overbox | Samata Mahto

Samata Mahto

This is an open RP post for Samata Mahto, my wizard OC. General notes:

- Samata lost her arm to a sorcerer (don't drink and sling magic, kids) in a terrible accident, then built herself a new arm
- Magic in her world has been hereditary for all of recorded history, but Samata discovered a way for any schlub to use trick reality into letting them use it, AKA Wizard magic
- She's teaching her new trick to anyone who will learn, and as a result the ruling sorcerer families are getting nervous about her
- She can't keep her big mouth shut when she's mad, and she gets mad easily
- She feels very strongly about the inequalities of society. Lend her your ears, ye poor proletariat

A few possible prompts:
1: Magic lessons! Wizardry is a lot of work, and we're all making it up as we go. But Samata is the one who invented it, so if ANYONE can give you lessons, it'd be her.
2: A night on the town! Samata spends a lot of time in bars and taverns. Partially because they're good places for discrete meetings between people who don't want the establishment to pay too much attention to them, partially because she likes to have a drink or two with friends.
3: Politics! Samata feels very strongly about workers right and social justice. There's a lot to talk about in there.

Or if you don't like those, make up your own! Here's a list of words that might help you come up with a thread prompt!

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The Elves were, it had to be said, Istavan's least favorite creatures. Long-lived to the point of absurdity, many still remembered being forcibly decamped at monster-claw and herded into the forests. And he had piled on the beasts to keep them there. Sorcerers alone were not enough-there were perhaps five of them in all of elfdom. So they were augmented with beasts. Gryphons that could tear a man's arm off with their beaks alone. Wandering Ents, tree-creatures who smashed and clutched. Dryads who spied and strangled with vines and other implements. It took, in other words, a badass elf to sneak out, or a clever one. And one who cared little for returning.

Traveling human lands was honestly fairly convenient, now that she had learned the language. Oh, the beer was still piss or like water, but a good hairband and a hood kept her inhuman features from showing. Still, she had to be wary. The last time humans had caught scent of her, she'd had to flee town ahead of barrels of hot tar and chicken feathers. Still, the rumors about this student she'd heard...perhaps it was worth risking a run in with the priesthood and the authorities. But that would mean a bar crawl to find the woman.

Samata wasn't hard to pick out in a crowd. The pointed hats were popular throughout the lower classes of the city, but only she had a mechanical arm. At the moment, she was talking to a group of fellow university students at a dingy bar known as The Loaded Stoat, an establishment that most reputable members of the church did not visit. Their faces were a mix of confused and excited, and they were all giving her their undivided attention.

She caught the end of their discussion, with Samata saying "And don't forget, be discrete. They haven't outlawed us YET but they're going to eventually when they realize what it means."

It would be impolite to interfere with a conversation in progress, so Mir hung back from the table in the corner of the Stoat. She glanced at the kegs on offer and sighed before taking a cup of...what was probably some sort of wine. Not vinegar, not yet. She waited long enough to take a sip-and grimace, before approaching the table.

...she was aware she might not give off the best impression though. Her trousers and boots were travel stained, and while she had removed most of the decorative patterns, a keen eye could still pick out the old knotwork and stitches they had once had. And she wore a cloak *indoors* even in the roaring heat of the Stoat, even in the middle of a drought. The bow and hunter's gear likewise made her stand out in all the wrong ways.

And well, she might speak the language but she still had an accent. "Well met, is there a seat at your table?"

The other students were splitting up, paying their tabs, and generally heading home. The meeting was over, and it was getting late. Samata was just staying long enough to finish her wine. It was an ancient vintage from the day before yesterday. But she'd paid for it so she might as well finish it.

Then a shady person appeared. She eyed her cautiously, but worst case scenario she could phase door out of here in three seconds. "If you like. I'm not staying long anyways..."

Edited 2017-11-25 20:27 (UTC)

"Then I will be brief-though you have been difficult to track down on the basis of rumor and heresay." She took a seat, pulling back her hood just enough to look Samata in the eye. "I am Mir. And I wish to know if the rumors are true. But that-" she nodded at the metallic arm "Says that they are."

Shady this person might be, but the face under that hood was fine as porcelain, and nearly as white. Her fingers were long and graceful, her cheekbones slightly unusual. An expert eye might look at that face and say 'elf'. But experts were rare, and an elf looked close enough to human that she could pass as weird or exotic. What might also give her away was the quality of her gear-elf-made boots and clothes would last for decades, and few human works of the textile and leathercrafter's arts could compare. But even that was, at best, just circumstantial evidence.

She tensed slightly when Mir confirmed she had been looking for her specifically, and not just somewhere to sit, though she did her best to cover up her hesitation with taking another sip of wine. She peered closer under her hood.

Wow, underneath the forest ranger getup, she looked more like a noble scion who hadn't done a day's work in her life. There was something else odd about her, but Samata couldn't quite put her finger on what. She certainly wasn't expecting to have run into an elf at a shitty dive bar.

