Aetherius answers Tastheus. "I am quite confused as well. There seems to be quite a number of confused magi arround, in fact. I thought I had been magically moved but... It's as if we've collectively lost our memories. I can't explain being linked to what I assume is a familiar overnight. And there are others who seem to be linked to an animal they don't know. I'm not quite sure how this is possible if we haven't lost our memories. We may be under the effect of potent Mentem magic..."
The group of young men are quite deferential to Lares and follow him inside. They call through the door and the one with dark skin begins speaking with the woman on the other side, then begins laughing "Archmagus Lares, you do not know your own wife? Barshako would be quite angry if she remembered who you were either!"
Zarkut looks at Tastheus and Aetherius. "So i guess we're all in the same boat? I would have introduced myself as a magus, of the lineage of Pralix, but I was being cautious. I could take a look at you, if you lowered your Parma, and see if there are any ongoing effects, but I can only do so by your leave, of course."
Aetherius answers Tastheus. "I am quite confused as well. There seems to be quite a number of confused magi arround, in fact. I thought I had been magically moved but... It's as if we've collectively lost our memories. I can't explain being linked to what I assume is a familiar overnight. And there are others who seem to be linked to an animal they don't know. I'm not quite sure how this is possible if we haven't lost our memories. We may be under the effect of potent Mentem magic..."
"I agree..." Tastheus opines. "This is most strange. An animal? I found no such animal in 'my' laboratory. Just old paintings and a lot of correspondence."
Zarkut looks at Tastheus and Aetherius. "So i guess we're all in the same boat? I would have introduced myself as a magus, of the lineage of Pralix, but I was being cautious. I could take a look at you, if you lowered your Parma, and see if there are any ongoing effects, but I can only do so by your leave, of course."
"With apologies, no, not this moment. My suspicious is that this is all too elaborate for a standard mentem effect."
"Makes sense. You know us both? Would you be as kind as to convince her that we weremarried - but that by some magic we have become our past selves, and hence lost memory of each other."
Zarkut shrugs. "Complexity isn't a problem, but I respect your right to privacy. But it's difficult to examine myself, I can't see my own head." He grins.
"I seem to have an Ibis - some kind of magical bird - speaking in my mind and vice versa..." Pointing to Okeannetis "And this one over there, one of our sodales, Okeannetis ex Tytalus, seems to be linked to the Monocerous over there and he has no recollection of binding it. Neither do I. Perhaps one of us, or another affected magi, is linked to the Unicorn or Sphinx over there. I'm not quite sure who." he takes a moment to pause. "So you have a laboratory, here? Found anything interesting in it that would shed some insight into what's going on? I awoke in private quarters, and I'm not quite clear if I have a lab here as well."
"I'll have to concur with Tastheus that this is too elaborate to be a standard effect. Your option may be useful later on, but I'll have to decline for now. I would prefer to get acquainted before lowering my Parma for anyone in the circumstances, I hope you understand. It may be that we can find out more through other forms of investigation and I would prefer to learn all we can through such methods before we take those steps such as a full magical analysis on each other... or calling in a quaesitor."
"For all we know, this is an accident caused by one of the magi of this. Hum. Covenant, I suppose."
Zarkut nods. "I did wake up in quarters and near a laboratory. There were signs it was mine, but that seemed impossible. But... it's not just a matter of memory, but also of time. Much work was done, apparently by me, that I haven't had time to do yet. But I feel as young as my memory says I should.
I would encourage caution regarding a quaesitorial investigation, though, because we can't really prove who we are or that we own what we think is ours. Not to mention, if we have somehow become younger, it's likely to make a bit of a splash in the Order. Might be better to keep it quiet."
Silas steel himself and starts walking. He doesnât have an exact destination is mind but as he walk he encounter the small group of people â whom stand out amongst the rest â talking in latin among themselves. He stops for a second, trying to listen to what they are saying to one and another. As he picks up a few words that could only be exchanged between magi, he hurries over there.
Shouldnât they be older though? I must be about 90 years old now. My fellow covenant members should be in that age range as well. Might be powerful Longevity rituals I suppose but would they have taken them so early. Could be apprentices as well. Now for how to approach thisâŚ
âSalve. Sorry to interrupt but⌠Well⌠I am in the need of a little assistance I suppose.â
The bald 20 something man appears dressed in white robes, he appears relatively normal except for a few pink marks on his face.
The young man shakes his head at Lares, "I know you and I know her, but she does not know me. She has become the person she was before she came to this covenant, and she looks for her family, her mother. Good luck with that!" He starts making some animal noises and the other two boys laugh with him.
Lares sighs quietly.
