PrimnyaQuorum

Haus Weiss-Vuiller scanned through the publication, nodding his head in appreciation of a scholar. A chuckle escaped from him as he read the footnotes, as he set the papers down on his desk, planning to give them a more in-depth read in the future.

A Blonde scanned over the missive as it crossed his desk, his brow furrowing. After all he had seen and heard, the only surprise was that it took so long. His mind wandered towards the memory, of a bandit donning Mogg insignia attacking a pregnant woman - and losing. He scoffed, a tired smile growing as he tossed the publication onto his desk, it joining the mound of missives and documents. Peace in his time, at last. His attention could finally relay towards more pressing concerns.

A Watcher, not yet enlightened to the gift of a Vision, crashed to the tavern floor in Veldev. Cries and whimpers of suffering rang throughout the tavern and into the nearby square, as agony gripped every inch of his small form. Tavern-Onlookers came to his aid, unable to See as Haus Weiss-Vuiller saw, not understanding. As his senses returned to him, untainted by the forces that had gripped him - for what felt like a endless eternity - the Highlander shakily made his way to a nearby clinic, almost unable to speak as his mind raced, and a sense of fear and dread overwhelmed him.

A tired Weiss-Vuiller lifted his head from his desk to find yet another missive he hadn't read. Tired eyes scanned through the document as he muttered something about him being a Doctor, to his empty office. Arcane prowess may have been a bit of a overstatement, but mop the dirt with a Mogg he had. In truth, Oksana had down most of the work - The blonde silently resolving to never stand between a pregnant woman and anything for as long as he lived. Still - a problem remained. He sighed, standing from his desk as he grabbed his coat. More meetings to be had - truly, the bane of his existance.

A Blonde Court Mage tosses the missive on his desk, as he leans forward and lays his head down on the desk. Regardless if he's skeptical of what he's reading, he's curious enough to consider following up. First, however - he really needs a secretary to handle the mound of paperwork that hides the room from his sight. it's equally comical and ridiculous.

A Certain Hauchkhazya stares at the portrait that is supposed to be of himself, his brow twitching slightly. He places a hand over the offending image as he reads through the rest, a tired smile spreading over his expression. The Queen - and the unsleeping Grand Lord - have outdone themselves once again. Haus is overjoyed to be aid in this court - satisfied, for once, with his place in life. Though - he resolves that he shall burn down the stand of the artist who draws his portrait a third time. They never seen to capture all the details.

The Master Of The Abstract read tiredly through the missive, setting it atop the growing pile of blueprints and building paperwork that were haphazardly scattered over his desk. He grabbed it, half folding and half crumpling it into a ball before tossing it into the wastebin. Certainly, a bold course of action, albeit one unlikely to go anywhere. He didn't consider himself a leader of any magical order, nor did he feel inclined to share what he knew with the same folks who had said such unsavory things of him, just months prior. Still, a thought nagged him at the back of his mind - if not him, who? With a tired roll of his wrist, he finished the last of his glass - the remnants of a bottle of Petran Wine. He stood, snatching and uncrumpling the paper from his waste. He pinned the creased missive - carefully - to the door of the one person he figured would know how to handle such a request. The Grand Lord had a way with words, after all.

Haus Weiss-Vuiller beams with happiness at the work of his dear friend, the Grand Lord.

I think it's a neat tell depending on the magic - though I believe some of the stuff under Heralds of Azdromoth requires it to be spoken aloud. Would need further citation on that, not something I've read a lot of I think magic tells and auras, to a extent, should be whatever, provided it's a clearly notable tell and it's not providing a advantage to someone in the encounter. My only concern is about making it mandatory - that would kinda prevent any mute character from picking up the magic for little reason.

Sat at his desk, Haus Weiss-Vuiller picks up the missive and reads through it. A tired smile graces his features as he reads through it, proud of the work of his dearest friends Fabian and Amaya - a smile that promptly fading as he reaches the section concerning his office, and a particular alchemist. In a near panic, he grabs the nearest scraps of parchment he can and pens letters to the Court Alchemist and Court Astrologer - quickly sending them off with birds as he sits back down at his desk. He runs his hands over his face, silently debating how he's going to handle this new organization, as a laugh sounds from just over his shoulder. He hefts the nearest thing of weight - a paperweight - over his shoulder. It clatters to the floor - nothing was there. Nothing ever is.

