83rd of Ashan, Arc 718
"I've gone out of practice," he said, objectively, standing in the dimly lit room... though it did not remain so, as the mage began to tune the vibrancy of his oil lantern. The dead man's eyes stared back - Damien, the Lich, stood before him with his crystalline arm still mounted onto the nub that was his dismembered shoulder.
They'd both fallen low when it came to their Necromancy - Damien had lost the full power of his Lichdom, and Alistair had - at one point in Scalvoris - legitimately failed to use protocol on an undead, an ability so simple and basic to a man of his mastery that it almost appeared ridiculous. It was... shameful, certainly considering his past with the art - it was once an immense source of pride, for both himself and his teacher.
He had three powerful Revenants - he'd done an immense amount with the undead. But the abilities... particular little things... still evaded him. He'd only truly mastered withering and corpse molding, which were considerable techniques, but not quite worthy of a supposedly master necromancer. "Protocol," he called it out, frustrated at the very name of it. "Can I not imbue it to work through verbal commands?" he questioned. Damien quirked a brow, wondering why Alistair would actually want for it to flow through speech rather than thought or gesture.
It was loud, not particularly good for stealth, and not reliable if the Necromancer was incapable of speech. But more importantly... "Protocol isn't necessarily something that you 'activate' with a word. It's more like imbuing a... trait into your minion. A permanent sort of thing that they do, adding that to their daily routine. Some may use protocol on laborer thralls to give them a more complex working manifesto; chopping at trees, then hauling them to a cart, then returning to the lumber yard and repeating. It's not exactly a memorized verbal command," the man stated, as Alistair secured his backside onto the wooden chair overlooking his desk, dipping his quill into the inkwell beside him and scrawling Damien's words as notes onto parchment.
"Mmhm, right," he said. "But you can use Protocol to issue specific commands, triggered by voice, gesture or will, correct?" he questioned.
The Lich could only shrug his shoulders. He'd done it before, though of course with the undead things were invariably hit or miss. If voice was what did it, it would not even function on many minions, as there wasn't much left in regard to intelligent thought, neural function, or certainly hearing capability. Many undead had ear drums that were collapsed upon themselves, or no longer functional. It was not... particularly reliable, but he supposed if Alistair wanted to be as pretentious as he could possibly be...
"Yes," he simply said in response.
"Swell," Alistair nodded. "Let's move on to Siphon. I haven't used it, but I want to. And it's up my alley; appropriate for my expertise. We got anything living to melt that won't make me feel morally reprehensible?" he asked.
"Erm," the Lich responded. "Want to actually take out those Yurrovan bandit lads? Lots of not-necessarily-reprehensible practice opportunities there, I'd gather."
"I've gone out of practice," he said, objectively, standing in the dimly lit room... though it did not remain so, as the mage began to tune the vibrancy of his oil lantern. The dead man's eyes stared back - Damien, the Lich, stood before him with his crystalline arm still mounted onto the nub that was his dismembered shoulder.
They'd both fallen low when it came to their Necromancy - Damien had lost the full power of his Lichdom, and Alistair had - at one point in Scalvoris - legitimately failed to use protocol on an undead, an ability so simple and basic to a man of his mastery that it almost appeared ridiculous. It was... shameful, certainly considering his past with the art - it was once an immense source of pride, for both himself and his teacher.
He had three powerful Revenants - he'd done an immense amount with the undead. But the abilities... particular little things... still evaded him. He'd only truly mastered withering and corpse molding, which were considerable techniques, but not quite worthy of a supposedly master necromancer. "Protocol," he called it out, frustrated at the very name of it. "Can I not imbue it to work through verbal commands?" he questioned. Damien quirked a brow, wondering why Alistair would actually want for it to flow through speech rather than thought or gesture.
It was loud, not particularly good for stealth, and not reliable if the Necromancer was incapable of speech. But more importantly... "Protocol isn't necessarily something that you 'activate' with a word. It's more like imbuing a... trait into your minion. A permanent sort of thing that they do, adding that to their daily routine. Some may use protocol on laborer thralls to give them a more complex working manifesto; chopping at trees, then hauling them to a cart, then returning to the lumber yard and repeating. It's not exactly a memorized verbal command," the man stated, as Alistair secured his backside onto the wooden chair overlooking his desk, dipping his quill into the inkwell beside him and scrawling Damien's words as notes onto parchment.
"Mmhm, right," he said. "But you can use Protocol to issue specific commands, triggered by voice, gesture or will, correct?" he questioned.
The Lich could only shrug his shoulders. He'd done it before, though of course with the undead things were invariably hit or miss. If voice was what did it, it would not even function on many minions, as there wasn't much left in regard to intelligent thought, neural function, or certainly hearing capability. Many undead had ear drums that were collapsed upon themselves, or no longer functional. It was not... particularly reliable, but he supposed if Alistair wanted to be as pretentious as he could possibly be...
"Yes," he simply said in response.
"Swell," Alistair nodded. "Let's move on to Siphon. I haven't used it, but I want to. And it's up my alley; appropriate for my expertise. We got anything living to melt that won't make me feel morally reprehensible?" he asked.
"Erm," the Lich responded. "Want to actually take out those Yurrovan bandit lads? Lots of not-necessarily-reprehensible practice opportunities there, I'd gather."