The Great Library of Palanthas

An Aesthetic shows you to a small reading room.

Stories of Ansalon from the view of Orryn.

A little gully dwarf runs by and says 'Wordwrap is at 65. You change? Off 65 80.'
The gully continues 'Eyes hurt? Turn Color OFF!! (regular story dates)

Astinus says 'Enter the main library here to view only the author list.'
Astinus gently places a miniscule pocket book on the table in front of you.
You note the spine bears the word 'Orryn' scribed in unearthly black ink.


Author:    Orryn          
Date:      Sun Jan 20 06:10:32 2008
Subject     Introduction of Cowardice

Sunlight poured in through cracks, if they could be called that
they were
so large, in the wall illuminating the shack that he shared with
Bernard. A
slight turn in position and he was able to see Bernard still
sleeping on his
mat. A sleepy smile played at the corners of Orryn's mouth as he
roll onto
his side and closed his eyes again. It was rare that Bernard
slept late, but
it wasnt something Orryn was going to pass up. 

A familiar thought surfaced in the periphery of his mind for a
second,
quivering its fear as it expected to be ruthlessly crushed as it
usually
was. He was really awake though and the thought was given a seat
in the
front of his mind and entertained. I dont really know much
about the
Bernard, do I? Oh, sure, he knew the basics. The man was nearly
blind and
hard of hearing. He had probably seen close to 50 winters come
and go. He
had had a hard life, something he never spoke of, but Orryn could
easily see
it in the lines around Bernards face. Something bad had happened
to Bernard
and it revolved around mages, specifically those few who belonged
to the
Conclave.

Bernard was always odd around people who used magic, but if
someone in a
white, red, or black robe came around he simply disappeared.
Orryn wasnt
sure if it was fear, anger, or a mixture of both. Oh well. He
didnt need to
know much about Bernards history honestly. That was all the
warning the
thought got before Orryn crushed it yet again. All he needed to
know was
that when his parents died from some disease and he was left an
orphan,
destined to die in the deep cold that suffocated all of
Palanthas, Bernard
had found him and taken him in. Bernard who even then was nearly
blind and
had no income and less food had taken on another mouth to feed.
That was
enough for Orryn.

As sleep got a stronger grip on Orryn his thoughts began to drift
again. One
in particular surfaced and Orryn was content to let it replay the
memory it
held.

He was around 9 years old at the time. He watched his younger
self run into
the shack. No. That wasnt right. He ran into the shack, hot blood
pouring
down his face, covering his lips and mouth and dripping down into
his left
hand. His right held his nose, trying to shield it while
refraining from
touching it. Tears spilled down his cheeks and washed away the
edges of
blood. Bernard was sitting on the floor and slid something behind
him as
Orryn rushed in.

By the gods, boy, what happened to you? He started to stand
but before he
could even get to one knee the boy was in front of him.

I nicked some bread and was on my way back when one of the
other boys
spotted me. He told me to give the bread to him. Orryn gave
a short sniffle
and was quickly rewarded with a sharp burst of pain. When I
told him no he
punched me and run away with the bread.

He pulled his hand away from his nose and Bernard saw what he had
expected.
The entire thing was shifted off to the right of the boys face.
He had
broken it pretty good.

Bernard whistled softly as he looked at the boy. When you do
something kid,
you dont do it half-way, do you? Hold still, I know how to fix
this. He
brought his hands up to the boys face and placed his thumbs on
either side
of the nose. A wet crunch and a shriek of pain was all it took to
get it set
back in the center of his face where it belonged.

Bernard eased down into a cross-legged position again and quietly
sat
watching Orryn sniffle to himself as the pain subsided. Finally
after a few
minutes of this Bernard cleared his throat, drawing the boys
attention.

So? You just going to sit there all day whining? Thats not
going to get us
any food.

The boyed blinked back at the old man in confusion. W..what? I
cant go back
to the market. The guards saw me take the bread, they will
recognize me if I
go back today. 

Yeah. They probably will. But I really dont want to wait until
tomorrow to
get some food in me and that means you got to get some today.

Orryn just blinked again. Was he really telling him to go steal
more bread
and risk getting caught to get some food before tomorrow?
But..how? I cant
go back into the market and the other boy took what I had..

Bernard just sighed. Well, do you remember what the boy looked
like? Orryn
gave a quick nod. Then you know where our food is. Go get it
back. 

The boy blanched a bit at the thought. But, he's bigger than
me. I cant beat
him in a fight..

The old man shrugged. Then dont be nice about it, boy. You dont
have to walk
up to him and sock him in the snoot. Find where he is, sneak
around him and
whack him hard. When he falls down, take our bread back and run
back here.

The boy looked down at his feet and quietly murmered I cant do
that..he
would see me first and then he would hit me again. 

"Yeah. So. Thats what happens when you get in a fight. You get
hit. It
stings something fierce, but you cant be afraid of it. You have
to accept
that youre gonna get hurt a bit. If you cant do that, then you
need to learn
to be sneaky and hit them good before they hit you. Chances are
that wont
always work though so once again you have to accept that your
gonna get hit
and its gonna hurt. Otherwise youre gonna have more people
breaking your
noise and more days where you dont get to eat. 

Orryn just frowned and didnt say anything.

The old man sighed again and looked at the boy. Orryn. Boy. We
cant have
this. You have to learn to stand up for yourself. Now this other
boy knows
that he can just knock you down and take what he wants from you.
You think
he is going to let you walk by next time he sees you with food?
No, he is
going to make sure he has something to eat and he is going to do
it by
hitting you again. So one way or the other, you are gonna get hit
again.
Either by standing up to him and taking back what you earned or
by getting
kicked around and letting people take what you deserve away from
you. Those
are your options. What will it be boy? 

Slowly Orryn looked up at Bernard and saw the kindness, worry and
patiences
that covered his face. Isnt there any other way? Getting hit
really hurts.
Cant we just wait until tomorrow and you can come with me
maybe? 

Bernard shook his head. No. I wont go with you and let you use
an old man as
an excuse to stay a child. You have to find some way to get our
food from
this boy. You also have to teach him that you wont let him hurt
you anymore
and that means you have to hurt him. You dont want to hurt him
real bad, but
you want him to know that your not going to just lay down and let
him take
things away from you. Now go wash the blood off your face and
then go fix
this. 

Orryn looked like he was about to cry again, but he understood
what Bernard
was saying. He got up and left the shack. As he walked outside
the warmth of
the sun made him feel a bit better. The warmth of the sun on his
face, in
his eyes, blinding him. 

Orryn awoke with a snort and lifted his arm to shield his eyes.
Sure enough,
the sun had moved far enough across the morning sky to shine in
his eyes and
wake him up. Another glance at Bernard's mat showed him in still
in bed.
Orryn frowned. It may be uncommon for Bernard to sleep late, but
for him to
sleep this late was unheard of. 

He stared at the old man on his mat for a while. Something seemed
off. Weird
about the way Bernard was laying. It took him a few seconds to
clear the
remnants of sleep from his brain and focus, focus like Bernard
had taught
him, to spot the problem. 

Bernards chest wasnt rising and lowering like it should be. It
wasnt doing
it at all... Fear and adrenaline shot through Orryn's veins and
he was on
his feet and across the shack before his brain registered
throwing his
blankets off himself. Bernard wasnt breathing. 

Author:    Orryn          
Date:      Wed Jan 23 07:32:32 2008
Subject     Continuance of Cowardice Pt I

Orryn sat in Bernard's chair with his head in his hands, his dark
brown
hair spilling out between his fingers, as he reflected on the
day. He had
taken Bernard's body outside of town this morning before the sun
came up. He
figured it would be the best time since the streets would be less
cluttered
with traffic and he could move faster. That and his carrying a
dead body
over one shoulder would draw much less attention in the pre-dawn
light.
Attention he simply didnt have the energy to bear. The gate
guards gave him
a hassle, but he had expected as much. No, he didnt hurt this man
(they
still checked the body for wounds and his person for weapons),
yes, he knew
bodies that werent taken proper care of could cause disease, and
yes he knew
he was supposed to call the clerics of Mishakal to handle it. He
already
had, in fact. They had given him permission to bury the body
outside as it
would have been Bernard's wish, not to mention he didnt have the
means to
afford even a pauper's grave in the cemetary. 

After a good half an hour of questions and fact checking with the
Temple of
Mishakal he had been released to continue on. He carried Bernard
a good mile
outside of the city, avoiding the roads entirely, to a place they
had
visited once. They had come out of town when Orryn was maybe 13
years of age
to simply see what lay outside of the walls of Palanthas and
revel in what
they found. Orryn had never left the walls of the city before and
had found
sights outside to be both intoxicating and more then a bit
intimidating.
They had stopped near a grove of wild apple trees and rested a
bit from the
noon sun under thier shade. The apples were green, they always
were,
apparently crab apples like these never got large and red like a
proper
apple should. That didnt deter Orryn from trying one and Bernard
from
laughing at his face when he tasted how sour they were. It was
one of
Orryn's favorite memories, one he often visited when times seemed
a bit
rough. He believed that Bernard treasured it too. 

He went off to the side of the grove a good hundred feet and set
Bernard's
body down. His shoulder, back and legs burned fiercely from the
excertion of
the walk. He took a moment to sit in the shade of the trees again
and recall
that afternoon spent here 6 years prior. When the ache had
subsided enough
he got back up and walked over to where he had left Bernard.
Picking up a
large scoop shaped rock he had found on the way he dropped to his
knees and
began to break the ground, tearing it up and shoveling it out of
the way the
best he could with the rock and his hands. It was good soil here,
so it dug
up easily but he still had to dig a hole close to six feet long
and as deep
as he could manage. It took the better part of what sunshine was
left in the
day to complete his task. 

When he finally decided the earth was good enough to hold the man
who had
raised him and made him into who he was he layed the body in the
ground and
began pushing dirt back in, stopping occasionally to tamp the
ground as
solid as he could with his hands. It was much faster work filling
in the
hole and he had a good mound of dirt piled up in a short time.
Some quick
searching around and Orryn was able to find a sizable fallen
branch, nearly
a log really, that he placed at the head of the grave. He still
wished he
had something better to mark the grave. Even though he had buried
the base
of the branch in the ground, it would be knocked over in a short
time by
wind. He had to satisfy himself with carving Bernard's name in
the wood as
best he could with the sharp point of another rock. 

By the time he had returned from his duty it was dark. One of the
guards who
gave him a hard time in the morning was back on duty and
remembered the boy.
As he let Orryn back in the gates the guard clapped a hand on his
shoulder
and held him there for a second. I, uh,  he coughed quietly
Here. You look
like you worked up a fierce appetite today. He dropped a couple
copper coins
into Orryn's hand and gave the boy a soft shove towards the
lights of the
local inn. Orryn nodded dumbly and walked on. He had gotten some
bread and a
bowl of porridge and a mug of watered down ale to wash it all
down. It
tasted like ash in his mouth, but he knew it wasnt for want of a
good cook.
He was simply too miserable to get anything other than
nourishment out of
his food right now. 

