Justin Silverblade

OOC - Whoo hoo! Great fun! Just in case anyone's confused, Salinye and I are kind of a half step behind you Damon - but I'm going to catch us up right now. ~~~ BiC - ...If this new character proves hostile, it may be an entirely different- what? Walking over to him and placing a hand gently on his shoulder Senora leaned in to whisper in his ear ensuring no one else in the party would hear her words. "I would love to accept your offer to talk sometime, Enos. But next time, please come without your mask." His instinct upon her touch was to go for his weapon, but upon hearing Senora's words and feeling that her hand was in no way trying to restrain him, Enos fought back his flinch. He listened intently on the words, staring forward; if the girl had wanted to be noticed, she would not whisper. Without my mask...? The girl dares to offer a guess...? I haven't been that transparent, have I? As if to test his own question, Enos turns to Senora and gives a slight head nod, and an 'understanding' smile, before turning back to watch his path. While his smile had seemed genuinely innocent, Enos' eyes seemed intent to quell some inner curiousity, gazing at her form as she walked. Or perhaps she has had warnings from above? That would be detestably unfortunate. Perhaps I should let things drop for a while, and let her come into my domain. Senora, you may think I wear a mask, but it is far more intricate than you could know. You may try, but alone you could not succeed, and a diety will only help a vollentary (sp?) victim so much. I will have to be patient enough for her to walk into my wiles. Unless our quest ventures through too much, too quickly, it should be an easy task... The group arrived together, as mentioned in the previous post. *Enter Damon's post here* So... Iriador is our captian now. I had wished that there would be another, like the bard or the other warrior... his name escapes me. Still, better her than this new Shianna. Wait... she said demon... Strange... OOC - (No, Enos' thoughts didn't end there, but you can imagine the musings he had, and I don't think they're alltogether important at this stage of the game. Just wanted to put in the fact that he noticed it. Sorry so short!)

(Salinye stole the thoughts I had and made them sound much better than I could have said them, so I'll just smile). Thanks for sharing. - Justin

Non... Dig..i..tal...? What is this 'Non-Digital' you speak of? On the rare occasion that I do have to use a pen or pencil - I assure you that my writing is so messy it won't matter what size, style or colour I use. (In fact, a smeary pen, may actually improve the quality. ) - Justin (Edit? What edit? I don't know what you're talking about...)

*mimics Pered's thoughts on the ending* A sarcastic Speaker maybe? Jealous? Or maybe just 'wiser' with cynicism, kind of a "alas, if only they knew it wasn't that simple..." kind of thing? Either way, a neat poem. Short and sweet - thanks for sharing. Justin

I get a kind of eerie feeling from this one, Nyyark. It's a good poem - I can hear it read with a voice void of emotion - and the words & form seem to be conveying that very well (though I won't pretend to understand the poem - I just tend to let things sink in whether I understand them or not. ). It is a very powerful poem. Thank you for sharing - though I'm sorry for whatever brought it up (I know you said it wasn't about you, but poems usually come with feelings or something from life). You're a good poet, I hope you continue to post. - Justin

Simplicity, and yet so very engaging. I couldn't help but read it again and again. Sorry I didn't catch it when you first posted it. Bravo, good work! Thanks for sharing it - I enjoyed it very much. - Justin

Very Nice.

OOC - If I may back up just a little bit, Damon, I'll conclude this post by catching up to yours (and Shianna). (And I can see some possible irony later, so I'll see if I can set it up. If it is unbelievable, I'll delete it/not bring it up). For ease of play, I have repeated a piece of your post, Damon. Just letting you all know. ~~~ BiC - (Moments before the enterance of Shianna...) "You are astute, Senora. I wished to speak to you about our... group." If eyes are the windows of the soul, then Enos' had been long painted over. Where the truth of his soul should be revealed, there was instead stained glass - drawing a wondeful picture of concern and compassion with no regard to the inside soul. (OOC - hope that makes sense ). If it was not for Senroa's empathy, no truth about this man would have been revealled. The sun beckons our arrival downstairs. There is not much time. I must keep her close to me if I wish to survive... Mocked empathy will be the key here, if I am to manipulate her. It shall be tricky though... "I house great worry for our mission, truth be told," Enos continued. "I know the plights of a cleric on a bloody mission. There will be many needs for you... and few for me: I fight meekly. I have, however, leant an ear for those who need it. Senora, if the burden of many wieghs you down, I-" With that, [shianna] turns the handle and eyes the cleric with a hidden hatred. "Hello cleric. I note that you are speaking at the moment, but we have business to attend to. There will be time for that in the future." She softens her gaze at the somewhat venerable man who is picking his belongings up. "And you... what would someone as wise as you be doing in a travelling party. Should you not be enjoying what luxury there is to retired life?" This man... she sighs mentally So near death... so precious in his venerable years. I only hope I do not need to wait long. "We should go." she states, snapping her gaze back to it's icy blackness. "We have work to do." And almost as suddenly as she entered, and with an equally commanding air, Shianna left. Enos glared at the direction of the door - his moment ruined. The fire of his soul pierced through any painting upon his eyes momentarily. What is this!?! What new accomplice must we answer to?! She enters here without word or warning? Without a pressence to command and yet the foolishness to- Senora! I must regain my composure. Everything can be fixed with the proper touch. Straightening himself he turns his attention back to Senora, once again in calm demenor. "My lady, it appears we'll have to pick this up later. But... I think you understand my thoughts. We should hurry. I wish to see who this new character is..." and how much more difficult she is going to make things for me. Returning his expression to the usual half smile, and darting eyes, Enos picked up his bags and led/followed Senora down the hall and to the rest of the group.

OOC - Archaneus, I wanted to get moving a bit, so I tryed to 'avoid' our conversation (being the coward that I am, and not wanting to play your character. ). I think actually, after you read how I worked around it, that it gives us freedom to use it later for some artistic measure (flashbacks etc). Or, if not, we can just pretend it was a meaningless conversation. Either way, I'm easy. If you want to go over details, then great, you can PM me. Otherwise we can just play it by ear. Sorry to skip ahead a bit though. ~~~ BiC - Behind closed doors, Feralon and Enos spoke. The room beneath them could hear their subtle footsteps, barely creaking the rotten floorboards. So light, in fact, that the sleeper whose conciousness was parralel to the sun's was not disturbed. As he lay innocently asleep above him, two minds had already begun the day. And, in the room beside the two silent steppers, a conversation could not be known. True, the mumblings of words could be heard, but to the hazy mind of a morning dweller it could be interpretted in a dozen different ways. Truely - a ranger and a thief knew the ways of tranquillity. Whether their conversation warrented it or not was irrelevant - to them, it was natural. And, at the stroke of dawn and the rising of the sun, it ceased. As if it was a realization that the day had started - the two moved more boistriously (sp?) now. But they were not the only ones. The entire tavern began to groan and move about as the sun and the smell of breakfast moved them. The two current tenants fell to a hush in their dealings as Senora graced the second floor. During her indecision, the two had reached conlusion - their discussion known only to the sky and the tavern walls. "...Then I shall see you soon, Feralon. I smell breakfast already, and do not wish to keep the others waiting. Carry on without me, I'll be a moment to pack up my things." As Enos turned to the door, there was a soft knock. How convenient.... who now walks the way of the second floor I wonder? Opening the door, Senora stood in the torchlit hall, and in wafted her pleasant aroma, along with the distinct scent of bacon and other breakfast foods. "Ah, Senora. Good morning. Feralon was just leaving actually. Do you wish to talk? I don't have long, and will have to pack as we do, if a lady such as yourself doesn't mind an improper host." You should have been earlier Senora.... we'll only be able to touch the surface of things now. Oh well, at least it gives me some kind of connection with her. Feralon nodded quietly in greetings to Senora and farewell to Enos. "See you both soon," he said in leaving. His footsteps could not be heard as he turned down the hall. Enos turned his full attention to Senora, seemingly unattentive to the task of packing. His dagger sparkled by his side, strangely ornate compared to his tattered clothing. He made no further notion for her to enter, but left a clear path and the door wide open. His eyes took the time to examine her - intently gazing on her beauty and the unicorn upon her tunic. He smiled faintly and awaited response before turning to his work. Religion and beauty in the same vessel. A detriment and a blessing to the group. I hope I am skilled enough to capitalize on her strengths... ... And further the diabolical mind ran, in the mere fractions of seconds that passed... Hmmm.... And I am hungry too. I think I shall have bacon and ham this morning, with my new found wealth (OOC - everyone's gotta eat, right? )

