Morwen recently became the next Archmage after Shachalai suddenly left. Shachalai left no reason for her departure, only that she had left a letter in the Archmage's Chambers that the next Archmage would be able to read whenever they managed to obtain the Spiritmark needed to open the door.
Morwen looked up to Shachalai in a lot of ways and respected her a great deal. So, she was quite hurt when Shachalai abandoned the Guild. Now Archmage herself, Iernos - the Guild tutor - approached her.
[ -- Log begins here! -- ]
Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit nods his head at you.
Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit says, "Hello, Archmage."
Morwen looks up from her mess of scrolls, colored inks, and scrawled notes. A faint flush rises in her teal cheeks as she flashes Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit a sheepish smile. "Oh! Hello, Iernos!" she says, beginning to roll closed a few of the parchment pages before her.
"How has your transition been, so far?" inquires Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit- he drifts closer, but does not stray far from the Master Crystal.
"Oh, well..." Morwen pauses, her brow furrowing thoughtfully. "You know, I have not really thought much on it! I've just been busy trying to get some things in order and figuring out what to do next!" The young kelki continues to clean up the papers and inks around her, neatly placing most of them into a woven kelp backpack. "...I suppose that means it's going well."
"So busy with work," Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit agrees, "That you don't notice the change in stature. You are reminding me of the last Archmage, once again." He considers you for a long while, and then says: "You will need a Spiritmark."
Morwen blinks a few times. "Well, yes, I suppose that I will," she says, though her voice sounds rather uncertain. "I admit that I do not know much about the significance or meaning behind the Spiritmark."
"It has..." Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit trails off, his expression invisible behind his great helmet. "It has, until now, been the domain of Archmages. The mark is passed, one Archmage to another, as a symbol of office." He hesitates. "I feel that this is wrongheaded, not least of all because in an Order so small, when an Archmage departs abruptly, there is no opportunity to pass the Spiritmark on. If a former Archmage were still waking, they would be able to mark you, but..."
Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit says, "As you can see, that is not the case. So the way it has worked before does not work very well now."
Placing the final scroll into a woven kelp backpack, Morwen's bottom lip finds its way between her teeth for a pensive few beats. "That does create a bit of an issue," she muses. A soft sigh pushes its way past her lips and through flared nostrils as she lifts to a standing position. "So, be that as it is - how am I do acquire a Spiritmark? What must I do?"
"A new one must be wrought," Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit replies simply. "It is a thing crafted from Spirit, made to reside within the flesh. I can aid you in its creation, but I would recommend that if it is done, it must belong to all full members of the Order - not the Archmage alone. A mark of allegiance," the ethereal being suggests. "A mark of family."
Morwen's tentacles bounce against her back as her head nods. "I want nothing that my fellows cannot share in," she says, her words sincere as they purposefully slip past her lips.
Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit gives a slow nod - he floats back and settles upon the Lighthouse's summit, holding out his gauntleted hands. "Come forward, then, Archmage," he says, with a beckoning cant of his head, "And extend your right hand to me. We will sketch and lay a new Spiritmark upon you, one that every Elemancer, every full Magus among you, can wear also."
Morwen's gaze timidly follows Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit, a lump forming in her throat that she forces back down with a heavy swallow. Mustering up her courage, her bare webbed feet pace forward to close the distance between herself and the Ascendril tutor. Her right hand lifts, the tremble in it settling as a sense of resolve flashes in her large, glassy eyes.
Holding out one hand, Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit takes your webbed fingers in his own. His other gauntlet closes, firmly, around your wrist. A flicker of energy rises about him, a shimmer of Spirit in the air. His head bows, and with a single finger, he draws forth a pearly bead of Spirit and begins to etch it, slowly, upon the back of your right hand.
The sensation is warm - a thrum of power echoes its way through your frame, livening your veins, momentarily speeding your heartbeat. The rush of energy builds within the crown of your head, swelling within your right hand.
Morwen's gaze drops to her hand as she focuses upon it, inspecting the teal, webbed flesh as Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit sketches upon it. She swallows again, keeping still as though afraid the slightest motion might ruin his careful work.
Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit's head cranes closer still to your hand. He examines his work, completing the details upon the mark with painstaking care. A last surge of magic blossoms about him, light streaming from his frame as he completes the Spiritmark.
As the Spiritmark forms against the back of your hand, its lines burst forth with energy, casting an ethereal glow about you. They shift and warp, not quite stabilized as yet.
The Spiritmark upon you blazes outward, encompassing the whole of your form.
[ -- LOOK MORWEN -- ]
She is a wise Kelki with smooth, pale teal flesh that iridescently gleams when ambient light permits. A short, fin-like crest begins just above her brow and ends in a mass of tentacles that sprouts from the back of her otherwise bare head. The puckered appendages taper at various lengths down her back, appearing like dreadlocks that are neatly gathered by blue satin bow. Her ears draw into sharply-angled fins that rest on the sides of her face, each extending well beyond the back of her head. Her facial features are soft, each almost running into the other, save for a pair of large, marble-like eyes that swirl with various shades orange, yellow, and green. Clearly amphibious in nature, she is lithely built with thin webbing between her fingers that expands and contrasts when her hands are in use.
