbed lad, still eyeing Eamonn's back as he walked off, "it's like he's dead inside for some reason."

A second look at the lad, Mehran could recall him being part of their class. He had not heard much about the results of the arena battles, but he did recall that he was chalked up for a loss against an Aspirlacial. Eamonn did not look excessively bitter, however. In fact, he did not look like he felt anything about it. Something bothered the guardian about that lad, a sense of brooding that he dared not fathom about.

---

*Eamonn

Jon and Jyn both gave each other and odd look when Mehran mentioned the word greed. It would be hard to read exactly what they could be thinking, but there was fear in both their eyes. Fear and a mounting, creeping paranoia, which threatened to consume the both of them if left unchecked. However for now, Jyn merely cleared her throat in an attempt to dispel the awkwardness.

"What Niloofar says is... true unfortunately... Our parents tried to keep us away from that and arm us for such eventualities. It's an especially concerning thought." Jyn replied, then her voice hushed slightly and her face looked somewhat uncomfortable. "Especially since..." Her trail of thought stopped there and Jyn clammed up. Biting her lip nervously.

Jon breathed a sigh of relief as he noticed Eamon coming over to the pot, distracting the other pair of siblings. But then his eyes widened as the man took from the pot with no reaction. "How... what...?" He stammered in confusion. "How is he not exploding from the inside out? Maybe it's just a delayed reaction?"

Jyn contained her own surprise. "I... don't see what the big deal is." She lied. "I liked it... It was nice." Jyn said in half truth, her smile becoming more rigid as she wondered of he was really human.

"You have the constitution of a Rhidox. And even you could detect something." Jon replied.

Charmera wrote:"Ah... i was wondering how a draw would be possible... Did you run out of time or something of that like?" She asked, much more comfortable talking about his duel than her own. "Also, you spoke of that being a local dish for your home. Where exactly do you come from if you don't mind me asking?" She questioned, though she stopped after that one as she didn't want to seem like she was interrogating this man.

"I fear it was as true a tie as could be, as we seem to have had exhausted the defenses of the other within an instant of one another. Although, if I were to be perfectly honest, it is in all likelihood that she bested me in that regard; for although I struck my last blow before she, her own was of greater power then mine, which in a true battle would have spelled my end."

"But you asked of my home? I hail of a system in the Low Southeast Quadrant, a rather small Magellanic Spiral trailing off a few hundred kiloparsecs from any major galaxy. Not too much to comment upon, if you will forgive my briefness. Few worlds were of much standing following the Chalice War, and even today many remain little more then disks of dust orbiting stars. My own was in such a system, yet thankfully spared in the age old conflict for reasons beyond my grasp, which I have been told reshaped the surface as it carved its way through the dust clouds of its brethren planets, leaving it a world of near perpetual winter."

He opened his mouth as if to continue, pausing for but a moment as a somewhat glassy look overtook his eyes as he gazed upon the grassy expanse that was the top of the Academy.

"But if I continue I am certain I shall speak of this unceasingly. Please, tell me of your homeland."

Some time after they had first entered the cafeteria, the two guides of the group of recruits that was interacting near the entrance of the building finally walked out with their food. On her hands, Aressa held a small tray, and in that tray sat a bowl filled with a steaming seafood stew crafted from the local species and given flavor with spices grown on the meridional areas of Arcadia. Along with the stew, there was a serving of plain white rice, and a curious variety of bread roll drenched in a specially prepared juice not entirely unlike honey. Arcander's meal, on the other hand, was a fair deal less elaborate: He simply held a plate with three large bread rolls, each of them sliced in half, though the steam rising from the points of separation seemed to indicate that they were filled with something else, something that happened to be rather hot at the moment. With his free hand, the tall golden-robed aspirant also carried a rather large sack. Though its contents were not readily apparent, the fact was that the sack was full of raw ingredients.

"Did you really have to request everything in that list?" The redheaded aspirant asked her fellow guide. "Darmain was really ticked off after having to wait for you to finish, and I would go as far as to bet that he was not the only one." She stated idly as the two of them stepped outside and looked around for their charges.

"Hey, I apologized. Five times!" Arcander said in response. "Besides, since I did this today, that means they won't have to see me standing in line in the cafeteria for... Oh, look, there they are." He said, trailing off at the end as he spotted the recruits interacting in groups not too distanced from each other, all of them standing relatively close to the entrance to the cafeteria building. Looking in the direction her partner had turned, Aressa, too, noticed the students, and the two aspirants began walking towards them, calling out for their attention, though they were casual enough about it so as to leave it clear that it was just a friendly invitation and not an order. To those who were interested in approaching, Aressa spoke, carefully sitting down on one of the small gardens on the rooftop cross-legged, her tray placed on the grass in front of her.

"So, since we're all here and we will be working together at the Academy for the next three years, I figured that we ought to get to know each other better, so that we can all get along and watch out for each other. To that end, it would probably be very helpful if we all told each other a little about ourselves." She said, letting that sink in for a moment before continuing. "But, I will be honest, that's a bit boring and doesn't tend to flow well unless it's done out of one's own free will and without any sort of coercion, real or perceived. So instead, why don't we share some stories we know?" She continued, a smile creeping into her usually serious face, her soft features seeming to brighten up. She rather enjoyed stories, so she figured this might be a good chance to pick some up while bonding a bit with the students who would be her charges for the following three years.

"Any story will do. It could be a story from your life, a legend from your homeland or a tale you've heard before. It doesn't particularly matter what it is." She clarified, before looking at the faces of those who had gathered around her, taking her bowl of stew into her hands and taking a small sip from it before speaking once again. "So, would anyone like to start?"

Alfenn had drifted towards this new gathering after realising his bowl was suddenly empty, the meal having been better than he expected. Having had the chance to fill his stomach and observe his surroundings a little Alfenn felt a little more relaxed and a great deal less grumpy. When Aressa asked for stories and no one immediately volunteered Alfenn was even feeling relaxed enough to shrug (mentally) and raise his hand.
"I have one," he said, his eyes swivelling to gauge the reaction of the small gathering. "My Father was never one for stories but this one always got a pass since it concerns the founding of our order and our namesake, the Black cup," with a wry smile he extended a finger and tapped the insignia on his uniform "This thing,"

Aressa glanced at Alfenn when he spoke, putting some rice into her stew and drinking some more from the mixture as she listened to him speak and watched him point at the sign that had been imprinted on the uniform by the seal she had handed him earlier, the sign of the Black Cup. The red-haired aspirant gave the recruit a nod, gesturing for him to go right ahead and tell his story. She certainly didn't mind hearing about the foundation of the Order of the Black Cup, it seemed like an interesting enough topic, more so if it was anything like the story of the foundation of her own Order, though she wasn't one to judge, even if didn't turn out to be quite as dramatic or anything like that.

Meanwhile, Arcander, sitting next to his fellow guide and taking a bite of one of his rolls, seemed rather surprised at Alfenn's uninhibited offer to tell a story. He had seemed a tad more reserved than that earlier, but the white-haired aspirant figured that it was probably just a misjudgement on his part. Thus, waving his half-eaten roll in Alfenn's general direction, he spoke. "Go ahead, it sounds quite interesting." He said, trying to encourage the recruit to carry on. "I can safely say that it's not a story I've heard before."

"That's not really surprising" replied Alfenn taking a seat on the grass and shuffling himself into a comfortable position.

"It's not a very popular story outside of the order. It concerns a man named Malfett who was lord of Narcosa, in the Charen system. His last name is lost to time,” Alfenn frowned and thought for a moment “Or perhaps that was his last name and it was his first name that was lost, I suppose it matters little to the story. This was many aeons ago, not long after Aradain's ascension and the region the Black Cups now control was divided between a number of petty lords, some followed the teachings Aradain but plenty of others were heathens and quite hostile. Charen's only close neighbours were all heathen and Lord Malfett was hard-pressed to defend the planet, increasingly so as time went on.

In desperation he sent out missives across the planet and to nearby systems calling for someone to tell him the secret of true power and promising a lavish reward to any who would assist him. Soon enough visitors flocked to Narcosa, a multitude from all over the galaxy, for the gossiping had spread the news far beyond the region. Malfett was an even handed sort of fellow it seems because he agreed to see each one of the visitors in turn and trial their suggestions. The first was a merchant of considerable renown, whose ships travelled the galaxy buying and selling. He advised Malfett that true power lay in wealth and he who acquired the most of it would be the most powerful. To test the merchant's theory Malfett sharply rose the taxes and soon enough found himself in control of a sizeable fortune. With this he hired an army of mercenaries and led them against the heathens. Malfett's army scored a string of victories in battle but on Narcosa the common people chafed under the heavy taxes and many were forced to turn to crime to feed themselves or their family. One particularly brave gang of thieves broke into Malfett's castle and made off with the fortune he had amassed in taxes. When the mercenaries discovered there was no money to pay them they immediately deserted and Malfett was forced to retreat, abandoning all the territory he had won. Furious, Malfett had the merchant executed and called for the next would be advisor.

This man was a veteran warrior of no less renown then the merchant. A bearded giant covered in scars and hard as steel. The warrior advised Malfett that the secret to true power was loyal soldiers, if the bond between Malfett and his knights was strengthened sufficiently it would be nought to overcome any obstacle. Malfett took the man's advice to heart and set about winning the loyalty of his men. He learned the names and aspirations of all of them and visited each one in turn. He spoke eloquently of his respect for them, of their sacred duty and he began to lead from the front, sharing the burdens of his men and leading them into battle without fear so that each one was imbued with a powerful devotion to him. With this small band of loyal warriors Malfett set out once again to turn back the heathens. Malfett and his band fought a great many battles, although at times there was little food or freezing wind not a one of those brave warriors flinched from their duty or abandoned their post, so that again Malfett scored a succession of victories. Brave as they were however these warriors were not invincible and each battle saw a few more of them fall until at last Malfett found himself the sole survivor and hunted by the enemy. Taking shelter in a cave, Malfett stumbled across a bent old man clad in a ragged black coat. Out of desperation, the harried lord asked this reclusive stranger if he knew the secret of true power and the old man replied with a crooked grin.

