Stories From Outer Space

[Alistair]

80th of Ashan, Arc 718

The afternoon began to end, and sunset loomed on the horizon. The air had chilled, partially, with sweeping winds blowing through to cool them off. Alistair was naturally warm as a result of his layers of musculature, and the heat had slowly began to cause sweat to trickle down his body. The cool spring air had fluctuated trial-to-trial, and he found himself missing the chilly air of Uthaldria within the season of Ashan.

Now, though, it was nice. The gradual darkening of color had only made the fields and the valley prettier - but by now in their walking, they'd gone through the grain and were walking slowly along the edges of the mountains, with high peaks capped with tops of snow until the heat of the last several trials. They were surrounded now by grass and rocky edges, with nature still filling most of their view save for the array of lights shining from the center of the village. As always, they were having an evening gathering - all the families and all their friends. The apt time to marry of their many children, or discuss the eighth pregnancy of their eighth child. It was... certainly common, if a bit alarming.

On the edge, however, the two men spoke quietly. Alistair put together a 'lesson plan' of sorts, and though he wasn't a good teacher, he could tell stories... mostly because he had a good memory and the ability to channel words verbatim. He would have Ellasin speak through him on this tale, as she had always been the one to impart her worldly knowledge onto Alistair, even though now he considered most of it 'otherworldly'.

"We're going to start with a story," he said. The context had already been established - Doran was to learn about Rupturing, the magic in which Alistair was the most confident. It was a good place to start, especially as it was considered one of the least malicious of all magics. There had been virtually no great usage of Rupturing for evil, and although Ellasin attempted for Alistair to do so beneath her guidance, he had not. Rupturing was a benevolent magic, built by a man of pure wonder: Reyard Seymour.

"Rupturing began with Reyard Seymour, a man we know now as the Great Dreamer," Alistair stated, smiling at the whisper of his name. He admired him, greatly - considered him his greatest rolemodel. For good reason.

"He was a Biqaj, born to a street cleaner and a fatally seizure-prone mother. By all accounts, Reyard was destined to lay in the slums, being sold to a peddler in the Dust Quarter and beaten night after night. All he longed for, for all his life, was the freedom to escape. To go... anywhere else. But he was given Rupturing as a method of keeping him bound to his master - for with Rupturing, your master holds a tether to you. They can find you... and you them. It's a beautiful, loving bond, but for Reyard it was used nefariously by his master. No one knew of what the magic actually... really did, so back then the spark was only carried on for that explicit purpose. Reyard changed that," he nodded, gleaming at the stories to follow. Alistair laid his back into the grassy side of one of the hills, crossing his arms over his chest and basking in the wind and sunset.

The story still had much longer to go.

"Reyard... was deeply attuned to that spark, a part of his being. When he closed his eyes, he could see the twinkles of stars, the gradient colors of a sky surrounded by other skies, from other places. Blue, purple, pink, red, violet. He saw the universe - each and every time he closed his eyes, he could see the night sky from a different world. To him, this was his greatest freedom. Whenever he'd lay to sleep, or would close his eyes to rest his vision, his reality shifted. As a slave with nothing but beatings and maggots for meals, this was worth living for," Alistair explained, his eyes filled with passion, his fists brought together before his chest.

And, there was more. So much more. "An instinct within him told him to draw out what he saw. So, he did. He drew with his fingertips, drawing circles and swirls within the distant stars. Then, he put intention into his art, and felt something opening for him; the usage of ether. And with ether, doorways. He refined his pictures, and eventually began drawing constellations, closing his eyes and connecting the stars with his fingertips one by one. The first constellation he drew successfully, he named Elaine, which he later named his daughter. Elaine was the first portal ever documented to be made - and it was the last time Reyard would ever live with his master. Taking immense risk, and understanding nothing about anything he'd created, he stepped through that portal and fled far away. The other side opened atop a hill where Reyard had often viewed the stars with his father - the waypoints connected subconsciously. When he arrived, he ran and ran, and found himself selling his services to a failing businessman working with shipping and supplies. Reyard sent deliveries over by portal, and the man's business boomed. The mage behind him remained quiet and ambiguous, eventually making contact with the Seekers," he said, glancing at Doran to ensure he wasn't... totally overwhelming him. It was certainly a lot.

He supposed this was a good moment for a break. This was, after all, the next phase in Reyard's life - and another story worth telling without cramming it all together. They'd at least need a pause, for Doran's sake.

"This is the beginning of how Rupturing, as we know it, was founded. An orphaned boy sold into slavery, freeing himself from a cruel master through the domain. Reyard was said to have wanted to take his own life before he first closed his eyes and saw the stars guiding him." Alistair said this knowing that it seemed as if he were trying to sell the arcane - to paint a picture. But Doran had only heard negative stories regarding magic in the past. Alistair needed to show him the other side, and he couldn't be afraid to speak from his own position. Debate, discussion - these were sections of the conversation they needed to have.

Still, there was more to say. "I -- I wanted to tell you this story to better explain why I feel the way I do: that magic can be used for evil, but also for immense good. Would it have been better for Reyard if he'd never become a mage? He would've been beaten, overworked, slain at his own hand at a young age. Magic opened the door for him - he had a happy life, bountiful children, a world-spanning legacy of free people and gifted explorers. His students have moved on to perform great deeds, all across Idalos," the mage stated, speaking of the Scions of Wanderlust, though he hadn't heard from them in some time.

"And now, we discuss: was magic Reyard's hubris, or the only chance he had at being free? In the life I lead prior to my initiation, Rupturing was my salvation. I'm alive now because of the future that the portals gave me. I was abused as Reyard was, by a familiar figure, and often. Being able to go away, to seek refuge in faraway places with a single step, was worth all of the repercussions. I would be a Rupturer again if I had the choice. Always."

[Doran Cooney]

With the sun beginning its slow descent, Doran found the gentle chill of the air to help his mind stay clear and sharp as Alistair began his story. They moved slowly, in rhythm to the pace of the retelling, and though Doran needed to take several steps to Alistair's easy stride, he didn't might the extra effort on his part. To keep himself attentive to the story, at its beginning, he opted to stare at the nature around them rather than the man beside him, quietly picturing the past as Alistair brought it to life with his words.

