Alaris Baelgar's page

Perhaps we should take a vote! Remmy is right, I can provide us with shelter as well, quite frankly. It would take me roughly two hours to attune myself properly before conjuring our lodging. We would, however, lose out on the great opportunity of taking a look at the competition. One option is safer... but the other is much more interesting!

Alaris chuckles. Oh here we go again with the plot holes! One day someone will fill those for you. Come on! What's the harm!? It is a show of good faith and hospitality. He pauses briefly before continuing. And! Any attempt at sabotage will probably be met with an early elimination from the tournament one way or another. He continues to chuckle.

It isn't every day you meet a man so bold as to claim to be the progeny of the scion of magic himself. I'm known as Magister Vanwill Helm , and it's pleasure to make your acquaintance. Alaris stretches a hand in greeting.

"Magister Helm" pulls down his hood to reveal a young, handsome elf with slightly shorter ears than one is used to, sharp purple eyes, and medium length silver hair. Upon his forehead, underneath his hair, rests a headband with an amber gem embedded in the elaborate and beautiful crest. It is the crest of the Baelgar House, the royal family of Valandaer. He shakes the hand of the tiger vigorously. I am Prince Alaris Baelgar, and it is a pleasure to call you an ally Chukie, son of none. I have hidden my identity, only loosely I might add, because in a grand tournament of this nature, my life is in more danger than the regular throes of being a member of the crown whether it be for ransom or regicide. As such, I have been forbidden by the Daerin, with approval from my father, to participate. I just couldn't, however, pass up the opportunity, the intrigue, the glory, the learning experience, the sights, and the inevitable camaraderie. Grand Vizier Aran and Daerinar Lirian have come as royal Valandaeran representatives, and so I must remain relatively undiscovered until such a time that my involvement is irreversible. This is my tale Chukie. Altogether uninteresting, wouldn't you say? He turns to the group at large, placing a mundane hand on Yoshii and looking directly with his vivid eyes at the growling Thane New friends, rest assured, I use "carried away" as a manner of speaking. I never lost control for a moment. If I had not been able to assure that the effects of my magics were not directly and immediately reversible by me, I would not have used them. In no world does a prince of any merit genuinely threaten the lives of people without cause, whether they be his own or men of a different land, and in no land is a prince of any merit unaware that when he is setting a stone, he is building a world. I should like to think that I am a prince of some merit, even for all of my imperfections. Also! It is unwise to come without solutions to problems you foresee yourself causing as I said. He suddenly gets very grave and there is no trace of his usual candid tone. Too many good men have been lost to arcana slung wantonly by boys n with no sense of safety or contingency He turns to look at Yoshii. I suppose you could say that I am, in fact, 'the genuine article'. It is good to see you again Basket-Head. I'm sorry for triggering your condition. You know, he returns to his usual varied semi-serious demeanor, you should really get to know Jayne. I think you and Magister "Rae" have a lot more in common than you would initially guess, isn't that right Handrus!? He says as he turns his head back to Magister Rae and winks.

Well that's ok! Always have a solution to problems you foresee yourself causing! He quickly pulls out a scroll from within one of his pouches. Break enchantment! That should do the trick. He wheels back around and unfolds the scroll. It glows as he reads from it, and simultaneously the statue in front of him begins to revert back to flesh. He holds an outstretched hand to the winged tiger. See? Good as new...well... Sort of. You have caused me to burn a vast majority of my resources simply to compete with you in a spar. You, my friend, are one of the most worthy opponents I have ever faced. My conduct has been less than admirable, but your own has not wavered. For that, you have earned the truth from me as well. So long as you promise to keep it to yourself. So... no hard feelings?

Magister Helm struggles as the creature grabs hold of him again, attempting to wrestle him to the ground. He takes a moment to collect himself before touching his calcified hand to the creature's hide once more. This time, the creature turns to stone as the arcane energy pulses across his hide from the the touch. He slips out casually from the petrified creature's grasp, he sighs deeply and turns to speculate on the statue's form. Magister Helm wheels back around to face his comrades. Remmy! I'm in need of your services! My apologies. You know how I get. This ego contest has gone quite far, and it is the fault of none but mine. There is nothing sportsmanlike about turning a man to stone amidst a friendly duel.

Rather than striking at the opening the creature has made by stepping away from him, Magister Helm simply lays his still shimmering fingertips upon the creature as it leaves his reach. He then swiftly levitates from his facedown position, rotating in mid-air as rises and moves forward, blending his movements with his gestures. As he arrives, his hand begins to calcify briefly. He then touches the flying tiger, who shudders briefly as arcane energy discharges onto his hide. Magister Helm pauses as he looks upon the statue of the creature he is battling. He sighs and shakes his head. That hide of yours is quite thick!

As his weapon is thrown from his hand, Magister Helm winks out of existence to reappear a mere 15 feet away and a few feet in the air. Doing a quick and graceful somersault as he appears, he lands in a moment. Seemingly unfazed, he makes a graceful gesture before tumbling briefly to lay a now shimmering hand on the back of the creature he is battling. Well it's hard to blend sword and spell without the former, now isn't it?He pauses briefly before turning his head in the direction of his onlooking comrades. Hey Remmington! Can you still do that peaceful zen magic meditation business to ail the afflictions of others!?