The walk back to the shack was a blur. He remembered stepping out
into the
night, maybe a few of the street he passed and then he was
sitting here, in
Bernard's... no, his chair. His chair now. Now and forever. 

When his parents had died he was too young to remember. He didnt
even know
what his mother and father looked like. Bernards death though. It
wasnt like
that, he didnt know how to deal with it. So instead of thinking
about it, he
went to bed. 

He ran into the shack, a smile on his face larger than most had
any right to
wear. Bernard looked up at him and had to stare for a few seconds
before his
old eyes adjusted and he saw a half eaten loaf of bread under
Orryn's arm. A
quick glance of the boy showed that he was in good, even great,
shape too!
Well, discounting the heavy bruises that were forming around his
eyes due to
having his noes broken earlier that day, but those didnt count. 

Bernard's eyes narrowed slightly. Where did you get that from,
boy? I
thought I told you get our bread back, not steal more. 

Orryn missed the accusation entirely in his exuberance, I did
Bernard! I
found the boy who had taken it and I got it back from him, here,
see! He had
started to eat it, but I got what was left from him! He handed
the bread to
Bernard to inspect. 

The old mans eye brows lifted halfway up his forehead. Ah, did
you then.
Didnt you say this bully was bigger than you? How did you manage
to thump
him hard enough to get back our bread without taking a lump or
two
yourself?

Orryn's grin got big enough then that his entire face should have
collapsed
in on itself had not the gods themselves obviously been looking
out for him.
Well, I thought about what you said earlier; about how I had to
get hit one
way or another. Either getting back our bread or giving it away
when they
took it. I thought about it a lot and I realized, you were
wrong! If the old
man's eyebrows had risen earlier they nearly shot off his head at
this, but
Orryn kept talking, I dont have to break his nose or take a
rock to the back
of his head! I realized you were right, that was my, err,
our bread that he
took and that I deserved it, not him. I worked to get it. I had
to run from
the shopkeeper and avoid the guards. Not him. I deserved it! So
then I
started thinking about how he was bigger than me. I didnt want to
fight him,
he wouldnt just break my nose this time, but I couldnt let him
keep what he
had no right to. 

The old man smirked at the boy. So excited he called Bernard
wrong one
minute and right the next. So, how did you get our bread back
from him
then?

I realized I was smarter than him! So I ran back to where he
had hit me and
started looking around and I found him really quick. He hadnt
even left the
alley way before he started pigging out! Orryn giggled,
actually giggled, a
little as he spoke. So I walked down the alley, just as bold as
I could be
and I picked up a small rock. I got about ten feet away before he
even saw
me and tossed the rock at his head! He was suprised at first,
then he saw me
and just smiled real mean-like and stood up. I let him take a
couple steps
before I just laughed really loudly. He stopped for a second and
asked me if
I would still be laughing after he made me eat my teeth. 

Author:    Orryn          
Date:      Wed Jan 23 08:35:18 2008
Subject     Continuance of Cowardice Pt II

Orryn beamed with pride as he continued, I told him, "look at
me, you
broke my nose earlier with one hit! You could probably do a lot
more if you
tried. Do you think I would start a fight with you if I wasnt
sure I would
win?" Well, that made him think, probably for the first time that
year!
Orryn laughed loudly there. 

He wasnt ready to believe me though so I kept pushing. "Heck,"
I said to
him, "You're big enough I couldnt beat you if I snuck up with on
you and
clubbed you with a rock before you knew I was there" I figured he
would like
to hear something nice, keep him wondering what I was gonna say.
"Thats why
I decided not to do it, hit you with a rock that is. I figured it
wouldnt do
me any good so I just threw it at you to get your attention.
Besides, I
wanted you to have the chance to apologize and give me back my
bread" Well,
that didnt sit well with him. He got all red in the face and took
another
step towards me. I took a step back and held up my palms to him
and said,
"You might want to think about it, boy. I mean you might be able
to hit me
pretty hard, but I think those two coming down the alley would
hit you
harder if you tried." I got really lucky there because right
before I said
that I saw a couple old hands come into the alley. I figured I
had to end it
quick then cause they wouldnt like us in thier way. Of course, he
didnt
believe me, not until one of them yelled at us. Called me a
goblin faced
punk cause of my broken nose. Course he didnt know that. He
thought they
were calling him names. 

Orryn shrugged and kept talking, He was bigger than either of
them though,
guess he thought he could thump them pretty good if he hit them
first. It
was all a sham though. Soon as he turned to face them I picked up
a stick
and clobbered him but good! I whacked him a few more times to
make sure he
knew I meant it, and to make sure he wasnt going to get up and
come after
me. He gave a sheepish grin there for a second. The other
boys just laughed
and cheered for me. Guess they didnt expect to see a me beat up
someone
twice my size. I grabbed my bread and just ran back here. Orryn
nodded and
finally quieted down long enough to start breathing properly
again. 

Bernard just sat there for a few minutes, staring at the boy
thinking it all
over. His cloudy eyes never left Orryn's face while he thought.
Finally he
said Well, I dont see how I was wrong. I told you to either
walk right up
and sock him in the snoot or sneak up behind him and hit him.
Which you did.
Now, sure, you didnt get hit this time, but you might not be so
lucky next
time. 

Orryn just gave an over exagerrated sigh and shook his head
rapidly,
interrupting Bernard. No Bernard, you are missing it entirely!
You were
right about the fact that I had to show him that he couldnt just
take things
from me Thats why I hit him! If I thought that he wouldnt bug
me again I
would have just grabbed the bread and ran when he turned around.
But that
wouldnt teach him! I as good as had the bread when he stopped to
listen to
me. The beating was to tell him not to try taking my things
again. 

The old man just nodded in acknowledgement. He had seen the point
just as
sure as the boy who took a beating saw it, he just wanted to make
sure that
Orryn understood it on a conscious level. That it wasnt just a
fluke of
events that turned out with the boy looking smart and more than a
bit lucky.
He ripped a small hunk of the bread off the loaf and set it down
on the
floor. It was mostly crust after all this time being exposed to
the air, but
it would keep him for the day. He tossed the rest of the loaf to
the boy. 

Well, since you worked so hard for it today, guess that really
is your loaf
of bread. Enjoy it. He nodded to Orryn as he began to gnaw on
his own
piece.

Orryn just looked at the almost half loaf of bread on his lap.
You sure you
dont want more Bernard? I mean, I know its only a half loaf, but
I got it
for us, I dont mi.. 

Bernard just held up his hands to forstall any more and shook his
head.
Nope. Its yours Orryn. A growing man has to eat after all. 

Bernard just sat and watched this boy he had raised from an
infant eat the
bread he had fought so hard to get. Not really a physical fight,
though that
had occured. It was more of a fight to put down his childhood and
learn to
be accountable for himself. He seems to have passed this test,
though there
would be more. Many more before he could truly say the child who
could
behave with suprising maturity was gone and a man had replaced
him.
Hopefully a man who always remembered what joy childhood had held
without
being stuck in the memories. 

Orryn had been correct though. Bernard had been wrong
technically. There
were, basically, three types of people in the world: the strong,
who would
always face danger head on, relying on the strength of thier body
to carry
them through. Then there were the quick, who would see thier
problems coming
and know to either sneak out of thier way or hit them from
behind. Finally
there were the smart. The ones who would see thier problems and
find a way
to defeat them with only thier knowledge of the problem and of
the world
around them. 

The boy, Orryn, seemed to favor that last group. That made
Bernard both
proud and terrified. He, too, had been one of the smart people.
All his
vaunted intelligence though had failed him when he needed it the
most. In
that moment when the darkness fell on him and he threw everything
he had...
No. No, I will NOT think about that. Its done and gone
Bernard shook the
thoughts from his head. 

There was nothing wrong with being smart. He just had to make
sure to steer
Orryn away from the honeyed lies of Wayreth. Those traps he knew
all too
well. He still bore the scars of thier snares. But, if Orryn were
to
continue down this path, and lets be honest, he isnt suited for
the other
two, he would have to be taught a few things. First and foremost,
how to
read. 

There was time for that in the morning though. He turned and lay
down on his
mat. He had already hidden his old spellbook. He had been a bit
worried that
perhaps Orryn had seen it when he came in earlier with the busted
nose. That
was not the case though. The boy was so concerned with his pain
that his
ridiculously thin book had been easily hidden behind him. He
would have to
make doubly sure that stayed hidden if he were to teach the boy
to read. 

Good night, Orryn

He knew that Bernard was dead, but he still heard the old mans
voice as he
lay down in that moment between sleep and consciousness. Good
night, father.
He muttered before it finally claimed him. 

Author:    Orryn          
Date:      Tue Jan 29 04:25:54 2008
Subject     Mistake of Cowardice

Orryn's dreams were a discordant shuffle of images and emotions.
There
was no theme, no order of events that gave any discernible
meaning. There
was only light and sound and fear. Rage and sadness, joy and
loneliness.
None overstayed thier welcome, though they all made many stops
before his
subconscious finally gave up any hopes for sleep and waited. The
next time
fear reared its many-fanged head Orryn awoke with a startled cry.


He sat there, worn blanket bunched around his waist for a moment,
gathering
his wits about himself as the images fled from his mind. Nothing.
It was
still dark. He had only been asleep for maybe three hours judging
by the
light outside. A sliver of Lunitari was visible meaning that it
would be
full next week some time. Only the barest sliver of Solinari was
visible and
would spend the next week disappearing completely. Nuitari was in
conjunction with Lunitari that night, though Orryn had no idea.
He had never
seen Nuitari and didnt know how to track the moon. Bernard hadnt
convered
that and he honestly didnt want to know. Orryn gave a sigh and
quickly
reached up and grabbed one of the fireflies that had drifted into
the hut.
He thought about it for a second, his fingers twitching open to
release the
firefly before he made up his mind. He would break Bernard's
first, and most
important, rule: Do NOT use magic. He used the excuse that it
was late and
noone would know. 

Reaching down into that part of him that only years before he
hadn't even
known existed, Orryn drew from the well of power that he found.
He didnt
draw very deeply, the spell required only a minimum of power to
trigger, and
a second later he felt the firefly pop in his hand as the spell
fired. He
opened his hand and released the little ball of reddish orange
light to
float in front of him. 

Perhaps it was foolish, but it made him feel better to use
something that
Bernard had taught him. Helped him feel a bit closer to the old
man for a
second. Bernard had never allowed Orryn to actually cast the
spells. He had
taught him to feel the power inside of himself, even allowed him
to draw his
fingers through it to get accustomed to its feel. But he had made
sure Orryn
never used that power in conjunction with the words and gestures
that he
practiced at night. 

Magic leaves a trace, even the smallest spell leaves a slight
marker around
everything it touches. Bernard had explained. People who know
what they are
looking for, Conclave Mages mostly, though there are others, will
be able to
sense that magic if they are paying attention and start sniffin'
around.
Those mages are nothing but trouble, so we dont let them know we
are even
here. 

