[Warrick] Stirring the Pot

[Alistair]

8th of Saun, Arc 717

Victor Warrick.

I met with him today. Strong brown hair, masculine face, soldierly frame; his body comes from a thick set and if not for recent endeavors into the bottle, his musculature would be described as nigh perfection to many. He carries a deep voice, broad shoulders and a strong composition; the way he stands is impressive to say the least, inspirational to be entirely honest. Yet within him stands a commitment to alcoholism developing from years of abstaining in such temptations.

Is the coming end to his military career the herald of this new and darkly fixation? Is he fearful of his recent emergence as the first-in-line of Warrick, a title he never expected to bear? Is he traumatized by the death of his brother? I don't know. Our meeting was... brief. I need to meet with him more - learn his mannerisms, his personality, the very fluctuations of his voice from that... baritone chamber of his.

He's a compelling man, to be sure. Additionally however, a threat to my longevity in Warrick's politics. I'll be reaching out to Wren Warrick tomorrow to prepare an engagement with Olivia, to be solidified this season. As such, I cannot dispose of Victor in an accident or anything that would likely compel others to imagine he was assassinated, particularly by the ones who would benefit from it the most - myself, Wren and Olivia.

He will need to be disenfranchised. For this, I have a clever process in mind, and it is why as of current I study his mannerisms, voice, appearance and procedure.

Done. His pen flicked across the paper one final stroke, and afterwards, he threw the parchment into the fire. His thoughts were properly organized - utilizing the Transformer's Toolbox of Sesser, he would take on the appearance, voice and personality of Victor once he'd further mastered it. The aim was to isolate him from the politics of his region, forcing him into a downtrodden position at the bottom of the Duchy's scale. What did this accomplish? His removal from the inheritance, placing it to Wren Warrick, Olivia's mother.

If Alistair could not secure his own Duchy, he had a great ally in Warrick, and the modest farmer's house was far from prepared for the political scheming of their neighbor Duchy. Alistair's rise would be swift, but only if he fought in earnest.

[Alistair]

He looked to the mirror. Back at him, a different face stared - though not one he recognized entirely. It was an image formed from the perception of Victor in his mind, though altogether it wasn't entirely accurate. Victor appeared more young and handsome than he did in the flesh - he'd carved onto him more than just his contemporary vision, but also an image of the man he remembered in his younger days. Perception affected so much of the Transformer's Toolbox, particularly when one did not have the intended subject directly before them.

He had to think of... today. The smile he wore, the grin, the bellowing voice that came with his laughter. Each wrinkle, each curve in his face. Alistair was not an artist, but he would need to sculpt his appearance in perfection. His hair began to alter, transforming in length and growing thicker, with a thin pony tail growing from the top of his head and running down. He lightened the color slightly, an amber shade of golden brown.

The face came afterward, slowly sculpting it to match his memory, making a variety of expressions in conjunction to accurately place his particular definitive features. He wasn't far off, but so far the transformation wasn't perfect, not in his hair, face and certainly not in his voice. He would need to manipulate the projected sounds that arrived from his chords, a talent given to him by the mark, but not one he'd particularly mastered.

"I am Victor Warrick, Baron of the Realm and Heir Apparent," he spoke in a deep, thick voice. It wasn't quite correct - several octaves off, and with a certain 'oomph' missing in it. It seemed difficult to properly mimic someone else's voice.

"I am Victor Warrick, Baron of..." No, wrong again. Alistair... or Victor, one might say, exhaled through his nose in frustration. "I am Victor Wa-"

Wrong. It was too deep now, and not distinctive enough. It sounded more like a default, bleak voice with almost a monotone ring to it. It didn't sound quite like a real person, and altogether did not channel the unique volume of Victor's tone.

"I am Victor Warrick, Baron of the Realm and Heir Apparent," he spoke out, nodding. That was far more accurate, though still not perfect. He would need to refine his tone to be more - him. If he was not convincing even Victor's most trustworthy allies of his assumed identity, he would not have been able to properly derail the man's reputation. The commoners could not be the only ones to espouse distaste for him, the House itself needed detach itself from his image.

Regardless, he'd made enough progress there. Next, the face... more convincingly, at least.