'Drink from this cup I will give to you and you will know true power,' he said and drew from underneath his cloak a cup which as you all might have guessed was quite black. "But drink of it only twice, to drink a third time will be to know utter madness and be destroyed," The cup was jagged and had an evil air about it but Malfett could hear the enemy approaching and so drank deeply from it." Alfenn covered his mouth with a fist and cleared his throat. before continuing "The next part differs a bit depending on which version you go by but my personal favourite is the one where Malfett rips the arm off a heathen and uses it to beat to the rest of them to death, but popular variations include him caving in their skulls with rocks and at least one claims he tore out their leader's throat with his teeth. The short version is that Malfett fought off the heathens, all two thousand of them, by himself and returned to Narcosa with the cup, though he old man disappeared never to be seen again.

Malfett had returned home safely but the heathens still threatened his territory, though he had inflicted many defeats there numbers seemed infinite and their thirst for battle unquenchable. With no little reluctance, for he recalled the warning of the strange old man, Malfett drank from the cup a second time and set about organising an army to finally put an end to the heathens. Though all the bravest warriors had perished in battle and all of the mercenaries had long since quit the system there was no shortage of volunteers. And though the volunteers were old men and inexperienced boys Malfett’s presence seemed to fill them with an unexplainable fierceness so that when he departed Narcosa for the first time it was an army of the first rate that followed behind him. Once more Malfett met the heathens in battle and this time there was no end to his victories. He fought them in the field and scattered their great hosts, he besieged their planets and cities until each one fell in turn and put their leaders to the sword. His own army seemed invincible, each man utterly without fear and given the strength of a demon.

Ten of these warriors particularly distinguished themselves and Malfett named these ten his circle of knights, trusted retainers whose descendants rule the Order in his stead to this day. Marfett was now in control of a respectable number of newly conquered systems and so he named his trusted knights lords and divided up the new territory between them, keeping only Charen at the centre for himself. From there he ruled ably for many years or so the accounts say and his lords ruled ably in his name as well so that there was peace and contented throughout the territory of the Black Cups until rumours that would spell the end for Malfett reached his ears. He heard tell of a woman held captive, far beyond the edges of his own realm. Her beauty was matched only by the ferocity of the demon that guarded her. Though men across the breadth of the galaxy lusted after her few dared brave the demon and those few that had, the greatest knights of the age, had all been vanquished. Upon merely hearing of her beauty Malfett found himself instantly smitten and called his circle of Lords to his side for counsel. All ten of the lords flocked to his side and all ten advised him against searching out this mysterious maiden and facing the demon that guarded her. For each one of them new the secret of the Black Cup and that Malfett had drank from it twice already and it was certain that the cup’s power was needed to overcome such a fearsome opponent. But Malfett was unswayed, so hot was the passion raging inside him and after days of arguing and pleading his Lord’s resigned themselves to this foolhardy quest on the condition that they be allowed accompany him. Each one of the lord’s had strong sons well ready to rule in their own right so none had any regrets about following their liege to the death if need be.

The conditions being set the party of eleven set out and their journey was long and perilous. They faced many hardships which are stories in their own right and after many years of journeying found themselves at last before the lair of the demon, a mysterious planet whose surface as entirely of obsidian and dotted with strange obelisks and mysterious idols. In the very centre stood an enormous throne carved out of the very ground and atop the throne sat the demon himself. As tall as a mountain it was, each claw the size of ten men and its great, red eyes like giant, burning coals. The eleven companions drew their weapons and charged towards the demon. Though they fought skilfully and without fear the beast’s strength was insurmountable and within minutes Malfett stood alone once more, his companions slain. Here even Malfett’s great courage failed him and he would have turned and fled but just as he turned to run he caught just glimpse of a pale, flickering figure atop one arm of the immense throne.

The stories had not done her justice for as terrible as the demon was she was at least ten times as beautiful, with eyes of clearest blue and hair of spun gold. Without hesitation Malfett turned once more to confront the demon and drew out from under his cloak the cup and drank from it for the third and final time. With a feral cry the beast aimed a terrible blow at Malfett but with the power of the cup Malfett turned it aside with his blade and the battle was joined in earnest. It raged across the black surface of that strange planet for days for man and demon were evenly matched. Each time Malfett seemed to have the demon cornered it would start to belch fire, or sprout wings, or some other grave monstrosity and each time The beast seemed to have Malfett in its clutches the man seemed to find some fresh reserve of strength and fought on. Days and nights passed again until finally Malfett aimed a mighty blow, not to the beast but against one of the many obsidian spires. This tumbled into the demon so that it was trapped and with one last strike Malfett severed its head from the body. Immediately the demon dissolved into a noxious cloud of pitch black smoke which billowed around Malfett and might have poisoned him had he not covered his face with eh corner of his cloak.

As the smoke drifted away Malfett was confronted not with the body of the demon he had slain but with an old man in a ragged, black cloak. With a cackle the old man, who was indeed the very same man who had given Malfett the cup, reminded him of the terms of the cup’s use ‘Drink of the cup only twice,” said the old man “For to drink of the cup three times is to know utter madness and be destroyed!” With that the old man vanished in another puff of black smoke. With horror Malfett looked down to his left hand which held the cup and tried to cast it away but he found it stuck fast to his hand. Not only that but the black surface of the cup seemed to leak out onto his hand and spread up his arm. Further the blackness spread until it covered him entirely and his eyes became red, burning coals and he grew to the size of a mountain and finally there was no trace of the lord Malfett but a fresh demon even more terrible. Some say that the demon that was the lord Malfett dwells still upon the black surface of that mysterious planet, awaiting a champion strong enough to free him of his madness. As for the women well there was no sign of her, except that if there had been another soul upon the planet that day and they happened to look to the sky they might have seen a tiny blue bird fluttering through the sky and wondered at its rare beauty,”

Alfenn gave a yawn and a small stretch, unused to speaking for so long. “And thus concludes the sad tale of the Lord Malfett and the founding of the Black Cups. Its meaning is open to debate, but my favourite interpretation is that power alone is insufficient if one seeks beauty,” Alfenn looked around at the small gathering still listening and gave an embarrassed cough. “I had forgotten how long it was though, I didn’t mean to speak for so long.”

Atlannia wrote:-snip-

Ellyn inclined her head in a nod and replied, smiling, "It was a great story, one that I have not heard before, so thank you. I suppose I shall go next. This tale is called The Princess Bride. Some of you may have heard of it, but I shall tell it nevertheless. And perhaps it is true, but I know not."

"Once upon a time, there was a planet, named Floren. Floren was a bountiful planet,with a region named Hispania. In the mountains of Hispania, there was a little village, Arabella. And there was a boy, and his name was Inigo Montoya. Inigo was always happy, because of his father Domingo. Domingo was a master forger, he made the greatest energy swords and spears and shields that anyone had ever seen. But if you wanted the finest energy swords in the universe did you go to Domingo Montoya. No, you wanted to Yeste. You see, Yeste and Domingo had an agreement, as they had always been best friends. Yeste would get a commission for a sword, and then persuade Domingo to forge it. And of course, each time, the master smith could not refuse.

But one day, a noble, dressed in exquisite clothes stepped inside Domingo's little house. He knew, that it was Domingo, not Yeste, who was the smith, don't ask me how. And he wanted a sword, the greatest since the Phantom Blade itself. But Domingo insisted that he was not the swordmaker, until the noble held up his right hand. He had 6 fingers. Astonished, and excited, Domingo quickly agreed, and told the noble to come back in a year. The poor man worked himself to death, and Inigo saw him getting older, day by day. But Domingo was determined to make the greatest sword since the Phantom Blade, and finally, he finished. But when the noble came back, and beheld the glorious sword, he only wanted to pay half of the agreed price. And the sword was glorious indeed. It was designed for 6 fingers, the cross hilt was jeweled, and Domingo had forged the metal from the starmines of Arabella. And when the smith took the sword off the counter, claiming that it would now belong to Inigo, in a flash, the noble's blade pierced Domingo's heart. And as he walked away, Inigo screamed. As the villagers came rushing up, prepared to defend the Montoyas, they saw it was a noble, and they were afraid, and began to part a path for the noble who walked to his Pegasii. But Inigo rushed out, and carrying the six-fingered sword, called him a coward, a pig, craven and a killer. He was ten years old, and Inigo only lasted 15 seconds before being disarmed and the noble, in wrath, scarred Inigo's two cheeks.

But Inigo learned, and for the next 15 years, he traveled the planets, learning the art of the sword. He found his way to this order, of the Phantom Blade, and spent the majority of those 15 years there, learning, and mastering. And when that day of his graduation had come, he was regarded the finest swordsman in the universe. For 15 years, he had dreamed of what he would do when he came upon the count, and every night, in dreams, he would walk up to the noble and say. "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die. He joined a party of 2, and the three of them were thus: Vizzini, the mastermind of the group, Fezzik, the giant who was reckoned to be the strongest man alive and Inigo, the greatest swordsman alive. And their plan was to capture a princess, Buttercup, and get rich, all of them for their separate reasons.

But even Vizzini did not take into account Buttercup's real love, Westley, named Dread Knight Roberts, who had been away, and Buttercup had been forced to marry the Prince of Floren. Westley outsmarted Vizzini, outwrestled Fezzik, and in one of the greatest sword duels of all times, their swords flickering and blazing like light, outdueled Inigo Montoya. Vizzini had been killed, but Inigo and Fezzik were spared by Westley, and the new trio set off to rescue Buttercup from the Prince. For the Prince's right hand man was Count Rugen, the treacherous six-fingered noble. Westley had recently escaped the torture of the Count and the Prince, being captured, and the only reason he clinged to life was because of his true love, Buttercup. So Fezzik and Inigo literally had to drag Westley to the castle where the wedding was to take place. With great cleverness and strength of will, he rescued Buttercup, and so frightened the Prince with a speech, that the Prince dropped his sword in pure fright, as he was a coward at heart. Meanwhile, Inigo had hunted down Count Rugen, and the two met in a titanic duel. The Count wounded Inigo early on, near his heart, so that it was a wonder that Inigo was still alive. But he grasped the table and began to recite his sworn revenge." And here, Ellyn's voice softened nearly to silence. "Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die.Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die." Her voice grew louder, "Hello, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to die!" And louder..."HELLO, my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father, prepare to DIE! And with every statement, he wounded the count, for every wound the count had inflicted on him. One slice on each cheek, a stab near the heart, and with the final shout, into the Count's heart. And this is where the numerous stories part ways. Some tales say that Inigo, succumbing to his wounds, gasped out, "I have avenged thee, father!" Others say that he recovered, and put down his sword, which I doubt, and some say that he recovered and became the Dread Knight Roberts.