Then why am I doing this if I cant use it? Orryn had never
fully understood
that part. Because you dont get a sword boy. The warrior has
his blade. The
wizard has his magic That last part always had the ring of a
memorized
proverb to Orryn. If you have to, absolutly have to you can
use magic to
defend yourself. But not otherwise. Magic can do many things boy,
but most
will only see it as a weapon. You dont pull out a weapon in front
of guards
unless you think you're going to die. Dont use magic in front of
anyone who
might report seeing you use it. Its not safe. 

Bernard had never seemed to chafe at practicing the forms without
actually
casting anything. In the entire time he had known Bernard, he had
never seen
anything that even hinted at knowledge like this much less used
magic. Even
now, during thier practice, there was nothing to show for all of
Bernards
words and gestures. That was Bernard' s final arguement though.
17 years of
living together and Orryn had no idea. You can hide your talents
indefinatly
if you simply knew enough to not flaunt them. 

Flaunting them would get you a visit from the Robes, and if you
were lucky
they would judge you inconsequential and leave you be. If you
werent lucky,
they would cart you off to thier tower and maim you, rip your
abilities from
you, or simply kill you. They were the bogey-men that haunted
Orryn's
nightmares. 

But they had never come around in the years he had lived here,
and they
wouldnt come around now. Orryn got up and walked across the room
to where
Bernard had slept. It took him a minute of scrounging, even know
where it
was, to find and retrieve Bernard's spell book. He had always
heard of mages
carrying around large tomes of magic. Bernard's book, further
proof of him
not being one of those mages, was pitifully thin. It contained
maybe 20
pages of thin slanted writing. The spells that Bernard had
managed to
collect. Most were utilitarian, like the light spell, a few were
defensive,
there were a few odd spells that really fit no catagory as well.
One called
up a slight fog and the other made someone a bit more friendly.
There was
nothing there that could actually be deemed as destructive of
offensive
though. In the back was a drawing, and it was the drawing that
compelled
Orryn to pull the book from its hiding nook. 

The picture always seemed so familiar to Orryn, though he could
never figure
out why. It was drawn by Bernard in his younger years before he
moved to
Palanthas and it contained a simple landscape. There were tree
branches that
descended from the upper left of the picture and hills in the
background.
The main portion of the image was a footpath through the grass.
The path
meandered through back towards the hills but its progress was cut
tragically
short by a road that it intersected. Wild flowers sprouted up
through the
grass in odd places and a bird soared through the sky, forever
frozen in
flight by Bernard's hand. 

It made no sense, but try as he might Orryn couldnt shake the
feeling of
peace and familiarity that accompanied the image. It was as if it
was an
image pulled from Orryn's memories or a place he had been but
there was
nothing like this place that he knew of. Perhaps it was simply a
sort of
lesson that Bernard had found important and wanted to record in
some
unorthodox method. Though the most he could pull out of the image
in terms
of a lesson was that every path eventually ended. But that
required a bit of
grasping at straws because the intersecting road was a sort of
continuance
of the path. Maybe it meant a man might die but his ideas, the
direction he
was headed in life would continue on? He was never able to puzzle
it out and
Bernard had never deigned to answer him. 

Orryn spent a couple hours just staring at the image, absorbing
every line,
every stroke trying to discern some meaning. In the end all he
got for his
effort was a headache and a feeling of exhaustion from having to
cast the
Light spell a few more times. Bernard had mentioned that casting
spells
would tire you out just like hard labour would, but Orryn had
truly
understood until tonight. It was still dark out, probably 4 hours
before
dawn, when he gave up and replaced the book in its cubby hole.
The ordeal
had wore him out and this time when he fell into slumber there
were no
images accosting his mind. No sounds rushing past his ears. No
rush of
emotions. Just the image he had burned into his mind of the
landscape
floated there, taunting him with the incessent feeling that he
knew that
place the image related. All the same, his sleep was calm and
peaceful. 

Sometime before the sun had even fully made up its mind about
getting up and
bathing the city in its light, a slight cough intruded on Orryn's
sleep. He
awake with a start and when he looked towards the source of the
sound he
felt his heart freeze and his stomache fall through the floor. A
man in red
robes stood in the doorway to his hut, his hand holding an orb
of cold blue
light that revealed all the corners of the small room. He was
looking
directly at Orryn his face an unreadable mask. 

Author:    Orryn          
Date:      Tue Jan 29 06:50:37 2008
Subject     The Coward's Mask pt I

Orryn stared at the mage and froze like a deer who know's its
been
spotted by a hunter. He tried to wrap his mind around the
situation. Why was
this man, obviously a mage, here? The only answer was the spells
Orryn had
cast earlier. He knew. He found the spells touch and found a boy
sleeping at
its focal point. Orryn was caught. He knew it. Oddly enough, that
knowledge
was a relief. He believed it meant he and the mage were on even
ground in
the arena of battle. They both knew why they were here. It was a
simple
process then to start his web of lies. In his mind he had a
series of tales
ready to spin. Which one would be the most believable though.. 

It was the longest 3 seconds of Orryn's life, him staring at the
mage
paralyzed in fear, the mage impassively looking at him, reading
him like a
book. Orryn chose his lie and crushed the fear in his chest. 

Scuttling backwards like a crab Orryn left the look of terror he
no longer
payed attention to on his face. Please! No, Sir'rah! Your
friend already
took all I had! He destroyed my home,  Orryn wished the shack
had been a
mess instead of the clean room that he inhabited. It would have
helped his
lie. I have nothing left to take! His shoulders and head hit
the wall. He
had crossed the room, but he kept trying to go further. Make it
look like
you cant get far enough away from him. Make him think your fear
is due to
something else. 

The mage's eyebrow quirked up. I have sent noone here before
me, boy Anger
flared in the back of Orryn's mind, quickly subdued before it
showed on his
face. That was Bernard's word. Not his. Inconsequential, everyone
calls kids
boy. Ignore it. Barely moving his face the mages eyes quickly
scanned the
room in the light of his spell. Anyone who sacked this place
left long ago
enough for you to set it right. Or they did a third rate job at
shaking you
down. 

Orryn stopped backpedaling against the wall, but kept cowering.
Then...what
do you want? I have nothing to take..The other man took it all.
His eyes
never left the mages face. 

Perhaps I have the wrong... another quick survey of the shack
with its thin
walls, roof the let moon light in and sparse conditions before
continuing
house. I heard an aquaintance of mine recently passed. Last I
had heard he
lived in the area. His name was Bernard Tulthos? Shock hit home
and before
Orryn realized, it was on his face. 

Tulthos. He never knew Bernard's surname. Never knew Bernard had
a surname.
Then the first part played again. Aquaintance? Bernard hated and
feared
mages. The man was lying and Orryn caught him. The footing for
thier battle
shifted and suddenly Orryn saw himself on the highground. How to
use the
knowledge? 

Y..yes, I knew Bernard, he was my father,  Another raised
eyebrow. adoptive.
If I may, what's your name sir? Maybe I've heard of you? He often
spoke of
his old friends.. Damnit! That might come back to bite him. He
would have to
tell this fellow that, no, Bernard hadnt spoke of him after all,
at least,
not to his adopted son. He hoped this man and Bernard really were
just
aquaintances and not friends. 

The light from the man's palm dimmed a bit to a more comfortable
level.
Julian. Orryn shook his head Not a suprise. The time we
knew each other
became a bad memory for Bernard. One he couldnt shake. The
mage, Julian,
shook himself from a brief memory and noticed the boy was still
on the
floor. Please, get up. I am not going to take anything of yours
or hurt you.
I just have a couple questions. 

Orryn got up at the mages request, but kept his back to the wall
keeping the
room between himself and the man. Let him see a kid to scared, to
inconsequential for him to take interest in. The man who came
here before
you..he had light like yours. Used it to search the room.. That
should
explain any magic residue left in the room. 

The shadow of a frown passed over Julian's face. I see.
Describe them for
me. Could be that they are Renegades. 

Orryn made up a description on the fly, committing the lies to
memory so he
could repeat them later. 

The mage nodded, content Noone I have heard of by the
description, but I
will pass the description. Anyone who uses magic without the
Conclave's
permission might be a source of trouble. Though if this is the
extent of his
power, Light spells, he is likely not a problem that the guards
cant handle.
Though if he were to begin to cast more powerful spells...
Julian shot a
look that seemed to imply something. 

Orryn smiled to himself as his vantage point got better. The mage
fell for
his lie and was now going on a wild goose chase for a renegade.
Orryn was
safe. I will let the guards know too, but this happens here in
the poor
district too often. They wont find him. 

Julian nodded in acknowledgement. Then perhaps you can answer
some questions
for me? Orryn nodded I'll try, sir 

The sun had risen high enough above the horizon now that it
streamed into
the shack through the numerous cracks making the mages light
redundant. It
winked out of existance and he folded his hands inside the arms
of his
robes. Did your adoptive father ever speak of the Conclave? 

Orryn nodded again. Briefly. He said it was a place of power
and to be
respected. Orryn lied. Keep it brief and dont commit to
anything major and
stay on the mages good side. Survived the questions and you will
never see
him again. 

Of course. The mage eyed Orryn for a second before
continuing. Did he tell
you he once strived to don the same robes I wear? 

Orryn was confused, but again he masked it. From the high ground
he stood on
he saw that question for the pitfall it was. The mage was lying
to unbalance
Orryn. What was he after? Orryn deftly avoided it. No, he didnt
speak much
about the Conclave, only occasionally mentioning it. 

Of course. Julian's eyes took in the room again before
returning to the
boy's face. Do you have any of his possessions here? 

Orryn smiled and held out his arms to his side. Only what you
see here. A
rickety chair, a bed mat and blanket. Orryn left the his
spellbook out of
the list. 

Julian nodded and continued Finally, where is his body? I would
like to pay
my respects if I may.

This Conclave bastard would never get near enough to Bernard's
body to do
anything. Checking with the clerics of Mishakel would catch him
in a
careless lie though. He let a bit of his anger tinge his cheeks
in what he
hoped would be mistaken for embarrassment. He hung his head
slightly as he
spoke I buried him in a private lot. He deserved better than a
paupers
grave,  He raised his head in defiance I asked the clerics of
Mishakel to
let me bury him. I snuck into a private yard and buried him
myself. I dont
think they would be happy to have strangers visiting thier land
for someone
they dont know is buried there. 

Julian smiled a bit at the boy's pride in his father. Very
well. Thank you
for your time. I will let your respect for him reflect mine as
well. 