The current sole Jovenaar reads the publication with captured interests, nodding in silent appreciation to the Candidate's dedication towards Justice and the long-neglected Legal System. In particular, his attention is drawn to a mention to a system to report crime - a long standing issue. Haus resolves to his show support for the candidate, now the second Novikov he backs.

The Master of the Abstract squints as he reads the candidates proposal's regarding magic. He was under the impression the then-Queen Sofia of Hyspia had created the office and position he currently occupied, as part of her work on the Courts. Nevertheless, the man had some points - though he wondered just how much the candidate knew about what he spoke of. Regardless - to the blonde, Ryba had some good suggestions. He produced a small parchment square, and began writing. Perhaps a conversation with the hopeful candidate would be a good idea.

Haus scans the missive with a unamused expression, shaking his head "Where was my help when I stared down a orc trying to kill me, and the Brotherhood not only stood by and watched, but forced it to happen?" He ponders, bitterly recalling how his own comrades-in-arms nearly cost him his life. "Wait- The Jorenic Rights were tradition before Arthur came into his role. And the Haeseni people have never been forsaken from carrying weapons - who is this man's source?"

The Master of The Abstract read through the publication several times - at some point several hours later waking up at his desk, the elegantly-written publication now creased and crumbled slightly. He smooths it out as he briefly ponders why he was waking up at his desk, before scanning the document once more. He scoffs in amusement as he notes the several references to fire, and warmth. He resoundingly agrees - idleness does not suit the Courts at all. Of course, a careless fanning of fire can leave poor results - though if ever anyone was suited for this task, it had to be his dearest friends Sofia, and Fabian - and now Amaya, too. Tired eyes, filled with scenes of a distant night sky, pondered over the last tenet. He scribbled a note next to the finely written heading, to speak with the Grand Lord - perhaps not everything ought require a grand demonstration. The short blonde soon flipped the document over, adding it to one pile among many on the clustered desk. The next time he saw Fabian, The highlander mused, He ought to buy him a drink. Truly, Fabian had outdone himself. Haus had no question that whatever his Grand Lord wanted, he would see it through and to its end. On that note, his gaze wandered towards half written and crossed out versions of a publication, and he wondered when he would try aga- A shadow lurched forward, just in the corner of his vision - for the briefest of moments, fear gripped the blonde as he tumbled up and out of his seat - to find his room empty, as always. With a exasperated, tired expression and made-up mind, he trudged off and away from that dimly lit room - heading out of Veldev with that ever present cloth over his eyes, and the best and strongest bottle of Haeseni Vodka he could find in his bag. He had a Pale Elf to talk to. Though he really ought to speak with Fabian about his role in the Courts. The blonde had been silent for far too long.

Between overseeing construction on a new hospital and wandering the new lands in search of something, a Blonde Doctor finally find the time to sit down at his desk and sort through the growing mound of missives, announcements, and other assorted paperwork. As he sifted and read, a particular notice caught his eye, and for once enveloped his full attention. It had been some time since Haus had seen the Retired Chief Jovenaar, yes - but never had he expected him to be gone so soon. His heart sank as he recounted how many had slipped away, since the Mori'Quessir invasion had began several years ago. In truth, he hadn't spoken much with the late Stafyr - not that much had to be said, though. Haus admired the man's expertise on the law, his work on the desperately needed reforms of the Aulic Court, and his commitment to see Justice upheld. It did not make it any easier, however, to stomach the fact that he was gone. His head lowered and his eyes closed, as he prayed for the Souls of Adele Ludovar and now, Arthur Stafyr , and for GOD to grant them the rest they had earned through their work. A moment of silence - until a whisper from just over his shoulder tore the moment from the tired Jovenaar. Of course, nothing was there - though he had no doubts that it had been. He ran a hand through his hair as he shook his head, grumbling to himself. He took a deep breath as he returned to his paperwork, the words of a mentor and Pale Elfess reaching the front of his thoughts - and he forced his thoughts back to the job at hand. Perhaps it was time for him to take up the mantle, or perhaps it would be passed to someone else more worthy. Either way - There was still work to do, and neither Lady Justicar nor Chief Jovenaar would approve of stagnation. He would not dishonor their memory by starting now.

