Mastering the Mind 2: Controlling the Mind (Private, Crimson)

[Pescado Branch]

Timestamp: 50th of Melora, in the Season of Winter, Era 1 of the Celestial Mandate, Era XV PF

As it was, Pescado returned to the tavern that he had been to the few nights prior to now, and decided it would be time for a little fun, and practice. This was the night that he would practice his Control over the Mine spells, and see if he could not perfect some of them, as well as create whole new ones. Making his way once more into the tavern, he'd start his journey, and search by sitting down once more at the table he had been at. Perhaps he'd start with a simple suggestion spell. Initiate level, and not hard to cast at all.

Letting his mind begin to meditate, and allowing himself to slip into his Clara, he would start to work with the Arcanic weaves around him. Pulling the Ara from around him to mix with his Vis, he'd create the necessary arcalysis reaction, and then slip into the Astral plane. Here, he would begin to focus upon the essense of thought, and then channel it into his arcalysis reaction to create the mana necessary for an initiate spell. He'd then look towards the waitress, whom seemed to be lost in her own world, and divine the mana into her mind with a simple Suggestion of "Come over here"...

[Crimson]

It was hard to miss a metal-tailed saurid entering a tavern. It was almost like a really bad joke; except, this time, it was Pescado Branch himself -- reptillian, warrior, and all around mystic. Several eyes darted his way as his shadow hung about them for several moments as he found the table from his previous escapade. It was also surprisingly empty.

Sitting down with a metal tail was a little more annoying than Pescado ever gave it credit for, but after some shuffling with his weight he managed to find a comfortable position. Now, to the fun stuff: he spied a waitress conversing with a fellow with an ungodly amount of tattoos. Then several counts later, she was absentmindedly wandering toward his table -- to the tattoo'd man's displeasure. With a bark-like growl, he followed after her, shoving other mortals out of his way.

[Pescado Branch]

Watching as the waitress made her way over towards him, the saurid also noticed the Tattoo'd man that was pushing everyone out of the way to get to the waitress. Not a good idea when the person that she was heading too happened to be a hungry and thirsty saurid with a knack for mysticism, and a little bit of a mean streak going on. Attending to his Clara, which he was still in, he began to weave the Ara around his Vis once more to start the creation of an apprentice spell. It was mostly experimentation, to see what would happen, for when creating spells, one never really knows the results until they are able to be seen first hand.

As he intertwined his Vis with the Ara, he'd then begin to focus upon the essense of thought, and then would channel it into the arcalysis reaction he created to make the mana necessary for the spell. Altering the Mana into a Matrix, he'd then place feelings of peace, and calm into it, and then would divine it into the man's mind. The feelings of peace and calm were meant to be so strong that the man might just "fall" over asleep where he stood, while the waitress still under the power of his suggestion would continue onwards towards him...

[Crimson]

Actually, Pescado was not in Clara when Tattoo and Waitress approached his position. But that didn't make the Saurid any less capable of achieving Clarity again. He was positioned rather comfortably, and eras worth of training had taught him how to unfold the mind so that it ensnared all other thoughts to produce a pathway for him to return to Clara once again. The result was a fifteen count break while he began to shape the intended apprentice level spell. Divined and abjured, the spell produced a series of calming sensations and was inserted into Tattoo's head.

Slowly, Pescado's normal vision returned as he snapped out of Clara after releasing the spell and he saw the awkward scene unfold. For a moment, Tattoo didn't seem affected by the spell. But then, his movements slowed and his face twitched under his eyes fell shut and his entire form became water. He crumpled under his own weight to the astonishment of everyone around him. "Get him some water!" someone cried. But the waitress, she was still trotting forward, seemingly unaware of everything else around her.

When she arrived, however, she shook her head as if coming out of a daydream. Then, looking at Pescado and noting that she had somehow drifted to his table without noticing, shrugged it off as inherent skill and proceeded to smile and asked for his order.

[Pescado Branch]

Watching the scene unfold, the saurid would have smiled if he could, but he remained vigilant about it, and thought nothing further on the matter, save for the fact that the tattooed man got what he deserved. Letting his slighted gaze rise to see the waitress' face, he said, "Could I get sssssome water? Asssss well assss a menu? if you have fisssssh on the menu that would be appreciated assssss well..." After he said this, he looked around the tavern to see what other victims he could use his powers of suggestion, and mind control on. His next spell would be one he had crafted before, but would certainly allow him to control the mind of almost anyone...

[Crimson]

The waitress blinked, her eyes and senses still adjusting to her newfound surroundings. How did she get here anyway? she thought but, again, shrugged it off as good waitressing. She nodded a few times at Pescado's order, obviously better at memorizing than resisting Mystic attacks. "The menu's on that board sir" she grinned then pointed at a chalkboard against the bar. "And we have fish of course" it was then that the Saurid realized that this woman was not Jaedaxian. She was probably Medonian, a recent immigrant from the looks of things. Her skin was pale but had a tint of bronze in it. She had done some wanderiong under the suns.