Rupturing: the magic of travel and portals. It made sense that Alistair would start with it, and Doran nodded, ready to begin. Upon title alone, he could have guessed Reyard to be the hero of the magical allegory, and it was clear that Alistair, from the gentle, reverent awe of his tone, believed him to be so. Doing what he could to set aside his expectations, Doran stared ahead of them, the gentle swaying grasses that crept their way up the nearby mountain's face were painted a deep, rich, verdant green thanks to the sun's slow decline towards the horizon. Their shadows were cast long, forms warped so that they were little more than a line of dark, steady movement.

The Biqaj were a race Doran didn't know much about, aside from that they were a sea-faring people from the west. Still, it was a common series of cruel events, no matter the man's race, and Doran's lips turned in a gentle frown as he imagined the pain and longing that Alistair described to him. Though he didn't quite understand, it was clear that the magic given to him was intended to control him, something that Doran found familiar. Unlike what he had heard in tales of magic before, when Alistair spoke of the bond, Doran's brows raised slightly in surprise. Chains and slaves Doran understood well enough; he was no stranger to the acts conducted by those in the business of human chattel. That his master thought to use an invisible, binding rope was sensible; that it could be done at all was something unnervingly strange. He wondered, as they slowed their pace to come to halt at the foot of a grassy knoll, who Alistair's master was. If he or she still lived, and if Alistair shared that same bond.

Doran joined Alistair as he lay back against the grass, his eyes bright with both excitement and a sort of happy nostalgia - perhaps in anticipation of what he was to tell next, as so far the tale had been one of tragedy. He crossed his legs as he sat a comfortable distance from the mage, gaze falling to his face and a soft smile spreading across his lips. He supposed he could listen and appreciate the picture before him, and he rested his elbows upon his knees, chin in his hands. Alistair had mentioned a "spark", something "carried", but Doran didn't quite understand what exactly it was. His brows knit in thought, wondering if it were a physical thing or something else - as far as he could remember, he had not seen Alistair holding anything such as a flame or light when he had first displayed his magic. Perhaps, though, it was something hidden away in pockets.

A gentle wind passed over the knoll, tousling Doran's hair and sending a pleasant chill down his spine. More talk of the "spark" let Doran to believe that, whatever it was, it was an important part of Rupturing, but he held his questions, not wanting to interrupt the flow of the story. It was beautifully worded, and Doran was able to easily paint the pictures in his own mind. He admitted that it sounded wonderful: an escape from the bitter truth of the waking world into some wondrous reality. It was not so different from Doran's own life, and he had little difficulty empathizing with the stories hero. Where this "spark" had been Reyard's hope, his light and reason, Lily had been the same for Doran.

His lips turned a soft smile at Alistair's passion, but his thoughts were wholly occupied with the words spoken. The way he described it, the magic seemed kin to that of a painter and his portrait. Though where there was a canvas instead there was all of reality, and where there was paints instead there was... ether? It seemed that it was not enough to simply visualize the connections but that some amount of will was needed, an intention to make the delicate connections a new reality. The "how" behind it seemed relatively ambiguous: a mix of feelings and visualizations punctuated by firm force of will. He'd always imagined magic to be something a bit more... concrete. What Alistair described to him sounded something more befitting a daydream; though he wasn't sure if that made the magic more or less worthy of his wary uncertainty. After all, if it were only a matter of the mage's will, he'd already seen Alistair falter and waver - he was as human as the rest of their kind. If he were to hesitate or waver when Doran stepped through the portal... But Alistair continued, and Doran set his thoughts on the matter aside for the time being.

As for what the newly freed Reyard chose to do with his newly discovered powers, Doran found it odd that Reyard chose to use his abilities to transport goods like some sort of peculiar pack horse. It was certainly not the grand destruction he was used to hearing when magic was involved. If anything, it was a bit lackluster. His confusion at such a menial use of his skills must have shone on his face, as Alistair broke his narration to glance over at him.

He nodded slowly at Alistair's summary, his eyes neither bright with excitement nor clouded in consternation. It was a beginning clearly in favor of mages as a whole, but Doran imagined such was the way of history in general. Those who lived to tell their tales were always wont to embellish in their favor. The duality of the tale alone suggested more truth than fiction, and Doran nodded more firmly at Alistair's further explanation. If it were death or magic, Doran imagined he might make much the same choice as Reyard had - not knowing anything but that there was perhaps a way out. It was a queer thought to have, and he wasn't certain how to feel about it. The most clear alternative, of course, was to simply accept death; something he might also have done in that same situation, without Lily's light to help him form his ideas regarding the sanctity and singular nature of life.

Though he didn't respond right away, Doran's thoughtful stare had taken on some distance as Alistair shared another part of his history. While he remained genuine and earnest in tone, Doran still felt a twinge of sadness in his heart for him. A story was one thing, but that it had been a part of Alistair's life as well... When he did speak, his voice was quiet as ever, lacking the tentative fear that had existed before when they had first discussed magic, his calm seeming to rise with the setting of the sun. "Perhaps... it was a bit of both." He picked at his lower lip as he continued, words no so much challenging as merely contemplative. "That he was able to escape his fate, I would not deny him even had I the power to. Afterwards?"

Magic had long been described as a disease of power, a compulsion. It was upon this particular tenant that many tales of woe and horror were based, and though Alistair's tale so far had not touched upon it directly, the fact remained that Reyard had continued to develop his magic, even after the necessity of it had passed. "There was no need for him to use his magic beyond that, yet he persisted. You paint him as an altruist, aiding a failing business, but could it not be said instead he was merely a growing addict who found an outlet in which to feed his cravings under the guise of faceless philanthropy?" There was no hostility or even true objection to what Alistair had said, merely an inquisitiveness that sparked in his eyes and gave a slight lilt to his words. "I... don't condemn Reyard's desire to escape. Nor would I wish you had remained in your own misfortune, but necessity doesn't determine if something is good." He paused, allowing an addendum with a short frown of consideration. "Though I suppose neither does it determine if something is evil."