The mage turned to leave, then stopped and looked at Orryn again.
One last
thing actually. When I spoke to the guards at the south gate they
seemed to
recall a boy carrying an old man's body out the south gate
earlier today.
Orryn's vantage point in the battle crumbled a bit Also, as I
said, I was an
aquaintance of Bernard and I do recall the time after he left the
Tower
grounds. He seemed a bit bitter at the events and at everyone,
even me, who
was in Conclave. The ground he was on became very precarious
very quickly as
the mage spoke. Perhaps he would spell well of us after this
time, but I am
not sure. Finally, when the man came into your house earlier
today and used
a Light spell to search it, why did you hold the ball for him?
The spell is
all over your fingers. Orryn's advantage disintigrated and he
was suddenly
in a sinkhole with the mage towering over him in this battle of
knowledge. 

Author:    Orryn          
Date:      Tue Jan 29 07:01:02 2008
Subject     The Coward's Mask pt II

But perhaps I am misinformed. I am an old fool who has spent
most of his
life in the Conclave after all. Julian shrugged. If that
"renegade" comes
back to rob you again, remind him that if he continues to
practice the Art
and grow stronger, he will become subject to our laws. Then we
will speak
with him more in depth. One last thing Orryn, that is your name
right? The
boy nodded dumbly Even if you dont believe me, I didnt lie to
you at all
tonight. Something to keep in mind. The mage turned and walked
out of the
shack. 

Orryn stared at the door as the web of lies he spun with his own
hands fell
to the floor and burned. He had known the entire time about
everything. That
Orryn had cast the spell. He had warned him too. Right now Orryn
was
inconsequential, but if he kept dabbling in the Conclaves domain,
they would
kill him. 

Retching sounds reached his ears and it wasnt until they stopped
that he
realized he had just vomited all over himself. 

Author:    Orryn          
Date:      Wed Feb  6 05:07:27 2008
Subject     Knowledge of Those Before

Orryn ran down the road as fast as his thin body would allow. It
felt
like someone had stuck a hot coal in his side and every breath
burnt his
worn lungs. He imagined this is how a blacksmith's bellows felt,
if it could
indeed feel. All the surface thoughts flickered past his mind,
each one
begging for his attention, each one ruthlessly shoved aside.
There was only
one thought in the boy's mind: The Grove. 

It had struck him last night, the reason the image in the back of
Bernard's
spellbook (though it was barely a spellbook in any traditional
sense) seemed
so familiar. It was the self-same grove that they had visited so
long ago.
It was in bloom in the pictures, the tiny blossoms growing on the
branches
not yet replaced by thier sour fruit. The times that he had
visited it with
Bernard the apples had been ripening on the branches. It set the
memory and
the picture in a different enough light that he hadnt realized
they were the
same place. 

As he rounded the last curve he spotted the grove, not 20 yards
ahead of
him, and his pace picked up. His arrival was celebrated by
falling to his
knees and gasping as he struggled to pull the book out of the
worn sack he
had slung over his shoulder. It had bounced quite a bit on his
run here, the
corners had jabbed him in the back and made him a bit sore. It
was
inconsequential though. He flipped to the back of the book and
stared at the
picture. Trying, and failing, to stand Orryn knelt there, his
eyes
flickering around the clearing, trying to find the pictures
perspective.
Just as his breathing became more normal he spied a small area
that might be
right. He staggered to his feet and nearly fell again from the
sudden rush
of blood to his head, but he managed to steady himself and half
run, half
stagger to the spot. He put his back to a tree and looked ahead.
Then lifted
the book and compared the views. Tree branches would have grown
out, shifted
a bit perhaps, but not this much. It wasnt the place depicted. 

It took a half an hour of searching and comparing before he
finally found a
vista that was too similar to the image for it to be wrong. He
smiled, very
content with himself, as he slid his back down the trunk of the
tree, its
scaly, grey bark leaving light scratches on his skin. He wasnt
sure why it
was so important that he found this place, but it was. Perhaps
because it
was another link to the man he both knew and would never know.
While he had
been alive the little bit of knowledge Orryn had of Bernard had
been
sufficient. Now that he was a memory though Orryn felt that he
needed to
better understand his adoptive father to keep hold of him. The
boy closed
his eyes and just breathed the fresh air, letting the thoughts he
had
previously ignored float back into view. He touched them all,
letting them
tickle his mind before moving to the next. As he relaxed and
began to simply
enjoy being in the same place his father had sat years prior he
picked up
the book to look at the picture again. 

Yes, it had been a bit risky to carry the book on him as he ran
through town
and down the road. Perhaps a mage would stop him and find the
book. Perhaps
the sack he had would finally tear out and the book would fall
silently
behind him, lost forever. He needed it thought. Without it he
wouldnt have
found this former sanctuary where Bernard had chose to sit and
idly draw the
landscape. As he peered at the picture and compared it to the
land around
him he began to take notice of the differences. The tree branches
were
longer. The path was less visible, more worn. In the picture
there was a
fresh mound of dirt. Reality had packed that mound down into the
level
featureless ground. 

That really caught his attention. The mound in the picture did
look freshly
piled. As if someone had dug a hole and then recovered it. It was
probably
just an old ant hill or the like, but Orryn's curiousity got the
better of
him and he began looking for where the mound would have been were
it still
here. Locating what he believed to be right, he began to dig. 

Not even three feet down his fingers hit something foreign.
Something buried
in the soil. 

Author:    Orryn          
Date:      Sun Feb 10 01:08:07 2008
Subject     The Inheritance

Orryn dragged his fingers along the edges of what was buried in
the
ground, quickly making an outline of rectangle in the dirt. It
was perhaps a
hand and a half wide and a little short of two hand lengthes
long. He tried
to pry it up with his fingers but it seemed to be rather thick as
well. He
couldnt get a good grip on it. Frustrated he began to dig around
the edges,
trying to loosen the earth's hold on whatever it was that Bernard
had buried
here. That was, of course, the only explanation. Bernard had to
have buried
something here, something he didnt want anyone to find, but
unlike the
free-booters who buried thier treasure Bernard couldnt make a
map. So he
drew a picture. Orryn wondered if Bernard had expected that he
would find it
or if perhaps he was unearthing something that the old man had
tried to hide
from himself and anyone else who might learn of it. 

He prefered to think of it as the former. This was something
Bernard had
buried and later decided to entrust to Orryn, should he ever
prove he was
worthy of it. The discovery was the test of merit. Whatever it
was, Bernard
had left it for him. This fueled him on, his fingers scrabbling
through the
dirt towards his prize, no, his inheritance. 

He looked down into his hole and thought that, perhaps, he could
pull it
out. It was about as wide as his fingers were long and it took
some work,
but with a bit of effort he was able to wedge his hands under its
sides and
pull it free. It came out with a quickness that Orryn wasn't
expecting and
he rolled backwards off his knees onto his back. The object was
wrapped in
an oiled cloth to keep the dampness of the earth away from it.
Pulling the
brown rag off and dropping it on the ground the boy saw he held a
box. It
was plain, unadorned, and made of a blonde or white wood. That
struck him as
strange. A wooden box seemed to be a poor choice for something to
be buried,
even if it were wrapped in oil cloth.

He quickly glanced around the clearing to make sure there was
noone around
to see him. An entirely futile effort as he was far enough
removed from
Palanthas that noone could be near without him knowing, but this
was a habit
Bernard had worked to instill in him. Do not work magic around
people. Okay,
so he added that last part. Even so he had to check before he
opened it to
find something nasty. Reaching deep within himself to that well
of personal
power, Orryn skimmed his hand across the top drawing just enough
of it to
fuel the spell he recited. The power ignited the spell and he
felt his eyes
tingle slightly in response. 

Carefully, carefully he set the box down and just stared at it.
The cover,
the sides, everything about it. The slight glow of magic covered
the box. It
was faint, but unmistakable. He had been right, someone had cast
spells on
it, probably to preserve its integrity. He continued to gaze at
the box
though, and as he did he learned more about the magic.

There were two spells cast on the box, one created the glowing
image of a
stylized "B" across the top of the box. Someone mark, perhaps
Bernard though
that seemed odd as Bernard had never cast any spells in the time
that he had
taught Orryn. He wasnt even sure Bernard could cast spells to be
honest and
the knowledge that Orryn wouldnt be able to just quit using magic
after the
little bit of time he had spent with it made him doubt that
anyone could
just quit, cold turkey. The other spell was the one that
protected the box,
its glow brighter than the rune. No more information became
apparent so he
dismissed the spell with a sigh. The tickling left his eyes as
did the auras
on the box. 

He felt safe in opening it now though. No other spells were
apparent on it
and he had seen no traps with his spell. His hands slowly lowered
to the
sides and, finding the grooves where the lid met the base, pulled
the top
off. 

Author:    Orryn          
Date:      Sun Feb 10 03:31:45 2008
Subject     The Inheritance pt II

Setting the lid aside Orryn looked into the box and saw two
books, one
nearly as large as the container it was in and another, smaller
book on top
of that. The larger book was bound in a red cover which seemed
new pristine.
The smaller book had a brown cover and was well worn, its corners
rounded
down. It wasnt wasn't in disrepair instead it appeared to be well
used,
loved. As it was on top he took it first and opened the cover.
The first
page was dated around 30 years prior, the writing faded but still
very
legible. The writing was a bit rough, letters formed oddly and
slanted quite
a bit to one side, but it was all spelled correctly. The author
was not used
to writing but he wasnt ignorant was the message Orryn got from
the script.

The first passage read: My parents have agreed to my
apprenticeship to
Laucian and I will be leaving for his manor in a fortnight. I am
a bit
nervous about leaving my families house to live with him during
my training,
but the idea of what I will be able to learn keeps me from
worrying about
it. Mother gave me this book to record my time with Laucian. He
is a kind
elf but he is very different from anything I am used to and cant
expect him
to listen to my problems. That's what mother says at least. I
have spoken to
Laucian briefly and he seems to be a ...

Orryn quit here and flipped ahead a couple of pages skimming over
what he
saw. The following passages spoke of the author's journey, his
arrival at
Laucian's manor, and the beginning of his lessons. A few passages
spoke of
suprise as he learned that his master was not only kind but
caring as well.
The entries became more sporadic in thier dates and after almost
a year
after the initial entry the author seemed to have forgotten his
journal for
a while. The next entry was dated almost two years later. 

Master Laucian has finally agreed to send me before the
Conclave! He says I
am not ready for the Test and I trust his judgement, but he is
going to
introduce me to many of the key members. His reasoning is that
when I am
prepared for the Test I wont have to worry about being nervous
with meeting
them. While I am there I am to declare my alliegance both to
Conclave and to
my choice of robes. The robes I choose are not necesarrily the
robes I will
wear when I pass the Test. I guess its more of a request at who I
would like
to continue my training. I wish I could have Laucian keep
teaching me, but
different people have different things to teach and Master
believes that I
might learn more from someone else. Again, I trust him. As much
as I respect
Laucian and his beliefs I think I will declare myself a Red.
Black is
obviously not for me and while I agree with the motives of the
White I cant
help but thing that a world run by them would end just as quickly
as it
would if the Blacks were in charge. Both seem to be extremes in
thier
beliefs. Yes, Red will be my choice. Master of the Red Robes,
Bernard
Tulthos. I cant wait!