But for the interests of time, I have only focused on the side character, Inigo, when I suppose Buttercup and Westley, he who would only say, "As you wish" to the most beautiful person alive, Buttercup. Perhaps I can tell the tale of Buttercup and Westley another time, if you do not know the story and want to know it in is fullness. But I have focused on poor Inigo, because he is my favorite of them all. I suppose that the moral of the story is to not let revenge blind you, or direct everything you do for the rest of your life. Despite pain, we most move on, before we become obessively fixed on revenge. For what will revenge do in the end? Look at Inigo, all those years he had spent, seeking revenge. He was the finest swordsman alive, but what is a swordsman to do after his great enemy has been vanquished. He had no more purpose."

Looking all of her colleagues in the eye, Ellyn continued, "Do not fight for revenge, or for riches, or even for glory. Those things may or may not come, and in the end, no matter how much you try, you may not find what you seek. Fight for hope, for freedom, for peace, for a new tomorrow, for our order, for those who cannot defend themselves. My father always had a motto, which I shall say now in closing.

"Life before Death. Strength before Weakness. Journey before Destination.

May your blades stay sharp, brothers and sisters."

The Unites State-Of-Minds wrote:

Charmera wrote:"Ah... i was wondering how a draw would be possible... Did you run out of time or something of that like?" She asked, much more comfortable talking about his duel than her own. "Also, you spoke of that being a local dish for your home. Where exactly do you come from if you don't mind me asking?" She questioned, though she stopped after that one as she didn't want to seem like she was interrogating this man.

"I fear it was as true a tie as could be, as we seem to have had exhausted the defenses of the other within an instant of one another. Although, if I were to be perfectly honest, it is in all likelihood that she bested me in that regard; for although I struck my last blow before she, her own was of greater power then mine, which in a true battle would have spelled my end."

"But you asked of my home? I hail of a system in the Low Southeast Quadrant, a rather small Magellanic Spiral trailing off a few hundred kiloparsecs from any major galaxy. Not too much to comment upon, if you will forgive my briefness. Few worlds were of much standing following the Chalice War, and even today many remain little more then disks of dust orbiting stars. My own was in such a system, yet thankfully spared in the age old conflict for reasons beyond my grasp, which I have been told reshaped the surface as it carved its way through the dust clouds of its brethren planets, leaving it a world of near perpetual winter."

He opened his mouth as if to continue, pausing for but a moment as a somewhat glassy look overtook his eyes as he gazed upon the grassy expanse that was the top of the Academy.

"But if I continue I am certain I shall speak of this unceasingly. Please, tell me of your homeland."

"Sounds strangely nice... I've never evens seen snow before." Vyna replied, the picture of winter romanticized in her mind. "Though the dust clouds don't sound too nice and I can imagine it might not be too great, but still..." She paused, smiling slightly at the image of snow falling and the warm fire crackling against the cold. When her own home was mentioned, her smile dissipated somewhat. "Oh, my world is mostly water, with many different islands and two large contents. Fairly temperate all the way through, apart from the occasional desert. Lots of rivers and lakes." She replied. "Aethas. It's on the Thantris systems borders, you may have heard of it. It's a key trading planet and a center for commerce. Though it's more than a little... cut-throat. Not to mention the occasional raids from star brigands and raiders..."

"Though, it's a decent place to live..."

Jyn and Jon

The Starlight wrote:-Snip-

"I don't think we had heard that tale before... it was quite nice. Especially the part about fighting for hope and freedom." Jyn replied, smiling. Jon scoffed bitterly. "I do feel sorry for Inigo though..."

Jon shrugged. "It was a good story..." He replied honestly. "I had heard of Inigo, though I never knew the full story"

Jyn turned to Jon. "Oh! I suppose we should go next." Jyn replied, remembering the countless tales she had heard from her parents. "Why don't you tell them the one about the Golden Knight Jon...?"

Jon shrugged. "They probably know that one Jyn." Jon said, before smiling slightly. He enjoyed telling tales and stories. "But I'd bet at least a few of them don't know this one..."

Jon began the tale by clearing his throat, then spoke. "Once, long ago in a faraway system, there was a pair of swordsmiths and warriors, both happily married and in love, named Yan Un and Nai Ja. Both were legendary in their craft for creating blades of extreme beauty and supreme craftsmanship. It was even rumored that they were somehow able to imprint their magic into their blades, leaving a piece of their soul in the swords. They had a daughter and a son, whom was named Hui and Than and whom they also trained in the art of the sword, both in its crafting and its use.

One day, they were commissioned by Lord Sun of the Abraxis system. He commanded the two of them to make two blades for him, worthy of a lord of his power and abilities. He also commanded that they use a strange crystal that they had found in the planet of Udonis in the system, rather than the normal sword crystals of the time. They were also required to finish the project in three months.

Yan and Nai agreed, though they were somewhat uncertain about Lord Sun, who was famed for his lack of morals and ruthlessness. First they experimented with this strange metal, finding that normal forging methods either destroyed the metal or were unable to shape it. One day, while Yan was working with the metal, he hit it in frustration, cutting himself on a jagged edge and releasing some of his blood, which was suddenly absorbed by the metal. Yan found that the crystal became more malleable and easier to work with.

They reported their findings to Sun and he told them that he would provide them with as much blood as they needed. When the two of them asked where he would get the blood they were told not to concern themselves with that and get back to work, as they were already growing close to their deadline and the Lord was impatient.

As they soon found, it took large volumes of human blood to shape the metal, and they still had to work around the hurdle of making the sword usable once they forged it. Interestingly, they found the crystal became completely unchanging once it had absorbed a certain amount of blood and the blades would be usable. So the couple ordered more blood, somewhat concerned about where all this blood was coming from.

In the end, the couple found out the truth, that Lord Sun had sacrificed untold hundred merely to create these blades. What’s more, the two swords seemed somehow sentient, alive and hungering for blood. Yan and Nai would hear strange whisperings when around the blades.

The couple could not allow such injustices to continue, and so confronted Lord Sun. They were both then told that if they did not complete the blades as promised, their children would be killed.

Yan and Nai were both now panicking, they couldn't let anyone else die to fuel these blades, also now both convinced the blades were some sort of evil. Nai told Yan that she would rather die than let another innocent die to fuel these blades. Before Yan could do anything, she grabbed both the swords and plunged them into her body, the hungry blades draining their creator and desiccating her corpse completely. However, her death gave the blades enough blood and energy to be born.

Lord Sun was glad the blades were done, and as a token of his appreciation, spared Yan’s children and named the blades after their creators, Yan Un and Nai Ja. However, Yan was not content to hand over the blades to this monstrous Lord. He kept them for himself, handing over two false blades and tricking Lord Sun before he escaped.

Enraged, Lord Sun sent assassin after assassin after them, to no avail. Meanwhile, Yan tried to keep his children safe while attempting to plan his own revenge, the blades having worked their way into his mind and were now calling for Suns blood. However soon Lord Sun himself came to kill Yan, and in the ensuing battle Lord Sun defeated and killed Yan. However the blades and his children were nowhere to be seen.

Four years later, the two siblings, Than and Hui, sieged Abraxis Castle with an army of Lord Sun’s angry subjects. They were hungry for revenge, the blades driving them as they did their father. Than and Hui cut a swath through Sun’s armies, their blades empowered the more blood they shed. Soon they became unstoppable, managing to pierce strait into Sun’s chambers, however he was nowhere to be found.

They then found that Sun had created his own blade, sacrificing a considerable amount of his remaining servants and soldiers to empower the blade. When the siblings confronted him, the battle was titanic, Than and Hui were unable to defeat Sun until Than pointed out that the blade was of poor craftsmanship and Hui focused her attacks on the blade, destroying it. They then made short work of Lord Sun, avenging their parents.

However the blades had corrupted the two of them, filling their hearts with bloodlust and rage, playing on their hatred of Sun and their desire for revenge. They turned on each other, ending both their lives at the same time. The blades fell, no longer having a master but still hungry for blood. The next lord of the system could not destroy the swords, but instead hid them away and locked them somewhere no one could find them and use their evil again. The corpses of all the family, apart from Yan's, are said to be with the blades, and that even in death they defend these blades even to their death. Sun's bones were used to forge a new throne for the Lord of the system, a reminder of the price of tyranny to the future rulers of the system."

Listening to the stories, the reactions on the Shirazi siblings could not have been more contrasting. Niloofar was attentive, even fascinated by the tales of such diverse places. Beyond an occasional applause and marvel, she remained absolutely quiet, eyes glistening at every detail of their stories. Mehran, in contrast, felt bored and lethargic, his eyes closing behing his shades at times as he looked close to dozing off at times. As each story ended, he made a reasonable sulk as he scrutinized every word of the tales, only sparing enough courtesy to applaud at each of them. At the very least, his behaviour is still better than Eamonn, who merely hung his head down as he slept through the whole affair. Still, he never found many things to be amusing, not the least stories made up on the spot.

"Ooh," Niloofar called out, raising her hand, "I got one!"

"Not you too," Mehran groaned, "don't you think we're a bit tired of hearing such fiction already."

"You're the only one who's actually tired from all these, brother," she growled in response, "I'll share it anyway. Anyway," she said, "it's not really a story specific to our order or home, but I always found it fascinating. My parents heard of it in their travels into the far distant corners of the known universe. Hope you'll like it."

And with a slight cough, the Xorshid began to tell her own tale. Called 'The Faceless', it was becoming apparent from the onset the mood set for the story...



"I think you better stop there, Niloofar," Mehran warned her, "last I checked, that story got worse from there. You don't want to depress them with such dark stories right off the bat. You should have saved it for a campfire horror story instead."

"Shut up," Niloofar rebuked, "I was just getting to the good part. But... I don't want to take up everyone's time. It's kind of long. So... what do you think?"