"We have friend, steamed, and raw fish" she repeated the items on the board behind her "vegetables, herbs, and almost anything you fancy. What do you fancy sir?" She smiled, a little flirtatiously. Perhaps that was how she got more tips. Either way, she left with Pescado's order and sooner returned with a tall wooden mug of water before wandering off again, presumably to get his meal.

While he waited, the Mystic found that people watching was something of an amusing pass time. Most of the new arrivals either wandered toward the huge fireplace on the other side of the room, or went immediately to the bar for a drink. The working class of Jaedaxia looked modestly more wartorn than the rest; those better dressed typically got better treatment, though recieved the same type of food otherwise served to the middle class. Judging from his quick estimate, there were at least thirty individuals, young, old, middle aged, within the tavern. And that didn't include any possible persons above him, in their respective rooms.

[Pescado Branch]

As she brought back the water, Pescado nodded, and then picked up the mug, and took a sip of it, some of the water streaming down the sides of his face since he, unfortunately, couldn't drink as humans normally drank. After a few more sips, the saurid looked around at the people. Watching them was an amusing time, and it was something that he often liked to do. As much as he began to despise softskins, he still found some charm to them. Sad to say, Tattoo, was someone that he didn't have any tolerance for. Looking upwards, he hissed a small laugh, one that only he could hear, and then chose his next victim.

It was a younger man, perhaps of 23-24 eras old, one that he would certainly like to control the mind of. Closing his eyes, and retreating to his Clara, he then pulled the Ara from around him, and mixed it with his Vis to create the necessary arcalysis reaction. After that was done, he would then focus upon the essense of thought, and channel it into his arcalysis reaction to create the mana necessary for the spell of Command Being. He would then alter the mana into a matrix, and place the thought of obey me into it. He would then abjure the matrix into the young man's mind, finally divining it to give him the thoughts of obeying the saurid...

[Crimson]

Water indeed trickled from the saurid's scaled jaw. Between his teeth and his lack of lips, it was not an easy task to drink from softskin mugs. But as a being of the Mind, Pescado easily allowed those emotions to boil over before he chose his next victim. Once more, he stiffened for several moments. The noise around him swirled for several seconds followed by a blur of sound before finally becoming indistinguishable and then disappearing completely. It was an art form, meditation, a rare skill only the most talented appreciated. Controlling oneself was suppose to be the path to greatness after all.

The young man pescado's reptillian eyes fell upon was a youth, perhaps a dock hand, who was handsomely built with strong shoulders and a thick chest. He sat near the bar, drinking merrily with some friends. They laughed between bites of cheap food and cheaper ale. But as the spell Command Being manifested, and Pescado cast out of Clara, the mystic could see evidence of his spell's handiwork on the man's demeanor. For a moment, his eyes unfocused before a blank look overtook him. His brows narrowed as his mind attempted to resist the foreign thoughts ... but failed.

His will no longer belonged to him.

It now belonged to Pescado Branch.

[Pescado Branch]

As his meditaion worked, and his spell was cast, the saurid knew immediately that he had taken control of the youth's mind. Now, what could a young youth like him wish to do. Or what might he not wish to do, thought the saurid. He had his will, and was ready to have some fun with it. Perhaps he would watch the comedy role out as it happened. Forcing the young man to do as he bade well, he had him pick up his drink, and then spill it upon one of his friends, very nonchalantly, as if nothing was wrong with doing that. Once that was accomplished, the saurid would watch the results of what was happening extremely carefully to see if it amused him enough to stop. If it didn't, and he still had the man under his control, he would do something else to amuse himself...

[Crimson]

The comedy unfolded before Pescado in a timely manner. At once, the young man spilled his cup of water and one of his buddies shoved him backward with a shout. There was a flurry of Jaedaxienne followed by a very dumb-looking, brainwashed youth looking quite blankly at his very wet friend. "That was a new tunic!" a dark haired man fired, hopelessly and unimpressively doused. The ladies he was attempting to impress were giggling frantically, shaking their heads unforgivingly and already making their way away from the scene. "Damn it Scottson!" He shoved his friend again, this time sending Pescado's mind-puppet sprawling like a doll against a group of able-bodied strangers.

They didn't seem amused by the comedy the Mystic had prepared. And laughter soon turned into swearing as a punch, or two, were thrown into the mix. But Pescado may have noted a something strange occuring. Without the embrace of Clara he was unable to detect the spell woven against him. And before he could repel its effects, the saurid was suddenly feeling very tight along his abdomen ... and he really needed to find an outhouse before his innards moved the wrong way and expelled something stinky in the middle of the tavern.

From somewhere within the throng of people was another spellcaster, it seemed and he was just about to enjoy his own comedy. This time, however, the main character was no dummy dockworker.

No, the punch line was to be Pescado Branch.