Orryn blinked at that last line. Impossible. That mage, Julian,
had been
telling the truth? He wondered for a second if this wasnt all a
set up, but
he brushed aside the thought. If they wanted to get him they
could just take
him, they wouldnt need something so elaborate. He flipped ahead a
few pages
skimming what he saw until he found the passage stating that
Bernard was
going to take the Test. He quickly skimmed that and went to next
entry. He
had to know why Bernard changed. 

I cant believe it. Even with all the preparation that Masters
Laucian and
Harkin could give me I..I failed the Test. Everyone says I am
lucky to even
be alive after failing but I am not so sure. Yes, I am alive but
my life has
been redeemed at the cost of my magic. Apparently I passed out
after the ...
incident. They ended the Test and brought me to my room. After I
woke up and
since then I have attempted to cast spells. Any spell I could
think of. Any
spell I hadnt used already during the test. My strongest spells
of
protection, weaker spells of attack, even cantrips. They all
evade me! I
recite the words perfect, the gestures are correct but when I try
to draw
upon the magic to feed those words and gestures I find nothing.
So yes, I am
alive and yes, perhaps I am lucky. But I find my luck to be
suspect as I
dont see a point ot life without magic.

Flipping ahead even further gave more insight into who Bernard
used to be.
After he failed in his Test he lost the ability to use magic. As
time passed
Bernard began to blame the Conclave. How many others had the
Conclave killed
or maimed in thier attempt to choose who could and could not
practice magic?
Had the arrogance of the Conclave not been so complete how many
more mages
would be alive to lend thier intellect, thier ideas to magic. How
much
greater would magic be? Under all that though was Bernards hurt
at his own
loss. 

In the end he was watched until they were certain he was healthy
and then
told that he would have to leave the tower. Just like that he was
abandoned.
He hid his spellbook in his bags and smuggled it out of the
tower. He got an
fellow apprentice to enchant the box and he hid his spellbook in
it. He
hoped that one day he would heal and his magic would return. Then
he planned
to use his magic to try to topple the Conclave. As he grew older
though, the
edge on his anger dulled. Eventually he gave up his plans and
decided to
simply live his life. That was when he buried the box here. 

Orryn had to assume that this was shortly before Bernard took him
in.
Looking around he realized it was getting late and he didnt have
much
daylight left. He put the books into his sack and began his walk
back to
Palanthas. He certainly had a lot to think about on the way. 

Author:    Orryn          
Date:      Tue Feb 12 04:51:59 2008
Subject     The Cowards War

Orryn sat in Bernard's chair, leaned forward his head in his
hands. His
thoughts were numerous and bounced around his skull like a kender
in a
knick-knack shop. They all had one thing in common though:
Conclave. He had
been raised to distrust mage in general, Conclave in particular.
He never
knew why but Bernard avoided them and so he did as well. When he
began to
learn magic, strangly enough from Bernard, a little of the
explanation came
out. If he used magic around the Conclave he would be take and
either made
one of thiers, which was the less likely of the options, or
killed. He had
always known there was more to Bernard's fear than that though.
Why was a
man who either couldnt or wouldnt use magic worried about them.
Yes, he did
seem to have a good understanding of the concepts of magic use,
but he never
once cast a spell. 

The final pieces were laid out for him to peruse and as he did it
began to
make much more sense. Bernard had tried to join Conclave and his
magical
talent was weighed and found wanting. Instead of telling him of
his limits
and letting him reach the extent of his power, they had neutered
him.
Perhaps, though, they hadnt found him too weak to be useful. No,
the other
made more sense. He was too powerful. He threatened thier egos
and thier
established power. Thus they had stripped his power from him.
There were
other potential answers that were visible to even Orryn's
untrained eyes but
he rejected them all. Accepting them even as a slight possibility
would mean
that he would be accepting that perhaps Bernard was wrong. That
his fear was
a paranoid illusion, or a delusion. It would mean accepting that
Conclave
was not out to get him, as he had been instructed, and that
perhaps they
werent the bogeyman they were made out to be. 

He couldnt, or wouldnt, accept that. It was not a viable option.
So he
ignored it and paced around his hut chewing his thumb as he
thought. Three
steps carried him across the room. Three steps carried him back.
A quick
turn and three more steps and he was staring at the wall again.
He continued
his pacing until he reached a decision. To be honest that
decision had been
made already, but he hadnt realized he had already accepted it an
hour ago.
Conclave could not be trusted. Even Julian, the mage who found
him and knew
he was using magic but left him be was a source of danger. Yes,
he had let
him alone for the time being, but he had also threatened Orryn
with future
violence should he "continue to practice the 'Art' and grow in
power". Such
a silly and arrogant name for magic. Art. It served its purpose
though to
delineate thier ideas of the boundaries of magic. It was
something for those
who already had everything. For those who were nobles, the high
society, to
practice and use. For them to determine how it was used and to be
offended
at should someone "unworthy" dabble in it. Vulgar use of thier
precious
bauble would not be allowed and thus the Conclave was formed to
protect
thier self righteous ideals. Granted the members of Conclave
might not be
Noble in title, but the ideas and beliefs were the same. Set up a
organization to separate the masses and decide who was allowed in
and who
was to be kept out. Place yourselves above the rest and
eventually they
would accept that you were thier better. 

Orryn's hands began to ache and he realized he had clenched them
into tight
fists. Frowning he forced himself to open his hands and flex his
fingers as
he closed his eyes and slowed his breathing, forcing himself to
relax. After
he calmed a bit he took a step back, in his mind, and surveyed
the thoughts
that were plaguing him. One by one he went through and quieted
them down. He
refused to listen to them, to let himself be distracted by them
any longer.
They complained, of course, and tried to make themselves heard,
but it was
no use. 

When he was done he walked over to Bernard's chair and pulled his
sack over
to his feet. Reaching inside he pulled the box out of it and
began to open
it. He looked at the smaller book inside for a second, his hand
sliding over
it feeling its grainy cloth cover against his fingers. Then he
set it aside
with an almost reverent care before reaching back inside to the
larger book.
He already knew what it was, not only had he read about it in the
journal,
but he had peeked at it when he had arrived home. 

Opening Bernard's spell book he began to browse through its
spells. The
man's demand for cleanliness and order in thier ramshackle hut
was something
that he had obviously practiced in other avenues of his life.
Then book
immediatly launched into its spells, however if you flipped to
the back
there were perhaps 5 pages set up as an index of the book. Each
spell was
listed by name, then later cross referenced against whether it
was an
offensive, defensive, informative, or general use spell. Each
page that
contained a spell was also headed with a short desciptor that
explained the
basic principles of the spell. This one would fire missiles of
force. That
one would cloak him in a shroud of invisibility for a time. That
one had
really piqued his interest though when he read the words
necesarry to cast
the spell they seemed made of smoke and shadow. They would not
form in his
mind as others would. Bernard had mentioned that some magic would
be beyond
him for a time and he chalked this up to that.

There was another spell the interested him though. It was labeled
simply,
Charm Person. It was labeled as a general use spell that
would force a
person to view him in a more friendly light allowing him to make
requests of
them so long as they were reasonable. It was very promising to
him. Anyone
could swing a stick, metaphorical or real, and bludgeon an enemy.
But to get
him to see your side of things? It was a tactic that was very
appealing to a
person who did not want to be hit. Plus it was a bit insulting to
force them
to do what you wanted. He read over the spell and committed it to
memory. 

Soon he would begin to move. To forge alliances that he could use
to find
out more about his enemy. He was naive enough to believe that
could make a
change to the current status quo of magic, and to that end he
began to
prepare. 

Author:    Orryn          
Date:      Sat Feb 23
09:59:02 2008
Subject     The Cowards Flight.

Orryn
sighed and rubbed his cheek and chin with his hand as he
thought
about what the inn keeper, and every inn and tavern
keeper, had told him.
Sorry kid, noone has come around wanting
to meet with you. Time after time
that was the same answer. In
some faraway corner of his mind the thought
registered that he
needed to shave, but he subliminated it and kept his mind
on the
current problem. Well, that's not the answer he got from
everyone.
One innkeeper had relayed to him that a half-elf woman
had spoken to him
about setting up a meeting. It never happened
though. He didn't know if she
got spooked, or if he simply showed
up at the wrong time, or, worse yet,
were they on to him? Had she
been captured and silenced? Forced to talk? He
shook his head
briefly. In the end it didn't matter. They had never spoken,
she
had never gotten his name since he had never used it even with
the inn
keepers. It was a shame if something had happened, but it
wasn't his
concern. 

He needed information on the Conclave.
Information on the people in
Conclave. What were thier names?
What robes did they wear? Did the focus on
spells of destruction?
Spells of divination? Spells of necromancy? Too many
question and
no answers to be had. At least he had found a place to
stay.
Orryn wanted to stay in his hut, the hut he had been raised
by Bernard in,
but it was not possible. They knew where it was.
They knew how to find him.
It had taken a rather extensive amount
of Charm spells, but he had persuaded
a small family to let him
stay with them. He was thier cousin from the
country and a bit of
a bumpkin. His parents had died and they were willing
to take him
in until his brother, a merchant in Kalaman, could come by
for
him. 

Yes, a prodigeous amount of charm spells. He wondered
if perhaps he had
abused the family with his work. There were
times when they seemed..dull
witted. They would be in the middle
of a task and then simply stop and ask
him if this is what they
should be doing. It was all very odd, like they
were becoming
simple as milk. He decided to stop using his spells on
them
unless it was necesarry. Again, their well being was only
secondary in his
mind. He couldn't afford to risk losing this
little bit he had managed to
secure for himself.

He dropped a
couple coins on the counter and thanked the inn keeper. No
need
to keep looking. If anyone was going to come forward, they
would have. The
fat man just nodded as he wiped down a mug.
Orryn turned and walked out of
the tavern, chewing on his thumb
as he walked back to his 'cousin's house'.


He was so lost in
thought he almost didnt notice the kids standing in the
street in
front of his destination. He blinked for a second as his
mind
returned to his body. Whats going on? 

One of the kids,
Orryn felt he should know his name, he was always playing
outside
with his friends, glanced over his shoulder for a second. His
entire
face was lit up with excitement. Someone came to visit
your family Andrew, 
That was the name Orryn had given the
people here. I bet he's a mage! He had
those big robes like
they wear. He was.. Orryn's stomach turned to a ball of
ice.
Not now! He ignored the rest of what Josiah, he remembered the
kids
name suddenly, said. He had to know what was going on
inside. It had to be
risked. He got closer to the wall of the
house, near the room where they
would always entertain visitors.
Keeping clear of any windows and pitching
his voice low so noone
could hear him, he mumbled some quick words, his
fingers turning
a copper coin over and over in his hands. He released the
magic
in him and the coin felt warm for a second in his hands as the
spell
settled over him. 