Aressa listened quietly as the students under her care began sharing whatever stories they wished to share, eating some of her stew now and then but otherwise completely silent as the listened to the stories. They were all quite interesting, she thought, feeling grateful that she'd had the wonderful idea of having some group storytelling during their meal, nevermind that some people such as Eamonn and Mehran didn't seem particularly interested in the whole thing. Not everybody was able to appreciate a good story, but she was confident that they would learn to do so in time. And if not, she had made it quite clear that participating was optional.

Finishing off her stew just as Niloofar finished her story, the red-haired aspirant spoke up. "That was quite a nice story, Niloofar. In fact, all of the stories told here have been very interesting. I rather enjoy how each one has its morals." She said, both to the Xorshid and to the group as a whole.

"I suppose it is my turn now." She continued afterwards, bringing her hand up to her chin, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Hmm... One of my favorite stories is that of Sylvalladine and the Phantom Blade, but I am certain that most if not all of you are already acquainted with that one." She said, looking up for a moment. "So, instead, I suppose I will tell you the tale of our ancestor, the first Alistar." She said, and cleared her throat before beginning her tale.

This story begins a very, very long time ago, when the Redemit race was still young and the memory of Aradain was fresh in the minds of His followers. The newborn Order of the Phantom Blade was only just beginning to weave its own destiny, as were many other nascent Orders. But alas, as in the present, so were in the past those who would refuse to listen to the words of Aradain, and there were those who violently opposed His followers. There were many groups who stood against everything Aradain represented, groups of humans who disavowed the name of the Redemit. And the strongest among them was an army of warriors who were known as the Sundering Blaze. They were led by a ruthless man called Vernichtung, the Burning Lord, who sat on the Ashen Throne of a world that he named Kiamat, a world whose old name was lost to time, a world which had once housed countless temples to Aradain, all of which had been razed to the ground by Vernichtung himself in a bout of mindless rage.

Yet, this was not the man who was feared the most by the people of Aradain.

The Sundering Blaze was an army of warriors, yes, fearsome warriors, each of them holding immense power within. But many did not serve the Burning Lord of the Ashen Throne of their own volition. Indeed, many of these warriors served in the Burning Lord's army because they had no other choice, no matter the reason. There were those who sided with him willingly, wishing for damnation to befall the followers of Aradain, but the truth was that many of the warriors of the Sundering Blaze were no more than slaves, used by the fiendish Vernichtung for his nefarious purposes.

But this did not mean that these slaves were not fearsome warriors, and in fact one such slave inspired terror and despair wherever his name was uttered. The legends of some men are forged from stories upon stories, and this man was among them. He was a brutal warrior, who had known no life outside the bloodshed of the Sundering Blaze and who had no purpose but to bring ruin wherever he was sent. It was said that his hair was turned red after being drenched in the blood of thousands of warriors that he had slain, that his skin was pale with the ashes of the worlds upon which he had walked, that his eyes were dull and colorless and nearly blind after witnessing the flames that consumed the ruins left in his wake, over and over and over again. His name was Abaddon, and together with his crimson sword Ragnarok, they were the bane of the Redemit civilization, their very definition of fear.

One fateful day, a legion of the Sundering Blaze laid siege to Cathedral Kain, a Redemit world. The unyielding grandmaster of the armies of that world, a man by the name of Roth, led his forces brilliantly against the godless threat, but he was severely outclassed and outnumbered, and though he managed to hold out for three long and arduous months against the Blaze, eventually the world fell, and Roth's head was placed on a pike at the foot of the giant pyre that was Kain's largest city. But his sacrifice was not in vain, and the Burning Lord, sitting on the Ashen Throne of Kiamat, would soon know this. For, you see, though Kain's armies had fallen, they had held out for long enough, and word of their plight reached the ears of a group of followers of Aradain, the Order of the Phantom Blade.

And so, while the legion of the Sundering Blaze was celebrating its victory by laying waste to everything in their path and turning the world to ashes, the Phantom Blade arrived in their sleek pegasii, landing in front of the godless army, a force capable of contending with the burning heathens. Thousands of soldiers of Aradain descended, all of them clad in black and silver, with a symbol on their chests that to this day is displayed with pride. The burning legion and the phantom host met in combat, and though the Order was outnumbered, their resolve was without paragon, and so they gained an upper hand in the skirmish, the brave knights of the Phantom Blade thinning out the ranks of the heathens. But as they fought, one of them saw, from the corner of his eye, a fearsome figure charging towards him. He turned to face the enemy, and gazed upon his terrible visage. A mane the color of the lifeblood of men, a face concealed by a mask in the semblance of a demon, dead gray eyes that could barely see, and an armor appearing to be made of dark fire, battered and worn from the trials of a thousand battles. Frozen in terror, the soldier understood that he was staring at Abaddon, the bane of the faithful, already covered in the blood of many a knight of the phantom host.

Yet, before the destroyer's crimson blade struck him down, it was stopped by someone. It was, in fact, stopped by the one leading the phantom host. A woman clad in a pristine argent armor, with ancient blood stains visible on it, and a golden circlet sitting atop her helmet, crowning her. Her right hand glowed with the power of a thousand spells of holy might, while her left hand appeared to wield an invisible sword that had stopped Ragnarok's descent.

Emotionless, Abaddon withdrew his blade and began fighting with all of his mindless power against this new, mysterious foe. He fought like a demon against the angel on the battlefield, but for the first time in his long path of desolation, the destroyer was outmatched in every regard. Blasts of searing light, each as large as a man, pelted him like drops of rain, pushing him back and keeping him away from the woman in silvery armor as they caused him to howl in pain, and whenever he managed to weave his way through the warrior lady's curtain of light, that invisible blade of hers drove him away in every instance. For days the two of them fought, even as the phantom host driven away the rest of the burning legion from the surface of Kain, a message to the Sundering Blaze and the fiend who sat on the Ashen Throne. For days they fought, but at long last, Abaddon fell to his knees, able to fight no more, his sword Ragnarok broken and powerless, his mask shattered on the ground and his armor no longer whole.

But instead of being struck down for his failure to attain victory, the fate that he had been forced to believe would befall him should he ever lose, he was spared, the woman who had single-handedly defeated him taking a step towards him, her left hand no longer appearing to hold anything. She snapped her fingers and her battle armor faded away, allowing Abaddon to gaze upon his enemy: A beautiful, beautiful maiden of sublime silvery eyes and moonlight hair, her gaze full of something that was completely alien to the fallen destroyer, mercy.

"I am Sylvalladine, wielder of the Phantom Blade, disciple of Aradain." She spoke with a clear and pristine voice, not with arrogance or pride, but rather in the same way a kind woman introduces herself to a child. "What is your name, oh child of strife?" She asked of the fallen destroyer, whose failing eyes strained to gaze upon the face of the one creature in the whole universe to ever show her kindness.

"Abaddon." He answered, and then the world turned black, and his thoughts blurred and then faded, and he fell forward and collapsed on the ground. The last thing he heard before his consciousness slipped completely were the words of the lady of moonlight hair.

"No." She stated. "Your name, my child, is Aias, and you are free."

And so, he shed his name and identity, no longer known as Abaddon the destroyer. Instead, he took on the name bestowed upon him by the lady, Aias, the mourner. He pledged his loyalty to Lady Sylvalladine and vowed to follow the teachings of the God-Knight. The disabled Ragnarok, whose crystal had shattered from the battle against Sylvalladine and could project an energy blade no more, was sent to the finest swordsmiths of the Order and was reforged, becoming the blade that heralds light, Eos.

Now with a new reason to live, a renewed purpose and a light of truth in his heart, Aias fought relentlessly against the Sundering Blaze, earning the respect of those who fought alongside him and sowing terror now among the godless warriors, for now it was they who were to face the might of the one they had called destroyer. The soldiers of the Burning Lord of the Ashen Throne laid siege to many a world of the Order of the Phantom Blade in an attempt to claim revenge for their defeat at Kain, but every single time, Aias was there, ready to fight the burning legions or die trying. And every single time, he fought alongside the phantom host and drove the invaders away, preserving the lives of the followers of Aradain to redeem himself and atone for those that he himself had taken.

The war between the armies of the Sundering Blaze and the Order of the Phantom Blade lasted decades, but the followers of Aradain attained victory after victory against the burning legions of godless warriors, and so, at long last, the decisive battle came, the last great clash between the two sides, the Battle of Kiamat. The black and silver soldiers of the Phantom Blade fought against the masked fiends of the Sundering Blaze on a vast, seemingly endless desert of ashes and thorns, the sickly, blistering sun beating down on the incinerated world. Aias participated in the battle, fighting alongside Sylvalladine herself, and though the phantom host was once again outnumbered, their ferocity was unmatched. At long last the Phantom Blade emerged victorious, from the battle and from the war, earning the freedom to practice the teachings of their Lady and her master without fear of persecution from the godless fiends. The soldiers of Aradain found an empty Ashen Throne and destroyed it, and at last, the Sundering Blaze was no more.

For his valiant efforts in the war, and for his stalwart defense of every world that the Sundering Blaze had attempted to siege during the conflict, Sylvalladine proclaimed Aias a hero, and bestowed upon him another name: Alistar, the guardian.

And so, we are nearing the end of the story. Aias went to live in peace on the Cathedral where the Sundering Blaze had first been defeated, renamed Kain of Roth in honor of the brave general who faced off bravely against impossible odds. In there he carried out a peaceful existence, and though he struggled to suppress the instincts that had dominated his life for so long, he lived in relative peace. But alas, even then there were whispers of unrest among the followers of Aradain. Rumors of cities burning in the distance. How could it be? The armies of the Burning Lord were no more, after all.

But soon, Aias found out. He found out when he heard of a mysterious figure approaching the land where he lived. Unable to see, but still willing to fight, the redeemed warrior picked up his sword, Eos, and walked forth to face the enemy. Though he could not see who it was, he could still hear, and if he had not been a man known as the destroyer for most of his life, the words uttered by his foe would undoubtedly have left him cold.

"You don't understand." Said a voice he knew all too well, a voice now consumed by madness, but one of a calm kind. "That thing is no God."

It was Vernichtung, the Burning Lord.

