A New Game

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It is November 4th, 1876 when everything changes. The air seems somewhat chilled today, as if there is going to be a storm coming. Things are strange, and no one knows why, they just go about their daily lives with the hairs on the back of their necks standing up, eyes darting around from time to time as shadows seemed to move in the corners of their minds. However, it is not simply a normal day in London, England. Even if it was raining heavily enough for the men’s bowler hats to catch water within their curve, and the women’s skirts could never be dry even if they had walked under the largest umbrella in the world.
Today was the start of a new game.

If you could really call it that, more of a challenge between old friends, and magicians nonetheless. Each sorcerer would acquire a student, the younger the better, for such tricks cannot be taught to older, more tainted minds. Each would start with a small child, and train them for years, all the while being very vague to what this challenge was really about. For one cannot simply explain this challenge without giving away how the…winner, of sorts, is announced.
The two children would be kept apart, until deemed mature and skilled enough for the game to truly be set into motion. Until then, they would learn.

The two magicians who started this game, have a bit of a secret system. You see, this game is set in stone, signed with blood and sealed with scars. Each mage would take a personal item off themselves, and give it to the other man, in a polite trade. However, when each sorcerer chose their student, they would simply place the object on their skin, and the shape would be branded into them. A seal. A scar that would never fade away, binding each child to their new opponent.
Keeping up, are you?
Good, because this game is not meant for the faint of heart, or the simple of wits. It is a deadly match, and the rules are simple.

Each time a student shows a large display of power, it is called a ‘move’.
You may not meddle, or in any way tamper with your opponent’s move before they have displayed it.
You may add to their move once it is played, in any way you like.
The moves are not judged, nor are they either good, nor bad. They simply are.
Do not give yourselves away to mere humans, unless directly confronted with suspicions. Then the choice is up to you whether you want to mislead them or not.
The playing field is all around you, may you choose your venue wisely.
And finally.
The last student left standing, is the winner…however, neither of the students are to know this fatal rule, that is, until the end.

The students meet on October 12th 1895, At the girl’s 19th birthday, and it is a strange turn of events, however the feeling in the room is the same as when this all started. Chilled, but with an edge of fire.



Note: In this RP, magicians have few boundaries to what their magic cannot alter, however there are a few simple rules to follow...be careful not to go overboard, as it will become very easy to do that with this form of ‘power’. I’ll cover some simple things, like….
Can I kill someone with magic? Yeah…but isn’t that a little impolite? At least give the poor guy a chance.
Can I fabricate objects out of thin air? Yes, but not for a long time. Basically, you may create any object you like, however it would take your constant concentration for it to keep its form as long as you needed it.
Can I make people fall in love with me? Simple minds, yes. You can affect anyone’s mind if they allowed you to, or if they simply didn’t care. Same goes for removing a memory, or similar actions. People who resist this power cannot be effected, however they can have their perception on events altered to make you more appealing, or unappealing, depending on what mood you were going for.

If any other questions come to mind, I will gladly answer them! Until then, would anyone care to join me? Preferably a male, please.

Fern had her next move planned perfectly by the time she passed the large double doors of the dining room. On the table, there was already set out an arrangement of toast and orange juice, eggs and raspberry scones. Spells and enchantments still fluttered around the corners of her mind as she sat, dreamily touching a ruby red apple and breathing on it lightly, polishing it on a napkin.

Lysander took his usual spot, face buried beneath the morning newspaper before he could even stir his coffee. The sound of footsteps approaching caused Fern to blink, snapping into reality as Terrance entered the dining room, with a clean grey suit complimenting the touch of salt and pepper hair that seemed to only make him appear wise, rather than aged.
“Good morning, Miss Hollow. How is it that you can look so enchanting this early in the morning?” Terrance grinned as he sat next to Lysander, across from her on the long dining room table. He began taking things from assorted plates, and Fern simply smiled down at her apple in response, a faint blush warming her creamy cheeks.

Fern noticed that there was no playful banter between the two older men this morning, and that made her perk up slightly, biting her lower lip as she watched her father. Not once did he even look over at Terrance, only nodding and smiling politely when his friend happened to say something. Fern found this rather unsettling, for whenever the two were together, they had seemed inseparable. After a second, Fern realized that Terrance had probably trained Ethan, to an extent, in his magical abilities. Just as Lysander had trained her.
Seconds later, Lysander looked up directly into her line of sight, as if catching her thinking about the challenge. He raised an eyebrow, an amused grin twisting his mouth as he silently teased her for over thinking it.

“Excuse me, I think I might finish my breakfast in the garden.“ Fern did not feel like eating under the gaze of her father, leaving the lush red apple in her space as she stood, her long tangle of curls falling past one shoulder, loose from their regular braid.
“Alright my dear. Oh, if you see Ethan, tell him good morning for me.“ Lysander called pointedly to her, grinning as the door closed behind her.