He had guessed right. He could
hear/feel the thoughts on the other side of
the wall. It took a
couple more seconds of concentrating as the information
became
clearer. There were three people inside the room. A couple
seconds
more and he knew it was Pol and Lilah, the family he was
staying with. Thier
thoughts were, for lack of a better word,
soft. The other person's mind was
the complete opposite. The
thoughts from that one were hard like steel and
seemed sharp to
boot. He had cast this spell once before, simply to know how
it
worked. Thoughts should always be firm, like a good fruit. He
couldnt get
anything but emotion's from the Blade, whereas the
others were an open book.
They were telling this man everything,
his name, what he looked like and
when he could be expected back.
The emotions he got from the Blade were
excitement tinged with
disappointment. 

Orryn bit back a vehemenent curse as he
withdrew his spell. He had been
smart enough to use a false name
even with this family, but the spell he
would use to disguise
himself in public wouldn't last near long enough for
him to use
it around them. This man, probably a mage, knew his
description
now. He had to leave, quickly, and leave as little
trace as possible. 

He prepared to cast his last Disguise Self
spell but stopped when he caught
sight of Josiah. He had seen
Orryn return. He didnt have time to be gentle.
He reached into
the hidden pocket he had sewed into his vest and grabbed
the
small vial of of honey oil he kept there. Releasing a drop of
it onto his
finger as he chanted. The words and cadence were
similar to Charm Person,
but more forceful. The power built and
released as the oil evaporated in a
quiet flash. The strands of
magic he was used to twisted and became a whip
thin cord of power
that flew out and stabbed into the boys temple. He was
completely
open to Orryn's Suggestion now. 

Josiah, get your friends
together and go play down the steet. If anyone
asks, you havent
seen me all day. Understand? 

The boy nodded mutely and then
the emotion returned to his face. This is
boring guys, lets go
play hide-n-seek! Last one to my house is it! The kids
all
shrugged and followed thier leader away. Orryn was already down
the
street and around the corner by the time they had solved the
problem of who
was it. Everyone he passed saw a half-elf man with
white hair and hazel eyes
walk by. He had one place he could go,
though they wouldn't be pleased with
him bringing potential
trouble to thier door. 

Author:    Orryn         

Date:      Wed Mar 19 21:59:41 2008
Subject    
Irony.

Orryn sighed and drug his hands through his hair
yet again. Problems were
mounting and still he had no real allies
in arms for his cause. He had spent
most of the past few weeks
moving from place to place looking over his
shoulder for the
Blade conclave had sent after him. He didn't know the mages
name,
and he hadn't actually seen him since he had to run from Pol
and
Lilah's, but that worried him more for some reason. At least
if he had seen
the mage he wouldn't have this damnable paranoia.


The constant running had begun to strain Orryn. He could manage
to scrape up
enough copper some days to rent a room at one of the
inns, other nights he
ended up sleeping wherever he could find
something to keep the rain off his
face and wind off his back.
Over all it was very tiring. 

Combine that with the fact that he
knew he was growing more powerful but he
just couldn't find
spells to match the power inside him. He still avoided
casting
magic unless he needed it, though he would admit that he seemed
to
need it more lately, but the spells in both of Bernard's books
just didn't
cut it anymore. Apparently he had already outstripped
the level of power
that Bernard had been able to attain before
his ability was raped by the
Conclave. In a way he felt proud of
that. However it still led him to think
of Bernard. That subject
was a giant tangle of emotions that he tried to
avoid if
possible. Sadness, anger, joy, frustration. It was all there
and
all very confusing. Forcing his thoughts to quiet themselves,
he focused
about the problems at hand. 

His largest, and most
immediate problem was the mage tailing him. The Blade.
He was the
reason that Orryn had to run. The reason he spent more
nights
curled up in a tight little ball trying to avoid the
cutting wind. 

That was the second problem. The running and lack
of a place to stay. Things
were so much easier when he was living
in that little shack but too many
people knew about it. That
place was off limits to him now. 

His last problem was the lack
of spells. He knew that if he were drawn into
a conflict with
this mage he would be in a very one sided battle if he
was
trained. Orryn's spells were very limited, and for multiple
reasons. He
found he had a very good knack for Enchantments, but
his ability to Evocate
or Transmute was, to be honest,
non-existant. That didn't really bother him
truth be told. He
loved the feeling he got from controlling someone elses
very
thoughts. Being able to tell them to dance a jig and then seeing
them
do it was, to him, true power. Anyone could swing a fist,
but to have others
swing thier fists for you? That's the sort of
power that Lords and Nobles
commanded. The sort of power that he
would need to truly combat those
arrogant Conclave mages. 

His
repertoire of spells was fine with him. However his inability to
gather
new spells left him rather defenseless. He had tried the
various magic
stores around town, but too many of them were
slaves of the Conclaves dogma.
None were willing to sell him the
spells fitting his ability. He had managed
to Charm one of them
but even then he couldn't convince the fellow to allow
him to buy
the spells. It was just too far outside the beliefs he had
been
indoctrinated with. His options were limited, but what
options there were,
were very clear. 

He would have to stop
searching for information on these mages and start
searching for
the mages themselves. Find one who was isolated and
vulnerable
and enthrall him. Failing that, well, anyone could
swing a club. He would
just have to do it himself. 

With that
done he would be able to scavenge thier spell books and
start
building a power base of spells with which he could pop the
Conclaves
inflated ego. Get them to understand that they were not
the rulers of magic.
It is something that everyone should be
allowed to learn and use as they see
fit. If they couldn't see
it, then he would force them to see it. 

Author:   
Orryn          
Date:      Tue Mar 25 05:13:31
2008
Subject     Relocation

Orryn swore loudly, tired
of biting back on his anger, though it did no
good. The same wind
which drove the rain into his skin carried away his oath
as if it
had never been. To make matters better the ship chose just
that
moment to lurch suddenly in the waves. This had a two-fold
effect on the
young man who had never before set foot on a ship.
The first was to send yet
another wave of nasuea through his
already twisted stomach. The second was
it caused his hand to
slip of the guide rail so that he lost his balance and
crashed to
the deck, his head contacting the pole with what should have
been
a resounding ring. As if to spite him though, the wind
simply carried that
away too. 

Slowly climbing back to his feet
with an even tighter grip on the rail he
decided Zeboim and
Habbakuk be damned he wasn't going to put up with this
nonsense
any longer. Walking across the deck, though at times it was
more
sliding and stumbling through the driving rain, he made his
way to his
private quarters. Originally he had been marked to
share it with a young
warrior bound for Caergoth. A short
conversation with the man told Orryn
that he felt nervous about
leaving his kid sister with his aunt and uncle. A
quick spell and
even quicker talking caused that nervousness to grow into
full
blown distrust of the uncle whom he suddenly realized he always
thought
to be a bid weird. He quickly packed up his gear and
left, knuckles white
around the hilt of his blade. It was getting
easier each day to delve into
peoples minds and force them to
your bidding. There were times when he
didn't even need the
spells. Just his own words would get the desired
results. 

This
all faded from his mind though as he stepped out of the rain into
the
room. Shaking his cloak and hanging it on the hook he reached
up to tenderly
touch his head. There was a large lump growing
already. Another lurch in the
sea sent a larger wave of sickness
through him. Falling to his knees he gave
a few short heaves. He
would have ruined the carpet had he not already
spilled the
contents of his stomach over the railing a minute ago. When
his
stomach calmed sufficiently he walked over to the chest at
the base of his
bed and pulled out the pouches he had packed. He
grabbed the book he needed
and did his peculiar stumbling walk
over to where the remnants of his dinner
were. Sitting down on
his bed he quickly flipped through the pages of the
book until he
found the spell he needed. Rope Trick. Quickly reading
over
the spell his heart sank a bit, but he resolved to try it
anyways. If it
worked it would solve this damn rocking and
swaying problem. He grabbed the
stale corn bread off the plate
and crushed it in his hand. Not very pure,
but it would pass.
Probably reduce the time the spell lasted a bit, but it
would be
worth it. Grabbing a blank sheet of parchment he wound it into
a
twisted cord and held it in the opposite hand. It had to work.
He read over
the spell again to make sure he had the words right
before he spoke them.
After the fifth time reading them to
himself he felt he had it correctly. 

Chanting softly to himself
he recited the words, following along in the book
to make sure he
got it right. He reached down, deep into himself, into the
well
of personal power that fueled his magic and pulled up as much as
he
could. Pure brute strength would have to count for something.
He finished
the words with the proper upward inflection on the
final syllable and felt
the power he had gathered trickle out of
his grasp, like water through his
fingers. He threw the paper and
bread crumbs across the room and screamed in
frustration. It was
a Transmutation spell. He knew it wouldn't work, but the
idea of
being able to climb into a space not attached to this infernal
boat
was too great a promise to be ignored. He closed the book
and replaced it in
his packs before laying on the bed. 

The
constant swaying of the ship was only worse on his back and
nearly
caused another dry heave, but he squelched it down and
focused on his
breathing. In and his stomach grew and his mind
drifted. Out and his stomach
flattened again and he forced his
mind to return. A couple minutes of this
and the movement of the
ship felt less. He was able to then focus his
thoughts on the
previous days. 

He had put out feelers and sought information
about Conclave. Thus far they
hard turned up naught. The mages
were elusive and didn't like people knowing
about them. Recently
however he had found out that there were a group of
mages in
Caergoth. Mages who were not aligned with the Tower. It was a
bit
risky to go sniffing around for them but it was a source of
potential allies
or at the very least, information. He felt it
was an acceptable risk. They
wouldn't report him to any Conclave
mages for fear of thier own skins and he
was confident that he
could sway thier minds should they have
any...violent...thoughts.


He knew that getting out of Palanthas would only serve him
well. It would
distance himself from this Blade that was
breathing down his neck as well as
let him see more of the world.
At the very least it meant that he might be
able to at least find
someone in Caergoth who would sell him knew spells. He
had given
some thought to simply taking what he needed and running, but
he
didn't know the town well enough to evade a shopkeeper much
less a guard.
No, it would be a bad idea to try that approach.


He let his mind continue to wander over the past few days. Soon
his mind
began to drift in other directions as his concentration
began to waiver.
It wasn't long before sleep overtook him and
left him to restless dreams.

Author:    Orryn         

Date:      Sat Mar 29 07:09:09 2008
Subject     New
location, New job.

The warm breeze blew past Orryn,
batting his cloak to the side like a cat
would a string. It
carried with it the breeze of the sea and memories of his
journey
here. He couldn't help but smile in spite of himself. Yes, he
still
swore that the journey had taken him through the bowels of
the Abyss before
arriving here in Caergoth, but that alone was a
reason to celebrate. Combine
that with the love he had found for
this city in the past month here and he
couldn't help but smile.
It was quite a bit further south than Palanthas so
it was cooler
during the days and it was downright frigid some nights, but
it
was a bit smaller and more ..quaint? Fishing had always been a
part of
many peoples lives in Palanthas, but here it was many
peoples lives. There
was a large amount of fish brought in each
day on the boats, which of course
caused many other people to try
thier hand at scrimshaw. His first week he
had been targetted by
nearly every starving artist who could lay hand to
scrimshaw
knife. Apparently he had outgrown his wide-eyed tourist
appearance
though. Mostly they no longer tried to ply thier wares
on him. 

