UofM: Summons and Callings: Chryil 26th GT

[Tristam]

When they would later have time to reflect upon this scene, Thorn and Morgan would both find much to learn about the basic truths of their magicks. In Morgan's case, he would learn that the essence of sorcery was imposing his will upon the Aether. Right now, his will was to live and that was a potent desire indeed. In the face of impending doom, rage gave the focus that normally comes with detachment and a primal scream was incantation enough.

Thorn on the other hand drew his power from nature and spirits that dwelled within them. Ideally, they would be talked to and encouraged to act as the Shaper willed though when the need was great, they would accept a command. The second truth was one about the University itself. A stone floor to a Shaper is a dead thing. The spirits within were long fled when the block of stone was quarried from living earth. Yet the walls of the University lived. The spirits within were odd querulous beings but in defense of their home the roused themselves to obey Thorn's call.

The blast of fire from Morgan's mouth was not large but it burned hot. The flare caught the being square in the mouth. The smell of burning garbage made Morgan want to retch as did the high pitched squeal of pain. It released his arm and leaped back just as a spire of stone shot up from the stone floor. The crab's own momentum impaled it on the spike and the cry of pain was an assault on the senses. The magess in red delivered the killing blow as block of stone dropped from the ceiling and crushed the being's head.

Morgan felt the numbness leave his arms to be replaced by throbbing pain. While the three of them had been focused on this demon, its fellow had retreated and slipped away into the darkness.

[Morg]

Drained and in pain, Morgan crashed backwards onto the stone floor as he was released by the daemon, but retained enough perspective to witness the beast's ultimate fate. He was also able to notice that the other one - the one he had battered first with lightning, then with a spear of force - was gone. Damn. I thought I'd finished that one off. He briefly considered chasing after the crab to deliver the coup de grace, but in many ways the decision was out of his hands.

My hands. Morgan's gaze travelled down to his lacerated wrists, trying to assess the damage the beast's grip had done. If it was anywhere near in proportion to the pain, the sight probably wouldn't be a pleasant one. He propped himself up on his elbows as he slowly made to regain his feet, panting heavily, his dark eyes roving over the two who had come to his rescue. The red-haired sorceress... good girl... and an unkempt albeit elegant adhiel who he hadn't seen before. The three of them had hopefully done enough as a rearguard.

"Thank you," he rasped. Speaking in fire did strange things to one's mouth and throat. "We should get to the dining hall, before more of them turn up." The assault seemed to be over, but it was a chance Morgan wasn't willing to take. He wondered for a flicker how Corbin had fared against the two on the dormitory corridor. Either way, he wasn't in any fit state to go wandering off to find out. Better for the three of them to get to safety with the others.

"May I ask your names?" he inquired of Thorn and the girl as he began to walk. "I'm Morgan," he added. Normally he would have extended a hand, but the pain lancing up his forearms made it seem like a bad idea.

[Thorn]

Thorn had indeed felt them when he had first stepped into the grounds of the University, but unlike any other living essence of Nature, these spirits within the very walls and floor of the campus were different. They were neither maligned nor malicious and as the days progressed, the young druid realized that they were…

…Unnatural.

They were old, that Thorn could sense, perhaps even ancient, but there were something artificial about these life force that inhabit the very walls of the University of Magick, as if these wizards and mages of the campus had deliberately made them, forced them and shackled them into the very foundation and ground of the campus and since then, he had stopped talking to these artificial spirits that dwelt therein until today.

He didn’t like it, although they were not harmful, there were something unnatural about them as if they were not a part of nature and although they lived within the very essence of Nature, they were somewhat different, the feel of them left Thorn queasy when he had merged with the essence and spirits of the Universiy grounds. And forcing them to do his bidding was something he didn’t like either. He had never done that before, he could never compel and force the spirit of nature but today he had done what he thought was an anathema to the very essence of being a shaper.

The voice of the wounded wizard brought him back to his senses. He could still feel the rage that boiled within him when he had compelled the spirits of the earth to do his bidding and it brought a sickening taste upon his lips. Morgan was hurt and banishing the thought away, the young, seemingly savage looking adhiel stood up and took a last distasteful glance upon the Nether creature and faced the young wizard.

