• Memory • [The Seeker's Hideaway] Confiscation (Istil)

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 Seeker's Hideaway] Confiscation (Istil)

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Given the nature of this thread, Istil will establish the timestamp in his post.
It was not often that the task of expulsion fell to Inquisitor Venser Rush himself, but in the midst of the Burning catastrophe and Istil's incompatibility with any of the other Seekers that sought to take over his tutelage, it fell to the man to do this last job. He held the young man's conduit in his hand, a total of four others adorning his wrist as tooth-like charms, each of which glittering in the bright light of Viden's Seekers' Hideaway.

A frown materialized upon the Inquisitor's lips as he held the ring in his left, dominant hand, closing his fist over it. Willing mana towards his conduit, Venser took a breath, tossing the arcane conduit that once belonged to Istil into the air. It was so simple for Rush to muster the will to cast his spell, mana woven, filtered through the conduit and released. Force was directed narrowly, an focal point established both above and below the suspended conduit. Pulling from both points, the conduit was ripped apart, its shards left on the floor for someone else to clean up as the sorcerer advanced.

A single hand raised to allow the Inquisitor's fingers to sift through his hair, brushing the short locks to each side before he raised his fingers to his throat. Again, he willed another spell, weaving mana into his second, Amplification conduit, opening the window to his office with his free hand as he called out, "Istil Armas, the Inquisitor will see you in his office." Venser's voice was augmented, the deeper tunes of his voice picked up by the arcana at work, propelling the vibrations through the air with a greater and more readily heard force than one would hear otherwise.

Many of the Neophytes within the Hideaway would turn at the sound, though when they found it was not their name called, they continued with their business as usual. While Venser waited for Istil to heed his call, he set a number of sheets of paper aside, all filled with script and filed reports of the Burning incident that had happened so recently. Was the young man scarred by his master's fall to insanity? Or had he been adequately warned? Venser needed to figure for himself whether or not Istil was to leave the Hideaway and by what means. Of course, he had the Illusionist handy to assist in this endeavor, should the need arise, however Venser very much doubted that such a contingency was necessary.

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[The Seeker's Hideaway] Confiscation (Istil)

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28th Cylus, Arc 711

Istil sat in his small room His hands pressed together as he stared off into the distance the images of his masters last moments burned into his mind. The sight of a man as powerful as he was having fallen into the depts. Of madness. Into that vapid depravity was something which was not going to leave Istil’s mind for many years yet. He flexed the fingers of his left hand. Reliving the moment when his own master crushed himself into a fine paste once the push of his own gravitation had knocked loose a few stones of the ceiling. After that there were rumours spreading that it was Istil himself who’d spread the cause of insanity throughout his masters mind.

Sadly no such thing had occurred but people liked to make scapegoats. Fall guys for incidents that they refused to believe. And the moment that these rumours began to circulate it wasn’t that he was incompatible with any of the sorcerers, more that none would take him through the black whispers of these malicious rumours. Istil sat lightly on the edge of his seat tinkering over the last of his things. A small poison that he’d only recently discovered. High concentrations could kill. Low? A simple heavy sleep effect. His conduit had been taken and for all he knew had been shattered into a million pieces by this point. Expulsion was on the horizon. Even a neophyte who hadn’t been here as long as he had could see that.

Right now however was about meticulous preparation over the last of the tools and trinkets in his small room. He’d have to leave it all behind and just take with him what he could carry. He’d have to return later under scrutiny probably to make sure that all his tools weren’t taken with him so instead he’d have to tuck away and hide some small things. A pouch of this poison in his shirt. A small pouch of coin in his pants. In his undergarments he’d have to store something a little more delicate. And that delicate item he planned to relieve another member of before he left. He wasn’t going to be kicked out under false pretences for nobody. At least not empty handed.

Finally the call had reached him. His room communal dorm room empty. He stepped out of his personal bed chambers and with a small flick dropped a small amount of powder into the water. The knock out poison would have time to mix with the jug of water on the side and become dispersed before the others arrived back. If nothing else a back-up plan. He exited slowly straightening up the robes that hung over his shoulders the chest open showing the black vest he wore beneath.

A short walk no more than a couple of minutes and he stood outside of the inquisitors chambers. He knocked twice, once to alert one as he pushed the door in. Behind the near silver-white eyes a cool glare. Not one of malice or ill intent but of acknowledgement. He knew why he was here, and he didn’t need it spelled out for him. He opened his mouth to speak and out flowed a voice of nobility and understanding.
“Forgive my tardiness inquisitor. It’s hard to arrive with attentiveness when there are odd looks and rather… Uncomfortable and unwelcome glances in your direction at every turn. I understand however that you wanted a word with me?”

As usual his voice was almost lined with an odd smugness that wasn’t of it’s intent, just a by-product of the words he chose and how he chose to say them. Sometimes people often mistook an educated tone for an arrogant one. He just held onto the slightly fading hope that the inquisitor was one who knew the difference.
Last edited by Istil on Tue Apr 26, 2016 10:50 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 659
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[The Seeker's Hideaway] Confiscation (Istil)

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One did not rise to the Inquisitor rank in the Seekers without their due intuitiveness. Though Venser Rush was often criticized by the other three Inquisitors for lacking in judgment and the ability to compose himself, though it was his very nature that made him so compatible with the arcana that he sought to share with his inferiors. He'd spent years delving into arcana, the limelight of his youth poured into tearing into the Fractures at the behest of his superiors at the time, all in waiting for the day that he would sit in their chair. Venser Rush, though he was young and rash, had proven his worth, and today, he was to demonstrate what that worth afforded him. A hand rose to brush through the blonde strands of his hair once more, the man leaning back in his seat as he waited patiently for the abandoned Neophyte to come to him. The Rush pulled at his awareness of the world about him, reaching into the essence of mana about him as he sorted through the papers at his desk. Whilst he read the reports of what had happened he tracked the Eidisi's movements, watching with the Sight as he traversed hallways in his approach.