The atmosphere wasn't the only reason he enjoyed this
town though. The
people here seemed to buy into the lies of the
Conclave much less. Perhaps
it was because they didn't grow up in
the shadow of a cursed Tower of High
Sorcery. What ever the
reason though he found life here much easier. He
still hadn't
found any shop keepers who would sell magical scrolls to
him,
even with a spell to loosen thier inhibitions, but he had
found other
methods. There were a few opportunistic former mages
here who would, for a
small donation, teach him one of thier
spells and help him get it to a
servicible point before
dismissing him from thier abodes.

He had, over the course of the
last month, managed to earn a measure of
trust from a smaller
group of Renegades. He was biding his time before
presenting his
case and asking if any of them would be willing to join his
cause
but until then they had managed to prove very useful. 

That was
when he snapped out of his thoughts and remembered he was on a
task
for his new friends. He quickly glanced around and stepped
into a darkened
alley before chanting the familiar words and
passing his hand over his face.
He felt the spell trigger and
glanced down at himself. His trousers were
replaced by the image
of a ratty pair of dock pants, his loose tunic now was
a
sleeveless vest and his arms and shoulders had the look of a man
who spent
much of his day in the sun. He knew, without having to
look, that his face
appeared different too, but this was all
normal to him anymore. Giving a
small smile at his abilities he
walked out and headed towards the docks. 

His spell would
disguise his appearance, but any of the group could do that.
He
was chosen because he could act the part as well as look it. He
made sure
to smile broadly and nod at everyone he passed on his
walk. When he arrived
at his destination he leaned against the
support beam for the wharf and
pulled out his dagger. It was much
too large for this, but it fit his
disguise and so he whistled
happily while he cleaned his fingernails with
his 'pen-knife'.
G'day, brotha' he would say as people passed him. It was
odd
even as he thought it, but he made a point to stand out just
enough so
as not to be truly noticed by any of the sailors or
dock guards. 

In time he saw his mark arrive. It was a fat man
in very common clothes
today which made him breath a bit easier.
That is who it was supposed to be,
but they would occasionaly
change things up to make it harder to get a bead
on them. Mundane
efforts were no match for Orryn's friends though, who
counted a
very talented Diviner among thier number. Putting his
magically
disguised dagger away he gave a short nod and slowly
headed for the street
leading away from the docks. He was far
enough away and walking slowly
enough that the fat man, who was
closer, could get his package and head
towards the same street
and still beat Orryn there by about 10 paces.
Incidentally, that
was the young mages plan the whole time and sure enough,
he
wasn't disappointed. He would have to be sure to give Andros a
small
portion of his own share of the take for the very excellent
information
gleaned from his divining. 

Orryn tried to weave
through the people walking the street but he was having
a hard
time keeping up with the fat man who was obviously trying to get
back
to his destination with the package as quickly as possible.
He thought about
casting a quick summon spell to call up a dog or
an illusion spell slow the
man down but discarded it quickly. Too
many people who might see him cast it
not to mention he didn't
know how the man would act if confronted with
something
potentially threatening. He flexed his fingers and hands and
cast
one of his weakest, easiest to hide, spells;
Prestidigitation. 

Author:    Orryn         

Date:      Sat Mar 29 07:45:38 2008
Subject     New
location, New job. Pt II

He quickly directed the flows of
magic about half the distance between
him and the fat man ahead
of himself and began to weave balls of light
around a kender who
was being questioned by the guards. The kender,
predictable as
all his kind, became highly excited and began to chase the
light
as it spun around him laughing and grasping for what could not
be
caught. The guards gave a short yelp of suprise and took a
step back for a
second, though the yelp attracted the attention
of most of the people
between Orryn and the fat man. They stopped
moving to watch this spectacle
give Orryn more than enough room
to manuever between them and get within
range of his target. A
loud *thump!* and a soft moan told him without having
to look,
that his spinning lights had led the distracted kender right into
a
wall. The crowd of course was amused and distracted giving him
all the time
he needed for his last spell. His hands were already
in the position for the
spelly before a whim changed his mind.
Instead of his strongest enchantment,
he would challenge himself
a bit. He recited the words to one of his
favorite spells and
smiled as the man missed a step as its effect settled on
his
shoulders. Hey, brotha'! Wait up! Orryn jogged to catch up
the the fat
man, who was waiting and smiling stupidly. 

Ya'
about left me behind back there! Didn't the boss tell ya he would
be
sending me to walk ya back? Orryn grinned darkly, flexing
his own small
muscles which, of course, cause the illusion to
flex its much larger
muscles. Can't let noone get the boss'
prize, eh? Eh? 

The fat man's enchanted mind took the
information it was fed and he frowned
at his new friend. Shh!
No, the boss forgot to mention but I am glad for
your company.
Now just keep quiet and let's make sure nothing happens.


Orryn grinned and nodded Easy-peezy brotha'. He made small
talk as they
walked a couple blocks before he put his hand on the
fat man's shoulder. Oy.
Wait a tick. Glancing up and down the
street he frowned as he spotted a
couple of men walking behind
them. In all truth they were just two people
enjoying thier day,
but they would serve quite nicely. Start walkin',
normal-like
brotha'. Don't look 'round, but we're draggin' a
couple'a
gents.

Wha..?

We're bein' followed! Shut up
and walk. They're peepin' you, they know you
got it. We keep on
like we are and it's trouble. We split, you head right
then
double back towards a guard house. Give me the package and I'll
take it
to the boss.A paniced look from the fat man and Orryn
interrupted him before
he could speak. It's the only way
brotha'. They are gonna follow you. Hand
it off and lead them
away. I can get to the boss no worries. Besides, ya'
don' want
them bashin' yer skull do ya? I can' fight back better if
need
be.

Again the man's ensorcelled brain processed what it
was fed and he finally
grimaced and nodded Here, friend. Don't
let them get it, or the boss will
have both of our heads. Orryn
nodded grimly and slipped the small velvet
pouch into his "vest".


With that the fat man, fully trusting his friend, slipped off
to the right
and down the adjoining road to elude his persuers.
Orryn laughed derisively
and opened the pouch slightly as he
walked, peeking in at its contents. 

Inside he saw beetle shaped
figurine molded from some black material with
silver lines giving
it an outline of wings and carapace. It was about half
the size
of the palm of his hand and looked rather nondescript. He
muttered
to himself as he pulled the strings tight, closing the
pouch. He had no
doubt, well little doubt, that it was magical.
That was the entire focus of
his renegade friends, magical items.
However it seemed to be a bit boring to
be putting this much
effort into collecting it. To be honest though, it had
been easy
enough with Andros' information. Telling himself to be
content
with the results he tucked it into his pocket and
dismissed his spells of
illusion. He headed back to the warehouse
his friends called home to prepare
for the evening. Apparently
they were going to set up a deal with a buyer
and wanted him to
watch the warehouse. He understood that while they did
trust him
this much, they didn't trust him enough to take him along yet.
He
was alright with that for now, though the thought of giving
them a
Suggestion or two did cross his mind. In the end
though, he figured it would
be best to stay back and earn thier
trust. He had learned his lesson about
overusing his compulsion
spells. No sense ruining someones mind with spells
when he could
just be patient and get the same results. 

Author:   
Orryn          
Date:      Sat May 31 18:55:21
2008
Subject     (SQ) Memories


Orryn lay on the floor
of the warehouse he once called his base
resembling nothing more
than a burned and torn pile of rags with a few peeks
of sooty
flesh peeking out. One leg was folded up backwards, twisted so
that
his foot was near his hip while the other leg stretched out
in front of his
body and his arms were in no better shape. It was
a very uncomfortable
position that he lay in, but it didn't
matter at the moment. The fine white
sand that clung to the
corners of his eyes kept him in a deep magical sleep.
He would be
quite sore when his captors woke him, from both the blasts
of
magical energy he had not quite dodged and the position of his
limbs, but
for the moment all physical sensation was lost to
slumber. 

His mind however was not restrained in any such
manner. It was a wild and
untamed mind, one that had had enough
discipline to strengthen it, but not
enough to even begin to
reign itself in and attempt to break the Archmage's
spell.
Instead it cavorted and danced among the memories it had
collected,
specifically those most recent ones. 

After he had
first arrived in the city and met his new companions they
didn't
really trust him enough to reveal much about thier operations.
He
didn't blame them in the least. He too knew how trick Conclave
could be and
paranoia was considered a positive trait because of
it. As such they had
instead sent him out of the city with one of
thier own, Garrick, to hunt
down some information. At that time
he didn't completely comprehend thier
intentions but again with
the knowledge he had now he didn't blame them. 

Rumors had
recently surfaced about a trove of godly treasure that had
been
hidden and sealed away from prying eyes. It had been
protected by Shinare,
but lately the whispers about its location
were growing larger and more
common. This motley group of
renegades, led by Andros' scrying and
divination, believed that
meant that it was now attainable. With thier
interest in magical
items it was easy to see thier sudden interest in any
sort of
'godly treasure'. So they had suddenly found a way to test a
new
potential friend and lay hands on some wonderous items. If
thier friend
proved untrustworthy, well, Garrick was very skilled
in the art, if it could
be called that, of big things into
smaller, bloodier things. 

The plan in motion Orryn and Garrick
packed some trailpacks and left the
city for a nearby shrine to
the goddess of wealth. Thier arrival found a
shrine, normally
quiet and pleasant a place of various foul smells, crying
babes
and arrogant 'adventurers'. It did not take much thought to
realize
they were all seekers of Shinare's wealth. 

Truly,
Garrick, I knew we would have a bit of competition, but this mass
is
far more than I had anticipated! Orryn's eyes scanned over
the crowd in
amazement. 

Yeah. This many people could cause a
real problem. A dark grin slowly crept
over Garrick's face
Though they may be a great boon too. I have been wanting
to try
a couple new spells... On the road would be best, away from
prying
eyes. Let's talk to the priest first, then we can dispatch
those we find.. 

Orryn wasn't a kind man, but the thought of
killing every seeker they came
across was deplorable. However he
didn't say anything and followed his
bloodthirsty friend through
the crowd. Clearing a path presented to problem
as Garrick simply
used a cantrip to give a small electrical jolt to anyone
foolish
enough to not move. Soon enough they found themselves
standing
before the shrine guards who watched over the priest who
was trying to make
his voice heard over the din of the crowd.


Quiet! Quiet you folk! I have been in communication with the
Goddess and she
has told me many things to relay to all who would
seek her gifts! 

