• Closed • The Monster and the Murderer

5th of Saun 718

Stronghold of education and learning, this fortress is in one of the coldest areas of Idalos and home to many knowledge seekers in a variety of disciplines. However, unknown to most, below the city are those who suffer for the sake of science. While all are welcome, not everyone will be treated as they expect.

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The Monster and the Murderer

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5th of Saun, Arc 718

Almost a decade has passed since the son of Ziell had last visited Viden in order to find a rare book and kill a man, and almost three centuries had passed since he had first come there. He had been a student - and ultimately a teacher - at the famed Academy back then, but he had little in common with that peaceful scholar anymore, although he still practiced the art of alchemy on a regular basis and had mastered it. He had stopped believing, in the greater good, that there was hope, and that his father’s Immortal kin meant well and become one of the greatest warriors this part of Idalos had likely ever seen, realizing that the only way to make it in this world was to rise above them.

The reason for his current stay was two-fold. He had spent the past arc working on several important projects and was on the verge of his final breakthrough, but he had found that the current political climate in Rynmere was not conductive to his studies anymore – the boy king seemed to be losing his mind - and neither would a return to Etzos where Vuda’s men kept close watch. The second reason for his return to Yvithia’s city was more personal and one that he wouldn’t mention to anyone for few would understand why he mourned at the grave of a man that had died two hundred and fifty arcs before.

The city had changed little since he had last been there, and it was just as cold as it had always been, but the Saun chill bothered him little. On the contrary, he welcomed it and found it much more pleasant than the heat that troubled so many other parts of the world. He walked quite unlike the other foreigners in the city, with his head held high and with utter confidence and purpose, rather than studying his surroundings in confusion. He was dressed in his customary coal and crimson, with a fine dark cloak draped across his shoulders and a sword at his belt, the very same sword that he had once wounded an Immortal with, not far from here.

His destination that trial was the Prime Atheneum where he hoped to find a few rare tomes on alchemy and the arcane. He had met some of the authors, during his first stay in Viden, but he couldn’t recall all the details of their research. As he walked through the library’s numerous hallways, looking for the correct shelves, he passed a sculpture of Ziell, the Immortal of Winter. For a moment, for just the fraction of a trill he had the impression that his father was looking at him and silently wondering how he dared to enter his sanctuary, but then he shrugged his shoulders and moved on. He cared little for him anymore since that trial on the frozen plains of Oscillus.

As he passed the restricted section, he paused again, very briefly, and met the gaze the man that stood there, browsing the forbidden books, wondering what he was doing there and remembering that he had once been where he was now, devouring any books that he had been able to get his hands on, in the company of people who had long been forgotten by the world and the Immortals themselves and whose very bones had turned to dust.
Last edited by Doran on Sat Aug 25, 2018 1:25 pm, edited 2 times in total. word count: 575

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Jonathan Burr
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Jonathan had enjoyed his time at the Academy. Mind, he was on a mission of stealth. He was content to stay near the public floors of the library during the day, and was knee-deep in a geology text of something or other. He'd even started to branch out his interests, researching his own weapon. The whip was an unconventional thing to use. Most men preferred a blade or a bow, but Jon was starting to realize the advantages of his quick little leather tail. He was absorbed in a book for half the day, Masters of the Barbed Whip, pouring over how men had first learned to gain control over something that could approach the speed of sound. Some of the legendary masters could even disarm men by seizing and flinging their weapons away, or lashing their hands until they dropped whatever they carried. Even better, he was currently reading the tale of a man who had managed to strike away an arrow, and strangle the astonished archer. Who knew if it were tall tales, but he wanted to reach that level. He wanted to be able to simply grab any weapon he came across and disarm his opponent, or lash his hand open to the bone and force him to surrender.

There were of course, drawbacks. The whip needed space to build up its fantastic speed, and the arm strength involved was incredible. It was slowly dawning on him that even though these legendary whipmasters were slavers, or mercenaries, or bandits...they'd never been mages. Imbued with the power of stone, someone could try cutting his whip in half with a blade only to find their own shatter at the repelling touch of stone. The sharp claws of diamonds could tear into a man's flesh. He finished the book and closed it, glancing up at one of the windows. It was getting more toward the middle of the trial, when students would be filtering out of their morning study time and heading toward classes. Now was his chance.