An Author’s Notes This story had a duel purpose, and in writing it, ultimately I think was not completely successful on either front. I don’t think that it was entirely a failure, but it was an almost impossible task to do justice to both efforts. So as an addition I think it’s not a bad idea to speak about some of the things that were explored. It was to be a piece of literature – a piece of fiction dedicated to a wizard’s ways. To explore the myth, and to properly explore all the aspects that a wizard could have in every day life: both in a wizard to be, Tek, and a wizard already created and active, Rachel. It was also to be a piece of history, for Tek as a DnD character. This is his past, and *should* suit the character he is, and how he was able to be who he was when the campaign I’m playing takes place. Granted not all the history will be there, but it is important to keep some things a mystery, so there is always the ability to expand on his past. There are two parts to Tek’s life, the mortal side and the mythical side. As a general rule of environment, myth ventures to mortal realms and not the other way around (which explains the rarity of myth). The conflict between these is what created a traveling wizard instead of a stable one. This is first hinted in the opening paragraph, and is confirmed by the final page of the story. There are many single-event separations that are included in the story. All in all his life with Rachel was an entirely separate one from his life with Jardain. His only link between the two was Gerard, as a magical bard. It was that link that guided him over into Rachel’s arms inadvertently with the map incident. Rachel ‘saw in the stars’ that Tek would need help and so Tek is brought by myth into myth. Upon Tek’s return home, when we see the dagger plunged into the map and his father’s disdain in their finding nothing of Tek’s disappearance. His father could not breach the gap that Tek had crossed over without realization. When Tek did realize it, “awoke from a dream” he turned back into the mortal world, and found himself confronted with many ‘what ifs’ created by his encounter the mythical realm. Jack served as a reminder of the sole mortal world. Had Tek and Paul not ventured into the woods at all, Tek may have been journeying off with Jack (obviously a thief or of a thief’s family). A realm not at all to Tek’s approval. Dellrite, and Klothryn’s death, signified the choice that Tek had, if he wished to not return to the mythical realm. Hardship, and his ever lacking ability to help. It would be a difficult road, especially since he had missed so much of it. The cane that he had from the limp was a link to the mortal world that he existed from – gained only from hardship. Rachel would not allow a link from mortal to myth, as to assure the reader that there could be no mortal to myth, only myth to mortal. Julia’s character held a unique role in the story. Her absence when Tek returns from myth signifies the loss that he will receive by taking that path. It is a lose-lose situation. There is no eternal answer where you can have your cake and eat it too. Her item, however, the whistle, was not taken away like the cane. It served not as a mortal to myth item but a hint that, while there will always be losses in life, there can be memories of the past. Rachel does not disallow the item, partially perhaps due to the choice Juila signified/supported, or perhaps because of Julia’s link to myth (via Gerard) nor do we ever hear of the whistle again. Gerard’s character turned out to be very much a taboo of what Tek could become if he was not careful. The lifestyle seems perfect in the beginning, and Tek adores it along with the other children. But on Tek’s return from a magical environment, Gerard hints at bad things between him and wizards. It was a warning not to go half assed into such a realm – and it stirred Tek into the calling of myth and magic (one notably that he could not have entered without the former horse of Rachel. Only those who had been myth could cross the gap into myth). These character’s hints are all revealed further at the end of the story, in the final star reading. Jack turns back to face his problems, but it runs in the family and has always been a problem to fix; with him, Tek’s life would have been a constant ‘poor house – law’ difficulty. Dellrite, returns to an honourable path by ‘paying his dues’ to a lost cause – signifying continued hardship but not continued struggle. Julia’s not mentioned, reaffirming the loss that must come with every decision. Gerard is described as “finally recalling luck and charm.” It is a positive outlook but does not speak to the skill and intelligence that Tek wished for his life. He did not want to get by on luck, but “ride the winds of fate.” His mother is mentioned as passing on, which signifies as an end to the past (and decision) completely. In making his decision for better or worse to turn to myth completely we are allowed proof of a wizard’s way. We see the protective role that is constantly played by the wizard. When Tek comes across the orc (the missing number from the one they fought previously) there is a reference to the Hermit Lady of Death, hinting that it was indeed Rachel’s hand that slew them. Furthermore the incident with Meynovich is the new struggle that we see Tek has to deal with. Trueleaf and he are the myth equivalent of Dellrite and Klothryn’s death, and it is the first time we actually see the struggle between wizards, though it is hinted time and time again. And, during it, we see the pull of myth to mortal, that continuation of the conflict that has plagued Tek for the entirety of his young life. When he makes his decision to meld the two (as he can now, without having to worry about following Gerard’s path, being of myth), Rachel returns the cane/gives a new cane to him to signify that he can bring myth into mortal now, and that he is a mythical creature, and not a mortal one. Tek’s comfort with this is shown at the end of the story with the poem (which at the time was a comfort of the child). It also foreshadows of evil happenings, as the last time Tek sang that song goblins arose, which is a perfect lead in to the campaign I play with him. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it!