As silence fell over the dining room, the two men looked at each other, grinning to one another for the first time all morning.
“So she figured it out, finally.“ Terrance chuckled, taking a bite of his buttered toast, entertained by the notion of the two young people challenging each other, however his smile faltered after a moment, wondering how long it might take for Ethan to figure out Fern was his opponent.

* * *

Fern walked through the gardens in the chill of the dreary grey morning, dew making the white roses sparkle as she brushed past them. Finding a cold metal bench, she sat, plucking one of the white buds off of the green foliage, humming faintly to herself as she twisted her delicate finger around it, coaxing the bloom out until the white petals fell open in her hands.

On his way down to the dining room Ethan decides to skip the morning banter of wiser men and the akward company of his assumed opponent. Turning on his heel he heads back the way he came and quickly arrives at the library's door. Walking in he is once again bombarded by the sheer size and expanse of the assembled collection. It must have taken a dozen lifetimes to bring this room into the magnificent display of the day. With no notion of where to begin Ethan starts roaming the rows of shelves looking for titles or authors of interest.

--

"Now that you mention it, yes she has, though i dont believe you were asking. Your apprentice however seems oblivious that Isobel is his opponent. Of course this could be a charade, but it is unlikely." Lysander sets the newspaper down next to his meal as he finishes skimming through for a story of interest.

"Ethan is by no means slow witted, however he does become distracted easily enough. Even if he hasnt put together the obvious peices to this puzzle we have made it appears he has finally made a move." Pushing his plate aside Terrance stands while straightening his coat. "There is an odd aura about his room i noticed walking by this morning. Perhaps you'd like to investigate what it is my boy is up to, this after all being your home?"

The two men sat in the dining room alone for the remainder of breakfast, Lysander debating on whether or not to investigate Ethan’s room, even when his dear friend had suggested it so openly. It was not the two magician’s place to go pestering into the moves of their apprentice’s challenge.
However, curiosity was quickly getting the best of Mr. Hollow. “Oh, alright then. Come along, I want to see what your boy is plotting away in his room.”

Lysander stood with a look of boredom crossing his face, and Terrance followed shortly, the table beginning to be cleared of its contents. The feeling of darkness caused a faint chill to wash over the hall as the two men approached Ethan’s room.
“Ethan? Son?” Terrance knocked on the door lightly, putting his ear against the wood. No answer. With a shrug, he opened the door, eyes wandering over the room until they landed in one of the corners. Then, a small smile appeared on the man’s face. “He’s improved his cloaking charms since I taught him.”

* * *

Fern frowned in thought, a small pout turning her lips down as she focused. What was it about last night that had her on edge? Strangely, figuring out Ethan was her opponent had not phased her, it had been a rather amusing realization. However, that dance was giving her chills. His touch held more magic than she had felt in another person, which made her nervous. He could possibly be a better magician than even her.

Looking down at her hands, she sighed at her fresh silk gloves, remembering the pair she had forgotten in his room earlier.
A cold breeze had made her start to shiver, and gracefully she stood, walking back into the gloomy manor. With a peek into the dining room, she saw not a soul. Curiously, Fern raised one eyebrow, tucking her tangle of curls behind one ear as she roamed, peeking down each hallway like a pale ghost, haunting the manor in her cream dress.
Not that she would admit it, but she was looking for Ethan. Perhaps he hadn’t figured out it was her he was up against in this challenge. If that was true…she felt a coy smile slip onto her lips…well then she would have a bit of fun playing cat and mouse with the young man until he did figure it out.

Entering the library, she stood gazing up at the numerous floors of book shelves and ladders, stair cases that led higher and higher, along with floors that ran lower. She set her hands on the wooden railing, gazing downward at the lower library floor, her voice no higher than a soft coo.
“Hello?” She called, listening for any kind of response.

Growing ever more curious Lysander discards the cloak with a casual flick of his wrist. Behind it the demon warrior stands with arms crossed over its chest. "I must say your son has potential."

Moving closer both men begin scouring over the detail of the binding circle. After a couple minutes of taking in the warrior Terrance banishes it from the material plane. "Its true he has potential. As you can see he has a great aptitude for his craft, however he is pushing himself too hard. I must speak with him." Turning quickly, Terrance leaves Ethans room with a guess as to where his son might be.

---

Buried in a book Ethan gives thought to ignoring whoever called out from the doorway. As he finishes the paragraph he had been reading a chill freeps over him. Setting the book aside Ethan moves to the railing where he searches for anyone moving about.