Jon carefully put the books he'd been reading back on their shelves, then made his way for the stairs. He'd been in the second floor, and now...he'd reach the third again. He'd been a little more adroit at jumping the gate this time, and scurried out of sight for a break or two. The third floor was forbidden to the public, but that didn't stop Jon. He desperately needed to know more about Aberration and Transmutation. A little barrier and some beaurocracy wasn't about to stop him. Once he heard the librarians cleaning downstairs and grousing about the first year students never picking up after themselves, Jon made himself comfortable.

He pulled the gauze off of his face and tucked it away in his bag. The wrappings he'd stolen from Kaelserad helped cover the lower part of his face and back of his neck. Really, it looked like he'd just come out of the infirmary but it kept the topaz on the nape of his neck from showing, and people gawking at his split lips. He rolled up his sleeves, gently urging the fabric over the large spines of topaz crystals along his arms. Ah. There. That was so much better. A little stand still, to gauge if anyone else was still in the third floor, then off he went. He gathered up books like some sort of exotic bird, picking out the usual standbys on Transmutation, adding in a tome about mage mutations and witch marks, and the very slim and few books about Aberration. Books about Aberration were so hard to find, he was starting to make a note of locations in the library to find later. If he wasn't mistaken, A History of Abberants was on an endcap next to the stairs. He shifted the pile in his arms and wandered back to the stairs, eyeing the shelf.

Oh lord. He'd taken too much. He pawed for the final book, muttering curses under his breath. That was when he saw the man looking at him out of the corner of his eye. A little startle, and the stack of books was in serious jeopardy. Jon steadied it, staring owlishly at the other man, and quietly settled down the stack on the floor. He made a note to button the second set of lips tight...he could play it off as a scar. His sleeves he couldn't tug over his arms fast enough.

"Talkin"
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The Monster and the Murderer

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In Etzos the Mortalborn had begun to experiment with the blood of mages. His previous employer and temporary ally, Chief Adviser Vuda, had provided him with the blood of an Empath, a woman that had died quite violently. He had since expanded his research to other domains and taken a particular interest in Becoming due to its transformative properties and the mutant incident that had taken place in the City of Stones a few seasons prior. He was just about to remove a thick volume bound in crimson leather labelled “Totems” - one of the key elements of that particular brand of magic - from a shelf when that man in the restricted section caught his interest again, and he turned around.

At first, he had simply taken him for a patient that had recently been released from the Infirmary due to gauze that he had wrapped around his face. He had dealt with similar cases – and worse – during his brief stint as a doctor in Ne’haer, a few arcs prior. The gauze was gone now though so that he could see the strange, brilliant gemstones on his neck and his arms for a moment before he quickly rolled his sleeves down again – but not quickly enough. He didn’t say anything, but simply met the man’s gaze again, coolly and calmly. Unlike most people from Rynmere, he was neither a zealot that spouted hateful propaganda everywhere he went – he considered such behavior to be highly counter-productive - nor an uneducated fool. He had met Jon’s kind before and even loved a mage once, centuries before.

The Blessed of Syroa found himself watching the other man with a certain amount of curiosity now. He had instantly recognized him for what he was, but he could not tell which domain he practiced – mutations tended to vary, even among practitioners of the same brand of magic. He seemed to be a bit overly excited and had gathered more books than he could easily carry. The Mortalborn shook his head at the man’s foolish behaviour before he came closer, not primarily because he wanted to help out, but because he had realized what kind of books he was looking at and thought it prudent to find out more.

He reached up – he was quite a bit taller than Jon – and took the book that the other man had been trying to get, just before Jon could do so, casting a brief glance at the title – A History of Aberrants – before he handed it to him, momentarily raising an eyebrow questioningly. “I believe that you wanted this”, he said to him. His voice was deep and pleasant and a hint cool, and he held himself completely straight. Doran was not one to be uncomfortable in the presence of a mage, even though it was unlikely that he would ever engage in such practices himself due to the effect they had on one’s soul. “This is an unusual topic to study” he remarked. "I was not aware that the Prime Atheneum had any books on Aberration", he added - a small lie in order to hopefully get the other man to talk.
Last edited by Doran on Sun Jun 24, 2018 7:08 pm, edited 2 times in total. word count: 529

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Jonathan Burr
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Jonathan liked hoarding books. It also meant that he could camp out a table in the library without having to get up, and thus risk having his seat stolen. Students were the type to roam around for the ideal study spot and camp it out until they were forced to leave by schedule or hunger, and Jon had adopted very much the same attitude in the last few trials. Find as many books as he wanted to study, lug them all back to his table, and curl up for the better part of the day with them. He wasn't a student, but the library was open to the public and the restricted section was proving easier and easier to break into. No one had questioned him so far.