"We…………… dining hall …………of ………….up"

It took him more than a flicker of moment to understand what he had said and nodding elegantly, he took a last look around them to see if everything was clear and safe and noticed another female wizard student with them. He didn’t notice her before and he nodded at her as well, unsure of what to say and followed Morgan to the dining hall. He was bleeding profusely, Thorn could see that he was hurt badly and wished they were in a safe place for the young adhiel to take care of Morgan’s wound.

He reached for Morgan’s shoulder to get his attention and paused as he looked for the correct human word to say. “Hurt…” Thorn said, his voice was deep and melodious and he pointed to the wizard’s lacerated wrist. “Me… medicine man.” He thumped his own chest, his green eyes showing his deep concern and worry for the wounded wizard. He had to stop the bleeding immediately and hoped that the wound was not deep enough to cut a vein in the wrist. “Pain.” The young adhiel replied again, pointing to Morgan’s arm and looked at the other female wizard and gestured for her to help Morgan. Slowly, he offered his shoulder as he took the hem of his sleeve and tore two large strips of cloth with his teeth.

“I am Thorn.” The young shaper replied as he fumbled over his medicine pouch, mentally trying to think of a good herb to stop the bleeding and deaden the pain. Poppy Head? No, he thought against it, looking at the male wizard. It’s a good painkiller but I don’t want him getting sleepy. I’d just have to stop the bleeding for now. Bistort Root then. Thorn decided, taking a small brown root from his pouch. He didn’t have time to prepare it but he hoped that its natural astringent would be enough to stop the bleeding. “Stop blood.” Thorn showed the small root to the human wizard as he helped him walk towards the dining room. Slowly, he took a large bite of the root and carefully chewed it for a few flickers of moment before spitting it out again on the strip of cloth, spreading the masticated root like butter over the strip of cloth and glanced at Morgan with a questioning look.

“For wound.” He pointed at the wizard’s lacerated wrist and lifted the strip of cloth with the chewed root spread over it. “Stop blood. Good medicine.” Thorn continued reassuringly and mentally trying to think of how to say that the poultice would hurt due to its natural astringent. If Morgan would agree, the young druid would clean the wound first with the first strip of cloth, drenching it with his saliva and then would carefully tie the natural poultice over the lacerated wound.

[Morg]

(OOC: Posting to keep things ticking over. Let me know if I assume too much.)

The effort of standing made him light-headed, sparks flashing across his vision that had nothing to do with magick (or perhaps very little). Blood loss, and the fatigue of constructing three immensely damaging weaves, were taking their toll on Morgan, and he was only too happy to take up Thorn's offer. A healer. "Oh, thank the Mother," he whispered hoarsely to himself. "It's a pleasure to meet you... Thorn."

Meekly he allowed himself to be propped up by the adhiel's shoulder and extended his more damaged wrist to him. He wasn't sure whether or not anything in the wrist was broken, but stopping the bleeding would hopefully at least keep him from collapse until they could get to safety. As the poultice was applied, Morgan couldn't stop himself from emitting a raw cry initially, clenching his teeth as he became accustomed to the bistort's effect.

The pain and the weariness were so strong that they suppressed even his natural curiosity for the flicker. When they reached the dining hall, perhaps he would find out why the creatures had emerged, or what the strange wash of platinum energy had been, or just what was going on. For now, though, he concentrated on breathing deeply, putting one foot in front of the other and not falling flat on his face - aided by the adhiel who'd patched up his wound.

[Thorn]

When the young adhiel heard Morgan cried out in pain, Thorn winced knowing how painful it was. He wanted to apologize badly but he didn't know what words to say and he did not have enough herbs to alleviate the pain. Morgan shouldn't be moving at all and Thorn was very worried for the human wizard, peering at him as they walked further, supporting Morgan gently.