[Alistair]

No matter how he sculpted his face, perfection evaded him. He was not quite right - there was always something wrong. Alistair found himself projecting traits he wanted to project, instead of necessarily the most accurate ones. Unfortunately, this partly derived from the fact that he'd not properly gauged all of his features, and decided it would be impossible to accurately sculpt his transformative face solely on memory of the previous proceedings.

The mage was in a Warrick estate, however, on diplomatic duty. If there was any opportunity to find a portrait or realism painting of Lord Victor, it would be in one such place. Particularly, there was an observational area of the estate dedicated to the family's historical and residential membership, likely to include the current heir and most eminent baron. The mage drew his fine stopwatch from his vest pocket, prepared to engage in silence away from other intending eyes. Drawing from his chair, he normalized his voice and appearance, stepping out into the hall and maneuvering towards the area of Warrick's artistic representations.

Alistair moved to the burgundy wood door, turning the knob and peeking in. No one was present within the room, good. After closing the door behind him, he first checked the walls to view the paintings, before his eye fixed itself on what was clearly a recently commissioned painting of Lord Victor. Perfect. He held the stopwatch near to his chest and opened it, the world around him altering as he was placed into a pocket of altered time. Everything on the outside froze, while everything within remained contained, freely manipulable without others capable of encroaching.

Alistair had one full hour, or break, of this seclusion. Staring into the painting, he molded his face to match it, studying each of the man's particular aesthetic traits as he crafted his face alternatively. He had a face of average length and width, with cheeks that did not press outward, nor an unnecessarily jutting jaw. His jaw was in fact typical and unspectacular, and the same applied to his nose, though his nose shape was enviable enough by some metrics. He had a fairly plainly shaded face with typical stubble, and a flat, broad forehead with only slightly indented wrinkles. The shade of his hair was a ginger sort of brown, and his length was longer than he remembered, though the portrait appeared to be accurate by further recollection.

There was no mirror present in the portrait room, but Alistair did not need one. He would be able to open a Scrying portal into this room now if he imagined himself to have made an error, which would allow him remote access to the painting's visuals.

He closed his stopwatch and placed it in his vest pocket once more, though time remained stagnant outside. Reverting his face, the mage took a breath, stepping around the room to observe the other paintings. Alston Warrick, the Duke. Isabel, his wife. There even appeared to be Karl Venora nee Warrick, Alistair's grandfather, the brother of the current Warrick Duke.

Victor, Wren, Ned. Lazuli, Lei'lira - but less contemporary. Olivia, too, had a painting. She was beautiful, she was, and certainly his favorite cousin now that Theodore had passed. This was the house he was meant to domineer - he would need to remember their names, faces, who they were, what they believed. What they wanted. If necessary, he did not want to have to defame, slander and smear them. He wanted their loyalty, their faith. Could that be obtained peacefully?

...Maybe. While far from a confident answer, he had to confess that this was as far as his assurances could go.

Stepping away from the art along the walls, he opened the door, time returning to its proper form as he stepped through the hallway back to the room he resided in. Seating himself before the mirror, he shaped his face once more, and saw a wholly different man staring back at him. This... was a lot better. A spitting image, with one or two minor errors like a missing flaw on the skin. He'd amend those.

Regardless, the expression he found himself wearing was a frown. Did he really want to destroy this man's life? To have him removed of the inheritance, spat upon by his peers, exiled by the family?

It was a terrible thing to do - but how else could he convince him to descend from his chair? His thoughts ran with ideas. Too many of them were unkind.

[Neronin]

Review

Alistair

Knowledges:
Disguise: Examining the subject’s face
Disguise: Examining the subject’s voice
Disguise: Utilizing a painting for visual accuracy
Disguise: Exploring the expressions of a disguise
Investigation: searching for visual inspiration
Research: Researching one’s model

House Warrick: Victor Warrick’s Likeness
House Warrick: Alston Warrick’s Likeness
House Warrick: Isabel Warrick’s Likeness
House Warrick: Wren Warrick’s Likeness
House Warrick: Ned Warrick’s Likeness
House Warrick: Olivia Warrick’s Likeness

Loot: None
Injuries: None
Fame: None
Devotion: None

Points: 10 points

Comments: Cool Stopwatch! I think Alistair is so meticulous in his vile plots and that is what makes him most dangerous. I loved this little thread, which is clearly one piece to a much larger story. It was well written with only one or two minor errors. I added a research knowledge there because it seemed fitting. Can’t wait to read more.