Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

He really did calm down, and now spoke like a rational human being. Quaint. Alistair would certainly miss their wild vulgarity, and of course all of the thrashing, but he had to admit it was certainly better for both of their well-being to not go around contemplating the massacre of townships. Besides, Alistair had spent all of his trial previously trying to help war-torn towns. Now was not the time to start killing them.

He'd save that for enemy towns, something considered perfectly moral and justifiable, including by his own metrics.

"Jonathan," he said, nodding. "Daeva," he added. "Your familiar has a name? Oh lord. I thought we were supposed to treat them as soulless ether repositories - Immortals be praised, how wrong I've been," he rolled his eyes. That was Ellasin's way of doing it, anyhow. But her spirits were different - they weren't Harvesters, but other things. Skinwalkers, similar entities. She hollowed out their mind and took control, and used them as naught more than second and third sets of eyes.

Well, Jon was sweet enough when he wasn't swapping emotional states every three trills. Alistair supposed he could take him on as a student, particularly considering it had been a while since he'd had one, and most of his apprenticeships didn't last long. They always scurried off once it was clear that he was only teaching them magic so that he could utilize them as a pawn against the Coven.

Before he said anything, though, Daeva spoke. She referred to Alistair as his 'master in all things,' and tasked Jonathan with 'submitting to him'. The mage nearly burst out in laughter; this was absurd. This whole trial was. But he felt great, better than in nearly a whole arc. He felt confident, and worthy, and like he was finally being acknowledged - respected. He wasn't being bossed around by Damien, or cleaning up Kleine's shit, or lamenting Fridgar. He was Alistair, a master mage. He'd almost forgotten how far he'd come.

"Don't call me master," he said sternly, as the Harvester swirled into dissipated... nothingness. "You can call me Ser. That's more knightly than... slave-y, and I'd like to consider myself a mage for the common good," he half-teased, half confessed. "Anyhow, just because that spirit bitch started yapping about me being your instructor, doesn't mean it's going to happen. You have worse than zero qualifications at the moment, considering our only encounter has been me saving you from immediate self-destruction," the man continued to demean him, likely because he continued to be satisfied by doing so.

"Pop in by Kaelserad in two trials, it's in the town of Ki'eiran. I have something to prepare for on the twenty sixth. Until then, clean up your fucking act," the mage demanded, before flapping his pinky playfully to initiate a blink, as he disappeared entirely from the scene.