A Starry-eyed Doctor stopped dead in his tracks as the news reached him...[R]

A Stressed, Blonde Doctor runs his hands through his hair as he sets the invite on his desk down, it joining the growing pile of paperwork on his desk. Of course, he's overjoyed that his friend not only is getting married, but also having her honor restored - still, his dwindling mina balance in his bank is a ever-nagging concern, and the blonde wonders if he gets paid for working in the Clinic.

A Tired, Blonde Weiss-Vuiller feels a grin grow as he reads the invitation - a grin that soon vanishes as he mentally recalls his bank account's balance after taxes. His shoulders slump down and he resigns himself to acquiring a gift fit for his fellow Blonde after the wedding - perhaps something to do with Beets?

A Blonde Haeseni butchers the instructions, struggling to understand how he simultaneously made Chicken and Tomato Basil Soup.

Haus Weiss-Vuiller, Local Deputy Surgeon-General, approves of this new code of conduct

A Blonde Weiss-Vuiller had just wrapped up a particularly long medical procedure - silently cursing the lack of a established central medical site on Failor - when the soon-to-be wed Amaya Colborn entered his makeshift workspace. He accepted the ornately wrapped invitation in a confused silence, carefully opening the golden parchment and reading. Among the many questions Haus asked and his friend Amaya answered, one statement stood out "Come as you are, Haus" Those words resonated with Haus as he inspected the olive cloth he had worn over his eyes for the months prior, overlooking his Beet Fields. Perhaps for one day, for a friend - he could put it aside. There could be no harm, right?

Love the piece - very clearly written spells and redlines and neatly formatted, +1 Absolutely dig this - I was working on a similar idea, but I think you said it best, naturally occurring phenomenon should be able to be recreated within The Void and used in Evocations similar to this. Hope this passes and hope to see more poking into Voidal stuff like this!

Haus Weiss-Vuiller stepped through the doorway into the Throne Hall of Zvaervauld, finally crossing the threshold of safety from that starless, darkened and bleak sky above - and what lurked in the dark below it. He had always wished since he was a little boy that the stars would stay out longer so that he might see them when he woke up, but he had never dreamed they all could be snuffed out so totally. He had long since lost track of when it was 'day' and when it was 'night' - so too had the Mori'Quessir stolen the Sun and the Moon from the world, forcing his irregular sleep schedule to become even more erratic - he recalled waking up at his desk in the clinic, and not remembering when he had fallen asleep, or for how long he had been asleep at all. He slowly, and somewhat unsteadily, made his way across the carpeted floor towards the inner keep. Spots began to dance across his vision, blocking chunks of his view behind black dots in his field of view. He dismissed the symptom as he trudged along, a small smile flickering over his face - even as the continent teetered on the edge against the Mori'Quessir, the Blonde Weiss dutifully continued his Late Father's war, with him and Verónica Weiss successfully burning a Idol of The Great Owl. Haus felt ecstatic - after years of no leads or victories against his family's enemy, he had been the one to see a Idol burn to ash. He wished Felix Weiss was still Here, so that they could share in that simple achievement at last. At Haus's mind wandered away daydreaming, he was pulled back to reality by the sinking realization that the Throne Hall around him was growing dimmer. Star-Filled eyes darted around as he tried to pinpoint the source of his dimming vision. The Blonde's heart sank as he felt the strength ebb away from his body, and his knees give way, bringing him down unceremoniously to the thankfully-carpeted floor. As his vision faded away and the spots in his vision threatened to swallow his sight whole, Haus caught a glimpse of a figure on the Vikomit's Throne - Tall, with black hair, a set expression and a glass eye bearing a familiar Coat of Arms. A word silently escaped Haus before his sight darkened, and he fell still. The servant's soon found the Weiss on the floor, carefully and hurriedly taking him to his room within the Keep. The Vikomit and Vikomit-Consort were soon notified, though none could be certain when the blonde would wake again.