Horse below me, I trotted along, I didn’t count the hours, the days. I probably stopped to sleep. If I did not take any care to notice my surroundings. I lived within my head for the trip, examining thoughts I had not the maturity to do until now. I did not want to be useless, I did not want to cause folly, but protect it. There must be more to life than the simple day to day experiences. I felt them at that clearing. It was quaint. Untouched by taint. I wanted that. To take me from my ambition was a sight and smell that knocked me like smelling salt. The horse neighed, and I found myself in a fallen clearing; trees that had been burnt and suffered the winter’s blanket. And amongst the trees were bodies – at least sixty orc, or what would have been orc before the fall of snow and time. The smell of the corrupted flesh infuriated my nostrils. I at once looked away and up from the bodies, and covered my nose. I rode well around the clearing, hours out of my path, daring not to stop and face the corpses of the crooked. It was a rough awakening, but enough to settle me before coming across the small dell of the Hermit Lady of Death. Even before I found my way to the clearing, I could hear the sound of chimes. I had returned. I dismounted and found my way to the edge of the clearing and peered to the cottage. It was as if untouched by the year’s events (which notably felt like so much longer. A thousand tragedies or comedies could have befallen me in the time I was absent from this place). Smoke rose from the roof in small wisped strands, the wood was clean and sturdy, and the front deck was still furnished with chair and wear. As I peered closer, though I meant not to spy, I saw a robed figure standing on the deck. His voice was calm, and serene, and seemed to find its way easily across the air. It was pleasing to the ear, though I had never heard the language before. This gripped my curiosity greatly, for there were few languages that I did not know. “Soiem delarris teleck mar, Soiemarras? Tollen soil rakk…” He paused as I listened intently. He removed his hood to reveal pointed ears. ‘Elf!’ my thoughts shouted, and as he turned I caught a glimpse at my first elf. His body was tanned, and his eyes seemed to gaze with compassion against everything. His face was beautiful; clean, smooth skin. His hair was long, and it lay fallen back lightly on his cloak, dropping into magnificent shade. He seemed to glow in the setting sun. He turned his head half back and spoke again, “Tok lar jovel Soiemarras. Kay jaune t’kreel.” His conversation apparently finished, he made his way to the forest and seemed to disappear within. I was awestruck, and stayed so for several moments. After stepping from the realm of myth, I straightened my robes, and took my cane in hand. I led the horse by its reins into the clearing. Revealed now, in the absence of the elf, was Rachel. Her beauty was different. It was not an elf’s. Not comparable. She had not aged a day. It had not struck me before, perhaps because I had spent so great a time around her, but she looked exactly as she had six years ago when she walked into my room. Her hair was styled differently, but it was still the long, flowing hair, more golden than the sun. Her eyes, deep as ocean again sparkled in the pink hue of dusk. She was not a day over thirty. Her robes were still as pure as the first snowfall, and it danced as she shook her head in silent knowing. She smiled and looked at me. “Tekkorin.” I smiled back at her, speaking humbly. “There were a few books I remembered I hadn’t read.” She laughed lightly and motioned for me to sit down. “You won’t need that here,” she said, motioning to my cane. My limp had gone for some time now, but I had never lost the grip of a cane. It seemed a comfort item – much like the whistle that sat in my pocket through the days. Without thought I had brought it with me. It seemed a token of stupidity here though, no need for it indeed. I placed against a corner and forgot about it. She sat comfortably, and seemed to gaze deep into my thoughts. She did not say a word to start the conversation, though she did not need to. I did not hesitate to speak to her fully about everything, and as usual she held her ear open. Finally I felt the resolve that had come so strongly revive within me, and I skipped past pleasantries I would have had as a child. The wind seemed to pick up as the stars came out, and I could hear the sound of chimes from the other side of the house. I asked the question of yesterday. “How did you find me?” She nodded, as if she had been waiting for the question. Her eyes dimmed slightly, though she did not seem sad or disappointed in my question. “The stars are more than just a map of the sky, Tekkorin, they are a map of the earth. The midnight moon means much to those who look to it.” “But why?” Realizing the unintended insult in my own question, I rephrased. “I mean why that moment? Why not stop us sooner, or come across me later?” Now she seemed to be saddened by the questioning, though she was not put off by it. “That is not a question for a mage, but a priest. I would not answer to your satisfaction if I answered at all.” I nodded. I had long known that answer. But it did not help me in my goal. “I know,” I spoke aloud, humbly. “but I want to learn. I want to be able to understand what you understand. I want to help-” She cut me off, by standing abruptly and walking down the path several steps. When her robes settled she smiled at me, now happy at the conversation. She seemed to wade through my thoughts easily, without the inability that I had. The conversation was merely a wait for her, and not always happy to sit through the role, she was happy to see the conclusion. She motioned upward softly, her hand delicately guiding my gaze. “Do you see the stars, Tekkorin? Look at them.” They danced tonight; their shine was a blaze of destiny. It seemed to call of the future. As I stared, I became memorized by them, and thought of another day far from now. Fate called it tomorrow, but it was unlike any other. It was different than what I was used to. The stars begged for a new form, a new constellation. It was to be fresh, but of old blood. And, they called out to me. Rachel seemed unaffected by their splendor, and looked for me to return her gaze. “They say that you wish to be a wizard.” She left for bed quietly, mentioning that the guest room was still mine if I so desired it. I stayed and looked at the stars for some time longer. It was a remarkable thought, one that I had not actually put into a term, though I would not deny that that was a proper title. A wizard. I decided to stay indefinitely. The next morning I entered the dining room as I followed the scent of breakfast. Rachel had already finished eating, and there was a plate set out for me. I sat down and helped myself. “Good morning,” she said, without looking up from a book. My intent was to be direct. Firm and strong as to what I wished to say. Never mind the wishy-washy pleasantries. “Good morning,” were the words that came out of my mouth. So distraught with myself, I laughed. Rachel looked up inquisitively, and by doing so, seemed to remove whatever hold was on my tongue. “Will you help me? Teach me magic?” “It is a long road. And a harsh one.” “I know,” I said. I had thought about it all night, and this was what I wanted. A world I wanted a piece of. I knew I had the constitution for it, the curiosity, the intelligence. It was all a matter of tutelage. “It is not one you can turn away from. Magic is not a weapon. Not a tool,” her gaze could still pierce my thoughts. “It is an element of life. It can not be ignored once you’ve seen it, Tekkorin Karros.” I nodded. She nodded and gave me the smile of friendship. She was glad for me, though why, I could not yet fathom. After her smile faded, and we sat in silence as she contemplated her own thoughts, Rachel stood in splendor. “And you agree to my tutelage? You will abide by my rules and know my teachings as truth without exception?” Her tone was unlike any I had heard before: neither kind nor discouraging, not happy nor sad. It was a final bargain, a final chance and fact to what I asked – revealing that I knew not the deal I wished to partake of. “You wish to become my student Tekkorin?” The resolve last night still stirred me today, and I knew the answer. “Yes.” Her face curled into what an ignorant would call a grin, though it was bittersweet. “Then you need to learn how to read this,” she said. The book she slid across the table was in a foreign language. “The Tongue of Magicks.” And so I learned. There was nothing interesting about the teachings, though it was a complicated language, full of words that had no imperial equivalent. It took me a great while, even with Rachel’s help. It required a great amount of memorization, and I found myself reviewing the language often simply to remember it. After I learned the language (which took some time), Rachel explained that there was much to learn about the trade of magic far before the skill of wielding it. “It is a power that binds all users. We are all guilty for discovering it, and so must be guilty for the guidance of its practice, together. There is no other force to guide us, none to comprehend our abilities, and appropriately watch over them. We must be a family, and we are one. For that purpose, there have been passed on facts and responsibilities of a wizard. “A wizard is never young. From age they grow to a new spirit – magic hears those of intellect and embraces those of wisdom. A wizard’s youth is their past, their life is their present, and a world’s goals are their future. “A wizard is always weak but always capable. Their power of magical forces is restricted by mind and matter. They will reach limits unexpected and unwanted, but if they are wise, never unwelcome. A wizard’s intellect can open any gate, their wisdom will see any open door, and their will shall force them through both. “A wizard’s truth is their cause. Purpose for those who wield the arts is known by Fate. He will be the messenger, and the wizard shall be the reinforcement. They are servants to their goals but masters of their roads. “A wizard’s word is their will. They may speak riddles, or may not speak. They may speak boldly or plainly or quickly or quietly. They may speak of intention or of fact, of advice or of scrutiny. But their hearts must be as pure as their goals, and their tongue must speak for both. “Other rules, and there are several, are secondary to the navigation of our life. The calling of a wizard must come first, or not at all.” My teachings continued, both as a necessity and a test of endurance. If one was not willing to accept the life of a wizard, then they were not fit for the fundamentals of one. It was several seasons before we finished the ‘paperwork’ (though that term was banned, and I was punished for its use) of a wizard. When we were finished, I felt almost omniscient. The knowledge of a life, amidst the presence of magic made me feel like I held an important cause. I floated about for those few weeks, not arrogant or egotistical, but simply significant. I knew what a wizard was, and further than that – I was what a wizard was, simply minus the magic. Rachel laughed – which she did rarely in our studies now – and warned me against such an emotion. It was a kind of priest knowledge that was dangerous to a wizard. A priest of such dignity and grave importance was a messenger fit for a God’s meager representation. We (for she considered me to have the “privileges of a wizard”) did not represent a God, nor did we have the protection of one. We were on our own. She explained that the magic I felt now was not unconquerable, though the concept was something I could not comprehend until I knew magic. “That,” she explained, “is why magic is the element of a wizard. It is an extension of ourselves, and is as mortal as our own