"There's little need for theatrics, Istil. You know why you're here, and though it's regrettable, your expulsion from the Seekers is mandatory. You've been unable to persuade any of the Sorcerers in the cell to take you as their Neophyte, though you have been given ample time to do so. I even called several more than would ordinarily be here, to no avail. Unfortunately, none seem comfortable enough to take you as their student. Rumours of insanity and even tampering with your late master's conduit have reached the ears of the Sorcerers, and though I'm not inclined to believe in such rumours, it is the unfortunate hand that you are dealt. Your conduit has already been destroyed, and this meeting is merely my show of sympathy, for I know how it feels to be in your position..."

There was, indeed, no shortage of sympathy for Istil in Venser's heart. He, too, had been on the verge of expulsion, though rather as an Acolyte. In his time as an Acolyte, Venser had experienced a surge while casting that had been too great, a Gravitation spell loosed causing great damage to one of the wards that he'd placed himself into. Of course, rather than expulsion, he had received a promotion due to his ability to sway the Seekers of his utility, though clearly, Istil had no such ability. A frown materialized upon the Inquisitor's lips as he watched the Neophyte's reaction, hoping to get a read on his intentions. However, he'd never taken to Empathy and was not as well-versed in reading the intentions of others as he'd liked to be.

"You have until the end of today to gather your things and leave the Hideaway. If you make any attempts to... seize... anything that is not yours, you will be met with resistance. For your own sake, Istil, take care of yourself. Perhaps, however, you can continue your tutelage elsewhere. Viden's Seeker cell is no longer your home, though there are other Seeker cells in the north. Take what you've learned and perhaps it can be of use to you again someday."
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[The Seeker's Hideaway] Confiscation (Istil)

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The situation had progressed perhaps even better than Istil himself had assumed. Though he could see the stern attentiveness to the rules in the inquisitor the words he chose and the exact manner of them was something that Istil paid close attention too. Though the speech about rumours and how they’d approached his ears was something fairly banal.

“It is a regrettable series of events that have unfolded. And it is a shame that the inquisitor himself has had to deal with the matter. Again I apologize for the abrupt coyness of the conflagration, one can never be too sure as to whom is watching given the number of enemies and allies one attains whilst researching the arcane arts. As you yourself know. If I may Inquisitor, would I be permitted to gather the broken fragments of what was once my conduit? As you well know I’ve had no training in the art of constructing them. So repairing the fragments would be out of the question. However if at all possible I would still very much like too keep the shards as a memento of my time here, if that would be sufficient reasoning?”

Istils actions were measured. If given the alright to gather the fragments he would do so with expeditious foresight. Knowing that people with sufficient levels of attumenent could see the magical effects of items such as conduits even carrying the shards might give some people pause. However if he was to “alleviate” something that technically was rightfully his, then by all means it would have been invaluable to have something to hide the acquired item within. Like some people took to hiding elicit goods and other harmful substances within coffee to mask the smells, this would be a similar avenue of thought, hiding something of a magical presence amongst the broken remnants of another magical item.

“I thank you for your time Inquisitor, as for the end of the day… By this entitlement of time, I surmise I have around twelve hours to gather my belongings and make good my farewell. An ample ad more than fair amount of time. Though I do find it a shame that I was not able to take up tutelage under yourself. Alas somethings must just be left to be. Although inquisitor on top of the small request I would like to make just one more. For the next hour or so once I return to my dorm, could I please have the watchful eye of the sorcerers off of me… I wish simply to be left to express my emotions undisturbed. It’s a pitiful sight to see a grown man be brought to tears.” Istil gave a hollow smile, as much as it was empty of joy it was one of respect and sentimentality.

Control your words, control your actions. Eventually if nothing else you’ll alleviate the bastard that did this too you of his conduit and take it as yours before you leave this place. Provided that everything goes off without a hitch. Istil’s actions shifted lightly as he motioned towards the door. His shoulders slumped and the aura of a prideful man was gone this was one of a remorse and deep seeded sadness. A brief flash before the show of educated planned and well thought out demeanour returned as he slipped the door open. To any and all looking at him they’d simply see a prideful man motioning to make his way from a life he’d known for five years. If anyone looked a little closer they’d see the resolve in his eyes, the resolve to leave with his head held high. Any closer than then they’d potentially see the gears inside his head turning as he motioned through the points of his plan. They’d be able to glean that he wasn’t leaving completely empty handed.

He planned to take his set of poison crafting tools with him. Mundane and unenhanced in any way this would be a much easier thing to slip out from under the noses of people. The conduit however… There was the challenge and a lot of things there hinged upon whether or not... One the poisons had worked, and two the shards of his old conduit.
Last edited by Istil on Tue Apr 26, 2016 10:50 pm, edited 1 time in total. word count: 716
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