[PK Post] - The Hubris of Magi

[IsaaKc 1225]

A slim, impure, gambeson-clad mali'aheral by the name of Judas Curseus had declined into a deranged state. His mentor, Sarrion, had given him everything and shaped him into the man he was today. However, much to the impure's dismay, the teachings instilled in him by Sarrion and a handful of respectful Magi did not hold up to Judas' observations, including his own mentor, which had forfeited the honor in his craft much to Judas' chagrin. He had expected the gifts of the Arcane to be a seldom used force not taken for granted by the everyday Evocationist; the common disregard of their craft by the general populace of Magi angered Judas. This hatred towards most Magi developed into a deleterious obsession with himself and an ultimately hopeless dream to become the embodiment of the Void's vile gifts, something of similar being to the Voidal Transcendents that his mentor had once embraced—all in a quest to display the fruits of a well-taught thaumaturgist's labor in comparison to the off-beat pyromancer. Just as a writers' block may demotivate the author, decades of pointless progress Judas first thought to be paramount to his goal of transcendence would weather the Mage's spirit and mind. 

 

The commoners of the forlorn streets of Sutica would bear witness to Judas' final expression of frustration. The Mage initiated an altercation upon seeing a Mage he deemed largely incompetent—Serenity Al'Abass—and was soon pinned down by Sutican Minister of Peace, Domonic Elmoran, a few Sutican guards, a couple commoners, and ironically, his own instructor. Judas felt a tightness in his chest as his vision began to fade, having thrown out incantation after incantation with little regard for Mana, the very lifeforce that had taken him as far as he had come.

 

"This. . .is all on you, Sarrion," the elf croaked out in a raspy, yet projected voice towards his teacher. Sarrion lifted his brows and began to speak, yet the impure's words cut him off.

 

"Your blatant disregard for competence in your students has led to this very moment! You leave heaps of dung upon the legacy of great thaumaturgy conducted by Avenel Synalli, Iatrilemar Elervathar, Lhindir Elverhilin, Crumena Izalith—a mere handful of well-taught Magi and their work squandered by your poor taste in protégés who you've taught nothing but the spark of a flame!"

 

An offending finger belonging to Judas pointed in Sarrion's direction, "You 'bless' the bottom of Aos' barrel with the Arcane's boons—Transfiguration, Translocation, Atronach Forging, Arcanism at one point, all going to the likes of Faeryel, Norawen, Fae, Desimir, and the countless others you've done **** all to teach!"

 

Judas' knees began to tremble, struggling to support his weight in the same way that a baby doe faltered in its ability to stand. In a last ditch effort, Judas raised his gloved hands in Sarrion's direction. Masses of  Voidal water seemed to conjure in an instant as the aura around Judas burned bright. The spell seemed to almost take structure before collapsing under Judas' control. Struggling to keep it together, the elf's pale-green Aura continued to brighten until it became blindingly bright.

 

A mali'ame off to the side would unload a crossbow bolt in Judas' direction, though in the flash of a burst of green light, the sound of the bolt slamming into the wall behind Judas' position was heard. As the light died down, all that remained was a grey gambeson coat, a pair of brown gloves, leggings, and boots once worn by Judas, all caked in a layer of ash and dust. Small wispy bodies of the Mage's aura faded away seconds later, and silence struck the gathering.

 

"He's. . .dead?" Domonic would stutter, breaking the silence.

 

Sarrion Zytiaear would step forwards, releasing a coarse sigh, "Having fallen into such an alarming mindset regarding the standards of Magi and his obsession with the Void, I've long feared a fate of his according to this design." The First Enchanter would then close his eyes, raising his hands gracefully as streams of water began to fill the cracks in the stone streets, moving towards Judas' attire and washing away his ashes into the surrounding area. "Pride always held Judas back. . .only now has it cost him his life."

 

Few more words were spoken in the streets. Sarrion would recover Judas' belongings and move inside his shop, the rest of the gathering following suit and leaving one-by-one with only the whispers of side comments.