He blushed a bit as he tried to cover up his mutations. Many people didn't react well to the crystals on his arms, but most dismissed the split lip with a look of pity or embarrassment. The general assumption being that Jon had taken some horrible blade to the face a while ago and had just healed up fantastically well. The man looking at him was handsome. Quite handsome. Jon smiled shyly and took the book from him, settling it on the top of his pile. The little book tower reached just under his elbow, and he rested his arm on it for a moment. "Well, they don't have a lot of books on Aberrants and what they have is...well...a bit laughable. All second hand accounts, paranoid theories, and just plain ranting. The history reads more like a kill list of people who have hunted and slain Aberrants. I didn't expect much, but I also didn't expect a bunch of fairy stories no one can really confirm." he explained with a small chuckle.

Jon picked up the first half of the tower with a grunt. "But I figure I have to start somewhere. Rumor and silliness is how I started down the path of magic. I gathered scraps of paper, rumors and things. These books are nothing but compendiums of those but...what else have I got to go off of? Transmutation textbooks are far more reliable. When I want a break from the silliness I read those." he said, smiling at the other man. "I'm sorry...my name's Jon. Want to grab those? We can talk at the tables?" he offered, nodding at the other half of his book tower.

"Talkin"
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The Mortalborn noticed that the other man blushed, and he furrowed his brow ever so slightly as he wondered if he was embarrassed or if he had just realized that he might get in trouble one of these trials if the wrong person saw his mutations, a little too late. There were other things that caught his attention as well now, the split lip that looked as if he had taken a blow to the face for example, or as if he had been wounded in battle – except that he did not have the looks of a warrior but resembled the other hopeful academics that he had seen here. It was not unusual enough for him to dwell on it though, he decided.

“You can leave your sleeves rolled-up”, he remarked curtly. “I’ve already seen the gemstones upon your skin, so there is little point in covering them now, besides I know what they are.” He noticed the way that Jon smiled at him, quite shyly, a smile that didn’t entirely fit the image that he had formed in his mind in the bits that he had silently watched him, and he raised an eyebrow, an unspoken question on his lips before he inclined his head sharply, perhaps in order to confirm something or acknowledge his gesture.

The way that Jon talked about Aberrants gave him the impression that the man was familiar with the domain that was forbidden in most of the places that he had visited which surprised him. He had met few Aberrants in the four-hundred arcs that he had been alive, apart from an unfortunate madman that had tried to flay his mother and him, back in Ne’haer. Besides that, he found it strange that the man would admit so openly to being interested in something like that. “What did you expect then?” he asked as Jon complained about the books that he had managed to find so far. Most would have balked at talking about such a highly controversial and potentially dangerous topic, but the Mortalborn saw little point in such behaviour.

“You are a Transmuter then?” he asked, filing the information away for future use, as he was wont to do and wondered how much he should reveal about his own research. He needed to tell the man something if he wanted to keep the conversation going and find out more, he realized, and thus he informed him, “I practice alchemy which is not unlike Transmutation from what I’ve heard, even though it does not require a spark. I am currently researching the conjunction between alchemy and magic and the use of domain magic reagents”, he nodded at the single tome that he carried, the one about Becoming, before he picked up the other half of Jon’s book tower quite effortlessly and carried it over to an empty table.

“My name is Doran”, he introduced himself in a tone that was not unfriendly, momentarily wondering if his name held any meaning to Jon and if he had any idea that he was currently facing a man that could have killed him within the blink of an eye, if he had been so inclined. “You mentioned that you were researching Aberrants. What kind of information were you looking for?” he asked, as if he were quite willing to help him with his research and took a seat. His posture was a little more relaxed now, but he did not slouch – he never did, not even when he was alone – and his hands were folded atop the table. He appeared to be at ease.
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Jonathan Burr
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Jon stopped trying to cover the crystals, and rearranged his sleeves to catch just below the elbow. He didn't need to roll them up or tuck them, just settle them behind the ridge of crystals nearest his elbow. The topaz was surprisingly strong, being just as hard or a little harder than emerald. It made clothing quite difficult, as it would tear and shred most fabrics. Jon was slowly learning to work around such things. Mutations seemed to be just as difficult as the magic itself. Sparks changed, they learned their mages and shifted toward what the mage viewed as significant. In a way they were getting to know one another, in just as personal a way as he and Hob had learned one another. He couldn't speak with his spark but it knew him.