"Goodmorning." Seeing nobody around Ethan goes back to the book he discarded and begins reading from where he left off. He wonders if whoever came in was looking for him or privacy. As he continues reading he is careful to remain more vigilant lest anyone was looking for him.

Lysander stood in the room for a few more ghostly moments after Terrance had left, the aura of darkness slowly vanishing now that the soldier Ethan had summoned had been sent away by his father. Lysander’s brow furrowed with troubled thoughts as he walked the halls, finding himself outside in the gardens, walking along the frost bitten flowers and their crumbling leaves...all the foliage was starting to die as the season got colder. All but the newest addition of the manor, what Lysander suspected, was one of Ethan’s moves.
Mr.Hollow had never doubted his daughter’s abilities, until now. She would never have thought of summoning a creature not commonly found in this realm. Indeed, she had a gift with the emotional link to her magic, however...with her temper, it could prove to be her downfall. Damn it, he had gotten too invested toward his feelings. She was his daughter, but she was also his pupil, and a pawn in this unraveling game. And now it was a very, very evenly matched challenge indeed.
As Lysander walked among the garden, his hand folded around an amber leave, crunching it into dust. Today, Isobel would have yet another lesson, perhaps giving her an edge, to make her next move.

*

Fern felt the corner of her lips turn up slightly as she heard Ethan call a reply, placing her palm on her cheek as she rested her elbows on the banister that looked over the open library, and its many levels. Delicately, she let her hand part from her cheek, letting it droop lazily forward over the railing, palm up. With a soft spin of her fingers, a faint whitish-blue wisp of light shimmered into place just hovering above her hand. At first, the light was just a flickering ball, but it began to form itself into the shape of two figures, dancing slowly and off beat. It was Fern and Ethan on the balcony, and as she gazed down at the small, dancing figures of light she sighed, lips parting as her breath blew the figures away, like fog vanishing into the air. Again, she summoned the illusion of light, this time much brighter, and it was the image of a figure pouring over a stack of books and scrolls. It was Ethan, wherever he was, somewhere in the library. As she tilted her head to the side, a stray curl found itself falling over one of her eyes as she dismissed the light, straightening to brush off the front of her white gown, and perhaps go find the boy, wherever he was hidden away behind a stack of books.
However, when she turned, a figure was standing a few feet behind her. Terrance, looking amused, as per usual.

*

Simply trying to find his..’son’... Terrance had stumbled into quite the entertaining situation. Isobel, in the library, practicing her illusions, so it seemed. She was using a simple crystal-ball trick, to look into the past, present and future. Where he was standing, Terrance could not quite see the image she had summoned, however, he was amused to see the surprised expression on her face when she turned to see him standing there.
“Good afternoon, my dear. Have you seen my son around?” He watched her look to the ground, unable to meet his gaze. Her father had probably told her not to be so childish with her magic, to be careful if someone was watching, and to keep it a secret. Apparently, Lysander had less control over his daughter than he thought.
“No, I’m afraid not. But he’s around the library somewhere, I assume.” She said in a polite voice, stepping to brush past him, to the hall. As she passed, Terrance leaned forward, his breath cold against her neck as he leaned down.
“Your secret is safe with me, I’ll leave it to Ethan to figure out what powers you hold within your grip.” He had taken her arm gently, and now let it drop, her breath catching noticeably in a faint gasp. Stunned, the young woman left the library, gathering her skirts to rush down the hall...no doubt to find her father.
With a grin and a roll of his heels, Terrance walked right into the place Fern had been standing just a moment ago, leaning against the banister. Voice echoing along the book shelves as he called for his son, “Ethan, my boy.” A moment later, as if stepping into thin air, Terrance stood right behind him, head cocked to the side as he folded his arms over his chest. “I’m not surprised to find you surrounded by books when this, must I say, much amusing challenge seems to be unfolding around us.”

"Hello 'Father'. If you dont mind my asking, to what drama do you seem to be referring? Perhaps this 'game' you have been training me for my entire life, and against the charming and dashing young woman Isobel is? Or perhaps not and i am assuming too much in all of this." Ethan finishes his reply with a flick of a finger to turn the page he had just been reading. Laying everything out like that puts vaguely disturbing thoughts to play, one after another like scenes from multiple plays, running though the young man's head.

"No my boy, you are quite right about all of that. Your demon knight was most impressive i might add. Of course i banished it from this realm however..." Terrance trails off while searching for the right way to put his thoughts into words. After a moment in which Ethan sets his current read aside the old man continues. "You must be careful when summoning such powerful creatures. You did well with the binding circle, perfectly conjured with no visible flaws.. stunning for a young man of your age. Then you knight.. while it was a bit overboard to myself and Lysander, you seemed to be paying quite close attention to the appearance while casting that particular spell. The cloak of concealing was top notch as you already knew though, having always used that telltale sign to hide your deeds." Ethan sits silently as the man seems to wrap up his thoughts, but just when he goes to voice a reply Terrance continues. "You were foolish casting such strong spells all at once. Twice over when you left them tethered in place still drawing from your vitality for so long. You are talented and powerful Ethan, but you must know when to draw the line. Wait a few days between such draining moves and you just might win, if not..." Finishing his monologue Terrance stands swiftly and starts off through the bookcases far faster then any man appearing to be in his seventies would leaving Ethan with the implications weighing heavy in the air.