They needed a professional healer badly. He could see Morgan was fatigued and in very much pain, his poultice wouldn't be enough, that much was certain and surmised that the wizard's wound might need stitching as well. There were so much he wanted to ask the wizard and it showed on his face yet worried that it might further stress Morgan, Thorn remained silent.

What was that light? Where did the Nether Creature came from and why did they attack? Questions. So many questions but no answers yet. Perhaps he could give Morgan the Sleepy Head flower but he wanted the wizard to be in the safety of the Dining Hall before he could give him the painkiller.

"Art thou still well?" He asked Morgan in the Adhiel tongue, his voice low and melodious yet gentle, voicing his concern, hoping that the wizard might be learned enough in his native language. "Canst thou still carry thyself, wizard Morgan?"

[Tristam]

The red haired wizardress sank down beside Morgan and propped him up as Thorn went to work. "My name is Shema. I'm Peckerton's apprentice." She knew that she should keep Morgan talking but in the face of his wounds and the possible threat from more of those creatures she couldn't think of anything to say. She merely watched thorn as he worked. "Bistort root." She nodded in recognition. "Good thing you brought some along."

Thorn saw that most of the blood came from two or three deep puncture wounds along the forearm. It was a simple matter to clean and bind them as best he could. The bones appeared to be intact but it was hard to tell at this point.

Shema spoke up. "Peckerton said that Mender Abagail was going to the dining hall. We need to get him there." Shema moved to support Morgan under one shoulder. As she understood Thorn's question and assumed the Morgan did as well, Shema merely waited for the answer before they headed off.

[Morg]

Sadly, Thorn's hope, and Shema's assumption, were both off the mark. Although Morgan had met adhiel in his time, both in Dort City and at the University, he'd never spent enough time with one to be able to pick up their melodic language. Namaste he could manage, but that was the extent of it. As he bit his lip against the pain, Thorn's words simply washed over him.

Fortunately language, and communication, had some universals. A look of concern, a rising intonation, and a mention of his name were enough for him to infer that he was being asked about his condition. "I'm... fine," he replied weakly, though he didn't feel it. When Shema spoke, he nodded. "Yes, let's get to the hall. Maybe there someone can tell us what is going on." With the wizardess's support, he began to make his weary way towards the dining hall.

He'd taken wounds before, and he'd no doubt take them again. What was important was that he'd got the students to safety - some of them, at any rate. Still, something to stop the pain wouldn't go amiss. At least blood was no longer pouring freely out of his forearm. Silently he thanked the Mother once again for Thorn's presence.

[Tristam]

With one of them on either side, Morgan, Thorn and Shema were able to limp down the corrdior. They were not too far from the dining hall before they heard several sharp cries of shock and much distracted babble of voices. Still no cries of pain or alarm followed and the trio could hear the call of Professor Acantha's voice. Her voice cut through the hubbub easily.

"Students! We will have order here!" She called and the crowd quieted somewhat. "If you cannot handle sights like these then be grateful that you have so much of your life left to find another career." That caused silence. "Those of you that are unwounded assemble on the far wall and await instructions. Any that are wounded assemble on the near wall and Mender Abagail will be with you presently. Any that are skilled in wards or elementalism, come to me."

Relieved to have someone tell them what to do, the crowd of students began to thin out and take their places as indicated in the dining hall. As they moved Morgan, Thorn and Shema were able to see the scene that caused such alarm. The wooden tables and chairs were scattered about the room. In the center lay a human body in robes of burgandy face down in a pool of blood and ichor. They could see scorch marks on the walls and a half circle of crystalline powder a few feet from the body. Mender Abagail was bent over the body examining it while Professor Acantha stood watch over the room.

[Morg]

Acantha's voice was a welcome sound indeed. The stern battlemage was perhaps not universally loved, but it was times like these that her iron resolve and practical skill set came to the fore. With her around, the students were at least safe. Morgan's dark eyes roved the assembled students for any sight of Becca, but was unable to spot her. He cursed internally.