Old Redlines: New Redlines: OOC Purpose: Credits/Thanks to HIGHER_FIRE - Helping with writing/formatting and Originally suggesting the concept DiscoLiquid, Tentoa - Feedback

A Blonde Doctor continued to work in the Hospital of St. Aymas, word of his Father's Death not having reached the busy man for some time. The screams of the wounded and the stench of Tippen's Root, Death, and Blood filled the air - but he continued to work regardless, directing treatment and getting his own hands bloodied as he did his damnedest to keep his patients alive. He was mostly successful - the burned corpse of Anatoliy Godunov lingered in his mind, as one of the first patient's of the evening slipped away in the chaos. After what felt like hours upon hours of never-ending wounded flowing into the hospital, the last patient was treated, given a few words of caution to promote good healing habits, and sent home to their family. Haus found himself a bit jealous - even with such a brutal day of handling patients, his work was not yet done - reports had to be filed, Autopsies had to be performed, and the bedsheets and tile floor had to be scrubbed clean. As his luck would unfortunately have, someone else would be doing this work. Sometime later that same evening - it was hard to tell how long it had been, since the sky over Karsograd had darkened unnaturally. Not like Haus cared, as he stared at the still-armor wearing corpse of his Father, Felix Weiss, lying on a slab of ice in the morgue on Novkursain. With an experienced focus and an unsteady hand, he documented down the injuries on his Father before he stepped out of the icy-cold morgue. Once he had his notes he turned, making the long trek and carriage ride back to Karsograd - after all, "My Papej would want me to grieve after the work had been done, no?" Pondered the Blonde Weiss. Once more, it was not so. With the timely intervention of his friends, Fabian and Amaya, along with his Judicial Ward Emigliana, - and of course that wonderful tea Fabian always made - Haus was forced away from his work, and towards the thoughts he so desperately tried to escape. Not everyone had the fortune and luxury to escape into a bottle of Alcohol, or a cigar. His mind cast back to his wedding, a few days earlier - how he had the best day of his life, only to find his Father and Brother not there. He recalled how the realization had brought him to ugly tears, at his own wedding. He remembered how many times in his life he would tear at the precious hair on his head at how distraught his father could make him with what a younger Haus could not understand, how he wished upon every sky in the night sky he so frequently was left alone with for a way to meet the demands on his family - how he pleaded with whatever above would listen when he had to sleep when he could no longer keep himself awake that he would not be cast back to that abysmal, barren wasteland - where the wind howled and he never felt alone, where he restlessly waited for those beating wings to return, and that misshaped thing to consume. And there, did it dawn on the Blonde Weiss~! The lesson his father had imparted on him, the trait that had served him through his most desperate days - the will to keep going. Haus remembered how his Father had raised their family from simple commoners to Barony, and then again to Viscounty. He recalled how his Father had risen from a Royal Captain to the Lord Marshal - then again, to the Lord Speaker! Throughout it all, Felix Weiss had held an indomitable spirit - always pushing forward, conquering his enemies as he seized whatever goal he had set, for his Kingdom and his Family. For a moment, it even gave Haus pause - he wondered if his father was truly dead, or simply waiting for the right moment to spring back up, and slay the enemies who dared dream they had bested a Weiss - but for only a moment. After many more tears had been shed, a significantly more exhausted Haus trudged his way back into the morgue of Novkursain, back into that icy room that stung his skin and assaulted his senses. He thought back to the last full conversation he had with his father - the understanding he had made, the responsibility that he had placed on his shoulder that did not feel heavy, but instead uplifting - as if he had finally been shown to his raison d'être. With that, Haus spoke - praying that his Father, wherever he may be, could hear. As he spoke, a small thought crossed his mind - he had never told his Father what he had been up to, of recent. He wondered if his Father would hate him for his choices, or simply smile instead, knowing his Son was on the cusp of achieving what he was capable of all along. So he continued to speak in that bitter-cold morgue. As he turned to leave, the Blonde Weiss paused. He had said all he had intended to say, but one last thing came to mind. It felt absurd - a phrase he repeated because his Family held it, never quite holding any particular weight to Haus. No longer. He understood now what it meant. "Va Ve Maan, Papej." He murmured softly, as he pulled the door to the morgue closed gently.