[Alistair]

Doran listened along, and showed great interest, which only further impassioned the mage as he spoke his tale. And, when the time came for Doran to speak, he kept his ears open and considered his words. From these words, Alistair learned a lot. He did not challenge the thought of using magic to free oneself from pain and destruction, particularly in such an extreme scenario as the one Reyard lived. However, he found it difficult to sympathize with a mage who continued to develop their talents despite no longer requiring the domain for survival. This was an interesting perspective, to Alistair, but it meant that he at least did not scorn magic so much that he would deny it to even the broken and suffering. He was more reasonable than many in Rynmere, then, and this meant in all likelihood he did not support the burnings.

Alistair nodded, grinning lightly. He was glad to be having the dialogue.

"No -- I don't see him as an altruist for helping out the shipping company owner," Alistair corrected Doran. "That was merely his way of getting paid, and the beginning of using Rupturing for the sake of commerce. In some cities, the practice still remains. There are many practical reasons to do so, that can be considered... humanist. Cities will cut down on their manned long distance trade routes through dangerous areas, such as the Sea of Desolation, and will instead rely on a Rupturer to transport goods and receive wealth for their services. It saves lives, as many desperate men die on these routes. Instead, more trade can be sustained, as less ships are utilized for the long distance routes. I'm saying that - objectively - magic can be utilized for a great deal of productivity, which matters. And I'll explain why," he stated, as he digested the remainder of Doran's words in reply.

Good and evil were difficult to ascribe to magic, Alistair had discovered long ago. But how could he explain that?

"I see a bridge that can be mended between your thought and mine," the mage stated. "We both agree that his initial usage of Rupturing was out of necessity. It's true. But his later actions were not? I question that," Alistair said, his tone growing... philosophical. He found himself channeling Damien, the man who had mentored him through life. The words he spoke had meaning, and they helped him in his youth to understand the worthiness of magic too.

So, he would share his ethics, and Doran could share his equally. "Is it not moral to pursue success, and to act in a way that best benefits you and others around you? Reyard used his magic to save lives, and change them for the better. What do we consider a moral action? Supporting your family. Providing for them. Giving alms to the poor... being a loyal citizen, a faithful husband, taking care of your children. Being kind to others in words and actions. Reyard did all of these things, through magic. And because of the immensity of his magic, he made a much larger impact on those around him than if he were simply... a laborer," Alistair explained. Morality was subjective, but his focus was on the fact that moral actions were typically described as those that were both benevolent and productive. As Reyard's magic had facilitated both his benevolence and productivity, was it not a necessity?

Achieving greatness, in Alistair's view, was a necessity of the human condition. They did not exist merely to survive and nothing else. Even outside of magic, they always sought innovation and growth, even despite the implications and evident risk. This was why, largely, Alistair considered magic a tool for development. Of course, there was the undertone of darkness within it, but most mages did not succumb to it. If they had, the world would be a considerably different place.

More on the point, though, Alistair applied an example relevant to them. "I know that I may see differently, but I consider it a moral necessity of mine to utilize my talents for our relationship. If we're to be involved with one another, it is my duty as your man to ensure that I am there for you. That I can see you, assuage your worries, spend my trials in your company. For a man, morality is what actions he can take to provide sustenance and wellbeing to himself and those he loves, as long as those actions do not harm others. But - that is merely my perspective on the matter, as morality is a subjective set of values. You do not need to see it my way, but I want you to understand my view," he summarized, looking to Doran to speak and ask questions, if only so that they could continue their discussion.

He was... enjoying it, and he found that the conversation revealed an attractiveness in his partner-to-be. He was wise and apt at dissecting the words of others, and making logical assertions against them. Though the Venora would not suggest it, not yet at least, Doran would have made for a good mage. Men like him were the ones who could bring out the best in magic. A true master of the domain was cynical, skeptical of themselves and their own abilities, and controlled. He had these traits. But that was a battle for another time - right now, he would allow Doran his words, and then he would carry on... explaining Reyard's future, and his epilogue.

[Doran Cooney]

His lips made a silent, “o” as Alistair corrected his summary, eyebrows raising in thought. Again, the mage seemed to avoid the topic of disease and compulsion, something Doran wondered was intentional or merely forgotten. Whatever the case, it seemed that that, at least, was not one of his greatest concerns. Doran made a note of it, to ask Alistair when their conversation might allow for it, whether or not such sickness of the mind was a true fault of magic or a fabrication of ignorance.

He could scarcely believe that magic had any place in modern commerce. Outside of the Seekers, there had been few if any establishments wherein magic might be used in such a way as what Alistair described. Though he didn’t necessarily believe the man was lying, it was difficult to imagine a city’s economy allowed itself to depend upon such dangerous practices - as Alistair himself had previously pointed out that Ruputuring was hardly without its own risks. Though, as Alistair continued, Doran did have to wonder just how much of a risk it was to use the magic to circumvent the dangers of a more mundane method of travel. Perhaps that was how it was rationalized, how men and women who did not possess this “spark” that Alistair spoke of came to terms with utilizing such a thing.

Silently nodding along with Alistair’s assertion that they agreed, at least, that Reyard’s initial portal was not necessarily something he might be faulted for, Doran listened quietly as he continued, eyes bright and brows knit. Their definitions of success, while not irreconcilable, were fundamentally different. To Doran, morality had nothing to do with scale and everything to do with one’s intent. A man might give a hundred golden nels to the poor, but if it was only to impress his friends, the act was one of selfishness, not morality.

Though it certainly sounded grand in scale, nothing Alistair said justified Reyard’s actions - not in the sense of morality. It sounded more and more as if the man had acted purely out of self-interest, the benefit of his magic only a secondary or even tertiary outcome of his pursuit of power. While the benefits were inarguable, Doran had never questioned magic’s usefulness as a shortcut, of sorts, to benefit people. It was the reasons behind using it, the hazards of failure or hubris taken too far, that he found problematic. And, though Alistair may not have meant it in such a way as he was raised a noble, Doran found that his comparison between Reyard’s longreaching influence to that of a simple ‘laborer’ to be problematic in and of itself.