He was becoming just as familiar with Aberration. It was a highly misunderstood and dangerous magic. Most mages went mad, and unfortunately those were the mages that most men on Idalos remembered. The ones who couldn't handle the addiction and tore themselves up trying to serve it. Jonathan's affair with Aberration had been much like drinking; he imbibed, he broke in episodes of flaying and destruction, and then he was back to being his normal self. Keeping such episodes as just that, episodes, seemed to be the most difficult part of Aberration. One had to be strict with such a chaotic spark, and it was hard with a small devil on your shoulder in the form of the Harvester telling you to just give in. Hob seemed a little better adjusted than most Harvesters. They both realized managing the spark well was the key to keeping it, and staying alive.

Jon brightened considerably at the mention of Transmutation and Alchemy. He grinned wide at Doran and nodded. "I am. Transmutation seems to be a lot less...chemical than Alchemy. It's more like taking a piece of the reagents into yourself, rather than using them as tools. It's a lot more spiritual than people realize. What I would do if I were you is take basic reagents of Alchemy, both Transmuted and found normally, and see if there are any differences in the final product. Maybe that might give you a clue as to what the link is between them. Logically, they should produce the same product with very little difference. But what I'm finding out is that a few percentage difference is a gulf rather than a few steps." Jon explained as they walked over to the table. He started sorting his books into piles. A few on Aberration to his left, the Transmutation books front and center. He settled down in his chair and shrugged at the man's question.

"I'm looking for Aberrants to study. It's extremely difficult to find reliable information on them. Magic isn't good or evil. It's...neutral. It all depends on what you do with it. I believe Aberration is the same way, it just seems to have a corrupting influence that most people can't handle. I'm wondering if anyone out there has tried to control it for good rather than evil, and if so, how they've managed so well for so long." Jon said with a sigh. "The problem with this garbage is that it doesn't seek understanding. Just spreading fear. Finding the truth is going to be a lot more difficult than I ever imagined."

"Talkin"
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The Mortalborn cast another glance at Jon’s crystals before he pulled his gaze away again. He had decided not to become a mage himself a long time ago, unless the circumstances were extraordinary – there were just too many downsides to giving yourself to the Spark and the corruption that came with it – but he could not help but wonder what it would do to a man like him, the son of an Immortal, and if he would change more or less. He had never met any of his kind that had been mages. Perhaps it was just not possible? It was another topic that would merit research in the future, he decided.

“Alchemy is a science and not magic”, he replied as Jon pointed out that Transmutation was a lot less chemical and conceded, “There are certain downsides to it, but from what I know alchemy is one of the few ways of creating a permanent magical item – and replicating the effects of domain magic without being a mage yourself.” He paused briefly and looked at Jon again. He found the mortal to be unusually intelligent. It was a welcome change from the people that he was usually forced to deal with – and the students that he had to put up with as part of his engagement at the Academy of Viden. That didn’t change anything about the fact that he wanted to find out why he had chosen to research something like Aberration though.

“That was why I left Rynmere and came here”, he replied as Jon spoke about comparing normal and transmuted reagents, briefly wondering how the mortal would react to the revelation that he came from a kingdom where mages were being burned at the stake – and ultimately deciding that he didn’t care. “Magical resources of any kind are hard to come by in the kingdom these trials, as most of the mages have met their untimely end”, he remarked somewhat dryly. That was all that he said on that matter.

“You will have a hard time finding any living Aberrants to study”, he informed him. “I’ve travelled the world extensively and only met one – a man that had lost his mind a long time ago. Aberrants tend to keep to themselves and keep their magic a secret, for reasons that I’m sure you’ll understand. As for magic not being good or evil”, he continued and inclined his head. He had certain issues with magic, but unlike most, he didn’t condemn mages outright - at least not most of the time.

“It is not, at least not in my opinion. It just is, and it hungers and wants to be more than it is now, like most things in this world. Good and evil are questionable terms in my opinion anyway – and change, depending on who you talk to. What some see as a crime, is a heroic deed to others”, he told him. A lot of people had called him a criminal and a traitor for his actions on the battlefield in Oscillus, but the Etzori had celebrated him as a hero.

