The Past: An Important Meeting

Lord Nathaniel Fairfax stood outside the office of the man simply known as Toryc. It took him a few minutes to figure out the right numbers through his thick glasses, though once he had found it he was polite enough to knock and wait for an answer. He wore a long, frock jacket over most of his clothing and held a John Bull top hat on one black gloved hand. His face was easy enough to give him away as someone in their early 50s.

The door is almost immediately opend by a somewhat nervous looking human, dressed in clothing indicating hes a valet of some form or another. "Ah, Lord Fairfax," he says, "so good to make your aquaintence, Toryc has been quite looking forward to your arrival." With that, he quickly ushers Lord Fairfax into a room that is somehow simultaneously modest and gaudy. There is very little in the way of decoration, but what decoration there is is displayed in an almost shrine like fashion. It seems as though the owner of this office sees all of his decorations as personal trophies, and speaking of the owner, standing behind a rather well carved desk is a small man, in a very well to do business suit, with a bruise purple, studded and melon shaped head. His glowing orange eyes stare directly at Lord Fairfax, who may notice that Toryc dosent blink by now, and his broad mouth is twisted into what could charitably be called a smile, but could also be called "bearing his fangs".
The valet speaks in a tone reminicent of someone who is choosing his every word very carefully. "Toryc, it is my honor to introduce, Lord Fairfax of Coxland." Torycs gaze shifts, ever so momentarily to the valet, who visibly quails, and then it returns to Lord Fairfax, "I am pleased you are hear, sir." He says in a voice reminicent of someone putting a Coxish accent through sandpaper. "I am quite interested in this factories product your missive mentioned. Would you care for some consumables while we conduct business?"

"If you have any safe for human consumption," Fairfax replied, his face turning into the usual business vaguely friendly but calculating poker face. He moved to stand closer to the desk, silently cussing in his head. Just his luck, a monster. He'd be lucky if he got out of there with his head attached. "May I ask what title you would prefer I address you by?"

Toryc give a wave to the valet, who rapidly leaves the room. "Toryc will suffice, sir, as you and I have business with each other. Please sit, I wish to know more of this magic disrupting compound of yours." With that, he sits down in his own seat, and almost simultaneously, the valet returns with a trolly carrying a variety of foods, primarily meat.

"Toryc will do," He replied, looking a bit uneasy. In Coxland, a title was a very important symbol to have, something someone did not just simple avoid, even if one's title was simply 'mister'. "I could explain, it I could give you an explanation as well as a small demonstration. I leave the option to you considering the demonstration might appear dangerous," Fairfax replied. reaching into his picket and pulling out a vial of white, dull powder. He set the vial on the desk, waiting for an answer.

Toryc looks at the vial, desire and caution racing through his mind. On the one hand, he so very badly wants something to use against the hated casters, on the other, 'might appear dangerous' covers a wide range of possibilities. After nearly ten human heartbeats, Toryc looks up at Lord Fairfax and says, "What do you need for your demonstration?"

"Patience, and a good few feet of space. While I am not exactly a great magic user, I do know how to preform a few basic tricks," Lord Fairfax replied, a serious look remaining on his face. He kept the vial on display, a reminder of just what he was about to show off at his own expensive.

Toryc pales slightly, then looks to the valet, "Get a few of the serfs in here to clear some room for Lord Fairfax." The valet wheel the trolly of food to a far corner, and then leaves. A few minuets later, he returns with four other men, who begin to push furniature and decorations out of the way, leaving a good eight foot circle clear in the middle of the room. "Will that be sufficient, Lord Fairfax?"

If the Lord had a better sense of humor, he might have laughed at the over reaction to the mention of the magic. While he had mentioned it might appear dangerous, he was hardly a skilled magician. If things went wrong, it's be able as dangerous as combining water with hot oil in a kitchen. Maybe a few burns, maybe a few nasty burns if people were right next to it, but nothing requiring the entire room to be moved.

He reached out a hand and held it up in the air, trying to stop Toryc before the serfs entered the room. "No no, that might be a bit much. Just watch your hands and don't poke anything. I was trying to warn you that it might look a bit more dangerous than it is. And that it would hardly be in your interest to touch anything involved in this demonstration."

The Nokklugs expressions and tells, still bieng unfamiliar to Lord Fairfax, gave little away of Torycs view. Nonetheless, hes gets himself well back, and visibly tenses, as though prepared to pounce. "Carry on then, Lord Fairfax." he rasps.

Lord Fairfax paused when remembering another object he had forgotten to grab before mentioning the demonstration. Reaching into his other coat pocket, he pulled out a vial of more shocking white liquid with little blue specks floating in it. He took a deep breath and set his hands on on the table as if he were holding a small imaginary box. Magic was never something he had studied extensively or even really paid much mind to. It was nothing more than a trinket to him, one of those fields indistinguishable from science. While he understood the basic theories, he left a majority of the real work to the eggheads. With that in mind, it took him a good minute of meditation to prepare even a simple little looping spell.

A small spark flicked in the space between his hands, then vanished. After a few more tries the spark finally remained and spiraled, curving in on itself in the process to create a small case of ball lightning, only the size of a pea. Despite this minor feat as far as magic was generally concerned, the lord's fave was dripping in sweat from exhaustion.

"As you can see here, magic takes energy to create. The white liquid is known as white mercury, an enhancer for magics of all kind in the Shelby method. While some wizards have been known to function without it, most require at least a small vial. Now, if you continue to observe..."

With that he carefully reached for the powder and left the ball of lightning to hover by his remaining hand. With a small flinch he poured the substance on his own hand, creating the light to quickly fizzle and fade, leaving only a tiny whisp of smoke.

"This substance here would be known as pale sodium. As you can see, it can stop magic in it's tracks. If I had a stronger magician with me, I would show you just how strong the substance can be. Sadly, I have little trust for those who work under me and even less trust for those who do not."

Toryc watched and listened in silence, fear and curiosity waring in his mind to bring his body into a state of paralysis, skin turning an impressively pale shade of purple. Toryc carefully watched Lord Fairfax, at the slightest sign that this casting was an elaborate set up, he'd break the humans neck. At the conclusion of the demonstration, Troyc took a moment to compose himself before asking, "So then, does this substance negate the magic itself, or does it remove the potency of this... amplifier?"

The middle aged lord moved to shake some of the dust from his hand, his expression as serious as ever. Small bits clung to his sweat however, leaving behind some white speckles on his skin. "Both. When it comes into contact with the amplifier, both cancel each other out and both become useless. When it comes into contact with a wizard themselves, it eats away at their abilities so long as it remains in contact, depending on how much is used. It does lose potency as it nullifies however. If it was a perfect solution, there would be no need for a factory that made more of the substance."

Toryc made a sound reminecient of a cicada, "So in short, it only weakens and dirupts, interesting. How long does it take to loose effectiveness?"

"Depending on the wizard involved, between three weeks and five months. It remains potent if it is never exposed to magic however," Replied Lord Fairfax.

Torycs eyes literally lit up. Sealing magic for a minimum of a month, AND posessing an indefinate shelf life? If he got his hands on this and found a way to get it home, the profits would be astromomical. "A product this capable would be most lucrative Lord Fairfax," Toryc stated, "I would be overjoyed to assist you, for a portion of the profits and product, of course. Please sit, you look drained, let us discuss terms over consumables." With that, Toryc sat down, and the valet began to order plates around the desk, Torycs laden with meats, Fairfaxs with a pleasently presented Coxish dish, both accompanied by a red wine.