[Why is a raven like a writing desk? There is only one explanation: The djinni taking that form buggered it up. How else could one mistake furniture for being a bird
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[Oh lord how beautiful. In his haste to respond, Malkus kicks on the video function. A long, pale birdmask pops up with a look of pure excitement behind the lens.]
Another marvelous creature that can also speak? Every day brings a new surprise in this keep.
[Seems someone has completely disregarded anything this raven has actually SAID. Much more interesting that it can actually communicate.]
A new face? Or a feathery thief with a misplaced journal of another resident?
[The picture ruffles his feathers a bit. Been five hundred odd years since Bartimaeus has seen one of those masks and even the great and powerful Oz gets put off his rocker now and again.
His feathers have settled somewhat by the time he responds, but that bit of curiosity is curious for certain.]
Had I stolen this, then why make such a bland post? This would be the perfect opportunity to laud my virtues and the accomplishment of the theft. I work with carefully applied style and flair, I'll have you know.
But you are correct! There's hardly a more marvellous creature to be had in this keep, I assure you. I brighten up the surroundings by my mere presence and taste.
[Like being a raven near an executioner's grounds. He's pleased with the death symbolism symmetry.]
Oh this is true, my apologies for making such rude assumptions about a feathered creature as elegant as the one I'm seeing. It must be difficult to gain any proper respect when your peers seem so keen on squawking and picking at corpses.
[The doctor's so excited. Pigeons are nice but ravens have that glossy black coat and beak that remind Malkus so very much of his own apparel.]
Hardly, indeed. Does this spectacular creature have a name? I admit to being quite ignorant to the culture of the feathered. Partially because it's so impossible to find one to hold a decent conversation with me.
[Bartimaeus considers bursting the illusion by revealing himself, but what's life without a little bit of mischief? Boring and to the perfect pitch for a magician - all the more reason to engage in it!]
There's little accounting for poor tastes, oh masked one. They have their vices, be it consuming things or cawing madly about kitchens -- [Why, yes, that was a jibe at Jabor and Faquarl. He'd be dreadfully amiss to neglect such an opening.] -- and I have mine.
This creature does indeed have a name, but cannot so freely give it out. There's a trick to learning it that starts with you providing yours. It's a sacred tradition to us ravens, you see.
For the son a magician, you know very little. Seven is the number of planes that a respectable djinni can see. An excellent skill for penetrating various guises and sensing all manner of traps.
You have, as expected, the human comprehension of it. The uses are innumerable. For example, were it not for my speech, only a glance at the fifth level would show me as anything but a bird.
[What do you know, ravens can roll their eyes. Who'd have thought it? Bartimaeus pulls it off and settles himself in plain view of the record.]
Seven planes are the bare minimum to check, for those who have eyes for it. Trolls, as I've heard, can see the fourth. An anti-troll such as yourself is limited, no doubt, to the human scope of one.
And I said a minor Detonation. The mere facts that no debris litters the ground and no devastation surrounds us are proof that it was most minor. A proper Detonation would have widespread destruction and a menacing boom to it. A giant breaking wind would have destroyed more.
*He's just going to ignore that anti-troll/pro-human crap this time.*
let2 2tart agaiin, 2even plane2 of WHAT? iit could have been 2omethiing el2e, there are weiird thiing2 iin that fore2t, they could have ju2t broken 2omethiing.
You are possibly the most ignorant mage I have ever encountered.
[Oh, yes, your gig is up Magi-Troll! Bartimaeus has a purrfectly reliable account that you are a mage. He sees what you did there with trolling him about the troll, oh-ho!]
Truly, there are only one or two more that I would think close to your ignorance in all my time in the physical realm. You ought celebrate it!
Think back to your little magician studies and recall that you, like all humans, can see but one plane to reality. I can see seven, all overlaid in perfect synchronosity. Imagine an onion, if you can, and the ability to see through to its core - I can do all this and more. What can hide on the first may not always hide on the last. Rest assured that when I say I see nothing, there is nothing there.
That's a new one, even for me. Likening violence to a puppy seems like it would be the misunderstanding of the century. People welcoming it with open arms, only to have them bitten off quite abruptly.
Does the Keep have a flair for the dramatic? To be expected, with such ancient architecture. Doom, gloom, and ominous natures do tend to come standard with parapets.
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Another marvelous creature that can also speak? Every day brings a new surprise in this keep.
[Seems someone has completely disregarded anything this raven has actually SAID. Much more interesting that it can actually communicate.]
A new face? Or a feathery thief with a misplaced journal of another resident?
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His feathers have settled somewhat by the time he responds, but that bit of curiosity is curious for certain.]
Had I stolen this, then why make such a bland post? This would be the perfect opportunity to laud my virtues and the accomplishment of the theft. I work with carefully applied style and flair, I'll have you know.
But you are correct! There's hardly a more marvellous creature to be had in this keep, I assure you. I brighten up the surroundings by my mere presence and taste.
[Like being a raven near an executioner's grounds. He's pleased with the death symbolism symmetry.]
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[The doctor's so excited. Pigeons are nice but ravens have that glossy black coat and beak that remind Malkus so very much of his own apparel.]
Hardly, indeed. Does this spectacular creature have a name? I admit to being quite ignorant to the culture of the feathered. Partially because it's so impossible to find one to hold a decent conversation with me.
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There's little accounting for poor tastes, oh masked one. They have their vices, be it consuming things or cawing madly about kitchens -- [Why, yes, that was a jibe at Jabor and Faquarl. He'd be dreadfully amiss to neglect such an opening.] -- and I have mine.
This creature does indeed have a name, but cannot so freely give it out. There's a trick to learning it that starts with you providing yours. It's a sacred tradition to us ravens, you see.
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[Except the other Magicias where he's from would have no idea what the seven planes were either. Go figure.]
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and how do you know 2omethiing blew up?
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Seven planes are the bare minimum to check, for those who have eyes for it. Trolls, as I've heard, can see the fourth. An anti-troll such as yourself is limited, no doubt, to the human scope of one.
And I said a minor Detonation. The mere facts that no debris litters the ground and no devastation surrounds us are proof that it was most minor. A proper Detonation would have widespread destruction and a menacing boom to it. A giant breaking wind would have destroyed more.
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let2 2tart agaiin, 2even plane2 of WHAT?
iit could have been 2omethiing el2e, there are weiird thiing2 iin that fore2t, they could have ju2t broken 2omethiing.
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[Oh, yes, your gig is up Magi-Troll! Bartimaeus has a purrfectly reliable account that you are a mage. He sees what you did there with trolling him about the troll, oh-ho!]
Truly, there are only one or two more that I would think close to your ignorance in all my time in the physical realm. You ought celebrate it!
Think back to your little magician studies and recall that you, like all humans, can see but one plane to reality. I can see seven, all overlaid in perfect synchronosity. Imagine an onion, if you can, and the ability to see through to its core - I can do all this and more. What can hide on the first may not always hide on the last. Rest assured that when I say I see nothing, there is nothing there.
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Judging by this place's record something strange and ominous will follow it soon enough.
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Does the Keep have a flair for the dramatic? To be expected, with such ancient architecture. Doom, gloom, and ominous natures do tend to come standard with parapets.
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