Immediately, Aias charged at him. But even though the Burning Lord bore no weapons, he was very agile, able to keep up even with the former destroyer, and his flames burned like a solar fire. Aias struggled to fight under the searing heat, but even then he pressed on, enduring and attempting to topple the man who once sat on the Ashen Throne. It was a long and gruesome fight, harder still than the battle against Sylvalladine because the man Aias was fighting, Vernichtung, had no mercy in his heart and held back nothing as he fought. But even then, with a burst of strength, Aias managed to reach through the Burning Lord's defenses, plunging himself into his enemy's fire in order to pierce his heart. The godless king let out a bloodcurdling scream of agony, before collapsing on the ground, lifeless.

Satisfied, but severely wounded and weakened by the battle, Aias smiled before he too fell to the ground, his consciousness slipping once again.

When he woke up, he was resting on a bed in a small house. His wounds and burns were very severe and bound to have lasting consequences, ensuring that his career as a warrior had finally come to an end. However, they were all treated and bandaged, and the person standing next to him was likely to blame.

"A-ah, you're awake! I found you not far from the city and brought you here. How do you feel?" Said the woman who had found Aias collapsed on the ground next to a pile of ashes and had brought him back to her home and treated his wounds to the best of her ability. What she looked like is irrelevant, for it was irrelevant to Aias, who could not see. But even though he was completely blind, he could hear, and he heard the woman's voice and was convinced that she had the most beautiful voice he had ever heard in his life. It was an innocent and pure voice, kind and gentle and soft, and the moment he heard it, Aias fell in love with the woman who owned said voice, and in time she, too, fell in love with him, and forever after the two of them loved each other from dawn to dusk.

Aressa clapped her hands together. "And, well, I'm sure you're all old enough to guess what happened afterwards. They had children, and their children had children, and the children of these children, they had children as well." She stated. "And that is the story of Aias Alistar, my ancestor, the first of my bloodline. Now, some might say that I embellished the story for narration purposes, and I can not deny that. But if the facts are wanted, here they are, according to the Phantom Archives: There was a Sundering Blaze, and a Burning Lord Vernichtung, and an Ashen Throne on a world named Kiamat. There was Cathedral Kain, and there was a Battle of Kain, and there was a Grandmaster Roth, and the Sundering Blaze was defeated at the Second Battle of Kain, and Cathedral Kain was renamed to Kain of Roth. There was an Abaddon the destroyer, who later became Aias Alistar, the first of the Alistars, and he fought in the war between the Phantom Blade and the Sundering Blaze. And the woman he married, she was there too." She explained.

"So, that's the story of my family. Most of us have served in the phantom host since then, embracing the fact that we are the Alistars, the guardians. And I think this story has its morals too, that one can always find redemption and that kindness can save the most misguided hearts." She said with a soft smile. "If anyone wants to continue, feel free." She added afterwards, before getting started on her dessert.

Mehran, on his part, merely raised his eyebrow on Aressa's story. She sounded like she was directing her explanation at him, in particular. By his admittance, he wpuld have spent his breath scrutinising anyway, if Niloofar was not there to restrain him. Perhaps it was fortunate that she came along in the end, trying to temper his cynicism with her chirpy disposition.

"I'll look into it," he merely stated, adjusting his shades, "genealogy isn't my strong suit, but perhaps I'll find out more when... I... have..."

However, before his sentence could be finished, a growing, vain snigger was growing at the back of the group. His words trailing away at the sound of the chuckle, he soon heard it erupt into bellowing, ironic laughter, a grating cackle that rang with both insult and self-depreciation. A closer look quickly revealed Eamonn as the culprit. A crazed glee on his face, it looked almost forced, a conscious attempt to highlight his displeasure.

"BULLSHIT," the Eiruan suddenly yelled, his expression twisting dramatically into ire, "'revenge doesn't pay'? 'Power corrupts'? 'Kindness redeems the worst'? Do any of you core worlders actually buy that fairy tale crap!?"

Watching the rogue toss his bottle onto the floor woth a hideous shatter, Mehran himself could not help but get mad. Standing, he stated in a low, suppressed temper, "if you're not interested in hearing stories kindly take your sulking elsewhere. We're not here to hear you whine at the failings of the tales' aesops. At least have the decency not to pester us over them."

Getting on his feet, Eamonn himself decided to press his face close to the offending Xorshid, his hand curling as if ready to hit the lad for talking back. Glaring at him eye to eye, Eamonn hissed, "but I have a story. Well, at least half a story. Your princess (Niloofar) already told half of it. I think everyone deserves to know what happens to the poor warrior and his sister as the vile hawks are driven out of the valley. After all, every story needs an ending, no?"

"My sister can tell that half on her own time, not yours," Mehran growled back, clearly ticked off by Eamonn's insults at Niloofar. like the Eiruan, Mehran himself was sorely tempted to plant a fist into the emo's thick skull. But unlike Eamonn, he was more mindful of the consequences of that, in full view of his own class as well. Fortunately, Eamonn soon backed away from the confrontation, waving off the refusal as he stated, "no problem. We'll let her finish 'on her own time' then. I have another story to tell too. I'm sure you'll pick up a lesson on that too."

With the kind of attitude shown to him, Mehran had half the mind to refuse. He was sure the rest of the class would agree. But given the tense situation, he did not want to be baited into refusing him. After all, the aspirants had the call here, not him. He did not want to assume in case he overwrote them.

The aspirants witnessed Eamonn's outburst and his brief confrontation with Mehran, but instead of acknowledging his 'offer' to tell a story, the two simply continued to eat in silence, finishing what little remained of their meals after the storytelling session quite quickly. Afterwards, the two of them gathered the dishes they had used and stood up. Aressa then turned to face Eamonn, a stern look of disappointment on her face.

"Perhaps if you were more willing to behave appropiately and respectfully instead of recklessly insulting the stories told and the things represented in them, such as Alfenn's Order or my own family, perhaps if you were more mindful of your manners and perhaps if you kept yourself in check and didn't reacting violently to things that you don't like, be it as a cry for attention or as a hollow threat, perhaps then we would be willing to listen to your own stories and whatever lessons you claim they hold. But until then, I'm afraid we will have to pass on your kind offer." She said in a glacial tone to the chaotic recruit, before turning her back to him. "Now, at least be responsible and pick up the mess you've made with that bottle before someone cuts their feet over the glass, or so help me I will have you sanctioned for your behavior." She warned him, before walking off to the cafeteria.

After watching his fellow guide berate Eamonn, Arcander turned to the rest of the group. "Alright, I see everyone's done eating, so pick up your stuff and follow me." He instructed, his voice friendly as if to defuse any tension from the situation between Eamonn and Mehran. The white-haired aspirant then led them back to the cafeteria, where he showed them where to place the dishes they had used so that they could be retrieved and cleaned, also taking a moment to point out the numerous recycling bins present. After that, once everyone was back together, the tall guide spoke again.

"Alright, now that you're all patched up and fed after getting bruised and pumped full of adrenaline back in the stadium, we can take you all on a tour of the academy so that you hopefully won't get lost in the future, because it is pretty awful to get lost in a place as large as this." The aspirant commented.

"Hush, you. They're here to learn about important things, not your adventures." Aressa told him as she approached, having taken a bit longer to return her dishes. "Anyway, let's go. We'll show you around, like he said." She confirmed, and then began walking towards a staircase located near the elevators, gesturing around her as she went. "Now, for starters, you know by now that this is the rooftop of the school, where students can relax in between or after their classes. There's also the cafeteria over there, which has an AI you know how to interact with by now." She explained as they approached the staircase.

As the group descended, Arcander spoke once again. "Now, there are 199 floors in total, with this being the top floor. We don't really know what goes on in it, for the most part, but the architects were mindful enough to place some restrooms around here, restrooms which you should use now if you need to." The guide advised, pointing towards the door that led to the restrooms, and then to the other staircase, which led further down and had a sign next to it which read: "Students and staff members alike are reminded to discard any food items, wash their hands and dry them before entering." The rest of the floor did not seem too terribly interesting. Aside from the restrooms and the space where the staircases were located, there was only a wall, with a door that had an "Authorized Personnel Only" sign on it.

The group then proceeded further downwards, where they were met with a much different sight. A large white room, with rows upon rows of shelves filled with books, tracking devices attached to their spines so that the librarians would be able to keep track of books borrowed by the students at any given moment. There were several computer terminals as well, for the purpose of either finding a specific book to read or borrow, or to read or obtain a digital copy of any such book; not far from the computer terminals, there were several tables and chairs for people to read comfortably while in the library. There were also several people present, some of them students and some of them men and women clad in dark robes, with one of them seemingly sleeping in his chair behind a desk, evidently the head librarian, or at the very least an assistant.

"This is the academy's library. It's one of the largest in the Order's territory, though not nearly as large as the Phantom Archives. It contains plenty of works of every kind, from essays on the impossible nature of Physis magic to Abyssal cooking manuals - and that's no joke." Aressa said as quietly as she could manage while keeping his voice audible to the whole group, so as to avoid disturbing the staff, the other students, and the man behind the desk in particular. "This floor and the next one are full of books and terminals like these. The floor after the next contains some virtual reality equipment for didactic purposes. The one after that contains a warehouse with additional copies of several of the titles held here."

With that, they proceeded beyond the library, reaching the classrooms, which were briefly described by the two guides. After that, they reached the student floors, which the recruits were already familiar with, and, passing them quickly, they arrived at what was arguably the first major stop in any tour of the Northern Branch of the Silver Hand Academy that didn't start in the cafeteria: The workshop and club floors. After their long descent, they arrived at a relatively large open area with benches running along the walls and several doors with signs on them, with nearby windows allowing one to gaze into the rooms, windows that showed bloodrobes and aspirants alike working on some project or another in some instances, and golden-robed students speaking politely with first year recruits in others.

"Alright, this is where it gets fun. These are places you can spend some time at after classes are over, and there's quite a bit of variety. There's a smithing workshop, a crafts club, and even a tactician club. Or at least, that's what they call it. I've seldom seen them do much more than play tabletop games." Arcander explained. "Regardless, the point is that there's quite a few of these, so you'd do well to visit some of them and see which ones you like so that you can come back to them later. Students are required to take on at least a couple of extracurricular activities along with their regular classes, but one can always ignore that fact and do it for fun. It's better that way." He assured his charges, nodding at them.