Technically Morgan fitted into two of the categories that had been called out. On the one hand he was skilled at warding - and also at elementalism, although his abilities in the latter area had been learned through bitter experience rather than diligent classroom application. On the other hand (quite literally) he was wounded, quite badly in fact. But he wasn't on the floor just yet, and so he'd continue to offer his services wherever they might be useful. Gingerly he detached himself from Shema and Thorn and attempted to stagger across to the Professor. It was his wrist that had been wounded, after all, and not his ankles - although the pain seemed to lance into every corner of his body.

"Professor," he spoke respectfully. "I... have some skill with wards." He said no more, instead waiting to see what Acantha would assign to him - or whether she'd take one look at him and tell him to line up against the wall. In the meantime, he tried to attune himself to the Aether and observe the powder on the floor, making a valiant attempt to ignore the pain that kept dragging him back down to the real world.

[Tristam]

Acantha took one look at Morgan and jerked her head towards Abagail. "See the healer now then report back here. The wards around this room are incomplete and I'd see them so before we take stock of the rest of the University." Acantha instructed.

Summoning the concentration needed to see the Aether was just not possible in his condition. Too many aches and pains distracted him without impending death to focus his mind. However, his human eyes and knowledge had not deserted him. The powder looked to be quartz dust. In fact, it was probably made by Morgan as part of the apprentice tasks Octava laid on him. It is used as the base element in many warding and summoning circles. When the exact elements of the creature being warded against are unknown, a mage always always starts with quartz or chalk as a generic base ward which is further augmented. It was hard to tell from only half a ward but Morgan would guess it was a warding circle rather than one designed for summoning.

Shema reappeared at Morgan's side to help him over to the healer. As they drew closer, Mender Abagail was turning the body on the floor over. It was Professor Redgrave and gaping hole was rent in his chest. His heart should have been visible but it was not there.

[Morg]

There was only so much that a body could go through. With his failure even to perceive the Aether, Morgan had reached that critical point, and now he was presented with another shock to the system... in the form of Professor Redgrave, whose calm, reasonable voice Morgan had listened to only a few evenings before in his office. Redgrave, who not even a Mender could now save. Magic could do many things, but reinstating a missing human heart, with all its myriad connections, wasn't one of them. It was a limitation of the wielder rather than the energy, to be sure, but a limitation nonetheless. Dammit. Now you'll never be able to receive my report.

It was all he could do to turn away from the body, the Mender, Shema and anyone else in the vicinity as his legs gave way and he fell to the floor, his stomach rebelling and spewing out its contents. He continued retching for a good while after there was nothing left to be expelled, his eyes wide and frantic. This was only the second or third dead body Morgan had ever seen, and undoubtedly the most horrific.

Had he been in full working order, he would have stopped to think about what could have caused the wound. The crabs surely couldn't have dealt such obscenely precise damage. But in this instance Morgan's capabilities had been overstretched. For all his calm and control, feigned or otherwise, he was still a student, and a young one at that.

[Tristam]

One more stain joined the many on the stone floor of the dining hall. Morgan would be vaguely aware of figures to his left and right watching with concern as his body tried to purge itself of what it had witnessed. A unexpected aroma hit his nose: it had the sharpness of mint and the tang of citrus fruit without the flavor. Gradually his spasms eased and his tensed up body relaxed to the point that he would have dropped to the floor if arms had not caught him and lowered him to the floor.

Hands probed at his wounds but the pain was far away lost in a fog of mint and tang. He felt the Aether stir around him and the pain became an echo of pain and then an echo of an echo. It was all happening so far away that Morgan saw no reason to really dwell on it. Or on anything really.

Gradually the fog retreated and Morgan gradually came back to awareness. His lower half still rested on the cold stone floor but beneath his head and shoulders was the warmth of another propping him up. Mender Abagail was in front of him stowing away an alchemical vial which she had just removed from under his nose. His arms were throughly bandaged now and the wrappings smelled of mud and mint. "That should hold you until your body completes your healing, Morgan." Abagail smiled weakly at him. "I'll give you a unguent to smear over your wounds and I'd avoid demon fighting for the next few days."