Doran was little more than that, though he was certain if he brought such things up with the other man, he would be assured that he was “different”. It wouldn’t be a lie, but Alistair’s seeming contempt, however unintentional, for those of simple means and quiet lives didn’t sit well with him.

Still, his amused grin was almost reflexive as Alistair so casually inserted his hopes into the example given. "My man?" He shook his, though the gentle blush of his cheeks belied the light flutter in his chest at the thought. "I believe you may have have morality confused with duty or… maybe purpose?" Though Doran certainly agreed it was a subjective matter, he found that much of what Alistair had described aligned much with the expectations a family might place upon its children. While morality played a part in this, Doran found such concrete examples to be… lacking, at best.

"What is moral, what is good, is not something that can be… measured. Not in the way you’ve described, not… not as I have come to understand it." He spoke slowly and thoughtfully, again, little challenge in his voice. The quiet nature of his tone was more like a stream of consciousness, though his careful choice of words helped to him from rambling. "I don’t believe it is moral to strive for success nor work to benefit those around you." Raising his head from his hands, he held up a finger, not to stop Alistair from speaking to amend his statement. "Not to say that one shouldn’t strive for such things. Only that a man might be moral without actively doing them."

Steepling his fingers, hands loosely placed in his lap, Doran gazed contemplatively into the near distance, his eyes directed towards where Alistair lay, but attention focused inward. "Reyard, for example, did all these things, but without knowing the purpose behind his acts, that is all they were. He helped people; he was kind; he was able to affect the lives of many men and women. They are not qualifiers of morality, they’re merely… past events."

He frowned, more so at himself than anything. "Magic is dangerous; all the more in the hands of the inexperienced, as you have said. Reyard was the first of his kind, so you say, and there was no one to teach him. He chose to continue developing an unknown power, with unknown consequences that-" Here, he made and aside, eyes focusing for a brief moment on the mage’s face, an acknowledging tone in his airy voice. "Unknown to him at that time, I mean."

"That, for all anyone knew, could have torn realty into shreds." Here, he spoke confidently. As one who didn’t understand magic in the least, he was better qualified a mind to consider the potential risks of something like instantaneous transport - where Alistair already knew the true risks, Doran spoke from the superstition that must have existed at the time. "In this way, though he helped many people, he did so with the knowledge that, given a mistake or… a moment of overconfidence, everything might come crashing down."

With a sigh, he shook his head again. "To me, at best, Reyard set aside morality to pursue his own hubris." He clicked his tongue, realizing he’d yet to really explain what he believed the difference in their ideas of morality to be. Flushing just slightly out of embarrassment, he backtracked, voice slightly less confident as he spoke out of order. "And by morality, I speak of one’s intentions. One’s choice to be kind, to have the power to inflict harm but the strength to refrain from doing so. To me, it’s… something much more ambiguous than supporting a family or assuaging someone’s worries."

Coming full circle, Doran smiled softly. "So then, is it due to morality that you would bridge the distance between our two worlds with your magic, or your own desire? What you speak of: sustenance, well-being, presence… these are all things that one might consider ‘duty’, not a necessity of morality. Though," Here, he looked tenderly at the other man, leaning forward to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "I assure you I appreciate all those, and then some."

Leaning back, hands once more folded in his lap, Doran chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "But, even with all that said, I don’t believe your views wrong. There is no arguing that Reyard did not benefit those people. Though I question his reasons, the results are what they are. I should make it clear: I don’t deny that magic is useful. I merely am… concerned with the dangers that come with it."

[Alistair]

Doran had a very developed perspective on morality, duty, and many such similar things for one of his ripe age. He was... philosophical, and Alistair found it riveting to listen to him, including when he was being intentionally or unintentionally coy... which was often. But, he was correct, in his own way. Clearly their differences in perspective were wide; the fundamental of morality being tied to duty and impact versus intention was a large gap to cross. The separation was likely owed largely to their upbringings, Alistair reckoned, as he was raised a noble and Doran a commoner. Alistair was taught that for him to pass on righteously, he would need to provide success and growth for his Duchy.

If he had failed that task, he was immoral; and upon realizing this, he found it apt to bring it into their conversation.

"Doran," he started, "I wonder of something. How much do you owe our differences to our status in society?" Alistair questioned. "If I were to fail as a Duke, I could have wholly expected a mob to ascend upon the steps of the Sabaissant du Cristel, taking my head and flaying my children. For me, duty was always morality, and I still do not see the merit in distinguishing the two. If I were to fail my duty as Duke in a time of crisis, and thousands or more were to die as a result, was my failure not immoral?" the mage asked.

"It would certainly be judged as such by the people. The more influence you have, the more your morals derive from your contributions. Intention cannot be the only factor to morality, nor ever the primary, as doing 'good' deeds for the success and wellbeing of others is the root of morals. To be truthful, I find your definition of morality rather... forward-thinking," he described it. It was certainly generous to describe intentions as goodness, but the lives of others were affected by the bottom-line, not the intentions. If a King had well intentions with a divisive action that led to a civil war, he was not moral in doing so. Saving lives, bettering society, reducing crime and poverty and hunger... these actions were moral, regardless of the intentions.

He did not believe he could be convinced otherwise - this was... a fundamental of who he was. And, despite the fact, he adored this conversation. It provided him so great an amount of insight on how Doran believed, and debating philosophy was not something he'd done in so long a time. He was riveted by their fierce engagement, and found himself more keen to the idea of spending an inordinate amount of time with Doran.

But, of course, they still held many disagreements. And this could lead more into the aspect of danger - something Doran clearly held worry about, and a topic they would need to conquer. Alistair began, however, somewhat dismissively. "Doran, I believe you are vastly overestimating the potential of magic," he stated, feeling his words were objective based on his knowledge. "The far majority of mages cannot even cast their entry spells, and many simply abandon the craft due to their own frustrations," he stated.