"Indeed, Arcander is correct. You should check out the activities offered by the senior students who run these workshops in order to decide which ones you would like to take part in. As long as the shop in question is not closed, there should be an aspirant inside willing and able to answer any questions you might have for them." Aressa added once Arcander was done. "So, we'll give you some time to explore to your heart's content before carrying on."

Ritz quietly paid attention to the stories told by her peers, she did very much like a good story, fiction or otherwise. Even when Eamonn and Mehran got into a heated argument, which was promising to be a daily event from the looks of things, she remained completely detached with interest for their petty little squabbles, instead recounting Aressa's words and mediating on them. A good story was nice to hear, but - as the aspirant herself said - there was almost always something to be learnt; be it morals or any other lesson.

As silently as she had behaved, so did Ritz stand up and follow the group to begin their tour. Almost hiding in plain sight through her sheer passiveness of being, she vanished into the restrooms and joined the group moments later, seemingly never having left at all if it weren't for her rather prominent hair colour.

Zarkenis Ultima wrote:The group then proceeded further downwards, where they were met with a much different sight. A large white room, with rows upon rows of shelves filled with books, tracking devices attached to their spines so that the librarians would be able to keep track of books borrowed by the students at any given moment. There were several computer terminals as well, for the purpose of either finding a specific book to read or borrow, or to read or obtain a digital copy of any such book; not far from the computer terminals, there were several tables and chairs for people to read comfortably while in the library. There were also several people present, some of them students and some of them men and women clad in dark robes, with one of them seemingly sleeping in his chair behind a desk, evidently the head librarian, or at the very least an assistant.

"This is the academy's library. It's one of the largest in the Order's territory, though not nearly as large as the Phantom Archives. It contains plenty of works of every kind, from essays on the impossible nature of Physis magic to Abyssal cooking manuals - and that's no joke." Aressa said as quietly as she could manage while keeping his voice audible to the whole group, so as to avoid disturbing the staff, the other students, and the man behind the desk in particular. "This floor and the next one are full of books and terminals like these. The floor after the next contains some virtual reality equipment for didactic purposes. The one after that contains a warehouse with additional copies of several of the titles held here."

As soon as she laid eyes on the massive library, Ritz was stumped. Her jaw literally dropped upon the sight of so many books. The young woman squealed at the prospect of delving into all that literature, and the momentary sensation of pure excitement even caused her to emit a brief but strong pulse of warmth.

When they were asked to explore the available extracurricular activities, Ritz already had her mind set on what she wanted to do. Well, technically she wanted to do two things, but napping was unlikely to be an extracurricular activity.

"Is there a book club?" She asked the aspirants, her eyes briefly scanning her immediate surroundings for any indication of such a thing existing. Sure, she could explore further, but Ritz simply didn't feel like searching for a club that may or may not exist; maybe it was a dab of laziness, too.

Zarkenis Ultima wrote:

The aspirants witnessed Eamonn's outburst and his brief confrontation with Mehran, but instead of acknowledging his 'offer' to tell a story, the two simply continued to eat in silence, finishing what little remained of their meals after the storytelling session quite quickly. Afterwards, the two of them gathered the dishes they had used and stood up. Aressa then turned to face Eamonn, a stern look of disappointment on her face.

"Perhaps if you were more willing to behave appropriately and respectfully instead of recklessly insulting the stories told and the things represented in them, such as Alfenn's Order or my own family, perhaps if you were more mindful of your manners and perhaps if you kept yourself in check and didn't reacting violently to things that you don't like, be it as a cry for attention or as a hollow threat, perhaps then we would be willing to listen to your own stories and whatever lessons you claim they hold. But until then, I'm afraid we will have to pass on your kind offer." She said in a glacial tone to the chaotic recruit, before turning her back to him. "Now, at least be responsible and pick up the mess you've made with that bottle before someone cuts their feet over the glass, or so help me I will have you sanctioned for your behavior." She warned him, before walking off to the cafeteria.

Tilting his head over as Aressa reprimanded him, Eamonn looked almost like he was just going to crack another violent response. It was a long, ominous pause, an unlike before, he did not show any actual signs of anger. But the uncharacteristically silent stare was especially grating for anyone who had seen his usual attitude. It was as if he was just going to grab a smashed bottle head to stab someone, or smash another on Mehran's head just to show his ire.

Ultimately, nothing more came out the sullen-looking teenager, seizing another bottle as he overturned it over his head. Dousing himself in a quick rush of water, he made a quick toss as the emptied glass sank into the hole of the recycling bin with pinpoint accuracy. Staggering away, he grumbled a simple, "fine," kneeling to pick up the pieces as ordered. It felt surreal for the Xorshid he had nearly come to blows with. There was little idea what was going through Eamonn's mind.

Zarkenis Ultima wrote:

After watching his fellow guide berate Eamonn, Arcander turned to the rest of the group. "Alright, I see everyone's done eating, so pick up your stuff and follow me." He instructed, his voice friendly as if to defuse any tension from the situation between Eamonn and Mehran. The white-haired aspirant then led them back to the cafeteria, where he showed them where to place the dishes they had used so that they could be retrieved and cleaned, also taking a moment to point out the numerous recycling bins present. After that, once everyone was back together, the tall guide spoke again.

"Alright, now that you're all patched up and fed after getting bruised and pumped full of adrenaline back in the stadium, we can take you all on a tour of the academy so that you hopefully won't get lost in the future, because it is pretty awful to get lost in a place as large as this." The aspirant commented.

"Hush, you. They're here to learn about important things, not your adventures." Aressa told him as she approached, having taken a bit longer to return her dishes. "Anyway, let's go. We'll show you around, like he said." She confirmed, and then began walking towards a staircase located near the elevators, gesturing around her as she went. "Now, for starters, you know by now that this is the rooftop of the school, where students can relax in between or after their classes. There's also the cafeteria over there, which has an AI you know how to interact with by now." She explained as they approached the staircase.

As the group descended, Arcander spoke once again. "Now, there are 199 floors in total, with this being the top floor. We don't really know what goes on in it, for the most part, but the architects were mindful enough to place some restrooms around here, restrooms which you should use now if you need to." The guide advised, pointing towards the door that led to the restrooms, and then to the other staircase, which led further down and had a sign next to it which read: "Students and staff members alike are reminded to discard any food items, wash their hands and dry them before entering." The rest of the floor did not seem too terribly interesting. Aside from the restrooms and the space where the staircases were located, there was only a wall, with a door that had an "Authorized Personnel Only" sign on it.

Tugging at her brother's arm, Niloofar whispered in his ear, "just leave him. He looks like he has a few screws loose in his head. Who in the world let him into the academy."

Shrugging, Mehran merely replied, "same person who let us in. You can't say that's totally unwise. Let's just go. We need to clean up."

Zarkenis Ultima wrote:

The group then proceeded further downwards, where they were met with a much different sight. A large white room, with rows upon rows of shelves filled with books, tracking devices attached to their spines so that the librarians would be able to keep track of books borrowed by the students at any given moment. There were several computer terminals as well, for the purpose of either finding a specific book to read or borrow, or to read or obtain a digital copy of any such book; not far from the computer terminals, there were several tables and chairs for people to read comfortably while in the library. There were also several people present, some of them students and some of them men and women clad in dark robes, with one of them seemingly sleeping in his chair behind a desk, evidently the head librarian, or at the very least an assistant.

"This is the academy's library. It's one of the largest in the Order's territory, though not nearly as large as the Phantom Archives. It contains plenty of works of every kind, from essays on the impossible nature of Physis magic to Abyssal cooking manuals - and that's no joke." Aressa said as quietly as she could manage while keeping his voice audible to the whole group, so as to avoid disturbing the staff, the other students, and the man behind the desk in particular. "This floor and the next one are full of books and terminals like these. The floor after the next contains some virtual reality equipment for didactic purposes. The one after that contains a warehouse with additional copies of several of the titles held here."

With that, they proceeded beyond the library, reaching the classrooms, which were briefly described by the two guides. After that, they reached the student floors, which the recruits were already familiar with, and, passing them quickly, they arrived at what was arguably the first major stop in any tour of the Northern Branch of the Silver Hand Academy that didn't start in the cafeteria: The workshop and club floors. After their long descent, they arrived at a relatively large open area with benches running along the walls and several doors with signs on them, with nearby windows allowing one to gaze into the rooms, windows that showed bloodrobes and aspirants alike working on some project or another in some instances, and golden-robed students speaking politely with first year recruits in others."

Stepping into the expanse of the library, there was little way the siblings could not have marvelled. Libraries such as these were minuscule compared to the vast caverns of the House of Wisdom, but its contents, most of which had never been seen within Mervarid's halls, were nothing to scoff at. Niloofar had every reason to look forward to spending her time here. Even Mehran, the thick skull as he was, could not wait to get to work indexing them.

Zarkenis Ultima wrote:

"Alright, this is where it gets fun. These are places you can spend some time at after classes are over, and there's quite a bit of variety. There's a smithing workshop, a crafts club, and even a tactician club. Or at least, that's what they call it. I've seldom seen them do much more than play tabletop games." Arcander explained. "Regardless, the point is that there's quite a few of these, so you'd do well to visit some of them and see which ones you like so that you can come back to them later. Students are required to take on at least a couple of extracurricular activities along with their regular classes, but one can always ignore that fact and do it for fun. It's better that way." He assured his charges, nodding at them.

"Indeed, Arcander is correct. You should check out the activities offered by the senior students who run these workshops in order to decide which ones you would like to take part in. As long as the shop in question is not closed, there should be an aspirant inside willing and able to answer any questions you might have for them." Aressa added once Arcander was done. "So, we'll give you some time to explore to your heart's content before carrying on.

Esternial wrote:

As soon as she laid eyes on the massive library, Ritz was stumped. Her jaw literally dropped upon the sight of so many books. The young woman squealed at the prospect of delving into all that literature, and the momentary sensation of pure excitement even caused her to emit a brief but strong pulse of warmth.

When they were asked to explore the available extracurricular activities, Ritz already had her mind set on what she wanted to do. Well, technically she wanted to do two things, but napping was unlikely to be an extracurricular activity.

"Is there a book club?" She asked the aspirants, her eyes briefly scanning her immediate surroundings for any indication of such a thing existing. Sure, she could explore further, but Ritz simply didn't feel like searching for a club that may or may not exist; maybe it was a dab of laziness, too.