bodies.” At the time I nodded, ‘understanding’, though it would be my folly if I pretended otherwise. She let me sit on those thoughts and review for a week. Then and only then did we move upstairs. It had been forbidden to me until now, but as we ascended, I felt proud of my work. Though a meager few paragraphs for you, I had already spent a year and a half fitting the mold, and only now was the time to see if I was even “up to snuff” to use a phrase Paul always coined. When I inquired as to the difficulty of the subject, Rachel shook her head. “It is not unlike the complexity of a musical composition,” she enlightened. “For some mages, it comes naturally. Others have to work hard at it.” Her answer sufficed, but as usual, was not definite enough for me. “Is the ability difficult to learn? Is it like a math problem, calculus?” “I can explain little else, save for the actual tutelage. Some mages consider magic wielding a science, others consider it an art. There are even some who feel it is a spiritual experience. How you open your mind is up to you – that is, if you can.” That was the last thing I needed to hear, and she knew it. Her expression did not change however, for as my instructor she would not hide the realities of magic from me. This she had informed me of many times. We entered the upstairs room, and I was aghast to say the least. I was overwhelmed with the essence here. The air was thick and tasted heavily of tin. It was one big room, closed off from the outside. There were no windows, no torches, and the walls did not look like wood, but rather some fantastic metal. But despite the absence of the outside world, it was lit, from no particular place. I could see no light source, and Rachel this noted it as ‘mage light’. There were several desks, tables and glass contraptions organized throughout the room. Some desks were piled high with parchment. There was a full set of quills set at one end. A full bookshelf once again – though these books were different. They were much thicker, stronger and felt powerful to the touch. And on the far end was a shelf covered in things I had never seen stored before. Indeed some of the things I had never even heard of. “Components” Rachel said, is an aid to the magical study. Chicken feet, grass, flowers, iron, blood, and even the teeth of an ogre were a few of the items stored in various bags and vials. Rachel sat me down, and placed a book down. It was empty, every page. “Your mage book.” She stated. Her speech was entirely in the Tongue of Magicks now. It was the only way to aptly describe with words, the ways of magic. “The time of truth Tekkorin. The fundamental concept of magic is guided by eight known forces and three theoretical principles…” I didn’t die. I remember that distinctly. The concept was completely above any of the teachings before me. No math problem could have prepared me, no piece of literature could have compared. The first thing I remember was despair, truly and honestly. However, with a few months work, I began to grasp the basics. It was a different kind of science. The laws were not mortal, and that was the most difficult concept to comprehend. However, learning what magic was, and understanding magic were two different things. I rushed myself, and tried to allow magic into my mind much too early, mistakenly letting my resolve guide my wisdom and not the other way around. As a result, I became frustrated easily. Rachel neither helped me into failure nor carried me to success. Without understanding, her methods of aiding me were frustrating. To the uneducated, she seemed to do nothing, though later I saw that she allowed my achievements to be my own. If I was to shape some perception of this concept, she would not dare help, as in doing so she may inadvertently destroy my image of the power. “If you’re learning to play the harp, I would not wish to teach you the lute.” This was amazingly contrary to her former teachings of a wizard’s life months before– which she almost completely controlled. It took me a year to finally come to terms with my former failure, and then again I failed. Hasty! Too hasty! I cursed at the lack of patience I had. I had to. Rachel would not tell me when I was ready, though always she knew. Her eyes twinkled, for better or worse, and provided me for what I was fit or. She supported every decision I made, and guided me as she saw fit. I resolved to let time be non-existent, to be irrelevant to my training of capacity. I would take as long as required, and I would memorize every piece, every line of knowledge. Every word of language, every equation of equilibrium. I would review everything. I would be more than ready when I attempted again. It was a leap of skill, Rachel explained. Once I could allow magic into my mind, there were few truly great hurdles left to leap. It was another four years before I attempted again. The house was quiet. The chimes stopped ringing, and the birds held their song. I breathed in the scent of magic, and let my mind open. There were the words on the paper that Rachel had helped me create, but they became merely a tap. I reached out, and let it flow. At first it overwhelmed me again. Then I persistently picked up the pieces to puzzle. It was an unbelievable experience that could not have occurred without the training. I realized that I simply did not have the capacity for it then. And even now, I could hold little. Like a juggler first learning, I could only handle so much. But I juggled. I smiled, looked over to Rachel who had remained silent the entire time, and nodded. She smiled and sighed: relieved and happy for me, but still stern for the road ahead. There was no explosion, no dancing lights, nothing that would proclaim that I had achieved anything. But I had. Rachel walked with an agenda. No more great hurdles, but now we had more lessons. “Follow me to the casting glyph. It will be easier there.” We went downstairs and outside to the great stone pattern around the backside of the house. She explained that there were certain properties in the glyph that tied into the theoretical principles. It was a lesson in itself, and took the better part of the afternoon. She was much more patient that I, it was obvious. But finally the time came to cast. I was to unleash the magics that I tempered into my brain. If I did not complete it correctly, they would not work (and with later, more complex spells, they would be wasted altogether). This I had a firm grasp on and it took me only a few tries before I had the ability mastered. My words echoed through the forest with a power I had not heard within myself before. My hands glided in the intricacies of their own world, and the puzzle completed itself. I could see the picture in its entirety. It was a bittersweet accomplishment, though others would have called me crazy for thinking so. Everything opened up to me upon casting – it is not entirely explainable. The feeling that was about this place, was comfort, was magic. The mortality of its creation was opened to me. All of it was malleable. My abilities were far too meager to do much, but my knowledge was unlocked. It was an artificial creation. The feeling of myth was merely a power to be manipulated with mind and math. Sorrow crossed my face. Rachel sighed, but was prepared for the successful casting. “It’s the hardest part. It’s not false, only changed. Everything you know now, and thought before, are still true. Magic is an element of the earth. It exists naturally, and that is splendor Tekkorin, that is true legend. You wished its knowledge, do not turn your back now. Embrace it. We’re family now.” I could feel the aura surrounding her. It was strong and very powerful. She had embraced magic for a long, long time. And the cottage, it was not as simple as it once seemed. There existed woven within the oaken planks years of magic residue. I caught a piece of it: magic, and wafted it about. A strange feeling, not unlike a debate or discussion, though this did not fight back. It was a one sided discussion, and when I finished it had become perfect. To the naked peasant’s eye that metaphoric ‘discussion’ was a simple spell. I cast a slight show of light into the air – reds and blues. When my mind ceased to think of them, they ended with a “pop”. Rachel smiled at me, and nodded. Now it was time to learn some real magic. The next few months passed by most excitingly for me. Rachel too, could now take a more active role in my learning. She introduced me to all kinds of spells and knowledge. She had a keen interest in its creation, and knew many of the deep intricacies of magic. Now it is important to jump back for a moment. While the days of my study were uneventful for me, that was not to say that Rachel was not busy. She spent a great deal of her time instructing me directly, but it was not entirely uninterrupted. Over the course of those five or six years, we had periodical visits from a fellow brother. The elf that I had originally seen upon my arrival was indeed a mage. His name was Trueleaf, and he spoke quietly with Rachel on occasion. What they spoke of I did not question, nor did I have time to care, for my studies were both intense in material and time. And now came to pass my final chapters with Rachel. As my lessons grew more and more deep, the time passed quickly again. I learned many of the intricacies of a mage. Some epic details, some historic, and even some dangerous ones. Rachel hid nothing from me now when I asked, though still she would not volunteer information. She always seemed to have an answer when I required one. We had become quite close in the last few months; though still master and apprentice, we shared experiences much like brother and sister now. Trueleaf came again as his usual schedule dictated, once a season, but this time it upset Rachel in some way. We had to leave immediately, and so I packed my bag. My new magical belongings found a safe place and easily accessible. ‘Quickly’ had no bounds, though a wizard’s patience prevailed. Rachel moved swiftly in her packing; not stopping but never running. Her thoughts were calm and clear. She listed the things that I would require. Never had she reminded me before, and so the implied necessity that I heed instructions, worried me as well. Trueleaf was going to meet us ‘there’ wherever it was. I knew better than to question now. Within an hour we were packed and ready to go. We traveled for three days and four nights, and not one night went by when Rachel did not look to the stars with emotion. It was then that I inquired. “Rachel, I would not speak if you would not here me…” She nodded, not removing her gaze from the stars. “I will.” “I have paid no mind to the business of Trueleaf, but our departure is sudden and not of your nature. There has been only one other time that you have done such urgency, and that was when we first met. What goes on now?” She looked to me. “Have you not yet read the stars?” I nodded, knowing that she would ask me such a question. “Yes, I have. But I am still not as adept as you are, Stargazer. I know not what they speak of, save for impending danger. Enlighten me so that I may help us. Rachel nodded solemnly. “We are the guidance of magic. You and I. Trueleaf. Wizards must self-govern the sin they unleash. We’re going to protect the use of magic.” Whilst she still spoke in riddles, Rachel would no longer keep me baffled on points of importance. “There is a mage by the name Meynovich who has entered the eastern boarders of the Empire. Trueleaf has been tracking him for some time now. He is not a good man. Careless and evil, he shames the name of mages, and uses his talent for destruction. We ride to fix the failing he creates.” When we finally arrived at our destination, it was a dirt road that bent low into a small valley for several miles. It seemed sudden, the events. A kind of rush that I had not received through study. It was strange