[Morg]

"I'll try." Morgan smiled back listlessly. "Trouble seems to find me. But I can promise you I won't go looking for it." Becca being the exception; she was very definitely trouble, but he would stop at nothing to make sure she had survived the incursion intact (or at least as intact as he himself was).

Morgan craned his neck to see who was behind him, and gently tried to prop himself up on his elbows. "Did... did you hear from Professor Octava while I was away?" He should be helping with the wards. That he could do despite his injuries, now that he had been patched up. A shudder ran through him as he remembered the sight that had pushed him over the edge. "What happened to Professor Redgrave?" The question came out as no more than a whisper.

[Tristam]

As Morgan turned his head, he saw red hair and concerned face of Shema weakly smiling down at him. "Don't scare us like that again huh?" She helped him to sit up and Morgan found that he could now do so without pain.

The Mender sighed. She really shouldn't be spreading the news but Morgan and Shema were trusted apprentices and they had seen most of it besides. "Professor Redgrave was slain by Netheric magic." She told them. "The heart was taken after death. As near as I can tell, he was assaulted by magicks of the mind and spirit. His body is untouched aside from the removal of his heart. I trust you two to keep this news quiet. There is enough panic in the halls already."

Abagail stood and picked up her medical bag. "We have not heard from Professor Octava." The Mender told them. "If he sent a message here it was before we arrived and Redgrave was the only mage here before us."

[Morg]

The lack of pain was a blessed relief, and Morgan was even able to shoot a smile at the concerned Shema. "I won't," he replied, concern of his own making its way onto his face. "What about you - are you all right? Those things looked like they were hurting you badly when I found you."

The news of Netheric magic being involved in Redgrave's death added another level of worry to Morgan's overtaxed mind. The crabs may have been creatures of the Nether, but they didn't seem to be able to perform magic, and, even if they could, it was doubtful that they had the intelligence to perform such a targeted act of brutality. Tired as he was, his thoughts immediately began racing. Someone on the inside had to be responsible, and the more he thought about it the more suspicious he became that there was a dark mage within the University itself. Someone had to have let the wards down for long enough for the daemons to gain entry - it was inconceivable that the intricate layers of wards surrounding and permeating the University could be penetrated from the outside. It was not a great stretch of logic to posit that it was the same mage who had murdered Redgrave. The platinum flash of energy was an order of magnitude greater, but could have been related.

Moore and Peckerton were the immediate suspects. Morgan already had both in his sights due to his investigation into the disappearance of the Liber. He found it impossible to suspect Elvin - who wasn't even present within the University, and who in any case he trusted greatly - and difficult to suspect Peckerton, who with his stutter and gentlemanly ways radiated innocence. Moore, on the other hand, was in a less certain position in Morgan's eyes. He was the University's foremost expert in warding, and thus probably the only professor with the skill to subvert the protective magicks without Octava smelling a rat. Furthermore, his work was in defence against the Dark Arts, so it was possible that during the course of his research he had been corrupted. Had he stolen the book, too? Tabeann had said that he was the most strongly in favour of its destruction - but that could have been a front, so that the other participants did not suspect him, and so that the false ritual that enabled him to steal it would have gone ahead.

Theories. Just theories. Nevertheless, Morgan couldn't put them out of mind. Octava's lack of contact was worrying, as well. Had Moore done away with him too, in order to cover his tracks? In any case, all Morgan could do for the flicker was to sit there, recover from his wounds, and become more and more paranoid.

[Tristam]

"Nothing a few weeks in a warm bath won't cure." Shema smiled back. "I'm bone weary but unharmed I think. I'll let the Mender confirm it once she's seen to the others more clearly hurt."

OOC: Slipping into summary here. The wards are eventually placed around the room and all those within are able to rest safely if not comfortably. Octava eventually returned with the report that he couldn't find any breech in the wards that would explain the demon entry but now that they had moved there were plenty of breaks in them. Unless there was anything specific Morgan wanted to do/know, I'm fine with leaving it there.

[Morg]

(OOC: Summary is fine with me. Fin for Morgan, then! )

[Tristam]

Thread skilled!