Orryn smiled as he listened. A new
possibility presented itself here, one
that would make thier road
shorter and less clogged with the remains of all
the other
seekers. This was no time for finesse though, so he pulled a
small
stopper of honey oil from his pouches and tapped his friend
on the shoulder.
Watch.. He drew reached down within himself,
finding the center of his being
and the lake of power that
dwelled there. Lately that power had grown and
was far deeper and
wider than it had been when he first began his studies,
but he
ignored that and instead focued on reaching in and drawing power
from
it. He spoke softly, his words easily lost to the throng of
people and the
priests own yells. Noone heard him finish the
spell and only Garrick beside
him felt the whip crack of power
that extended from Orryn and drove itself,
like a tent spike,
into the priests temple. His yells stopped for a second
while the
Domination took effect. 

A moment, priest! Orryn spoke
loudly but his voice was covered by the din.
It made no matter
though, the magic holding the priest responded and he
looked over
towards the young mage. Sorry to interrupt, but we come from
the
Temple of Lady Shinare in Palanthas with news. The Prince of
Lies has been
giving out false information on this quest, we need
to hear the clue the
goddess has given you and make sure it is
the same as the one from the High
Priest in Palanthas.. 

The
priest paled visibly at the thought that his information might be
untrue
and leaned down to speak with them. This is what was
revealed to me: 'There
is a crossroad that brings West, East, and
South together. There is a sign
post...' Then something else,
about the North, but I cannot recall.. 

Orryn nodded sagely,
Yes, that is what many have been told. Fortunatly we
were able
to catch this in time, Shinare be praised! The true message
is
this: ' Near the lake with crystal waters, 
A tree of iron hides is well, There awaits a message wondrous,
There awaits a Golden Bell.'
The priest smiled as he heard the false message and thanked the mage. He stood and began to deliver the message while Orryn, and a rather sour looking Garrick, walked back through the crowd to begin thier search for a crossroad. Author: Orryn Date: Fri Jul 11 06:41:04 2008 Subject Idle Time Orryn paced back and forth in his room, his feet racing to keep up with his thoughts and anger. If he hadn't been chewing his thumb he would have screamed until his voice echoed off the walls of this arrogant tower. He had joined with the Conclave to further his understanding of magic and power. He had been a bit shaken to find out the amount of devestation that had been brought to bear on Caergoth during his magical slumber at the hands of Leodas and Jendaron. Despite his prejudices against Conclave and those two in particular, he didn't believe that they were responsible for the explosion of the warehouse. The death of his friends, however, he did lay squarely at their feet. That was beside the point at the moment though. He had joined because if they didn't cause the destruction the instigator would have had to have been a renegade mage. That much power wielded by one who didn't wear the robes of the Conclave made Orryn's head spin. He could understand a bit better now thier reservations about renegade mages. Understand and respect. However in the time he had spent here he had learned very little. In fact all that he had learned was that he was a prisoner and he would not be taught any true magic for quite some time. Apparently there had been a scare with a Renegade mage in thier ranks right before Orryn's arrival and that caused them to treat him as a prisoner. It was only after his complaints that he had been given any instruction at all, though it was all in the basics of magic. There were seven schools of magic: Necromancy and Enchantment, which were the domains of Nuitari, Illusion and Transmutation which was the focus of the followers of Lunitari, Abjuration and Divination which Solinari favored. That left only Evocation and Conjuration which were not claimed by any of the three groups. The rest of what he had been taught was similar. All of it was information that Bernard had already covered years ago and was a complete and utter waste of his time. Since he was not a true member of Conclave yet his lessons, if they could be called that, were handled by all three orders. He was very suprised the first day that Jendaron showed up, looking no worse for his actions in Caergoth. Orryn had been sure that he had died in the warehouse explosion and couldn't hide the shock from his face before Jendaron made a remark. Julian, the red robed mage he had met so long ago in Palanthas had stopped by, though not to teach any lessons in condescension as the others did, but to visit. He seemed genuinely pleased to see Orryn, which made the young mage a bit wary. The worst though, was the mages in white. They would look at him with a mix of pity like one gives a person cursed with a simple mind and severity like a parent about to scold a child. Oh, thier words and actions were the defination of polite and proper, but it was the attitude that Orryn was some poor soul who had to be uplifted out of the muck that set his teeth on edge. Combine that his last 'lesson' was from one such mage and the simple fact that his 'lessons' were trite and pedantic and Orryn felt that his anger was justified. Orryn's mind flew back to the time when he could go where he wanted and do as he willed. It was better than what he had now; a 10 feet long by 7 feet wide box where he could be put and ignored. Labeled "Non-threatening" and ignored. He caught the line of logic his mind was trying to lead him down and stopped in his tracks with a throaty growl. He grabbed that rebellious thought and pinned it down and force it to look again upon Caergoth. The warehouse, the land where the warehouse had been, a flaming pit of nothing. Jendaron, the most powerful black robed mage, presumed dead by Leodas, the most powerful red robed mage. Leodas himself beaten and bloodied hanging on a balcony looking not long for this world. Himself alive amidst the fury of some shadowy group of renegades due only to the appearance of two Conclave Archmages. He forced his mind, himself, to replay those scenes and to burn them into his memory again. That is why he was here in the Tower. That sheer, unfathomable power was terrifying. His focus reinstated, the young mage walked to his bed and sat on the edge and placed his hands on his kneeds and focused on the thump-thumping of his heart still pounding with residual anger. Breathing slowly and focusing on the words to a spell to divert his mind he slowed his pulse and soon had his body under the same control as his mind. Orryn turned his body and lay back on the bed. It was hard and yet somehow lumpy at the same time. Orryn could only assume magic was the culprit here but he paid it no mind, instead focusing on another day. A day when he had been free and without direction. A day when that same freedom had cost him more dearly than he cared to admit. Sleep soon found him and with it, dreams. Author: Orryn Date: Sat Nov 14 16:51:37 2009 Subject Education pt 1 Orryn glared balefully down at the lump of tallow resting contentedly on the table. His hands formed a sort of barrier around the offending piece of fat, fingers splayed and palms flat against the cool stone surface. All his focus, all his mental faculties were focused entirely on that small clump; the strange shape it took when dropped on the table had already been memorized and filed away, the smell, slight as it may be, was stuck in his nostrils, even the taste, though long gone, still clung to his tongue. Every aspect of the component was sorted, filed, and stored. Each piece separate and yet still all part of the whole. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he opened himself up to the well of magic that resided deep within and he took a slow steadying breath before dipping his hands, metaphorically speaking of course, into that well to draw on the familiar power that was his magic He was loathe to admit it, but over the past few months the mages here in the tower had been quite successful in their tutelage. He had, at first, been more then a little arrogant due to his mostly self taught abilities. He had had someone to guide him in the beginning, a man who had saved him from starvation or worse and had raised him as his own child. Bernard. He had once been in a position similar to Orryn's own, an apprentice at the Conclave of Mages trying to learn and prove himself. He had failed though, a point that many of the mages here had taken the effort to point out time and again. In his failed Test, capital 'T" on that, Bernard had lost the ability to draw on the power of the Moons and could no longer work magic. He had left the tower, smuggling out his old spellbook, and ended up in Palanthas, the Lord City. Palanthas, the Jewel of Solamnia; a city where anyone could disappear without much effort. A city where someone could easily avoid the scrutiny of those they had thought were their friends and allies. Of course, this was what the mages told him, but he knew the truth. He had found Bernard's journal. A book in his father's own hand detailing how he had been stripped of his ability. His will raped and power stolen from him by those who were jealous of his potential. It was this man who had guided his first few steps. Who had helped him learn to place on foot before the other and held his hands to help Orryn keep his balance. Every step after that, though, was his own. Bernard had never mentioned any names but that may have been for the best. There was a time when Orryn wouldn't have been sure that he would have been able to keep from throwing himself at the person responsible had he known their name. Not that Orryn was particularly strong or capable with his fists, but such was his devotion to his dead adoptive father that the thought of any other course of action would have been burned away by the holy rage that would be invoked by such knowledge. This is all beside the point though; the point being that disgusting little globule of pig fat slowly melting on the stone table. Author: Orryn Date: Sat Nov 14 17:05:24 2009 Subject Education pt 2 In a low monotone Orryn recited the words burned into his memory and drew the power of the Moons into his mind. He knew what should, what would happen. He simply had to unite the possible with the actual and allow the spark of magic to connect the two so that they merged. At the correct point the young apprentice uttered the phase that would 'ignite' the spell as he combined everything, the information about the tallow, the knowledge of what it was about to become, and the raw power of magic, together into one neatly organized bundle and released it towards the pinch of lard. The components of the spell came together faster then his mind could follow and then, just as fast, they slid apart and each separate piece fizzled as if they had been coated with that very bit of fat and tossed into a skillet. The spell complete, reality returned to the young man in a sudden rush of sound. The slight breeze in the room began to register on his flushed cheeks and his mind reeled as he tried to recall what Julian was saying. ---pected as much, so do not worry over-much about what happened, or didn't happen as it were. The sheer skill that you handled the Hold Monster spell with indicated that you had, consciously or not, focused on the spells meant to ensnare the mind. The look on Julian's face, as if he had just swallowed the little lump of lard, let Orryn know what the Red-robed magus thought of his focus on that school of magic. Orryn, for his part, put on the mask of the dutiful student and nodded in agreement. I know Magus, and I could have told you as much, but you insisted on making me try the Grease spell. Transmutation and Evocation both evade me, but I have made my peace with that. Julian handed the young apprentice mage a cloth to wipe the sweat from his brow I did insist, and for good reason. I took you as my apprentice and to teach you properly I have to see, to know, what you are and are not capable of. Your own estimation of your skill, and your limits, is not enough. A rebellious part of Orryn's mind rose up and had a caustic retort to that statement prepared but he swatted it aside with all the concern one would give a buzzing fly before it was able to gather up enough steam to rush out his mouth. Of course, Magus Every day it was getting easier and easier to do what was expected, to say what was expected, and to ensure that he did all he could to learn what these mages had to teach him. This was because every night the dreams came. The memories of that warehouse in Caergoth, his friends barely more then charred meat and the two Archmages, Leodas and Jendaron, who had been sent there to reclaim stolen items, desparately clinging to life. Those dreams, that memory, they were what spurred him forward. The devastation wrought by one unknown mage caused him far more concern then he would have ever let on. And so he school his tongue and actions even as these traitors to his So he continued to school his tongue and actions even as these hypocritcal mages schooled his mind. He could make a show of humility for as long as it took so long as the end goal was the same: freedom from the holding cell they called his quarters and freedom from thier oppresive double-standard rules.

The Storytellers of Ansalon, The DragonLance MUD

Astinus points to the massive wall of books behind him and bids you to make a selection.


Authors: All|A|B|C|D|E|F|G|H|I|J|K|L|M|N|O|P|Q|R|S|T|U|V|W|X|Y|Z

Astinus sighs as he recants 'We saved 868 books from Ansalon from before the great Cataclysm through today.'
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