(adorning her ears) : 2 creamy-white coral starfish earrings (slung over her shoulder) : a woven kelp backpack (draping down her body) : an airy, jade gown of sheer silk (stacked on her right wrist) : 2 thin gold bracelets (coiled around her left hand) : a length of elemancer's focusing beads (emanating from the right arm) : an Archmage's Spiritmark
Morwen's eyes widen as the energy engulfs her form, her hand recoiling for a moment as she holds it close to her chest. A gasp escapes her lips before her attention is drawn to her right arm, the glowing Archmage's Spiritmark contrasting brilliantly against her teal flesh. "That was..." she pauses, her breathing leveling as her focus shifts to Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit. "Intense."
His gauntleted hands falling back to his side, Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit stares down upon you, considering the work that has just been performed. "You carry with you," he tells you, "A piece of elemental Spirit. It is powerful, and it is a mark of your responsibility to this Order and its cause." He pauses - his tone a little brighter when next he speaks. "You withstood the process of the marking, too - very impressive." His voice dies away, and he turns, examining the starry ocean. "It should allow you into the Archmage's chambers. You should be able to replicate it, too."
Morwen rubs at her right palm with her left, the hand trailing up her arm to rub along the mark lightly. "How?" she asks, her multi-hued gaze settling on Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit curiously.
"You just have to probe at it," Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit explains to you, craning nearer to gesture to the pertinent features of the Spiritmark.
[ -- PROBE SPIRITMARK -- ]
This Spiritmark encompasses the whole of the body, winding and gleaming its way along every contour, line, and vein of the wearer's body in full, geometric splendor. A multitude of colors are visible within the mark's lines, vivid and rainbowlike - powerful magic is contained within the abstract lines and angles, forceful and elemental in its nature. The Spiritmark is brightest upon the Archmage's right hand, fingers and palm rendered translucent by the brilliance of the silver light that is focused there. [HINT]: Your Spiritmark allows you to pass the laboratory door in the Lighthouse. [HINT]: CONSULT SPIRITMARK to divine the relative location of a member of the Ascendril Order. [HINT]: SKETCH SPIRITMARK ONTO to sketch a Spiritmark upon an Ascendril of Elemancer rank or above. You can replace obsolete Spiritmarks by doing this, as well. It can only be worn in the following location: handtattoo. It is strangely weightless. It bears the distinctive mark of Archmage Morwen.
Morwen nods her head. "I understand," she says, her voice lowered and solemn as she inspects the mark. "I shall wear it proudly and do my best to merit this mark," she says, firm and resolved.
"I trust you," Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit responds, simply, his voice resounding through the dim of night. He reaches out, brushing his hand against the Master Crystal. "You will do right by this Order, I believe."
"I will." Morwen says, strong and resolute. "I suppose I should go to the Archmage's chambers. Perhaps Shachalai left some answers for all the questions that were drifting in her wake." She inclines her head in Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit direction. "Thank you for your assistance, Iernos. Your guidance is always appreciated!"
"Return to me if you have any questions," Iernos, the Eidolon of Spirit replies. "I would accompany you, Archmage, but I am needed here - above." He bows, low, with fluid grace at odds with his immense form. "I hope it is revelatory."
"Me too." Morwen says, a soft sigh in her words.
[ -- Off to the Archmage Chambers! -- ]
--- The Archmage's Chambers ---- 10:-24:0 --- The Archmage's Chambers are a study in the blending of basalt, crystal, and glass orbs of Spirit essence, all three intermingled through careful carving and diagrams to form an effulgent, resonant whole. Threads of power creep through this room, which stands at the end of a staircase branching from the nearby hub of the lighthouse tower. The circular chambers that lie beyond form an office, as well as a smaller private chamber past that. The entire eastern wall of the chambers is glass, framed in arches of stone so as to better resist the pressure of the ocean without - this sweeping outlook offers a subaquatic view of Enorian's harbors, shot through with the distant light of the Grand Flame atop the Temple. A letter is set front and prominent, containing a note: 'For the next Archmage.'
You pick up a magically-preserved letter.
You read what is written on a magically-preserved letter: Archmage,
At a guess, you're probably Ms. Morwen. If you're not, I'm more out of touch than even I realized. Congratulations on making it this far.
-- Edited out lots of stuff. My secrets. Mine! --
Morwen? I admire your kindness and gentleness with people. It's something I have never been able to emulate. You'll be a good leader, and you'll be a good Ascendril. You'll teach the Order how to be in ways I never could.
You're what Enorian needs. You're what the Order needs. Don't be like me. Be kind, be considerate, the way I couldn't be. Those shortcomings were personal flaws. Do better, like I know you can.
Ever towards Dawn.
Morwen hugs a magically-preserved letter to her chest, heaving a soft sigh. Her eyes scan about the empty chambers, taking in the subaquatic sight before her. A smile touches the corners of her lips, the expression only growing as time passes. "Time to get back to work," she says with a nod to herself.