"Additionally, you place too much hubris on mages for manipulating a natural quantity. Ether flows from another source. Magic was not invented by man, it has always existed, utilized by other entities in the Dream. While I cannot say this factually, this is what I have learned from my books and from mages above me. While Reyard was the first human to consistently craft portals, he was not the first entity. If you are to consider spirits, magic exists in the natural world, and it has been used likely from the very beginning of creation. Thus, it is not an outsider to reality, but a part of it. It is meant to interact with reality - they are not opposing entities that may destroy one another."

Of course, much of this was theoretical, but he had never been given reason to believe otherwise. There had been no great cataclysm in which a mage had disrupted the continuity of reality and wreaked havoc across their world. It was simply unfair to ascribe that potential to it, when it had not yet taken place, and likely never would.

But, he didn't want to end it on a more stern correction of Doran's assumptions, and he didn't want to come off as irritated or crude. He was just... passionate about his craft, and the superstition around it was almost always unjustified. There were risks, and they would cover them, but not nearly as many as others seemed to believe. Most of the risks were personal, which he realized was an exceptional counter-argument to Doran's perceptions.

First, however, he would respond to his questions regarding his own sense of duty. "I believe it is a good thing to be there for your loved ones," he said. "As such, I do believe it is moral to utilize portals to ensure the success of our relationship. But, this leads me into something else," he stated, quickly leading into it. "If you consider intention to be morality, then magic is almost never immoral. Almost all mages have good intentions, among the ones I've met... even in the Coven. Many of the mages there want to abolish hierarchies because they believe hereditary structure is oppressive. Their intentions are good - Ellasin is the one who merely wants to lead the disjointed aftermath into pens for the slaughter. And because of her power, she can realistically achieve much of her darkly will, but by your own judgments magic has no factor to play in her immorality. If impact is not a foundation of morality, then magic can never be immoral, as it is weighed almost entirely on impact. Intentions so rarely differ between mages and non-mages," Alistair stated this assertively, feeling that Doran's own regards to magic contradicted his beliefs.

But, there was much more to cover. They hadn't even begun on the subject of dangers.

Magic was dangerous, certainly. But it was as any other thing - violent and unpredictable to the violent and unpredictable. A calm, rational, patient mage could safely hone their craft. He had faced few unfortunate incidents amidst the development of his magic, and had done harm more often by prescribing conflicting medicines to his patients than with his spells going awry. However, for some people... there was immense risk. It was true.

"Ether is a limited resource. By acquiring a spark, mages gain a certain amount of ether to utilize for their purposes. We can grow in ether, and more efficiently use it, but often we do not realize when we... overstep, as we call it. This usually results in unfortunate physical consequences, but they are virtually all self-harming, not harmful to others. To provide an example; minor overstepping often results in nausea, headaches and dizziness, regardless of the domain. Moderate overstepping can lead to permanent physical alteration, called 'mutations', and severe overstepping can lead to mutations or considerably impacting effects... sometimes lethal ones. Sometimes, the penalty for overstepping varies based on the specific domain. A Rupturer may find difficulty navigating their surroundings, for example. Or... a Becomer - a shape changer - may find themselves temporarily stuck in a certain form. The risks of magic are many and variable, admittedly. But easy to mitigate with patience. I've trained my limits so extensively that I have a sort of... math for how close I may be to overstepping."

He felt that he had been speaking for over-long, so he receded in his speech to allow for Doran's response. There was a lot to cover still left for them, and surely the majority of it could not be mastered in one trial. But he felt they were making progress, in understanding magic and understanding each other.

[Doran Cooney]

The question was one Doran found himself asking as well. He listened closely to Alistair’s elucidation, lips turned in a slight frown of consideration. It was clear their difference in opinion was such that Doran would need to acquiesce for the time being. The difference, while clear to him, was muddied where Alistair was concerned. From what he had been taught, it seemed he had not had the liberty of determining morality on his own. It was decided for him, something that Doran imagined had been done for much of his life.

"While I can’t speak for anyone by myself, not really, I still don’t believe that the people would rise up because they believed you immoral for your failure." Even hyperbolic as it was, Doran didn’t like the idea of Alistair being targeted by a mob of any kind, imagined or real. Thus, when he spoke, his soft voice carried no humor in it. "Perhaps they might deem you incompetent, or… self-indulging, depending the nature of your blunder. But a moral choice does not always yield positive consequences." He wondered if Alistair would find the sentiment true in relation to their encounter before - as far as Doran was concerned, Alistair had made a moral choice, but neither he nor Doran had directly benefited from it, not in the way either of them would have preferred.

"For now, let us settle for ‘duty’ where you might otherwise say ‘moral’. They are inseparable to you, it would seem, and the change would provide some clarity for me as well." Though it was said as statement, his airy voice carried with it a tone of suggestion. There was no immediate need for Alistair to do so, but it would help to allow Doran to focus more on what Alistair said, rather than what he meant to say.

Having hardly spent much time thinking about the finer details of magic, Doran found it fairly surprising that many - or even “most” as Alistair claimed - of those who gained the power couldn’t even use it. That magic might be something difficult had never crossed his mind. One was never told cautionary tales of a mage too inept and untrained to utilize his abilities. The thought that fledgling mages were as capable as any other apprentice learning a craft with no prior knowledge or ability struck him as wholly peculiar, and he blinked blankly back at Alistair as he processed the information. "Oh."

What came next was a veritable forest of revelation, one in which Doran found himself completely lost. His brow furrowed, hearing the words but not wholly understanding them. Ether - the source of a mage’s power, if he remembered correctly - came from… the Dream? Any dream? And then there was the mention of spirits, clearly differentiated from humans, both of which seemed able to utilize what Alistair alleged to be the natural force of magic.

Spirits had always existed in folktales but never outside of them, not as far as Doran knew. If he understood what it was Alistair was saying, it seemed that spirits were not merely personifications of nature as Doran had grown to imagine them as - they were, apparently, an intrinsic part of Idalos. Though he had little idea what “ether” actually was, or what it had to do with dreams, he did catch Alistair’s odd assertion that, as magic was natural and designed - as it were - to interact with the world, it somehow meant that it did not destroy it.