to be in the open again, practicing the event of life with the new ability of magic. It was strange to be out of the small cottage. There was an unsettling lack of security, but it was not completely unwelcome. Rachel had her face stern as she awaited the destiny of the day. It was not hard for me to deduce that this had been a long watched mage, and this event was not as sudden as it seemed. Nonetheless I felt wary of my surroundings. I turned to Rachel and she replied before I spoke. “There will be discussion; he’ll know we’re waiting for him. He has avoided this fate for some time now, and will not submit to it willingly. He may speak to you; feel not the need to return his spiked tongue. He will not strike out at you if it comes to blows; his concern will be elsewhere.” Her face was stone. I had always seen expression, but now she seemed void of any sympathy and joy. In the distance a figure could be seen. Trueleaf emerged from the trees, his elfish beauty trodden down by the events of the day. With a look to Rachel I could see that he too, took no joy in this day. He took two steps forward, and awaited Meynovich. The figure approached slowly. The afternoon sun drowned in clouds as it drew closer and revealed a visible he, and again the sky grew darker as he drew closer and revealed a wizard. His hair was black, short, and unforgiving. He had beady black eyes, which shifted quickly amongst everything. His robes were a deep purple and he had a large tome under his arm. He stopped as if taken by surprise by our presence. “Ahhh, the Elfish do-gooder. How do you do?” Meynovich sneered. Slowly it began to rain. “And why are you hindering my path? I have things to do.” Trueleaf spoke slowly, as if speaking to goblins. His voice sounded musical as he played a solemn tune. “Meynovich, your latest crimes have gone undetected by the law, but not by the wisdom of magic. I have been sent to stop you once again. I’ll have your book, Meynovich.” “Ha!” his single laugh seemed to mock the very ground on which Trueleaf spoke. “What makes you think you have the right to govern my actions? They are pure in their own way, Trueleaf, you’ve got too much elfish emotion to see that.” “This has been a long time coming. I will not be faltered by your snaked tongue. Your book, Meynovich, or I’ll take it from you.” Meynovich made to step forward, but stopped and glared in our direction. “You think you can just walk up to me and demand whatever you wish? You think that by bringing this pathetic excuse of back up will save you from the repercussions of your actions? Foolish, FOOLISH elf.” He was appalled, or looked it. His form seemed to grow, and his robes clung to his body in the light rain. His eyes flamed. “Get out of my way. Now.” I felt impelled to do it. It came over me, later I would learn that it was my first encounter of offensive magic. I began to look away and took a step when a hand caught my robe, firmly. Without breaking eye contact with our enemy, Rachel ensured my continued residence with the situation. It snapped me out of it, I was sure, but Rachel did not release her delicate hand. Moments later, I heard his laughter again: a cackling, evil disposition that struck fear into my heart. It was wise for Rachel to continue her hold on me. Trueleaf had not moved either, and glared at the mage. “Still, unconvinced?” Meynovich asked. “I’m not about to butt heads with you three. You’re obviously not a match for me,” sarcasm dripped from his throat. “I’ve done nothing, and you would not kill me in cold blood, now would you?” And he began to walk, clutching his book to his side, as if we did not exist on the road. Rachel let go of my robes, and I could see her grasp something within her pocket. Trueleaf advanced on Meynovich, his hands extended to physically take the book. Meynovich took to this angrily and within a blink called down the lightning that he had brought with him. It struck Trueleaf squarely and convulsed. Rachel’s action was equally as quick, and with an extended hand called out. “Faldreck. Sia em!” A sound like a firecracker echoed and Meynovich flew flat on his back. The intense feeling returned to me, and before I knew it, I took to the bushes. That was not the end of the battle. As I ran I heard many more cries and thunder ever roared above me. Eventually, I ran out of breath and was able only to sit and listen in a cowardly state. As I began to sit there, I could feel the artificial flavor of magic around me. It caused this fear, and I could not escape its cloud. Slowly it evaporated, but it took several minutes. Afterwards I realized the foolishness of my abilities. Manipulated by my only weapon, this was who I was. It was pathetic. Rachel returned after some time. She seemed unscathed, and her smile had returned – as if nothing had happened. She calmed me down, and explained to me exactly what spell had been cast on me. It was not an unfamiliar one, I had seen it in my teachings, though was not able to recognize it in the field. “That will pass,” she explained. It took me days to get over the fact that the fear was not actually my own. A disturbing reality that my mind knew, but my heart would not let go. Rachel said nothing of the battle I missed, nor did I enquire, save for the safety of Trueleaf who was “Well enough, all things considered. He will recover.” We took our time going home, I enjoyed the outdoors. It had been a long time since I had traveled and I found a heightened curiosity for it. Rachel caught me on many occasion peering off into the distance, and laughed. When we finally returned to the cabin, I felt comforted. It was not the same as it had been before, but my absence from it made me feel at home once more. We took to the deck for an evening and shared a bottle of wine. The cloud and rain that had come disappeared, and the stars once again found their way out into the night sky. They were at peace, and were reassured in their status. “How is it that you can read the stars so well?” I asked. It was a peasant’s question, I knew, but it was something to get the conversation started. I did not expect a straight answer. “Time. Patience. Practice. What do you read tonight?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with the knowledge of tomorrow. “Completion. Things are over now. New beginnings, maybe?” My teacher sipped her wine. “Perhaps. Old things are ready to begin again, Tekkorin. That is what they say. There is rarely a new beginning, they say.” I doubted her wisdom, though not her words. I did not need to speak, for after all this time, she had come to know my thoughts… or perhaps she had always known them. “There is too much in the world for new beginnings, but old quests are often taken with renewed stride. A rouge returns to the town of his father’s debt. A bard finally recalls the ways of luck and charm.” She gazed strongly at the stars for a moment and caused a brief pause in her speech. “A mother returns her spirit to its owner,” she continued, “A soldier pays his dues to a lost cause. An elf affirms his wisdom.” She smiled at that one. I sipped my wine now, pleased with the allusion. Trueleaf was alright. And then, as if straining to see the last piece of the puzzle, Rachel nodded solemnly and smiled. She leaned back into her chair again, her hair falling beside her as she took a lingering sip of her drink. It took her white robes a moment to settle in the breeze. “And a wizard continues a forgotten adventure.” It was true. I had not even recalled the feeling of adventure since my time first with Rachel. After Paul died, so did my flare and passion for wanting to ride into the sunset. It was still there though, fuelled now by the confirmation that it may be in the stars. Rachel seemed to have a firm understanding of my thought patterns, as usual. “There is little that you could not teach yourself now, Tekkorin. I have taught you well enough.” Think of the splendors of exploring a new world. It taunted me. So much I had not seen, and now, so much magic was out there. It was not greed this time – I did not want to own the magic or riches or legend, but I wanted to be a part of a life that explored them. I wanted to experience what the world had to offer. If Rachel and Trueleaf were the kinds of wizards that were out there, then perhaps I could meet other practitioners… though I would never meet an equal to my tutor. I was to be warned, that equal to our kind, there were more Meynovich’s about, but danger was a welcome price. I was not afraid of what hand Fate, or the life of magic had dealt for me, but it was not time for me to waste away in cottage. I had to experience things at least. Take a trip. With common understanding, it came again, that cloud. I was sad to go, and I got the feeling that Rachel was as well – though even to this day, some eighteen years of knowing her, I could not read her thoughts. She had prepared me well, allowing me some of her spells, and her components. Everything a wizard needed she had, but she did not empty her pockets for me, so to speak. A good fir, a tent, it seemed that in all her years here she knew exactly what an adventurer needed. No doubt a few had stumbled by. We found ourselves again outside, she had given me a steed (its origin still a mystery to me, though not a far cry from an assumption of magic) as well, to aid my journey. I found again my tongue trapped. Sentiment had always been powerful in my heart, but rarely was it apt in my speech. “I, don’t know what to say, Rachel. How long has it been? Eighteen years. I will recall your tutelage often.” She laughed. It was not at me, her laughter had never been cruel, and it had never been mistaken for it. “I should hope so, Tekkorin,” she did not need to convey anything as I felt the need to. She seemed at peace with the parting that was taking place, as she had been with every event that I had known her for. “I have given you several maps of the area, and, should you wish it, an exit from the realm of the Empire. I suggest that if you wish to leave, that map is the route you take. They are accurate.” I thanked her profusely, and packed my things onto the horse. “I guess this is it.” She smiled again, knowing the answer to that guess, and yet still ignoring its presence. “There is one more thing. Take this. She produced from inside the house a wooden cane. It had been well sanded and had the ornate designs of wizards carved delicately into its shaft. The cane itself was plain, and seemed to be so deliberately. I inquired with my eyebrow and Rachel nodded. “When your wisdom lacks, it’s something to lean on.” I took a deep breath and mounted the horse. The scent of lavender was strong now. Lilac and tulips wafted about as well. “I hope time is as kind to me as it has been to you, Wizardess of the Wood,” I said with a wink. “I wish you well.” “And I you, Tekkorin Karros, Wandering Mage of the North,” “Apprentice of Stargazer,” I added. “Goodbye and farewell.” Rachel nodded a final time and then returned to the deck. And, like water-clockwork, I heard the chimes as I rode into the winds of fate, and times unknown. I had come as a mere child into her domain, saved by the times that can not be changed. And now, we parted ways. I, was a quickly aging man by any child’s stereotype to begin an adventure of yesterday, and she a ‘retiring’ wizard, not a day over thirty. I rode for a great while, and it is unimportant where I had intended to go. As I ventured ever through the roads and trees I began to laugh, and hum. And before I knew it, the stars cast true and I began to sing, because that was the time, and those were dreams. “Hey ho! Ho hey! I see the sights, And breathe the heights, And travel along the dusty way. “I’ll lie awake, and see the stars, I’ll stop wholly, and hear the heart, I’ll look ahead, and watch the wild, “Hey ho! Ho hey! I’m never done, I walk with sun, And where I’ll end, I cannot say. “Where I’ll end, I cannot say.”