“People often fear things that they don’t understand, things that they can’t do”, he pointed out. He was again speaking from experience, to some extent. There was something about Jon’s words that gave him cause to pause, and he met his gaze for a moment before he reached out towards Jon, just as he was about to sort through his books. A brief touch would tell him more about this strange, but highly intelligent man and reveal at least some of his memories to him. It was highly likely that the mortal would misinterpret the gesture as a sign of sudden attraction, but he decided that it didn't matter.
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Jonathan Burr
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Jon beamed at him. "I can provide you with the resources if you key me in on your research. We can even narrow it down a little. I'm gifted with gemstone and rock, which provides us a huge range of minerals to experiment with. We could even start with something as pedestrian as salt. I'm reading up on it, and it's reactive with a number of substances. It's chief use seems to be as a sort of...electrochemical reaction." He immediately turned to his book pile and sorted through it. He pushed away everything until he'd found his tome on gemstones. It had everything from normal rocks all the way down to salt, and he flipped through the pages frantically. "Here. Look. An experiment by an alchemist known as Nikolai Ohm stated that when salt mixed with water reacted with certain metals, it produced a small bolt of lightning. Just water by itself did nothing, as did salt and metal. You had to have all three together. We could do something with that! See if transmuted salt will produce a stronger lightning bolt. I don't think it was terribly big, no one was really impressed by this experiment and as far as I can tell no one's messed with it." He tapped the page and pushed it over toward Doran. "I could find other writings by this Ohm. Maybe find some other experiments he did with water and minerals. I'm no Defier, I can't transmute the water, but I'm sure we could make something of the salt and steel."

He smirked and shut the book when Doran told him he wouldn't find any living Aberrants to study. "Well they're rather good at hiding. You'd have to be if everyone in Idalos wanted you dead for something they didn't quite understand. I imagine the Immortals feel quite the same way sometimes, as do Mortalborns. People fear anything strange or unusual, and it goes double if a strange or unusual thing has hurt them in the past. You can't really blame Idalosians. You just have to show them the right path. That's why I want to find an Aberrant. There has to be reports of some in here somewhere. Some tale of a man who has lost the trail of one. That one might still be a-" He was stopped, suddenly, by the touch. He blinked. He'd been rather carried away in the haze of the academic, and Doran was looking at him strangely.

The memories that came to Doran were brief, and quick flashes. Memories of a drug-hazed year in Etzos. Stumbling around dark city streets unable to stand well or even speak. Far more interesting flashes...and one scene that had stuck in Jon's mind like an arrow. Cowering under Hob, while his Harvester wrestled with another. A few seconds of sound, horrible cracking, roaring, the sound of flesh tearing and the stink of blood not altogether human. The titanic sound of his Hob slamming down the dead body of the other Harvester. It was gone as soon as it appeared, and Jon was staring at Doran strangely. "I..uh.." he cleared his throat. Doran had just been...staring at him.
"Talkin"
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By Syroa, the mortal was eager! As Jon beamed at him and proceeded to rattle off a list of things that they would be able to do together, the alchemist just looked at him for a moment before he inclined his head, a sign that he approved of what he had said, even if the manner in which he had said had left something to be desired in his opinion. He found himself reminded of Sintih, the Yludih who had been his student for a while, when he had still lived in Andaris. He had talked just as quickly, he had been just as easily excitable, and he had come up with just as many interesting ideas. In fact, he could not help but remember one of the first experiments they had conducted together.

“I already experimented with gemstones once”, he spoke. “My apprentice and I made a portable, permanent light source out of fluorescent gemstones – alchemical lamps, if you will. We went on to imbue plants with the qualities of the same gemstones. I’m familiar with Master Ohm’s work”, he added. He dimly recalled hearing about him and his research before, during his previous stay in Viden, but he moved closer to Jon in order to take a look at the page that Jon had mentioned nevertheless, furrowing his brow as he did so. “I didn’t think much of it when I first heard about it. It seemed like a fairly pointless experiment to me, flashy, but little else.”

“But if one managed to produce a stronger lightning bolt, it could perhaps be turned into a weapon of sorts – or harnessed for some other purpose”,
he pondered. He made it seem as if that was the chief objective of his research – reagents that had been created by mages. In truth, much of his research involved using the blood of mages in order to replicate the effects of domain magic and produce items of considerable power, but that, he decided, was something that was best left unsaid. “Perhaps if one were to add an accelerator in order to speed up the reaction …” he murmured.