Perhaps he had taken Doran’s example as to the dangers of early Rupturing a bit more literal than he’d intended, but storms and fire found their way to the forefront of his mind. He imagined, though, that such things were not part of the point Alistair was trying make: that magic was natural and did not, by nature, seek to break reality apart. Settling for the latter, Doran ran a hand through his hair, doing his best to keep up with his passionate companion.

Having already acquiesced his stance on morality, to some extent, Doran merely nodded at Alistair’s firm view that his magic was a moral imperative in their relationship, should it continue as they both desired. What came next, however, left him with a perplexed furrow of brow. He opened his mouth to respond, to refute in some way. After all, Alistair had essentially stated the Doran, by virtue of his idea of morality, found the members of the Coven to be faultless, in that regard.

But, as he searched for the words to correct him, to explain why what they did, allowing themselves to be corrupted by the will of another, tainted their own morality, he found none would come to mind. His mouth closed and opened several more times before he opted to sit quietly and stare back at Alistair with a mix of astonishment and consternation. Did he actually believe that magic was a neutral entity? The more he considered it, from the standpoint of morality, he found it aligned with his beliefs far more cohesively than before, when put into such context.

Still, it did not change that magic allowed one access - over time, it seemed - to power otherwise unattainable by men; and while power itself was neither good nor evil, it often seemed to lend itself towards the latter. Though it was no perfect change of mind, Doran could now clearly see things from a standpoint more aligned with Alistair’s own. Magic, itself, was just like any other force of nature: neither good, nor evil. Merely, it was, and those who harnessed it determined how it might be used.

Only just arriving at subtle revelation, Alistair continued right along. Though Doran tried, if what Alistair had said before - that regarding novice mages and their lack of ability that had yet to be honed - had been a forest, what he spoke of then was true labyrinth. Ether, sparks, overstepping, mutations, shape-shifters, and portal-weilders… he spoke so casually about things that seemed as though they might only exist within the overactive mind of a child’s imaginary world. He understood, at the least, that Alistair had outlined the basic repercussions of one’s magical missteps - or correctly, oversteps.

Those, at least, he understood to some extent. They were all, as he had prefaced, astonishingly centered around personal backlash. The realization that magic’s negative effects were mostly centered in the body and spirit of the mage that incurred them left Doran chewing thoughtful on his bottom lip, back slouched some as he mulled over the information. Should Alistair’s portals fail, he could be met with mutilation or even death, neither of which Doran wished on anyone - Alistair especially. But even that the mage had thought to explain, in a way that, truthfully, Doran didn’t understand but with confidence enough, he felt somewhat reassured.

"Then..." His eyes had since lost their focus, concentrated on his own thoughts as he was, and some time passed before he continued, his face a cloudy display of deliberation and consideration. "Then magic is a… a skill? A craft?" Just as a hammer could easily break one’s hand if wielded incorrectly, from what Alistair had explained, so too would magic. "And mages are..." He let out a tired sigh, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes for a moment.

"This is… a lot, Alistair. I’m no mage - nor scholar - and much of what you’ve said… I’m still trying to understand." He leaned back, hands pressed into the grassy dirt behind him as regarded the other mage, eyes focused on the other man’s face. He took a breath, gathering his thoughts in order, then proceeded. "Mages, as you would have me understand them and by my own ideology, are merely people utilizing an ability - no, a skill - that they must learn to weild and control. What they do with it is their choice, just as any man might make with a sword or bow."

He drew another breath, his voice calm and reflective, giving little indication that what he said was anything more than a brief recollection of what they had discussed to date. "Their magic, born from..." He clicked his tongue, thinking. "Is a natural force, something shared with… spirits. And other entities." The word “spirits” was said with some uncertainty, as Doran found them a harder thing to believe in than most else of what Alistair had already said, though a part of him wondered if it was merely because he needed something to find outlandish in order to accept the rest of it - whereas without it, it might all seem absolutely unbelievable.

"And this… force, ether? When wielded poorly, it affects he who wields it. Overstepping." Feeling very much as though he’d recited some child’s play, Doran let out a soft sigh, though he found himself grinning at the end. It was ridiculous. To accept what Alistair was saying was to restructure how he believed the world to be; it was more than just altering his views of magic and mages. Alistair was asking him - inviting him - to view the world from a completely different perspective. Though he couldn’t deny there was an allure, it didn’t make it any less difficult. "So… all this to say… your portals are nice, and if anything, they might give you a mild headache?"

[Alistair]

He understood why Doran decided it was best that they shifted the conversation. Alistair understood that his sense of the meaning of duty and morality were both nearly identical, though there were still some considerable distinctions that allotted 'morals' a different word - intentions and values did apply to his moral judgments, whereas his judgments of duty did not hold such emphasis. He did not completely tear away the aspect of intentions from morals, he merely... lessened its importance.

Still, there was not much else to add to that discussion, and so he allowed both he and Doran to subside for a moment in quiet thought. Alistair closed his eyes once more, his lips parting lightly as he exhaled the insulated air from his lungs. The sun fell lower - Alistair could see the lights beginning to fade out in the distance, some of the tables emptying of townsfolk. Time passed by so quickly when he spoke to Doran; he couldn't keep up with the change.

Alistair's thoughts were positive. On nearly every perspective, it seemed he'd budged Doran at least a little. The mage offered an alleviation to the superstition, a different way in which he could see the world, and the younger man showed immense maturity in being open to the contrarian perspectives that Alistair had spoken of. He even asked questions as he followed along, attempting to clarify and summarize the mage's statements.

"Yes," he simply replied, asserting that Doran's assumptions were by-in-large correct. However, he did want to inform Doran of the more metaphysical implications of magic, so as to not mislead him on the impact it could have on its wielder. "Magic is a skill, but the spark forms a symbiosis with the mage, which is what distinguishes magic from... tailoring. The spark contains ether, weaves it, helps the mage channel it. And, the spark weaves into the mage's being. Mutations are manifestations of that otherworldly symbiosis. There are other potential effects that change a very select few number of mages, but that is all an immensely complicated subject without much precedence. To give you an example of one such change that you may know of, the state of Lichdom - extreme but rare - is acquired by wholly melding with the spark and placing your soul into a... we'll call it a gem for simplicity's sake," the mage explained, though not too comprehensively.