As the tiger appears in front of him, Helm flashes his blade quickly and it erupts with arcane energy. Watching the tiger mistakenly trip three of his duplicates, he unleashes a flurry of attacks with his blade, each in turn also spewing arcane energy.

I'm fairly certain that we don't get to take breaks such as this during a spar. I think we're finished here. That was rather enjoyable. Magister Helm sheaths his blade and flies unceremoniously to the others.

Magister Helm Sighs audibly before releasing another coruscating bolt of energy.

Magister Helm lets out raucous laughter. "Frightened animal? Frantic Scrambling and obvious effort? I have no doubt that you are perfectly capable of weathering that which I throw at you, but to think that I am running, frantic or exerting an overt amount of effort at the moment is to be naive. With regards to your statement about my blade, I participate in no illusion of victory against someone of your size and skill when it comes to the art of melee. I am simply playing with my strengths. You asked for my prowess in it's entirety? You have it. With that, Magister Helm lets loose a coruscating ray.

Magister Helm struggles briefly with the flying tiger that is attempting to wrestle him to the ground. After a moment, he vanishes, reappearing on the other side of the field. He flourishes his blade quickly before stretching his arm out and releasing another black ray to connect with Chukie's back

Magister Helm turns to look at the man who has just introduced himself as Nigel. My, that was certainly interesting. Well! To the task at hand! [i]He wheels around to face the direction of the flying tiger. Grasping his cloak, he pauses briefly before throwing the shadowy garb dramatically into the air. He is revealed now, and upon his side is an ornate sheathed sword. He takes a deep breath and casts a spell with a few short gestures.

Helm clasps his hands together enthusiasticallyWell it's settled! We shall spar in the open training space! One thing though, if I may... falsehood or no, I have given you a name by which you may address me, and I'd rather you used it. He strolls gracefully and deliberately to the basket-headed man, clasping a strong arm on his shoulder. Yoshii, lead the way!

Magister Helm faces the tiger.Indeed, admirable to protect yourself and the people around you from a perceived threat. Are you to suggest, however, that everyone here has told us everything there is to know about themselves and their past? I do not profess to enjoy deception, but as Remulus kindly pointed out, our frame of reference dictates the necessity of it for the safety of everyone here. You seem quite confident in your abilities, friend, and your passion for honor and honesty is certainly admirable. I do not have any qualms with violence as my compatriots do, and I propose we spar. For one, it would give us an opportunity to settle the obvious tension between us and blow off steam. For two, you can see that my claim prowess is not unwarranted and that you have made the right choice allowing us to participate with you. What do you say? Magister Helm extends a cordial hand

Magister Helm's demeanor changes immediately. The way he stands, even through his thick cloak seems more purposeful, and his tone more serious. Rest assured, Chukie, any perceived falsehoods are out of my own perceived necessity. His voice has lost any semblance of candidness, replaced with the strong speaking pattern of one who is accustomed to making difficult decisions. Furthermore, I have no desire to entertain unwarranted threats as we have just reached a general consensus of camaraderie. Similarly, I have no desire to threaten you unnecessarily. Simply know this as fact: I need neither your permission to make decisions as to how I carry myself, nor your approval. Should this cause you to become much less than amicable, you would do well to remember that I am most likely not incapable of defending myself. But! He returns to his prior colloquialism I don't really see any reason for us to get there, do you? In time, I'm sure we could develop mutual trust and respect as well.

Well met! A pleasure! Salutations new comrades! I am Magister Vanwill Helm, but Helm is fine! I, much like my companion Magister Rae here, am a Magister of the Mythica in Cellerus! We separated after our schooling, which is when Rae met Remmundo. We happened to reunite at a Magister's Symposium at Valansaer Academy. We have been traveling together ever since! After talking the tournament over, we all decided, quite reluctantly for some of us, he steals a glance over to Magister Rae and chuckles to participate. My interest is purely for my own intrigue and entertainment. Nothing like this, nothing that has brought so many races, cultures, ideals, values, and combat prowess together on this scale has ever been done before. I wouldn't miss it for the world!

Magister Helm lifts his hand towards the floating platform upon which Remulus is now sitting. Can't just leave him up there all day, can we? He'll get lonely!

AND THERE YOU HAVE IT FOLKS Magister Helm's voice echoes through the immediate area, though it is obviously altered to sound different than it did mere moments ago. He gestures enthusiastically towards the gathering he has just drenched. A MASTER OF HIS CRAFT!

Helm's lightly armored hands gesture flamboyantly above him, exaggerating the somatic components of the spell he is obviously casting. Well over one hundred feet above him, a circular runed platform, large enough to feasibly hold one large man fades into existence and simply floats

Soon-to-be-newfound allies! The platform above our heads is precisely 145 feet in the air. Remina here will, with nothing but a stream of water provided by me, find himself upon that platform in a spectacular acrobatic feat! Are! You! Ready!?