“You think that Aberrants just need to be shown the right path then?” he asked and raised an eyebrow. The man was intelligent, there was no doubt – his statements about magic and alchemy were proof of that - but he was also naïve – dangerously so. “What will you do if the Aberrant that you want to show the right path tries to flay you – if they are one of those that have already flayed entire villages in order to fuel their addiction?” he wanted to know. The tone of his voice was carefully neutral. He would not mock him, at least not yet.

And then everything suddenly started to make sense. At first, he had taken Jon for a researcher with a nearly insatiable thirst for knowledge, a man that wanted to study everything, no matter how dark it was – an attitude that he understood, to some extent. That thing … he had seen in his memory though, the monster … there could only be one explanation for it. Jon was not an outsider. He had come in contact with those dark things himself, perhaps only recently as he appeared to be relatively sane. Was he an Aberrant then – or something even more sinister?

Others would likely have drawn their sword right then, recoiled in fear or called for the guards – or demanded an explanation, at the very least - but the son of Ziell, the man who had once stabbed an Immortal and was reviled by many, did no such thing. He simply met Jon’s gaze calmly for a moment and murmured, “I see. I was wrong then.” before he abruptly let go of his hand again. There was more to be gained from keeping what he had learned to himself for now, he decided, and continue just like before. Unlike most, the Mortalborn was perfectly capable of being on civil terms with a man like Jon and engaging in an intellectual conversation with him – and perhaps more - as long as he did the same and did not insist on attempting to cause a bloodbath in the heart of the Academy of Viden.
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Jonathan Burr
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Jon lit up just hearing about it. A flameless lamp made from stone? He desperately wanted to see one. "Did it need to be fed like flame?" he asked eagerly. "Do you still have it? Tell me you still have it. And come on man think of the implications! Being able to produce lightning anywhere, not on the whims of the tides and air but the alchemist's own will! You could have lightning in your hands, the potential all there and waiting for you. You could carry it with you and induce it when you needed it. It could become fire, or light. It could cook food; ever seen a deer after it's struck by lightning? It's completely cooked on the inside. We could zap things cooked without any need for magic. That's incredible." he smiled at Doran. All the implications of being able to produce even a spark on command were absolutely astounding. "Or you could make traps, or weapons. Whatever you desire. Lightning could be as much of a friend to man as fire is, we've just never tried harnessing it. Zapping your enemies is all well and good but what else can be done?"

He nodded at the idea of an accelerant, but what would that be? With fire it was any sort of oil. Things that would burn quickly and flare the flames up. What did it with lightning? There had to be some more research on that. Lightning was tied to the nature of minerals the same way flames were to wood and oil. Maybe there was some connection there, some alchemy they could figure out. Then some way he could bolster it with Transmutation to make something truly spectacular...and dangerous. Yes, it was a good theory. Jon approved of the idea. It could get them both killed, but with himself grasping the nature of ether and this man a skilled alchemist...what could go wrong? They could have all the proper safeguards. Build it slowly. Yes, this could work.

The conversation shifted back to Aberrants. "Oh, I expect it. Come now man, you don't study constellions with the idea you're just going to go up, pat one on the head, feed him a little chicken and take some notes." he chuckled. "The trick with any predator is tricking it into thinking you're not prey. A wolf backs down faced with a weapon he knows will destroy him. Aberrants usually attack ungifted peasants for a reason; they're picking off the weaklings. It takes a truly powerful Aberrant to face down a master mage, or an army. I think if I treat one with respect, but make my intentions clear and firm, it will make some headway. After all, Aberrants make deals with creatures. I won't just be dealing with the mage, but with the monster as well. Just takes preparation and a good head on your shoulders, that's all."

Jon blinked when Doran let go of his hand. Wait. He wasn't sure what Doran was wrong about. He reached for Doran's hand, then thought better of it. What had just happened? He didn't understand.
'Empath. I'm sure of it.' Hob growled in the back of his mind. 'If he knows what you are, tread carefully. Your best defense in this city is a good surprise.'

"Um...well...forget Aberrants." Jon shrugged. "If you like we can focus on the experiments comparing transmuted versus natural reagents?" he suggested.
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