This was all a part of telling Doran the whole truth, including things he might have been uncomfortable with. If the superstitions spoke of permanent changes to one's humanity upon attaining magedom, they were correct. These traits were not always considerable nor effective in altering one's personality or outlook, but mages lived through their changes differently. Alistair's life did change through mutations - now, he scarcely ate, only once every several trials... he literally hadn't defecated in an arc, as his magic-altered physiology did not create unwanted excrement. He used everything he ate, living off of a singular indulgence for so long a time.

That, too, was too complex. The more he spoke of magic to a non-mage, the more he realized how complicated it was. In a nutshell, the complexity of it formed the basis for its misrepresentation and fear. But, the peasantry was ignorant, and could scarcely weave together a proper sentence. He wouldn't bleat this out to Doran, but he found the far majority of commoners dull-witted and ridiculous. Magic would never be accepted by the barefoot, farm-dwelling masses. That was the reality.

"All of my portals are nice, yes," he responded quickly, breaking from his cynical thoughts. "I'm rather talented in Rupturing. Not all can say the same, however, and for the unskilled there are certainly risks. A portal created without focus and proper compression can result in horrid consequences. Death, for one . . . serious injury otherwise. The worst consequence is, of course, when the portal is wholly unstable and instantly shreds you to nothing upon entering. But I have mastered portal-work and Compression, and I also invented the intentional use of unstable portals to kill enemies. As such, my ability to distinguish the two and tell when my portals have imperfections is bar-none. I have never accidentally crafted an unstable portal in the last several arcs. Only when I was beginning, in Etzos, did I make such mistakes," he nodded, embellishing his track record. Rupturers did not often fail once they'd truly mastered the art of portals, and an even half-competent Rupturer knew just by looking at an unstable portal that it likely held some imperfection.

"But, if you feel unsure of portals after that, I'll say this: when I open a portal for you to come see me, it will be done with a Sundial, a conduit for focusing and guiding structurally adequate long-distance portals. Sorry - complicated, as you know," he laughed lightly. The mage was well aware of how ridiculous it all sounded. "I just -- don't want you to have the pretense that there's no such thing as a botched portal. I certainly wouldn't make one unless under extreme duress, and really not even then, but... I'm telling you this for if a random portal shows up and you ever feel the inclination to step in: don't. Trust my portals alone," Alistair advised, noting that the wind had begun to flow in from the mountains, the chill coming through. The man offered his companion an arm around the shoulder, to provide warmth if nothing else.

He would, of course, continue with the subtle and non-subtle romantic gestures... perhaps one of them would even be accepted.

Even if not, he'd carry on.

"So," he started, peering up into the darkening sky, "Would you like some dinner, Doran? We could go home and have a meal; talk more if you'd like. I... saved the space in my stomach for if you came by," he said, awkwardly laughing. "You probably don't get what I mean, but... basically I'm hungry."

[Doran Cooney]

So simple a response to so complicated a subject was received with a relieved nod, though the respite was brief as Doran caught the spark flare in Alistair’s eyes, signalling there was more to come. Bracing himself, he leaned forward once more, arms absently wrapping loosely around his midsection to keep the heat of the fading day from completely deserting him as the sun had already begun to set. Time had passed quickly, and Doran had yet to take any conscious notice of it.

The time had come, it seemed, to further explore the “spark”. Though it was not the sole focus of what Alistair wished to impart, Doran made a point to listen as closely as he was able. While he had already managed to gather the “spark” was the term for whatever it was that allowed mages to interact with the domain they wished to influence, it seemed that it was more than a… switch. From what he gathered of the explanation, it seemed to be more of a conduit for ether, one that apparently merged with the mage’s… being - soul?

It didn’t sound particularly pleasant, and, if a foreign entity becoming one with one's soul was not enough, there seemed to be more to the “spark’s” integration. Though Doran had, of course, heard tales of terrible, soulless undead - like much of what Alistair had already presented as so much fact - he’d never thought them to be real. He found himself squinting at the explanation of their creation; even simplified, he couldn’t really wrap his mind around putting one’s soul into a… rock - or merging with some mysterious maybe object called a "spark", for that matter. Still, he nodded slowly, understanding the basic concept of what Alistair was trying to share with him.

Magic was dangerous and powerful. That much of the legends and stories was accurate, and Alistair hadn't shied away from reiterating that. It was merely that the path to such strength was one fraught with hazard more so to the mage than anyone around him - though clearly succumbing to some of them presented peril to the world at large. With time, though, it seemed to be as reliable as any other skill might be, if not with a bit farther reaching of influence than most.

He appreciated the candor, at the very least, as it would have been easy for Alistair to simply ignore all the unsavory corners of his craft and focus on purely trying to assuage Doran’s worries, and he found the more he knew about magic, the less ambiguously frightening it was. Instead, he was able to form very specific fears - something he wasn’t entirely sure was better or worse than before.

While perhaps Doran should have considered Alistair’s confidence a boast, the man didn’t linger upon the laurels he bestowed himself. If anything, it was yet another, more subtle attempt to reassure him, something he seemed to have been doing for the entirety of their discussion. The “various” outcomes of faulty portals seemed all to revolved around death; their variations apparently more so in how one died not if. In all their talk of magic, Alistair had not once mentioned utilizing it to harm. Thus, when he continued to casually explain how he had weaponized his portals, seemingly an optimization of what would normally be a mistake, the sheen of interest in Doran’s eyes clouded with uncertainty.

He supposed it was unfair to place judgement on Alistair then and there - after all, he had already been well aware that Alistair’s hands were not free from blood - he’d admitted as much already. Still, it was a difficult thing for Doran to consider: that the magic he spoke so highly of wasn’t merely just a tool to “better” humanity, but a sword with which to cull it as well. For the time being, he kept the reservation to himself as much as he could. It would be a discussion for another time.