Done and done! The next couple of installments should be it. I just finished writing them before posting, since I wanted to make sure there weren't going to be any changes. Still largely unedited though. I just didn't have the patience. Enjoy! ~~~ The next few days were difficult. Much of the days were spent talking about past and present, my mother opened up to me much more than my father, who at some points would even go so far as to leave the room. His only son had become so unlike him, I did not even learn to wield a sword. But he was also as understanding as my family can be. After great length, and several promptings from my mother, he agreed to allow me to stay for a while, as long as I pulled my end of the weight. We had become distanced, but we were still a family, and that was a welcome feeling. Nonetheless, the days did not get easier as time passed, though they were not unhappy. It was a strange feeling, now in my old town. As much as I would have liked to keep the events of my past somewhat secretive, my mother and father would talk, and their friends would talk. The olde magics were a skeptical point in a little village, and as time went on I received more and more looks from others – my attire and vocabulary did not help. I was more intelligent then many of them, and jealousy ran quietly in the small village. But this did allow me to contribute in a variety of ways, and I was sure to do everything I could. I spent some time with the children of the village, interested in their growing up – trying to make sure they did not make the same mistake I did. Little Jenny was especially fun, since she remembered me from beforehand. The lifestyle I lived easily turned me into a kind of hermit from the older population, and I strayed from conversation, save for drunken incidents at the tavern, where everyone is a conversationalist. Time did not have an elfish affluence here, and so it seemed to slow and become strangely unreal. I had plenty of time to get to know the village, as much as I wished, and re-visit opportunities of my past. I looked in on old friends, and the old history of the village. Strange, it all seemed like a prolonged vacation. I did not belong here. I drifted, became anxious again, after only a few months. But as summer sun soon shone my destiny, and I learned why that feeling of resolve had come to me so early. It was late one night, when I took a walk again to the square. An old habit I refused to shake, to see the stars. And tonight it was strange, they shone brightly. Not with the usual air of knowledge. They seemed to speak, to yell. I still could not decipher what they spoke, if they spoke at all. It was not happy call, I knew that. My thoughts were interrupted however, by the hoofed sound of another. On horseback was a soldier, fully garbed and armoured. His stature was proud but worried, as seemed to be the symbol on his breastplate – which also designated his rank, equal to my father. He looked down at me, his horse catching the moment for breath. “Awake the village.” He demanded, “Bring them here and hurry. There must be no delay. The Queen demands it.” I could bring but a nod before he was down the meager streets of our small village yelling ‘Arise! Arise!’ I did not hesitate and rang the town bell immediately. It was a loud and shrill thing that fit its purpose. Between the two of us, the village was quickly rounded to the center square by torchlight. The officer spoke at length: “Servants to Her Majesty, citizens of the Empire, I am Sergeant Dellrite and I come with dire news. You must ready your troops, and anyone who can fight! Several days eastward have been spotted a band of the foul. Orc again walk our lands and defile every step of it! Their course is westward, and unwavering. Their origin and destination is unknown, their purpose is undoubtedly disgusting. They have already left one village in fire and ruins, and a better team now comes to slay them where they stand, but will not be here for days ride. The women and children must hurry to protect themselves. I am here to aid in whatever way I can, but we must hurry! They do not stop – they do not sleep, nor eat, nor alter course for any reason. Their wounded drop behind for dead, their strong still lead. To arms!” There was a hush and then a crowd of mumblings. Orc had always been hated, and justly so. It was taught to us from birth – every child knew of their treachery to the Empire, and to mankind. All united in fear and anger to destroy the foul beings. “How many?” came the cold, confident voice of my father. “Last counted, all told, a band of no less than a hundred.” I heard whisperings of distraught and despair. “We’re doomed.” “The village will burn.” “We’ll all be run through.” The officer rode forth, holding out his hands. “You need only to hold them off, reinforcements are on their way. I am a member of their regiment.” It did not calm the storm. Again, startlingly strong, came the voice of my kin: “We will hold them. I’ll be damned if I let orc burn my town.” Nobody slept that night. It was a cold and bitter darkness – the air chilled with the coming doom. My role was as a squire to my father – I was his messenger and in some cases his guide. The blacksmith brought out his best, and we armed everyone who was fit to carry a blade. The houses were made into tiny barricades – each window secured and fit with some kind of device that could rain down on the enemy. We would be a fit defense; only a stone wall could be more complete. But the more we worked, the more I realized our plight. One hundred orc were strong, and Jardain was small. The Empire’s finest were on their way, but would not be here soon enough. It felt like a lost cause. But, no one else seemed to share that thought. Every soldier went forth with diligence (fifteen, all told once the outlying farms had been notified). Every peasant from pike to pitchfork complied with the commands of our tiny army. Every wife and child was gathered and taken, by the sergeant, to the hills where a tiny camp was made. Virtually untraceable, the wiles of Dellrite seemed to be adequate for the task. The next day, brought in by the red sun of fables, was a wait. Dellrite ate and slept, as he had done nether in the past three days. My father joined him in silent company. The night was similar, a deathly wait that seemed to take forever. With the dawn of the second day, came the shouts of our watchman – the trees were burning, and the thunder of marching could be heard. We arranged and readied for battle, Dellrite was pleased that it had taken the orc so long, and kept saying that their army would be here soon. Orc are evil. Stressed unlike any other, few can comprehend what kind of form their teachings take until they are met with such a tainted creature. They are not mortals misguided. Not savages uncivilized. When the monstrosities of the realm stepped into view, clarity revealed itself to me that I would forever remember. Their earthly form corrupted. With a putrid stench unlike any ogre, and a description that in itself mutilated the splendor of vision, they were a living scar on the delicate face of life. Their attitudes were the only thing equal to their blasphemy, ‘no mercy’ was a pathetic injustice to their thought pattern for they did not even have regard for life, no knowledge that it existed. They only knew their purpose – without the intelligence to comprehend it – which was solely and undoubtedly to be a force of malice against everything. This last piece of knowledge is not a wizard’s wisdom, nor a child’s disgust – it was simply understood by any who ever encountered these creatures. And we had just encountered fifty of them. There was relief when their reduced numbers were noticed, but it was brief. Quickly the enemy advanced, their intent clear. Arrow’s let loose, and signaled an end to the peaceful torture. The battle that ensued was quick, and painful. The orc barreled through and into are strongest of forces. Swords were drawn, and the frontline of soldiers charged forward. Death was everywhere, the peasants entered quickly afterward, as our highly trained soldiers began to litter the ground one by one. I could not see my father in the thick of battle – but a strong sense of fate felt present here. I could almost feel The Lamenter’s presence. Before long we could here the march of cavalry, and we rejoiced together in midst of death. It was late. The village would be saved, and lives saved, but even now as we had to battle longer but moments longer the cost seemed too great. I could practically feel my father hit the ground, though I could see him not. In a moment of weakness I despaired for him, before the sting of battle reminded me where I was. A blow to the leg crippled me, though I was saved by the arriving army, who took no change in pace to enter battle. We, the peasants, ran from the battle as best we could, now that we were ensured safety if we could exit the battlefield. I scraped by, by some sick twist of Fate, as my father died defending his home. The orc had centered on the soldiers more than I, with sword uselessly by my side. I limped away, watching the rest of the battle amidst mourning cries. And that was the end. As quickly as it had begun, it ended. I mourned, many did. It came to pass that many joined the graves of our small town. Sergeant Dellrite offered me the same consolation as any soldier could: an “I’m sorry,” and later a few anecdotes of the good things he had heard about my father – it was not much, but enough. Over the fall, my mother and I would often visit his gravestone; Here Lies, Sergeant Klothryn Karros In service and protection, Of his queen, his family, And his honour. May the Gods guide your Journey. It was a sad time, yes, but strangely came the mature thoughts of tomorrow. It was not the same with Paul, or Darren. No, this time, it was an easier acceptance – though not less mourned – to understand the ways of life. For better or worse, I had become more accustomed to death. I was stricken immobile for a great while, a cane being my aid to limping around town. I stayed for the duration of the fall, and as winter came, so did Gerard. This time he was not met by our few troops leaving for the more challenged villages, and that was a long conversation. But I was gladdened to see him again, and he was me. We spent much of the winter together, I would often talk to him of his ventures around the Empire. He would retort as a bard would, with flamboyance and heartiness. My story struck him of great interest though, and one night he dared to inquire further. “But where did you end up? Who was she?” He asked one night whilst we shared a course of Rell’s finest steak and ale. “Her name was Rachel,” I replied. “You would have liked her, Gerard. She had a great library, lots of tales and adventures written down. Books, stacks of books.” Gerard smiled at me, and I realized I was acting like a kid in a candy store. I missed it greatly. “Rachel, hmm? Can’t say I’ve heard of her,” he said finally, looking at me with doubt. “And I’ve heard of a lot of people.” I shrugged, uninterested in his belief in my words. It occurred to me, however, that I did wish to speak of my time there. It was a great time in my life, and I had shared it only with my parents. Their interest of the subject had been minimal – their thoughts solely on the journey I had taken. “She’s also called the Wizardess of the Woods. And the-“ “Stargazer?” Gerard finished. My hopes lifted. “You know her then?” Gerard laughed, as if I had hit the punch line of a joke. “Oh no, Tekkorin. I know of her, but I don’t actually know her. Not that she’d have much time for a bard, I’d wager.” “Oh?” “A lot of the time, bards and gals like that don’t get along very well. We’re kind of the jester of their life,” he lowered his voice to a whisper, “some of us even go so far as to make a mockery of magic.” Quickly correcting himself, as if repenting he spoke again, “not I of course… but we bards are lumped into the same boat allota the time, ya know?” This time it was I who laughed, for I could not fathom Rachel with that kind of an attitude towards Gerard. He’s never made anyone angry, I thought. Oh how young I still was. “Well, that’s her, anyways. Like I said, piles of books. I even saw some of your tales there – well, some different versions anyways.” “Huh. You know I haven’t of her for a while. She’s gone into retirement, they said.” “They?” I asked. Rachel had taught me enough to be inquisitive. Gerard looked at me with slight ignorance, but a smile. “They? Oh, you know: people. Anyone really.” Taking another bite of his food, he continued on a train of though. “You know, you’re pretty lucky to have seen her. It’s not everyone who just gets picked up by a white robed wizard. Sounds to me like ya made a pretty good friend.” He mumbled then, to himself, about wishing Dewtenty was so kind to him. The conversation continued, and we eventually went on to other things as well. But the calling came, heralded in by our dialogue. I realized that there was little here for me. Perhaps it was Jardain. It seemed to bring youth to adulthood and quickly cast them off into the great strengths of the world. Perhaps it was that aura, that wisp of comfort that followed even now from the house in the woods. The pull seemed more natural than anything, simply the realization with that resolve that this small town is not where I was to play my days. It was then that my interest in magic bloomed, and a scent of lavender floated amongst the village. The question of how, or why, had rarely entered my head. You did not question your duty, or your superiors; that was the way at the time. But now, it dawned that there was little but fate that one should not question. I could not hide in a village, to be useless. I had enjoyed that feeling at Rachel’s place, that intense but subtle ambiance, as I had enjoyed the tales of Gerard in the times of yesterday. But now, I wanted to know them, understand them, like the tomes of knowledge that my youth spent absorbing. A year was a long time to take to realize this, but perhaps it was well enough in the learning. The winter slowly faded into spring again, as the years before it, and Gerard set off. I told him that I was to be off as well in a few weeks. He nodded and winked. “Then safe journeys to you, young’n. If we cross on the road, be sure to toss me a few silver.” “I will Gerard,” I said, “Keep telling your tales, and maybe I’ll catch you around.” “Aye, maybe. With the fates you never know.” He laughed to himself – and likely thought the same thing I did. The land was great, and the chances too small. Still, it was heartfelt, and I wished him well with hope all the same. With my mother it was a much more difficult task. We had grown close as all kin should, and we both knew that I would not come back – at least not whilst she walked. A sad reality, but one every mother must understand eventually. Few words were said, but few needed to be. By now we knew each other well, and she could feel my unrest once again, it was not unfamiliar to her. She wished me luck, and I told her that I had already done well, and I needn’t luck. We embraced as we had done time and time again, before I let the horse who led me home lead me to the winds of fate once more.