 

 

Spoiler

All mentions/opinions of characters expressed in this post are strictly in RP and do not take OOC reputation or notoriety into account. That being said, I'm sorry if this isn't exactly the best writing. I wanted to get the PK out there, as I believe I've found an end to Judas' character. Being heavily Magic centered, I believe that the state of the Void and Voidal Magic held me back from developing him any further than he already was, and I figured it best to end his story now rather than let it stigmatize and dull overtime. I want to thank all who contributed to Judas' development and RP and I hope that I've at least impacted a few characters throughout the development of this character. It's been pretty fun. 

 

Edited June 23, 2021 by IsaaKc

[Johann 1400]

Far away, upon hearing news of his friend's passing, Muriel sheds a singular tear of poignancy. 

 

"He was good, and now he is gone." 

[Unwillingly 11113]

Somewhere, an elf of yore named Cyrene grimaces. 

"Well ****. I outlived both of them." 

 

Spoiler

+1 for dropping voidal magic, now play a bigoted elf with me

 

[ronin_champloo 5951]

An elf peered upon the scene, the man's ash forgone and drenched away. A melancholy expression adorned his face, and so did he speak.

 

"May you rest easy, unburdened by the arcane."

[ToodIes 1188]

". . .I wish he would've said something."

 

Faeryel looks over the scrubbed-clean Sutican cobblestones from her bedroom window, before turning to her desk. At her gesture, a glass paperweight assumes the shape of Judas's face; cold, disapproving. "I'm sorry. I really did think we were friends."

 

She sits, and gets back to work, avoiding the statuette's unblinking gaze.

[Xx_BloodStalk_xX 2120]

The lightest ticks and cracks emanated from the white of the man's thumbnail as his crooked teeth lightly chipped away at it, the bangs of his unkept amber hair quietly tickling the skin of his forehead as the chilling breeze of the soft winter's wind streamed through such like a ghostly howl from beyond the waters of the Trade City; winter was coming to a close, the spring was coming- and with it your ashes lie benign within the breeze. Are you here, Judas, beside me? Have I breathed in your ashes, your lifeforce, without knowing it? Are you within me? 

"Judas, where'd you go, hm?" The man questioned aloud to himself within a rather anxious stutter, new verdant leaves replacing the withered ones that fell upon his shoulders and back as he sat underneath the hall of meadows. 

[Lhindir_ 3436]

Anordal frowns at these news, merely whispering. “Might the stream treat you well, friend.” 
(I’m actually very disappointed at all these really stupid responses on his pk posts @Toxcat)

[Lord Knox 102]

The tidings of the voidally scarred continues to bring forth a lesson of pain onto those whom try to exist. We all lay in silence in this hellscape. This bound hole of pure degenerative destruction. The slender figure of the Autumn Craven simply stands over that of the Sutican roads as he looks down at the spot where Judas would be slain. The total darkness of the streets has caused nothing but dismay and droll sadness, and from the Monarchs of The Trade Nation's history it has only devolved further and further with time. 

Though in the time of mourn, the strange illicit figure of The Pumpkin Headed entity idly looks down at that of the deceased section. Wisps of orange float around him as he fishes into that of his pockets and pulls out a pair of completely ruined glasses... belonging to someone of long time history prior. The idle musings of Judas were something which had circulated throughout the man's mind before. Whether told, heard of, or spoken directly were unknown... yet it resonated with something deep in the beast's soul.

"Judas, your words are true. Your mentors end up betraying you as your own selfish attempts at being a 'true magi' have left you with nothing but a disappointing end. Despite our methods we both wish for the same thing. It's almost ironic, don't you think?" wonders that of the lithe figure. Orange wisps continue to drone around that of the being's mawl... an unchanging stare rested on the stone floors below as the only other source of light comes from the magelight in the lanterns just above the Sutican walls.

"There is only one thing that we can do as to fix our faults. Rip and tear at the foundations of selfish voidal bigotries, for it must end. This is not the chaos of the unknown, but the orders of the forsaken enchanters whom cause this catalyst. This place shall lays at the center as finally the last true identity of this place has fallen. It is time once again." he recounts- turning to walk straight along the bridge into the Oasis of Southern Almaris. 

"It is time for the end of the era. Goodbye to the chains which bind this oceanside property lacking of identity together. We must go back."

The creature then smashes his foot onto the glasses which he rested on the ground. The Llyrian scourge was smashed, why would this be any different? See you soon Judas.