[Pescado Branch]

Interesting thought the saurid very quickly, but then did all that he could to sustain his innards from exploding outwards onto the seat. Stumbling upwards, fairly quickly, gripping his stomach as he felt it tighten even more, the saurid tried to concentrate and keep himself from soiling his black leather armor. Moving towards the exit, he hissed curse words in every tongue he knew, saurid and charismean together, and attempted to make it outside into an alley by the bar where the fight between the elf and dwarf had taken place the few nights before.

How in the world could this have happened, he thought, knowing that he had just been having a good time, and not even feeling the need to head to the latrine at that time. Leaning up against he building, and allowing himself some semblance of relief, the saurid would attempt to enter his Clara and meditate to help calm his stomach down. If he managed to do this, he would then begin searching everyone's Vis around him to see if anyone might be the one responsible for causing him to have to soil himself inside the tavern...

[Crimson]

Mysticism was a subtle art. Very few practicioners ever forgot that. Most Mystics were loathed, or outright hated by their peers. Their arsenal of mind-bending weapons were feared by the mundane, and whole armies have been devestated by a well aimed fear or berzerk spell in their midst. This was the power Pescado Branch wielded, the same saurid who was now hunched, panting, along a dark alley on a cold Jaedaxian darkening. The sensation of soiling was gone by now, but his stomach still churned and he had to muster every bit of willpower he could afford to stop himself from pooping.

How embarassing.

Then again, his previous targets weren't that fortunate either. Maybe it was karma? Several more moments passed and Pescado soon found the strength to take a deep breath and assume meditation. He closed his eyes and felt for the cool reflection of Astral energies around him. Then some half minute later, he was propelled into the trance-like state. His entire body felt numb but renewed; his mind screamed in exhileration.

He was back.

Now, to the task at hand: someone had cast a spell on him. Whatever emotions Pescado felt were used to focus his mind further, examining the Vis of the dozens of persons in the inn behind him. It was a curious method, to be able to identify other mages while in Clara. But after several minutes of scrolling his attention throughout the room, he found not one mage. The saurid hissed in annoyance. He couldn't even find a trance of the spell used against him. Now he was beginning to doubt that there was a spell at all. Maybe it was something in his drink ... or he just had a bad case of the runs.

With his sixth sense, Pescado was able to see the waitress approach his table with a steaming plate of fish. She placed it down, scratched her head, wondering where her customer had gone off to, but had to attend to the other customers. So she shrugged and left Pescado's meal there, hoping that he'd return -- preferrably with a tip.

[Pescado Branch]

The saurid did hiss in frustration, indeed, and was quite aggitated at the fact that he was unable to trace down who had cast the spell upon him, if indeed there was a spell cast upon him. Being a mystic of great strength in his art, adept at every spell he had practiced, he would hunt down this person casting spells upon him, and be sure to make him pay. That is, if indeed it was a spell. the saurid made sure to make room for the possibility that it happened to be nothing, and that there was not spell work, or casting involved in his sudden urges to "poop".

Making his way back into the bar, maintaining his Clara as he ever so carefully sat back down in his seat, he scanned around wondering exactly what had happen. Not having seen anyone was certainly a setback, but that didn't mean a mage wasn't there. He could be hiding his Vis with some form of mystic trick, or even another form of arcanic trick. The proof would be to find various inconsistencies with another's Vis patterns, and seeing if he could out the person that had casted the spell upon him. Another way to take the other caster on would be to remain in Clara, and then await another spell to be woven against him. He'd then be able to combat it, and cause even more havoc than he had already created. He'd make everyone in the bar sick to their stomachs if it meant finding out who exactly had caused this one embarrassing moment to him. So, the adept mystic waited, did not eat, and merely sat there, viewing each and every person's Vis looking for any inconsistancies to find out if indeed there was another mage at work within the inn he was seated at...

[Crimson]

As Pescado Branch ventured back inside the crowded tavern, the smell of sweat, alcohol, and smoke greeted him like fine perfume. There were salty, sweet aromas mixed into the mesh as well, hinting at the plausible talent of their cook and brewer who worked in some horrid conditions in the back. As a talented Mystic, the saurid was able to maintain Clara by carefully walking back to his seat. Even experienced apprentices were only able to stand up without snapping out fo their trance-states; but as an Adept and a powerful one at that, Pescado had no problem -- so long as there weren't any sudden movements or overly distracting occurances.

With his mind's eyes, he searched the room then -- examining the Vis of those unlikely persons he scanned. None of them were mages, he concluded after several minutes. He might have even allowed himself a taste of his fish which was deliciously placed just in front of him. The waitress arrived shortly and asked if Pescado wanted something more to eat or drink and left soon after the saurid gave his response. She was a professional -- she knew when to stay and when to leave her customers alone to ponder about giving tips.

Additional scans about the room provided Pescado with the same findings: no mages, not even a hint of a spell being cast. Was it just the food then? Or the water, no less? But in the back of Pescado's mind he noted a strangeness in the room ... there was no magi presence to speak of, sure, but there was also that ominous sensation of a 'nothingness' also -- as if there was a missing piece in his immediate surroundings.

Something out of place.

Something hidden.