Lysander spotted his daughter before she saw him. She looked like a damsel in distress, hair curling behind her as she ran across the main hall, glancing back to see if anyone was following her. She didn't notice him standing at the top of the curving stairs, looking down upon her with fleeting interest.
"And where is it that you think you are going, sweet girl?" Lysander let his voice carry in the empty hall. She froze in an instant, eyes finding him.
"I..." Speechless, she looked so much like she did as a child in that instant. Lips parted in a small O, eyes even rounder and cheeks flushed.
"Exactly." In a blink he was beside her, taking her by the arm and leading her briskly toward the front doors, grabbing one of her long, deep green velvet coats from the hooks. "We're going to have a lesson, Isobel Fern." He used both names, as he did when he wasn't in the nicest of moods.

"Father, do I need a coat? It's rather nice out today." She said, her light voice sounding confused as they walked toward the stables, where their horses were kept.
Lysander smiled at that, "Yes my dear, you will need it."

*

Fern stroked the soft nose of her spotted white horse, pulling up the hood of her jacket as she watched her father dismount lazily from his own horse. She was a good rider, better than even her father, but that did not explain what they were doing within the depths of the dark forest that surrounded the Manor, crystal sunbeams breaking through the leaves like pillars of light around them. She tied her mare up to a tree, murmuring soft words to it before she followed her father out, away from the two horses. In the late autumn weather, her coat wasn't unappreciated, however this one was a bit heavy for today. It touched the ground, tucking in close to her waist with long sleeves that went farther than her fingertips, and a hood that dipped low.
"What are we doing here?" She wondered aloud, stopping a few feet away from her father and looking around the forest with curious eyes, most of the leaves on the brink of shedding themselves, everything in shades that reminded her of flames.

"Weren't you listening? This is a lesson, not a chance to explore. Now listen to me." He spoke sharply, standing with his feet apart. "Your opponent is more...advanced than I thought. You need to work harder, push harder against the boundaries of what you think you know." His grey eyes looked like polished silver as he stepped into one of the pools of light. Fern thought of Ethan, and what she had come to learn about him
"Father, I'm trying. I don't know what you want me to do. You've given me so little information about what this challenge is about. How are we to be judged? Who is deemed the winner?" Her voice lowered as her head dropped, "I felt his magic last night, I know how powerful he is. What if...I can't do it."

Heat flashed across the side of her face, and she gasped, falling to the ground. Her father stood above her, brushing off his sleeves, face red. "Don't be weak. It's pathetic."
Without whimpering, cheek hot to the touch, she stood, chin raised to the light. Lysander touched the cheek he had just slapped delicately, as if to take away the sting. But he did not.
"I'm sorry, dear daughter. I have little shame in admitting to my temper, much like thunder does not apologise when it booms after lightning." His eyes seemed to freeze over. "What do you know about storms? I've taught you about the weather, and how to alter it. But what we need now is a storm."

After a while Ethan stands from his seat at the table and tucks the book he had been reading to his side. Doubting that Lysander and Fern would mind if he took the book back to his room he leaves the library almost untouched. Walking down the hallway towards the kitchens on the eastern side of the mansion he notices just how late in the day it really is. in the library it was still quite bright with the dipping sun bathing in through the many floor to ceiling windows that made up one wall. However moving along this hall where the windows faced more east then south the corners were already beginning to take on the nightly shadows that had grown so familiar to the young man.

Ethan stops for a moment at the windows to guess at how much of the day had past after the one-sided he and Terrance had around eleven that morning. At that moment his stomach growled loudly reminding him of the task before him, recovering from the physical strain of spell casting and the toll of skipping this day's breakfast. In record time, for a guest of the house, Ethan reaches the kitchens where the house servant are busy preparing this night's dinner. One, an older woman around the age of 50, sets aside the potatoes she was peeling and approaches the young mage. Without him saying a word the woman rushes him to a small table in the corner to sit and wait while she gets busy fixing some sandwiches and a few sweet pastries. Once the snack is finished she sets the table and gets back to work. Ethan begins eating silently trying to appreciate the care the servant woman put into making the meal, but winds up devouring everything in a few short moments. Once finished he returns to his room where he promptly falls asleep waiting for dinner time to come around.