Opening her mouth, Niloofar was just about to ask the same. But as Ritz's voice had cut her short, the Xorshid merely gave an annoyed pout, quite ticked at being preempted. Nonetheless, she interjected, "it'll be a shame if there isn't, is it? This is a rather big library. I'm sure there's no shortage of students interested in hanging out here. Seniors," she asked the two aspirants, "if it's at all possible, is there any way to form a club ourselves? Not that I'm not interested looking into in the existing ones. I just thought some here might want to know too."

Zarkenis Ultima wrote:-snip-

Ellyn gazed around as Arcander and Aressa took then on a quick tour. Her golden eyes lit up once again as she heard of the smithing workshop and crafts club. A chance, to to swing a hammer as she beat upon the weapon on the anvil, with the precision neccessary to forge an energy weapon. As she speedily walked , she reflected on the making of her own weapons.

First, the finding of the crystal. Most Redemit planets had a store of crystals, and her homeworld was no exception. She remembered looking, wandering through the caverns for days, dropping white stones to keep track of her path, gazing about at the brilliant crystals around her, but knowing that they were not right for her weapons. She somehow knew, innately, that she would know when it was the right pair, for she needed two, for both blade and spear. And finally, after several more hours search, she found them. The crystals were not the largest, but they seemed to beckon to her, calling her name upon the wind. One was slightly longer than the other, she noticed later, the perfect crystal for her spear. Detaching them carefully, she had followed the whitestone trail back out of the caverns and then....

She realized that she stood before the smithing workshop, and drew herself out of those memories. Stepping in, she sucked in a small breath, smelling the workshop. It was just like her father's workshop. She ran a hand over the various tools hung neatly, and as her hand brushed each one, a flash of using those tools rose unbidden. Some she had seen in her father's workshop, and others, she had not. Then, realizing to her mortification that everyone in the workshop (hopefully it wouldn't be many) were probably staring at her, she let her hand drop, and turned quickly, smiling shyly. "Sorry, brings back old memories. Well, I suppose they're not so old. Anyway, hello, uh, everyone. Ellyn Tarembor, nice to meet you all. I was told to ask for Taro Horlan?" she asked.

Arcander glanced at Ritz as she addressed him instead of heading off to explore the clubs as some others like Ellyn had done, hearing out her question about a book club. He had noticed the significant awe with which she had reacted upon seeing the Academy's library for the first time, which was no doubt what had prompted her to ask, and he was pleased to see the positive reactions caused by the library. Nodding lightly, he was about to verbally answer her charge when another of the recruits, Niloofar, spoke up, asking if there was some way to create a new club. At this new question, the aspirant found himself forced to answer with a shake of his head, hoping that the response was not too disappointing.

"I'm afraid that new students are not allowed to manage their own clubs. Only fourth year students and older are allowed to create and manage a club, and seventh year students and younger may do so only with the guidance and supervision of an aspirant. However, as you are first year recruits, you may only join existing clubs." The white-haired aspirant explained affably, before continuing on a slightly more enthusiastic tone. "Fortunately for you, though, there is a book club, or something similar at least. The Literature Club is the place you're looking for. It's managed by a seventh year student and its members rather enjoy exploring the reaches of the library and discussing their findings. In addition to that, they often volunteer to help out at the library, so most of them enjoy some privileges there." The golden-robed man explained, before pointing in the direction of a nearby hallway. "It should be in that direction, not far from here. One of the doors to the left." He stated.

---

If one walked into the smithing workshop with the intent to nitpick and criticize, one would find oneself sorely disappointed. The workshop, though by no means the finest or the best equipped of the Known Universe, it was certainly nothing pitiable. It was set in a very spacious rooms, several worktables set up around, with all kinds of tools for the handling and shaping of crystals and metalware hanging from the walls in an orderly fashion: Hammers and shears of various types, along with nippers and other more advanced tools and hardware, no doubt mean to serve in the manufacturing and perfecting of the electronic components of the objects created there, rather than in the creation of the objects themselves. There was also plenty of protective equipment available, of course, as one had to be appropiately equipped when using the workshop, as indicated by several posters seen on the walls all around the place.

Thankfully for Ellyn, there were only slightly over a handful of people present in the workshop at the moment. Most did indeed turn to look at her as she walked inside and began touching the tools, with some of them having half a mind to tell her to please refrain from doing that, uncertain of whether or not she was willing to handle them with proper care, though a couple of them did not seem to mind or even notice her presence, continuing to work on their current projects. One of them seemed to be adjusting a piece of armor which did not seem to function properly, while another was working on what appeared to be the skeleton of a weapon that was fitted with three slim green energy crystals. A quick check indicated that the weapon worked perfectly, though it also happened to be unsafe to handle in its current state.

One of the people who had turned to look at Ellyn approached her after hearing her out, a woman with a blood-colored robe who looked very vaguely familiar to the recruit, slightly shorter than her but evidently older as indicated by the robe. Taking her hand, she guided him over to the man who was working on the energy claw, whom Ellyn would undoubtedly recognize as the man she was looking for. Arriving next to him, the woman poked him on the arm a couple times in order to draw his attention, after which the man turned around and noticed the recruit she was with, smiling and taking off his safety mask.

"Oh, it's you! I see you were keen to take my offer, eh? Good to see you here, Ellyn." He said, offering her his hand, though he quickly moved it away before she shook it, noticing that his glove's palm was covered in green, fluorescent dust. "Crystal dust. Nasty stuff. Anyway, I presume you're here to join?" He asked, quickly getting to the point.

Zarkenis Ultima wrote:"I'm afraid that new students are not allowed to manage their own clubs. Only fourth year students and older are allowed to create and manage a club, and seventh year students and younger may do so only with the guidance and supervision of an aspirant. However, as you are first year recruits, you may only join existing clubs." The white-haired aspirant explained affably, before continuing on a slightly more enthusiastic tone. "Fortunately for you, though, there is a book club, or something similar at least. The Literature Club is the place you're looking for. It's managed by a seventh year student and its members rather enjoy exploring the reaches of the library and discussing their findings. In addition to that, they often volunteer to help out at the library, so most of them enjoy some privileges there." The golden-robed man explained, before pointing in the direction of a nearby hallway. "It should be in that direction, not far from here. One of the doors to the left." He stated.

"Eh, that's too bad," Niloofar expressed with a little disappointment, uttering a chuckle to laugh it away, "I suppose it makes sense. We're not exactly that well acquainted here, so I guess it makes sense to ask for help from the seniors. I'll go check the workshops then. Big Brother, what about... you?..."

Looking back where her brother was, Niloofar's query trailed off as the subject in question was nowhere to be found. Having been abandoned quite readily by Mehran, the Xorshid could not help but feel sour. This was not the first time he wandered off alone without her; and while they were not really children, Niloofar had reason to keep an eye on him. But with the day ticking by, the mage merely relented over his disappearance. In any case, they would be due to meet up again, and the duo's interests were fairly divergent anyway.

---

Pacing through the corridors, Niloofar seemed to have put her brother out of her mind for now. Crisscrossing out of the various workshops, she watched attentively as the various craftsmen worked with their trinkets and toys. Most did not quite interest her; she was not keen on weaving baskets or making fashion accessories for nothing. But as she stepped in front of the smithing workshop, her eyes glowed quite intensely. It was no kitchen, to be honest, but she found what she was looking for.

"So this is the smithing workshop," she mused, marvelling at the array of furnaces and forging tools on display as the blacksmiths toiled on, "smells like ash."

But something else caught her eye in front of her, as she noticed a familiar face speaking with an elder smith in quite an earnest tone.

Zarkenis Ultima wrote:-snip-

The Starlight wrote:-snip-

"Ellyn," wondered Niloofar, pausing behind the golden blonde a few steps away, "she seems like one of our classmates..."

Stepping back a bit, the Xorshid felt a bit reluctant to interrupt. After all, the trainee was making an offer to her to join their club. As jealous as she felt, she considered interrupting them quite rude. Buttoning up her mouth, however, she was admittedly a bit put off. Nothing about Ellyn, as she could see it, indicated anything special. But she herself held back from doing anything snide, considering how little she knew anyone here.

Eamonn's outburst had darkened the mood a fair bit, but seeing as their curators had abstained from acknowledging any transgressions until they had finished their meals was reason enough for Arogisl to pay him no mind. Perhaps had the man taken a moment to filter his own words he would have found a more agreeable return for his thoughts, but seemingly eager to shift the group's mindset from such darkness Brightshield called for attention to instruct upon the details of proper waste disposal following a meal. Seemingly basic material, but he supposed it was always a good idea to ensure a lack of misunderstanding.

Concluding their stay on the top level of the Academy, they continued on with their tour of the facilities. The stairwell proved to be slightly more taxing upon him then expected; He thought it odd, but had noted a growing ache permeating his limbs. His concerns were brushed aside by their next stop, attributed to mere exertion during the earlier match, as his mind had greater things to concern itself with. The library was a breathtaking sight, the endless rows of tomes overwhelming in volume unlike any he had seen before. The family library of the home he left behind was but but a minor collection by comparison, whereas this was an athenaeum, a true respiratory of knowledge. And while he was saddened by the brevity of their time before moving onward, he found himself somewhat consoled at his certainty that he would be more then familiar with the area soon enough.

Their next stop placed them within a common area of the student floors; which, as Brightshield took no delay in informing them, was a dedicated space for the many student organizations of the Academy. One of their group inquired as to the presence of a book club followed by another inquiring as to the formation of new clubs. The thought of a book club was somewhat appealing, however he was loath to have his spare reading time dictated for him and thus he would probably stick with alchemic studies, perhaps a fencing club if he could find one. Recalling his earlier conversation with Jynna, it occurred to him that they might look for a metallurgic club together. She had yet to disembark from the group as some already had, so he had but to take a few steps in her direction before standing alongside her.

"Hello Miss Ayrendor. If you would permit me to be so bold, would you care to accompany me in searching out a metallurgic studies club?"

Zarkenis Ultima wrote:-snip-

Ellyn followed the woman as she led her to the brief acquaintance she had made during the duels.

