Remembering It All

It's a rarity that he has enough time for such things nowadays- but considering the finishing actions on the war against Vampires were coming close, he may as well focus on learning new things again, just like in the older times. For that, Dylerun was approached.

"Dylerun, I've had a request."

"I decided to learn Riftmancy after all. I still remember the most, and in fact, I vaguely remember how it's done and perhaps I could try conjuring a Rift on my own, but--"

"-- as far as I remember, being vague is what kills people with Riftmancy."

There's a pause, and soon enough, he adds.

"What I'm getting at is - remind me how it's done, and preferably show as well."
(Arthur Rowan)

"You're a good deal older than my regular student, you know." A sandwich would be lifted, the undead Oscuri taking a large bite out of it. For several seconds he would simply stare at the masked Adjudicator, face passive, one eyebrow only briefly peaked so as to show interest. He would swallow, open his mouth to say something- before taking another bite of his sandwich.

"Take your mask off and ask me again. I don't like talking to strangers." Crumbs would be wiped off of his beard as he mumbled with his mouth full of bread and cheese.
(Dylerun Grauhimmel)

A silent sigh.

This had to be one of Dylerun's quirks which he typically pulls off for his own amusement, but if that's what would get Arthur what he wants, it doesn't matter to do so. Although he's grown attached to this mask, perhaps too attached to hide his face all the time, slowly and steadily he reaches out to it, pulling it off. Naturally, his hood slides down as well, revealing his face.

"Fine."

It's definitely changed. His skin is paler than usual, and his appearance has paid the price for dabbling in so many corrupting magics, including one of Chaos- his own methodology revolved around constant feed and sacrifice of not only energy, but his own health and well-being as well. And yet, despite the deeper tone to his features, and the blaze of scarlet to his eyes, he doesn't seem weakened.

No, not weakened at all. Only stronger.

"There I am."
(Arthur Rowan)

"Thats bad for your skin, you know." The rest of the sandwich would be crammed into his mouth with a jammed thumb, chewing, swallowing. Hands would be clapped to brush off the rest of the crumbs and excess, before the aging man would step forward cane in hand. He absolutely did it on purpose. In the classroom, with all his oddities, it was his realm. And if he was teaching something, no matter where he was?

The rule applied.

"Mana, focusing on a single point." Finger would raise, pressing forward. "A destination remembered, concentrated on. Mana flowing through your singular point to pass through it, the lifestream." A pop as a spark would fly from his finger to crack against an invisible wall, the tear widening, forming.

"At this point, if you've a problem up until here, it isn't worth your while. I'd be ashamed of you, in fact. My grandson can do this." Or, most of it. Slowly the rift would widen, wider, before it became a large portal. The other side held an intricate hellscape, nothing but ash and embers and frost. Somewhere in the spirit realm. Quickly, before anything could pass through, a snap of his fingers would close it.

"Remember the location, focus, mana. Go through. The rest is up to you. Are you going to give this up after a few years too, or did I waste my time again?"
(Dylerun Grauhimmel)

He isn't entirely wrong.

Part of the reason as to why he wished to perfect the Necromancy, as well as grasp Biomancy, was the fact that he wanted to look after himself too. Of course it's quite handy if the Undead do not exactly rot, and if they have precisely the same ability as any living, but--

-- he felt like withering from inside out. The gnawing influence of Chaos, no doubt, would ruin his body. It's only a matter of time.

"I know that it is. I'm... working on it."

In a moment, he rather focused on what Dylerun was telling him, as well as showing to him- the concentration of mana was nothing he's unfamiliar with, same about remembering the location. The rupture of the Lifestream to pass isn't something he imagines he would not be able to handle.

He's torn the reality itself with Arcane, and he mastered Necromancy. This shouldn't be difficult, right?

"I don't think it would be that difficult to me. I'll simply need to remind myself how things work."

And then, the rip in the Lifestream, one that conjured a Rift and displayed a hellscape. No doubt that it was not Eternian ground, and as a matter of fact, it's likely a Spirit World - which means it's a good thing he was able to close it up so quick. Nethradins, after all, tend to be quite troublesome neighbours.

"Mm... and no, I do not intend to give it up. This ought to be quite useful in things I intend to do."

"Thank you for the reminder."
(Arthur Rowan)

"Good, because wasting my time is the most obnoxious thing on this Azrael forsaken island next to that mask you wear." Another jab, but of course. It wasn't that he didn't like Arthur, but it was simply in the mans nature. From within the folds of his pockets would...another sandwich be pulled, wrapped tightly in a thin film. Film would be discarded back into the pocket, and food beginning to be eaten once more.

"If you've anymore questions, speak to Ludovic. He'll be able to answer them soon just as well as I can."
(Dylerun Grauhimmel)

There isn't much of commentary he provides onto Dylerun's remark. There were certain reasons as to why exactly he chose to wear this mask, but so far, he's voiced only one, ever. The rest? They remain for the others to guess.

"I will."

In a moment, he throws on his hood once more, if only to plant the mask over his face. It's quickly fastened to make sure that it stays on, and with a simple nod, he departs.
(Arthur Rowan)