"I hope they're good rumors."

Well, where else would you expect to run into elves? Surely not a forest, they're not naturally arboreal creatures.

"Rumors are what they are-difficult to interpret most of the time." She paused, looked at her own shitty wineglass and set it down rather than take another drink. "But for the most part, yes I do like what I hear. Even if you apparently anticipate being outlawed."

"You heard that bit, huh? Well, you know how it is with undergrads, they get excited if they feel like things are a little bit dangerous." She said, rubbing the back of her head with her mechanical hand. She was secretly pleased she was apparently starting to have a reputation.

"Anyways, you clearly have heard of me but I gotta admit I don't know who you are."

By and large, Albin likes Samata. If his daughters were alive, they'd be about her age. While she can never replace them, she does help fill the void in his heart.

And a girl after his own heart she certainly is! She's as fiery as he was at her age, and as fierce. Maybe she won't cut you with an axe, but her words almost hurt worse.

At the moment, he's just listening to her, stirring a weak beer and taking the occasional sip. He's not drunk, nor aiming to be - you don't want to see him drunk. Ever. However, he's loose enough to actually try to listen to her lessons on magic. "I can't say I understand half of what you're saying, Samata. Still want me to give it a shot?" His words are as always accented, the tones thickened by drink slightly.

Samata was also drinking. Like Albin, she wasn't aiming to get blasted, but she was definitely a bit tipsy by now. "Look it's really not that complicated." She said, incorrectly. "You're full of odic force. All living things are. It's what sets us apart from, like, rocks and tables. Magic reacts to odic force, so you literally already have all the tools you need just by being alive!"

That part was pretty simple, it was the next bit that tended to lose people. She went on talking, heedless of whether or not Albin was following her as she spoke about things like energy matrixes and arcane linguistics.

Faust rarely drinks. He likes his mind sharp, in case of danger, and he's cagey about taking something from someone he doesn't know. But Samata likes drinks, so they're here in a bar, listening to the everyday talk of everyday people, and Faust is cautiously sipping...something, to show willing. He's not quite sure what it is. Samata had ordered it. He drinks from the glass like he expects it to explode.

"What did you say this was again?" The bitterness isn't agreeing with him.

"Imperial Pale Ale. They've been real popular lately. It's too bitter for me, but I thought it might be more up your alley."

She shrugged and took another sip of wine. Later, they'd be meeting someone who apparently could get them access to an isolated building for wizardry classes, but for now they had some time to kill.

"It's really bitter," says Faust, as he takes another sip. This does not appear to be much of a problem for him, since he keeps drinking it. Or maybe he's just bound by the ancient contract of 'if someone buys you something, finish it to be polite'.

"How's work? Made up any new spells yet?" For someone who's been raised and surrounded by sorcerers even with his history in mind, Faust doesn't have the slightest trace of apprehension about wizardry. Maybe it's been replaced by the all-consuming desire for revenge.

Samata always felt like there was always a bit of tension between her and Faust, but wasn't QUITE sure why. Probably because he was a sorcerer. Certainly it wasn't her fault.

Magic. Magic was a safe subject. She could talk about wizardry all day. "Oh yes! I'm CLOSE to finishing a new attack spell I call 'fireball'. Right now it's a bit, er...explode-y," There was a tarp covering a hole in the roof of the old warehouse she used for her practice space, "But I'm sure I can iron out that out easily enough."

There were a lot of reasons to be tense around Faust, not least because he could be terribly creative with his powers when he had reason to put his mind to it, but if Faust had to put a finger on why he had a strained relationship with Samata, it was probably because she had no thoughts about the repercussions of her actions, and also because she seemed to assume an awful lot about him because he was a sorcerer.

Little things like that.

"Nothing wrong with explosions. Even big ones - makes an impression, right? Unless a spell to throw fireballs is going to have a practical application, I guess." Faust can't really see if there is one. But that's Samata, always looking on the bright side of things.

"Sometimes things need to get blown up." She said with a shrug.

"But this one is still too unstable. A flying piece of debris came within an inch of chopping my other arm off."

"Don't worry, I've got it *this* time!"

What's the absolute easiest wizard spell? Mage hand maybe? Valrissa is trying her hand at it in today's lesson!

"It was, uh...."

"...."

"How did it go again?"

"Dal-rek-ten-mah-tul-rul-" and so on as she rattled out the nonsense sounding syllables that made up magic incantations. The full thing took about five minutes of chanting and gestures. It was possible to do 99% of it and then just do the last 1% when you needed it, but first Samata insisted on being able to do it the slow way.

She was willing to explain it as many times as it took. If she could get a street rat like Valrissa to be a wizard, she could get anyone to be a wizard.

Edited 2017-11-27 06:39 (UTC)

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Samata Mahto

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