While he nodded at Alistair’s warning, as the arm moved to wrap around him, Doran instead caught his hand with his own. "My inclination to step into anything that vaguely resembles a tear in space is almost non-existent. But I promise I will do my absolute best to trust yours." He patted the hand, aware of what Alistair had intended, but not quite ready to find himself in a position where his own movement would be restricted - even if he was getting a bit chilly.

He hadn’t realized how dark it had become until Alistair drew his attention to it. Eyes widening in surprise, blinked back at the other man with a clear expression of wonder. "Is it that late already?" Quirking up the corner of one of his brows in confusion as to the particularly queer choice of words Alistair had used to describe his current state of affairs, Doran shifted about on the grass, getting his feet beneath him before standing up, Alistair’s hand still in his as he pulled an offer to help the other up.

"Is it an effect of past overstepping? A… mutation?" His eyes glanced at Alistair’s stomach, curious if not a little sad, as he brought his gaze back up to Alitair’s level. "Do you not typically eat?" Gently squeezing the hand in his, he grinned, "Then I will consider this an invitation to a rare event, of which, I gratefully accept. And thank you, for all of this." His voice fell to a quiet murmur. "You have given me much to mull over."

[Alistair]

He had gained two victories in the last few bits alone. One, Doran promised to give Alistair's portals a shot, and two... even though he did not allow the mage to wrap his arm around his shoulders, he'd laced their fingers together to hold hands. If anything, this was better to him, so the sting of rejection waned within instants.

"You're wise, Doran," he stated, with praise. "The portal is, in essence, a tear in space. I'm impressed that you managed to gather that just from my description." Genuinely, Doran was an incredibly articulate and intellectual individual. He was much as the nobles claimed to be - fair-minded, patient, reasonable and generous in his interpretation of others and their words. He was... good, and his intellect was much of the source of his goodness. He did not have the lack of neurological components required to allow for intensive, unethical, illogical bigotry.

He understood Alistair, saw through him. And despite that, he liked him. It meant a great deal.

Nodding at the state of the sunset, he rose to follow Doran's movements, being sure to keep their hands locked as he proudly gleamed at his companion. He did not really know what to call him, yet - but they seemed to be together, and with the usage of portals finally agreed upon, they would stay together. And, on this night, they would enjoy that togetherness.

Of course, he would have to admit that they wouldn't be able to eat together very often. Socially, it was a rather unfortunate downside to his mutations. "Yes," he nodded, before his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes seem to grow confused. "Well, no," Alistair corrected himself. "I developed it as a result of my spark developing. Even more complicated. I've had overstepping... penalties, but thus far they've been temporary," he said. Alistair didn't use magic aggressively enough to seriously overstep - he barely used it at all, only keeping up with it to ensure he wasn't declining in skill. This would change eventually as his ambitions came to heel, but for now, he did not worry about overstepping and other such various issues.

But - that was besides the point. Doran was grateful, and so was Alistair. The noble bowed his head slightly, kissing Doran on the cheek. Then, facing towards Cappola, he beckoned for the other man to keep up with him as their hands remained locked.

"Thank you, too," he said, earnestly. "You've shown me your trust, and I value that. More importantly, it means it all can work," Alistair noted happily, as the two returned to the ranch, stepping through the grassy knolls, darkened fields and the seemingly arid dirt directly surrounding Cappola. Alistair enthused in his own mind about the satisfaction of this trial. It had been good, and it was only going to be greater. He finally had something to look forward to, and that meant the world.

[Oracle]

I really enjoyed reading the conversation and debate between you two. It was interesting to see how your characters' personal biases effected their opinions on mages and magic. Alistair is clearly pushing for mages to be regarded with less fear and prejudice. A worthy goal to attain. Yet Doran possessed a healthy wariness of mages, while not possessing any sort of prejudice toward them, he is suspicions of their ability to contain the potential dangers of their magic. I must say that I agree with many of his reservations personally. Magic always has the potential of being dangerous.

However you both did an excellent job of making a case for your respective opinions. The writing in this thread was top notch from both of you. You both have a wonderful command of detail, providing little hints of the scenery unfolding around you. The plot structure was also very solid. This was a well structured debate that addressed one of the most relevant topics in Idalos. I hope to see more conversations like this in the future. Well done! Enjoy your rewards.

Alistair

Points

XP: 15
This may not be used for domain magic.

Renown

N/A

Loot

None

Injuries

None

Knowledge

Storytelling: Telling a story with passion
Storytelling: Convincing someone with a story
Storytelling: Telling a story of heroism
Persuasion: Putting emphasis
Persuasion: Telling the whole truth to build trust
Persuasion: Trust can veer someone towards being persuaded
Teaching: Attempting to simplify incredibly complex concepts
Teaching: Objectively offering facts about a taught subject
Teaching: Being patient with the one you're guiding
Negotiation: Making an agreement to try something Non-Skill Knowledge

Doran

Points

XP:15
This may not be used for domain magic.

Renown

N/A

Loot

None

Injuries

None

Knowledge

Rupturing: The History of Reyard Seymour
Rupturing: Portal Magic
Rupturing: Portals Created Through Intention
Rupturing: The Spark Links Master and Student
Rupturing: The Degrees of Overstepping
Rupturing: Potential Outcomes of Overstepping
Rupturing: Not All Portals Are the Same
Rupturing: Potential Outcomes of Unstable Portals
Becoming: Shape-shifting Magic

Non-Skill Knowledge
Magic: Born from the Spark
Magic: An Everyday Part of Trade
Magic: A Skill Like Any Other
Magic: Ether - The Source of a Mage’s Power
Magic: Ether - Comes from The Dream
Magic: A Naturally Occurring Power
Magic: Dangers of Overstepping
Magic: Potentiality of Mutations
Magic: The Spark - Merges With the Soul
Magic: The Spark - A Conduit for Ether
Magic: How a Lich Is Created
Magic: Mistakes Can Become Weapons

Spirits: Fact, Not Fiction
Spirits: Naturally Wield Magic

Reyard Seymour: Biqaj
Reyard Seymour: The First Rupturer

Alistair: Duty Is Closely Linked to Morality
Alistair: Magic Is a Tool
Alistair: Doesn’t Need to Eat Often