Once there, she observed with interest Taro's energy claw, an intriguing device. It would be nice to see how it worked. Looking at it brought up a thing she hadn't considered. Forging and metallurgy wasn't only about forging weapons and armor. It was so much more than that, and though, perhaps one day she would specialize in a specific type like her father, it would be beneficial to gain a foundation in all of the various types and fields, and here was a great place to get started.

Drawing herself out of her thoughts, she replied, "I would love to join! I'm not exactly sure of what my schedule is going to look like, but after I receive that, I can formalize when I'll be able to come here, I believe. So do you work on your own projects here, or are there specific commissions of things to forge?"

Wolfenium wrote:-snip-

Hearing an arrival behind her and turning back, she saw a fellow student step in. "Oh, hello, Niloofar! Nice to see you here too." Ellyn then realized how little she knew of her fellow students. Though she hadn't had much of a opportunity, it would be nice to hear about their interests, and perhaps she could share some of her own. They were in the same group, and it made little sense for them to be strangers.

The Starlight wrote:

Zarkenis Ultima wrote:-snip-

Ellyn followed the woman as she led her to the brief acquaintance she had made during the duels.

Once there, she observed with interest Taro's energy claw, an intriguing device. It would be nice to see how it worked. Looking at it brought up a thing she hadn't considered. Forging and metallurgy wasn't only about forging weapons and armor. It was so much more than that, and though, perhaps one day she would specialize in a specific type like her father, it would be beneficial to gain a foundation in all of the various types and fields, and here was a great place to get started.

Drawing herself out of her thoughts, she replied, "I would love to join! I'm not exactly sure of what my schedule is going to look like, but after I receive that, I can formalize when I'll be able to come here, I believe. So do you work on your own projects here, or are there specific commissions of things to forge?"

Wolfenium wrote:-snip-

Hearing an arrival behind her and turning back, she saw a fellow student step in. "Oh, hello, Niloofar! Nice to see you here too." Ellyn then realized how little she knew of her fellow students. Though she hadn't had much of a opportunity, it would be nice to hear about their interests, and perhaps she could share some of her own. They were in the same group, and it made little sense for them to be strangers.

"Ah, nice to meet you too. Ellyn, is it," blurted the girl in surprise, blinking a bit with her wide eyes as the Acrean addressed her directly, "I don't suppose you're interested in metalwork too? Or jeweling? I usually prefer the former. We've survived a lot longer without the use of crystals. I feel we have to be cautious about being over-reliant on them."

It felt a bit awkward for her to be speaking to Ellyn for the first time, especially in the presence of their seniors. Then again, they would be spending a lot of time together in the coming days. It would have been strange if Niloofar had kept to herself for extended periods of time. She already at least one person mad since her time here. She did not want to chase the rest of the class away.

Wolfenium wrote:"Ah, nice to meet you too. Ellyn, is it," blurted the girl in surprise, blinking a bit with her wide eyes as the Acrean addressed her directly, "I don't suppose you're interested in metalwork too? Or jeweling? I usually prefer the former. We've survived a lot longer without the use of crystals. I feel we have to be cautious about being over-reliant on them."

Ellyn nodded, "Yes, it is Ellyn. What I've forged before coming here, were swords and armor, so I suppose a mix of both. However, I would like to expand my knowledge, of what I'm not sure yet. But caution is necessary, we do not want to be helpless if crystals ever should fail us. Considering that crystals regenerate and reform over time, after we pick them from caverns, making them a renewable resource. However, I'm in no way an expert, that's just my opinion. I certainly could be wrong," she said, shrugging.

The Starlight wrote:

Wolfenium wrote:"Ah, nice to meet you too. Ellyn, is it," blurted the girl in surprise, blinking a bit with her wide eyes as the Acrean addressed her directly, "I don't suppose you're interested in metalwork too? Or jeweling? I usually prefer the former. We've survived a lot longer without the use of crystals. I feel we have to be cautious about being over-reliant on them."

Ellyn nodded, "Yes, it is Ellyn. What I've forged before coming here, were swords and armor, so I suppose a mix of both. However, I would like to expand my knowledge, of what I'm not sure yet. But caution is necessary, we do not want to be helpless if crystals ever should fail us. Considering that crystals regenerate and reform over time, after we pick them from caverns, making them a renewable resource. However, I'm in no way an expert, that's just my opinion. I certainly could be wrong," she said, shrugging.

"So you want to be a weaponsmith," Niloofar remarked with interest, "sounds like a well-rounded warrior to me. I'm sure we'll pick up a thing or two here. No need to worry about the reasons for learning. Just an interest in the field would do."

"To be honest," she explained, "even renewable resources can run out with careless use. Old Gaia is full of tales of how its once green beauty turned into barren brown because we over-exploited her riches with reckless abandon. We already have plenty of news of caverns actually mined out throughout the lands. I think that's reason enough to conserve what we can. Besides," she mused, "items crafted by metallurgy doesn't sap mana at all. No need to exhaust yourself with crystal-powered shovel if a normal carbon steel one can do the same. Also... using mana affects me more than other people do. Don't know why, it just does..."

Niloofar was not sure if she wanted to share her secret with Ellyn. The last thing she feared was being judged as odd by everyone. She had not seen a single person with luminescent hair like her, and her irises shine with aura a lot more significantly than other mages. Then again, there would be a time when she would have to use her magic, in a lesson or a duel. When that happens, she would have to offer an explanation, and she was reluctant to put her brother through the uncomfortable stage of explaining her predicament again.

Wolfenium wrote:"So you want to be a weaponsmith," Niloofar remarked with interest, "sounds like a well-rounded warrior to me. I'm sure we'll pick up a thing or two here. No need to worry about the reasons for learning. Just an interest in the field would do."

"To be honest," she explained, "even renewable resources can run out with careless use. Old Gaia is full of tales of how its once green beauty turned into barren brown because we over-exploited her riches with reckless abandon. We already have plenty of news of caverns actually mined out throughout the lands. I think that's reason enough to conserve what we can. Besides," she mused, "items crafted by metallurgy doesn't sap mana at all. No need to exhaust yourself with crystal-powered shovel if a normal carbon steel one can do the same. Also... using mana affects me more than other people do. Don't know why, it just does..."

Niloofar was not sure if she wanted to share her secret with Ellyn. The last thing she feared was being judged as odd by everyone. She had not seen a single person with luminescent hair like her, and her irises shine with aura a lot more significantly than other mages. Then again, there would be a time when she would have to use her magic, in a lesson or a duel. When that happens, she would have to offer an explanation, and she was reluctant to put her brother through the uncomfortable stage of explaining her predicament again.

"That's unfortunate. Arcea still has most of its caverns intact, though I did hear my father speaking with one of the Forger's Guild on our planet about the need for regulations. People need to know that just because it's renewable, that doesn't mean that you can use it on useless things, or waste them. But I generally agree, overdependence on crystals may come back to bite us all." she said. "As for mana affecting you more, I'm afraid I wouldn't know why that happens. However, there seems to be at least one person specializing in every field in the Academy, so I'm sure Aressa or Arcander can help you find someone who can help you figure out why that happens, perhaps.

The Starlight wrote:

Wolfenium wrote:"So you want to be a weaponsmith," Niloofar remarked with interest, "sounds like a well-rounded warrior to me. I'm sure we'll pick up a thing or two here. No need to worry about the reasons for learning. Just an interest in the field would do."

"To be honest," she explained, "even renewable resources can run out with careless use. Old Gaia is full of tales of how its once green beauty turned into barren brown because we over-exploited her riches with reckless abandon. We already have plenty of news of caverns actually mined out throughout the lands. I think that's reason enough to conserve what we can. Besides," she mused, "items crafted by metallurgy doesn't sap mana at all. No need to exhaust yourself with crystal-powered shovel if a normal carbon steel one can do the same. Also... using mana affects me more than other people do. Don't know why, it just does..."

Niloofar was not sure if she wanted to share her secret with Ellyn. The last thing she feared was being judged as odd by everyone. She had not seen a single person with luminescent hair like her, and her irises shine with aura a lot more significantly than other mages. Then again, there would be a time when she would have to use her magic, in a lesson or a duel. When that happens, she would have to offer an explanation, and she was reluctant to put her brother through the uncomfortable stage of explaining her predicament again.

"That's unfortunate. Arcea still has most of its caverns intact, though I did hear my father speaking with one of the Forger's Guild on our planet about the need for regulations. People need to know that just because it's renewable, that doesn't mean that you can use it on useless things, or waste them. But I generally agree, overdependence on crystals may come back to bite us all." she said. "As for mana affecting you more, I'm afraid I wouldn't know why that happens. However, there seems to be at least one person specializing in every field in the Academy, so I'm sure Aressa or Arcander can help you find someone who can help you figure out why that happens, perhaps.

"I... don't know if I should ask..." Niloofar uttered, rubbing her arm in discomfort, "to be honest, I'm a bit worried about what I might find out... I try to ignore the gossip others keep saying, but sometimes... I'm not sure what to believe. You probably wouldn't understand."

Trying to laugh it off, the Muramasa-jin looked quite desperate to change the subject. The more she probed, the more troubled she started to feel about herself. Despite assurances by her own family and friends, she never quite got over her past. The one thing that bothered her most was how little she actually knew about it, and how everyone there just seemed to think of her the same way, as some dragon spawn.

Wolfenium wrote:"I... don't know if I should ask..." Niloofar uttered, rubbing her arm in discomfort, "to be honest, I'm a bit worried about what I might find out... I try to ignore the gossip others keep saying, but sometimes... I'm not sure what to believe. You probably wouldn't understand."

Trying to laugh it off, the Muramasa-jin looked quite desperate to change the subject. The more she probed, the more troubled she started to feel about herself. Despite assurances by her own family and friends, she never quite got over her past. The one thing that bothered her most was how little she actually knew about it, and how everyone there just seemed to think of her the same way, as some dragon spawn.

"Well, it's up to you in the end. But you're right, I don't understand, and I won't attempt to pry. Anyway," said Ellyn seeing Niloofar's uncomfortable face, "anything else you want to talk about? Seems like we all haven't spoken much to each other, and it would be great to get to know more about our fellow students. After all, we're going to be together for a long time. Well, I guess I'll start. What do you want to know about me?" Ellyn asked.