505-SPRING-20
Pitrius Citadel
Aravon Blackhand Pitrius stood with his arms akimbo, the obsidian and pale limbs contrasting strongly, as he glared at the two bowed heads before him. He was one of the more established magecrafters of what was known as the 'magical clan' of the Isurs, and his forte was the niche of died wires and the application thereof, namely Magic Staves. However, he was also the distant uncle of two rather discordant nephews whom he was supposed to motivate due to a favour owed to their respective families.
Why do both of them have to call in the exact same favour at the exact same time? Aravon silently grumbled as he continued his chastising stare.
"Sorry, Uncle Aravon. I will stop fussing and work quietly," The younger of the two Isurs, Aedifex Aghanim Pitrius, piped up meekly. He was the main reason for this debacle, since he was used to working alone as the sole apprentice to any masters or teachers that he had, especially in the magecrafting lab. When faced with the appearance of yet another Isur to share his current master with, he had raised a tantrum.
"What about you?" Aravon directed his attention to the other Isur, demanding his affirmation of cooperation. Magecrafting was a highly sensitive discipline that required the utmost concentration especially during collaborations or the project was bound to fail. Better to do it alone than to do it with grudging partners.
When he was satisfied with both of their answers, his expression softened and he began to address the two.
"Your families have tasked me to instruct you both in the ways of Staffmaking. Since I am about to complete a small commission, I might as well take you both through the process. I have been informed that the both of you have received training in Magecrafting fundamentals, so I will skip straight to the real things," Aravon declared, leading his two nephews downstairs where his personal wizarding laboratory was situated.
Upon entering the dim cavern, both Isurs would see a circle of candles lighting up the centre of the room, where a single pedestal stood with a roughly hewn staff laid precariously atop of it. The pedestal seemed worn with age with its partially cracked marble, but multitude upon multitude of runes were glyphed around it like tattoos upon skin.
"Before we begin, I need to know what other forms of arcana do you know, and what level of mastery have you achieved? Honesty is very important here," Aravon began, his eyes contemplating the two youths before him as his tone conveyed the severity of his intention.
"Merunir? Why don't you start?"
Pitrius Citadel
Aravon Blackhand Pitrius stood with his arms akimbo, the obsidian and pale limbs contrasting strongly, as he glared at the two bowed heads before him. He was one of the more established magecrafters of what was known as the 'magical clan' of the Isurs, and his forte was the niche of died wires and the application thereof, namely Magic Staves. However, he was also the distant uncle of two rather discordant nephews whom he was supposed to motivate due to a favour owed to their respective families.
Why do both of them have to call in the exact same favour at the exact same time? Aravon silently grumbled as he continued his chastising stare.
"Sorry, Uncle Aravon. I will stop fussing and work quietly," The younger of the two Isurs, Aedifex Aghanim Pitrius, piped up meekly. He was the main reason for this debacle, since he was used to working alone as the sole apprentice to any masters or teachers that he had, especially in the magecrafting lab. When faced with the appearance of yet another Isur to share his current master with, he had raised a tantrum.
"What about you?" Aravon directed his attention to the other Isur, demanding his affirmation of cooperation. Magecrafting was a highly sensitive discipline that required the utmost concentration especially during collaborations or the project was bound to fail. Better to do it alone than to do it with grudging partners.
When he was satisfied with both of their answers, his expression softened and he began to address the two.
"Your families have tasked me to instruct you both in the ways of Staffmaking. Since I am about to complete a small commission, I might as well take you both through the process. I have been informed that the both of you have received training in Magecrafting fundamentals, so I will skip straight to the real things," Aravon declared, leading his two nephews downstairs where his personal wizarding laboratory was situated.
Upon entering the dim cavern, both Isurs would see a circle of candles lighting up the centre of the room, where a single pedestal stood with a roughly hewn staff laid precariously atop of it. The pedestal seemed worn with age with its partially cracked marble, but multitude upon multitude of runes were glyphed around it like tattoos upon skin.
"Before we begin, I need to know what other forms of arcana do you know, and what level of mastery have you achieved? Honesty is very important here," Aravon began, his eyes contemplating the two youths before him as his tone conveyed the severity of his intention.
"Merunir? Why don't you start?"