Madoka, Welcome. Yes, have fun, visit... and I do hope you'll post a thing or two as well. I know that you're a very good writer, and well, it's what we do here. Thanks for stopping by! - Justin

A very happy birthday to you, my dear. Wishing you all the best this day, and every day after that. - Justin

Now there's a poem. Yeah, it might need a bit of editing, but I really do like it. (had some music on at the time, set the mood kinda nice-like ) I can really feel the thought process through the raw writing though (which I think is a really REALLY good thing. ) Thank you for sharing. - Justin PS - if you're willing to explain a little the ol' thoughts that went through writing it, I'd love to be on the other side of the proverbial coin. PPS - Ooo! Look at how many smilies I got in that time. I'm so proud of myself.

*blinks* I hope you don't mind if I follow Tralla's lead. I don't know where to start with analysis, or if I'd want to... I'd rather just read in awe. This is a great poem Soaring Icarus. I'm sorry I haven't read more of your work, I shall have to if it's all this good. Keep working, keep writing, and please keep sharing. - Justin

Wonderful poetry! Thank you so much for sharing.

OOC - Wonderful! Right, since your character woke at dawn, Salinye, and Archaneus' character came up "seeing it’s half an hour till dawn" I will start with Feralon, and then Senora, (though may bumb into you Senora, depending on how long this takes). Also, I'll try and play your characters as little as possible (since I have a mortal fear of not portraying them quite right. ) BTW - Did you want Feralon to have given his name already? If not, then I can chage it, no worries. ~~~ BiC - It was, in actuality, an early morning adventurer's group that woke Enos early the next day. They thundered down his hallway, and from their first step, Enos' eyes opened. He had instinctively gripped his dagger as he emerged from a restless sleep. His thoughts raced of stealth and death before he remembered their endless chatter last night. A loud confident warrior had bunked in the room next to him, and the walls were thin. The words "treasure" "lake" and "serpent" had come up many many times, and Enos' theiving ear could not but help perking every time they spoke - despite his lack of interest in their little quest. I'd bet my 3000 gp that only half of their crew return with a quarter of their wealth and health. They are understaffed, and arrogant. Still, a welcome wake up call. Realizing who they were, he did not release the dagger until he heard their final footsteps down the stairs. Then he got up from his bed, stretched and cleaned up (for he did not know when next he would be able to). His items were spread out, just as he liked them. His only action was to pace for much of the morning, as the sky outside turned to a lighter blue with the coming of the dawn. ...And so now we disembark. I'd not touch Iriador with a ten foot wizard's staff unless I had to. A democratic party may be in my best interests though, if I can meet the gaze of enough of the group. Still, if anyone dies, it's a whole different playground. There was a knock at the door. Firm but not hard. Enos immeadiately fell his hand down to his sheath, but found no dagger. It was still on his bed. He quickened his pace and resheathed the dagger, and regarded the mess about his room: bedroll, theiving kit, tent, rope etc. Nothing of importance... "Come in." "Good morning" was the reply of Feralon, as Enos opened the door and invited him in. Ah, the elven friend. Strange, I had not expected him, but that does not mean his entry is entirely unwanted. "Excuse the mess, Feralon was it? You seem to have caught me in thought. I hope you slept well." Enos' expression was that of a fake kindness - not intended at the elf, but at the plesantries of the morning. It was obvious that Enos wished to skip straight to the point. "I know that I had a horrible time trying to do so. The people in the room next to me... well, nevermind. It is unimportant." I haven't the patience for this. Let us inquire. Enos' expression changed to a look of determination, and when he smiled, it revealled both sharp teeth and sharp thought - though neither particularly offensive. "I wonder what you bring to the table, my new ally. Private conversation is where one can easily feel safe - despite popular believe." The shadows grant an unveiling of masks that otherwise are permanent. Gathering his things and packing as he spoke, Enos continued. "My skills are simple. I excell with traps, arming and disarming, and basic theivery tasks. I am knowledgeable in a dungen, and have high interests in these people and this quest. I would lie if I said the gold did not interest me, but the idea of the Mirror in the hands of the wrong person does disturb me." "But I know nothing of you friend. The idea of elves are not uncommon to my mind, but they, as always, remain somewhat mythical and their powers are diverse. Please, enlighten me as to your thoughts. And - I know what you're thinking. Why now, why alone? Well, call me a greedy old man." Enos grinned with a wink. "I like to know what the group has to offer, and what powers surround me. Truth allows for the best party - mercenary or otherwise. Your words and secrets are safe in these walls, though I can understand if you do not wish to entrust them with me." Perhaps... I don't know if it will work, but it is certainly worth trying. I can learn about him indefinately no matter his decision to speak or walk out. ~~~ OOC - Sorry so short, and brief, I wrote half of it and had to go, so I had to rush. If Senora wishes to jump in/interrupt us/walk away, feel free to do so Salinye. I don't want to keep you waiting.

Very nice. Since "cute" has already been used, I think I'll say that it's quant. Thank you so much for sharing. - Justin

Well then, I guess it's time to add my name to the pot. Looks like we have a very good group here. Brute's quite right, there's lots to grow with. My character is, as I have described to Damon in a PM - very mortal. I like to play mortal characters, simply because, believe it or not, they can really have some of the hugest influence on campains/stories, despite their non-fanciness. Be prepared though, I don't like to give tiny character descriptions. Salinye, I think I may have added/changed a few minor details since last we talked about his thoughts, so if you want to continue with this empathy thing (which I hope you do ), then I'd suggest you at least read his Mental Description. Thanks! ~Enos~ He's probably got a last name, but it's been so long since he cared that it's been forgotten. He's not above making one up if it seems nessesary. Rarely is it an issue though. Physical description: Human. Older - I would imagine 40 to 50, (unless I said differently in the RP). It doesn't sound old, but in mediveal times, when normal peseants don't live too long, late 40's is pretty old. He is not frail, but not strong either. He's not built, and not one who you'd ask to "help you load up the supply cart" or that sort of thing. But despite the appearance of weakness, he walks with confidence, and definate statue. A natural born survivalist, his actions are often discreet (though that does not nessesarily mean hidden) and subtle. With the form of a peseant, must come the dress of one. Enos has an olde tunic about him, worn, ripped, and stained. His only armour is some pieces of leather - which he prefers not to wear unless he know's he's forced to combat. His only weapon is a dagger. He keeps it sheathed and hidden amongst his rags when he wishes, since it clashes with his "poor" look. It is ornate, and of excellent work, and is obviously not the average weapon of a tavern drunk. Hazel/brown eyes, they are the windows to his thoughts. In all his travels though, he has managed to hide what he thinks from his face (but hiding what he thinks doesn't mean he can hide the fact that he is always thinking). His hair is a dark and greasy brown, and he has a small beard as well - both mostly because he hasn't the care to groom as often as he should. But, once again, he's not above "looking good" if it suits purposes, but if someone likes him, it's probably not because of his body. Lastly what he desperately lacks for strength, he makes up for dexterity (though obviously he can not compare with the legendary dex of the elves). While we haven't seen it yet, Enos is very adept in his trade: Theivery. Mental Description: (My favorate part) I think that the best alignment that would suit him is Neutral Evil. But if you asked him, his defination of Evil, he would assume, is so different from your own that he would deny the title. Without physical charisma he makes up for it in intellegence and mental charisma - passion. He enjoys a dry sense of humour, and often reveals the most about himself in hidden ironies, and double meanings. As an older person, I can guarantee I will play his weakness as best I can. What I ask in exchange is that the advantage he has taken away from his life is acting. The whole world's a play. A stage, an act and a game - I don't mean metaphorically, but Enos takes this idea almost to a litteral point. He lives it, and feels that knowing this gives him an advantage over all mortal (and common) people. That's why, Salinye, that I said an empathy you may recieve from him most of all is a feeling of cold. Because, he can get worked up about things, he can be passionate, devious, caring, dark, sarcastic, loving, and even at times the most rare of times, pure. But, underneath these emotions, whether they are real or not, he has convinced himself (permanently) that they are merely lines on a page, and not who he really is. Underneath it all he is dead inside, and in the end it comes down to the sole fact that there is no "real meaning to life" - and so there can only be one goal - living as he wants (within his mortal bounds). Whether it be at the expense or benifit of his aquantances. ~Hope I didn't lose you, Enos still confuses me sometimes~ Fears, Biases, and Passions: Enos is a very sour person. You'll find his list of likes very short, so I'll start with them. He loves to lead from behind the lines. He loves to tug the strings and let things unfold, and know that he was responsible for the reaction (especially if no one else knows he was). He is interested in the movements of others and studying their actions and reactions. Also, as a mortal man, he is subject to the usual biases to beauty. A nobleman is going to attract more of his attention than a peseant. A woman is going to attract more attention than a man, and a beautiful woman is going to get more attention then an ugly one. Of course, similar and other biases apply. He is however, not swayed by the "rightful place of a woman". If she's smart enough to get what she wants, regardless of what a man thinks, then she gets even more points in Enos' book. He strongly dislikes mages. Not because they're "sissy's" but because they're smarter than the average fighter, and contain crafts that Enos can not so easily manipulate. I think his schemes have been ruined by wizards before. Despite this dislike, they are also his favorite enemies. What fun is being a villian of a play if the hero is too stupid to catch on?. He loves them, and he hates them. Anyone of religion he is very wary about. He scoffs at the thought of the Gods and Goddesses of the world (though never aloud). They have not stopped him before - but at the same time he has seen the power of a good ceric, and paladin, and it is to be concerned about. A quote from a friend of mine: I'm not a God honoring man, but I am a God fearing one. That pretty much describes Enos' thoughts. He's not afriad to play with fire, but he is afraid of being burned. Of course this is a strange irony when he becomes fascinated with the person behind the religion due to other factors. (ex - Salinye your character, as you described, is a beautiful woman. This, and her actions and words have led Enos to already become interested in her, despite his inward warnings not to deal with her because of her unknown diety). And lastly - in a realm where mortals are only some of the citizens, Enos can be very sour to the more immortal of species, if they flaunt that fact. I believe that's about it. I'll add more if I think of it. Told ya you were in for a lot.