"Of course, how stupid of me. Try this: ask her where her family is."
Maybe we can go check on them, see if they are still there as she expects... a sad thought.
The boy shakes his head to Lares, not bothering to ask "Her family was nomads, before she moved here. Now they... well I guess they are still nomads in a way." One of the other boys gives you a sideways look "You two have a reputation you know, you have been married for years, but you are like animals at night. Guess it runs in her family."
"A waste, then, wouldn't it be", Lares says without missing a beat.
He pauses, lost in thought.
"Alright. Tell her she is free to stay here if she likes, and that I will take care of her if she does. But she is free to go at any time, should she not like it here."
The boy translates the message through the door, and moments later the young woman emerges, dressed. The three boy's jaws drop.
Plasmatoris is still garbed in a rough toga formed out of bedsheets, and stands near the door of his studio and lab. He has set out an easel on the smooth stones outside the door, and has been spending the last unknown number of minutes hastily scratching sketches of the scene, the people milling about and talking in numerous languages, of the magical beasts looking about, of the grand fountain spraying into the sky and fading away.
Languages melt into his mind - Latin, he notes, as he does his work. As an aside, he speaks up - assuming the pixie is still near him - "Mimi, I hear a number of these folks speaking Latin. Could you make note of them for me? I'm trying to keep this scene fresh. I rather delight in its spontaneous chaos."
Hmmm, he thinks.What a diverse group. Many different people, and some variation on age, but not as much as if in a natural scene. It's more like a painting already... He pauses in his sketches as he switches to a new piece of scrap and a new charcoal. He looks about, looking now at everyone's ages, their apparent heritage, and their status.
Then he reaches out to interrupt the first person nearest where he's set out his easel. "Mi scusi," he says before switching to Latin. "I would like your name, the year you remember, and the most recent moment of your history you remember."
Argentius continues his note-taking, focusing for a time on the regions around Cairo and Alexandria.
Then he reaches out to interrupt the first person nearest where he's set out his easel. "Mi scusi," he says before switching to Latin. "I would like your name, the year you remember, and the most recent moment of your history you remember."
"Tastheus of House Tytalus. The last year I remember is 1210." He smiles a slow smile ending abruptly. "My last memory is well, I had just married my Pater's daughter, Cateline, in secret and under his nose. The elaborate plan of two years came to fruition to appear that she had been kidnapped."
The artist's face lights up. He straightens his body almost as if adopting a more formal guise. As formal as he can manage while wearing a bedsheet, with unkept wild hair and charcoal all over his fingers from his sketching.
"Ah! Salve Sodales," he says in a cheerful voice, "I am Plasmatoris of Jerbiton. The last year I remember is the year of our Lord, 1182. I remember swearing the Code of Hermes, and being at a party my Master - my parens - had thrown to celebrate being finally rid of me. And then I woke up here."
The Jerbiton looks briefly around, and lets out a soft harumph. "I apologize if my query interrupted you of your business, Magus Tastheus. I was just noticing how everyone here has lost years - and was seeking out a pattern. Myself, I have lost a lot of time, from what I have gathered. It seems almost as if everyone has been reverted to their moment of primacy- Oh! I have an idea."
Then suddenly Plasmatoris turns and sweeps back into the open door of his studio, only a timely twist of his arm keeping his makeshift attire from dragging off and leaving him bare. The dishevelled Jerbiton steps back into his studio and looks around, eying the gallery of paintings and statues set inside. He selects the painting that Memnemomene said was the first of the gallery, and the one that his eye seems to feel is most advanced in technique.
He brings the spell to his mind, each motion of hand falling into place like a brushstroke, the words coming out. Intellego Terram. Eyes of the Ages. I wonder how much time has passed since these were painted, he thinks. If Mimi is telling truly, then I can determine how many years of memory and life I have lost...
Tastheus can hear the Hermetic Latin of Plasmatoris casting his spells in a clear, concise voice.
Lares whispers a few words in Latin, attempting to conjure a rose as a greeting to the woman.
Base 1, +1 touch, +3 moon
Cr 5 + He 2 + Sta 3 = 10
- aura (5?)
âMy name is Laresâ, he says, indicating himself with the rose, then offering it to her.
As the Jerbiton leaves, Silas draws back a little. Though initially determined the others havenât instilled him with any confidence. The group seems incredibly untrustworthy to him. Are they mocking him with pretending to suffer the same affliction? They do seem to be hiding something.
Silas goes quiet and donât bother introducing himself. Looking at the Tytali and the other unidentified magus suspiciously. Silas is a little surprised he feels so affect by them. But he supposes intuitions like these are best to heed. He alco cant help to think that he has forgotten about something important.