3A - SWW - Part One: A Modest Proposal
Logan shows up at the Temple of Gwynharwyf and sighed. As much as he owed the church, the sessions with Lady Silvermane had grown old. He already knew it would be another day of failures for him in his, as she put it, "pathetic attempts to grasp the simplest principles of arcane magic." But Logan pushed open the doors anyway.
Inside, he made his way to the training room, noticing, as he always did, the quiet temple so depleted by the battle he had led them all to. A few barbarians had joined, but the Church still felt much smaller than it had, and Logan found himself missing the boisterous personalities that had filled the building. Even though they had been loud, and even frightening when Logan had first found them (though to be fair, the rogue had been discovered breaking into their church!) they had rapidly accepted him as one of their own, thanks to his father's ties with the church.
Opening the door to the training room, Logan stopped in surprise. Instead of the severe Eladrin, Vorsh was inside. Logan cocked his head.
"Ah, she's busy today?"
Vorsh smiled in a patronizing way. "Not today, Logan. I think you knew this, but Lady Silvermane's decided you don't have any aptitude for the arcane. You're never going to be a Champion of Gwynharwyf. But, to be fair, not everyone can be. Still, you can serve the goddess. Let's start by working on that sword. I know you can get in behind someone and stab them, but there's more to swordplay than that! Let's start with your footwork, Logan. I've heard that you've got a problem getting skewered when you're alone in a fight."
Logan grimaced at the memory of his guts falling out and the life fading his body, and nodded. "True, not something I'd like to repeat. But look at me!" The half-elf gestured at his thin, wiry body, the product of years of living hand-to-mouth in Shadowshore. "I'm never going to be able to hold my own against an opponent like you!"
Vorsh tossed Logan a blunted practice sword and grabbed one for himself, shaking his head. "Look, I don't think you'll ever be the best duelist in the world. But you've got your father's skill, and I can see it, despite all the mess you've been fed learning to swing that sword from some gutter-trash in Shadowshore."
Logan bristled, his anger rising. "And those dirty tricks kept me alive this long!"
Vorsh smiled, glad to see Logan getting ready to fight. "They did, boy. But there's people out there who have seen all of your 'tricks.' And there's worse things, devils and demons that you've barely glimpsed who couldn't give a fracking snowball in Hades for them. So you've got to learn some other skills as well."
Vorsh advanced, and Logan brought up his blade instinctively.
After a few weeks of training with Vorsh, Logan had improved his skills, and was surprised to find Lady Silvermane in the training room.
He cocked his head to the side. "I thought you had...given up on me?"
The Eladrin sighed. "Vorsh has been extolling your virtues, and while I maintain that I am correct about your fundamental inability to learn arcane magics, despite your promising heritage, you can still offer a useful service to the the Whirling Furies. You need more than the ability to wield a blade, however."
Lady Silvermane moved to the side, revealing a small birdcage holding a tiny winged creature, its thin body topped with ram horns.
"This is a demon. A lowly one, a Quasit. Evil arcanists sometimes use them as familiars."
Logan looked on, his confusion growing.
Lady Silvermane sighed, and continued. "If you truly feel Gwynharwyf inside of you, she should be able to guide your blade against a wretched creature like this. You should be able to feel it no matter where it hides, no matter what it does."
The Eladrin drew a circle around herself, and muttered a few words. "I am protected against Evil now. That Quasit cannot approach me, thanks to my magic, which you have so many times proven you are unable to master." She cast another spell, and the door to the cage opened, the Quasit immediately taking flight and vanishing.
She continued. "Quasits can turn themselves invisible at will. I have promised this one its freedom if it slays you."
Logan yelped as the invisible attacker scratched a claw into his back. "What the frack do you want me to do, then?"
Lady Silvermane shrugged. "Learn or perish. Use your connection with the Whirling Fury to sense the location of the Quasit, then kill it."
Logan pulled out his rapier, swinging wildly, then cursed as the Quasit hit him again. Lady Silvermane closed her eyes, appearing to meditate.
Logan screamed: "What?! You can't just sit there! Teach me something!"
The rogue yelped again as another long slash appeared on his thigh.
He turned, his fury growing. "Fine...channel the goddess! What does that even mean? What did Vorsh say last time..."
Logan closed his eyes, wincing as another hit from the Quasit landed, and then opened them, staring straight at his invisible attacker. The rogue bared his teeth and lunged straight at the Quasit, who screamed and tried to evade. The rogue's blade glowed with the same power as his eyes, and it hit the demon straight on, ripping through its defenses and ending its life in a single stroke.
Lady Silvermane opened her eyes, laughing. "Vorsh said you wouldn't be ready for that, but I was pleased to prove him wrong."