OOC - So sorry about being late. I've just had all my exams and could not be here. But they're over now, so I should be back a little more regularly. So, please excuse me if this post is a little long, I'm going to catch Enos up a bit... Oh! And though it was a while back, Salinye you portrayed Enos just fine. Don't worry at all, if you need to play him, go right ahead. If I don't like it I can always spin it somehow. (In fact, if you really worry about it/are unsure, just don't write his thoughts. Then I can justify anything he does with what he thinks. ) Damon, let me see if I can hurry our finishing tonight off so we can get going. ~~~ BiC - As the two new characters entered the table, Enos eyed them each respectably. His thoughts raced further when Damon accepted them into the group. Seemingly indifferent to their presence, he nodded slightly in greetings to their arrival. More bodies to protect my life, more opinions to cloud my ways. Welcome difficulties as long as they are not casters... I don't like the look of that elf. I'll have to parley with them alone later. In fact, I'll have to speak to them all. No one ever comes to know their companions when they are in so much company. Too many masks... As he examines the table in thought Enos catches another glimse of the holy symbol around Senora's neck, and recalls her latest act. I definately need to speak with her... though I wonder if it wise to do so alone. I can not protect myself from her diety... I would not learn nearly as much, but I may not need to for this quest. As Damon and Elwen speak, Enos listens attentively, and speaks as little as possible. Better to let those who think they are leaders to ask the questions. Annihilated an army of demons? This friend of Damon's sounds more like a bard than an informant. Pathetic exaggeration. And what's this now? Stealing souls? A wonder I must conclude as over-exaggerated as well. Else, why would he be looking for help here in a tavern? Certainly a church is a better place to plead your case. Damon spends a moment to actually direct his conversation at one person. "Elwen, I appreciate you hate the fact that certain people in here are womanizing freaks, but you have no say as to who I employ or not. Though, you can still kill who you wish should they get on your nerves. It just means I spend less money..." Ha! Magic words I'm glad he said aloud. Still, the freedom that he mistakenly grants is a double edged sword - and an old man can easily get on the nerves of an accomplished mercenary. Perhaps I will have to speak up... though equivication requires consistancy, and no one has had enough, or any, to drink for that to become acceptably easy. Best stick to facts. Harmon and Allen will do the rest, until I can speak with these two- Hello? What is this? (Damon hands each person 3000 gp.) Enos smiles and recieves the money. At first glance one would assume that the pleasure and wonder in the old man's eyes was of greed for money. That, was not entirely true... That is a large sum of gold... 21000 gp just passed this table. Perhaps there IS truth to his words, if they are worth such an advancement. Whether gold is worthless to him or not is irrelevant when one considers where we are, and how readily he submits wealth to those who are poor. Perhaps my time and services will be worthwhile here. Ah! The time for me to speak arrises... Damon finishes once again: "So... I suggest you get a move on. It's not safe at night around here, so I suggest don't leave." Enos nods slightly to motion he has understood. "Well then," he starts. "I suggest we attain some rest. There is much to talk about, but nothing that we can't sort out while on the road - and a tired warrior is no warrior at all. Trust me, I've been there. I do wish to get to know you all better - even our two newst companions." Enos pauses for a brief moment. If Damon speaks truth, then she might be worth the risk. But... let's let her decide... Enos then continued, speaking to everyone, but looking intently at Senora, trying to catch her gaze. "I'm on the second floor, third door on the right, should anyone wish to speak to me before we gather at tomorrow's dawn. I can not stay my eyes open tonight, but I am up far before the sun in the 'morrow." Finishing, Enos, returns his look to the crowd in general. "My door is always open... to those who knock." "Damon, will you be seeing us off tomorrow?" (And after Damon speaks, regardless of his answer, Enos says "goodnight" and heads to bed).

Archaneus, Salinye, Thanks for your comments, I'm glad you enjoyed it. Salinye, there's a story behind every story, I'm sure you already know that. So: ask and (as best I can) ye shall recieve. Here's a basic run down (but be warned, it's kinda mushy. ): The title basically explains where I started. There's a friend of mine that I feel really close to, and she gives me the feeling that it's mutual. But, we were confused as to which way to go - really more like I didn't know if I wanted to become more than just friends or not. So, with some good music on, I tried to explore my thoughts on the subject by closing my eyes and just writing what came to mind. I could find no resolution imediately. Hence the first verse: Whisperings, of the muse, None help me now. Poems, prose, a laugh, a sigh. None give that beautiful aid. That... knowing. It is not saddness, this epiphany. But leaves that longing, Where those of faith proclaim God rests. That second verse was a mixture of thoughts. I realized that I would not find some moment of truth - no romantic realization like in the movies or that kind of junk, and that in itself was an epiphany. But it did leave an empty feeling - and my mind jumped to the thought of one of our difficulties: She's religious, I'm not. The next verse was actually an irnoy (though not for the poem, but simply to me) mixed with truth. You see I want the best of both worlds, even though I knew that it was impossible, and to try only brought the worst of both. An emptyness... Comfort only in indecision Pain in wanting, greed of tomorrow. So I got back to the subject at hand, searching for an answer. If in writing I couldn't find one, and I did not have a "higher power" to help explain my soul, who was I to turn to? Well, now a little bit of poetry really emerged. "She" represents both life itself, given an entity, and my friend with whom this conflict revolves around. Oh how I wish that She could help me. Evoke love, or lust, or nothing, That I may enjoy direction. Confusion and tranquility. Limbo and purgatory do I now entreat with my forced patience. Tomorrow brings the dawn of yesterday. But despite it all, like I said - nothing came of it, and I left undecided. Hence the above verse. Then, as I finished, a very scary thought occured to me, and if I was to edit this poem, I'd change "Life" to "She" to continue the metaphor for both Life and my friend. Will I ever come do a decision? Has it already come and gone (Did I actually have feelings for her, and dismiss them as not real), and I missed it? Will Life speak today? Tomorrow? . . . Or perhaps She has. And I missed her whisper... And one that note, my thoughts finished, too afraid to explore that path. Not a bad poem resulted though. Having a tough time writing these days, so hopefully this is the first of a few. Thanks for being interested! Hope I delivered up to standard.

Happy Easter, to those who enjoy such celebration. Happy long weekend to those who don't.

Deg, Zool, I'm sorry you feel this way. It is truly unfortunate, to say the least. You're hands down two of the best members the Pen has had (in my humble opinion). Deg, if you're seeing hatred (and I only put it that way since I haven't seen any - not that I've really looked), then I can completely understand. We'll be here if you change your mind. I know that may be of little comfort, but it's important anyways. Zool - yeah, we never really talked, but to put it as my bro would say, you're cool. Also, know it or not, inspiring. Both indirectly and directly, I would not be here if it weren't for you. The Pen has evolved, for both better and worse I think. I'm sorry if it doesn't coincide with your views anymore. I'm also sorry I could not write more on the topic, but I am somewhat (as ironically usual) lost for words. I'll miss you both - it definately won't be the same without you. Drop by once in a while and post... Be well. Laugh. Love. Live. Yours, - Justin

Jumbled, and written without thought of a follow up. This is a first and final draft, but I felt like writing, and why just write, when I can share as well? Just thoughts of the moment. Enjoy! ~~~~ Whisperings, of the muse, None help me now. Poems, prose, a laugh, a sigh. None give that beautiful aid. That... knowing. It is not saddness, this epiphany. But leaves that longing, Where those of faith proclaim God rests. An emptyness... Comfort only in indecision Pain in wanting, greed of tomorrow. Oh how I wish that She could help me. Evoke love, or lust, or nothing, That I may enjoy direction. Confusion and tranquility. Limbo and purgatory do I now entreat with my forced patience. Tomorrow brings the dawn of yesterday. Will Life speak today? Tomorrow? . . . Or perhaps She has. And I missed her whisper...