Without really waiting for any response, Magister Helm shoots an enthusiastic hand up, pointing the tips of his fingers directly beneath the platform. After a slight pause, he angles his outstretched arm abruptly, roughly 45 degrees. From the tips of his fingers, a large jet of clean water erupts over the crowd. He laughs wildly as the crowd is startled by quite a few stray droplets.

Not to be less than polite, the man who was introduced as Magister Helm responds; his tone is slightly more serious, and it becomes apparent from the smoothness of his voice and his pattern of speech that he is of the nation of Valandaer,but as someone who is a close companion of, and trained under, Archmage Xal, I find your claim of besting him in the arcane arts someone difficult to believe. He is an archmage after all. Though I suppose it's not worth arguing the point. After a brief pause, his tone resumes it's previous cheery countenance, Forget I said anything! What say you Sommarian and Synthesist? Must we subject our zen friend Remmy here to a test of skill against your basket-headed friend? I can't say that I wouldn't love to see a contest of sorts! Though I suppose we should be attempting to resolve this sooner rather than later, in theory. Theory is always quite boring...

The figure on the far right is looking around, not at the crowd, but at the city itself. He finally stops to react to his immediate surroundings, seemingly distracted by the allure of Stillwillow

Unexpectedly quiet!? I can't argue with the truth. I'm taking in the sights! Most of my visits to Cellerus aren't for leisure. Sue me, though you know as well as I do that you'd lose in court Rae. Oh, and yes, I have one of those too!

He proceeds to go through the same gesture of revealing a Magister's scroll and confirming it's authenticity.

You see, you're speaking to two of what may be, at most, 15 Magisters in the entire country. I'm not going to go through my thesis with you though! For one, I'm sure you don't care, and for two, should you let us join you, the work that earned my Magister's title will become readily apparent within the tournament. The same could be said for my colleague, quite frankly, but we should rather hope that it doesn't come to that. At any rate, it's a pleasure!

"As you say, realistically, nothing is going anywhere. The order in which we approach these tasks is irrelevant; while the Nethalium Breaching is the only undertaking that seems to have some sort of time limit, four months is a lengthy period, and it is possible that we may find another way into the heart of the Nethalium even if we somehow manage to miss the Breaching.

The volumes of the Tome of Souls and Book of the Damned, while not necessarily of minor importance, are simply not as pressing for the purposes of surviving the current state the war. They are, however, of great importance for the purposes of gaining an upper hand against our enemy. Knowledge is power.

I suggest that we attempt the Heart of Eralus first, as it requires no planar travel. From there, we can head to Sorcuth in order to find a guide for our journey through Stygis. I am not opposed to attempting to free Sollomon, though it will not be an easy task. The river Styx runs directly from the Eighth Precinct of Stygis into Axis itself, thus making accessing the Nethalium after obtaining Arannis' Shield and the Tome of Souls a fairly easy endeavor. As I recall, Lanthromere's Vision functions more accurately based on distance from the desired location.

Upon obtaining the Grimoire, we can return here. If we happen upon other volumes of the Tome or the Book of the Damned, we can pick them up, but due to the urgency of our situation, we must make haste." Standing up, Alaris picks up the glowing flask on the table and drinks deeply. He then moves to pick up Lanthromere's Vision, along with the assorted bags upon the table. "I am, of course, open to other ideas as to how we should approach the job before us. Despite my vast and princely wisdom, I am loathe to dismiss the counsel of those who are less fortunate." Alaris smirks as he turns to bow deeply towards Chukie. "In all seriousness, I see a lack of necessity in the mocking of my former title or the nation that we defend. It does not offend me, but it seems rather out of place. Shall we take our leave?"

Alaris nods. "I understand the risks. As far as Valandaer is concerned, from this point on I am no longer royalty. Teris will have the throne. I am prepared to do what I must for our nation and the safety of Sariel."

Alaris steps forward to sit calmly in the second open chair from the left, lowering his hood and revealing medium length silver hair. As he scans the room, eyes crackling with blue arcane energy, his brow furrows briefly then relaxes. "A small, abstruse demi-plane...And appropriately warded," he says colloquially as he continues to survey the meeting place. "And that door is now disconnected from the academy. Nice touch Lanthro."

A look of realization flashes across his face, and he stands abruptly. Angling himself towards the other two, he extends an armored hand. "While I know of both of you, I don't believe we've ever been formally introduced! Prince Alaris Baelgar, at your service." He chuckles lightly as his gaze meets the face of the man who has just spoken. "From the stories I've heard, I should have expected as much. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, both of you."

1d20 + 21 ⇒ (4) + 21 = 25.
Pic 1

Pic 2

Pic 3

Pic 4

Pic 5

Pic 6 On the right, minus the daggers.

Combine those images. Robes are a darker silver with dark blue trim. The pauldrons on the outside look kind of like this but without the cross obviously, and not as bright. Eyes are a deep purple, and my skin well tanned rather than pale.