The peaceful dreams of sitting before the Buddha, and talking to him fade into a lurid nightmare of being lost in interstellar space in a spacesuit and having the Enterprise show up and start using you for target practise.  Unfortunately, they keep not quite hitting, and they are slowly roasting you, and the smell of smoke fills the air in your suit, no in the air itself...

"Wizard, wake up."  You hear a young lad whisper as you lay on your back on large, slimey stones.  Charcoal smoke fills the air, almost masking the reek of horse dung, and the crack of a whip and the neigh of a horse pulling a creaking wagon pull you out of the borders of sleep.

PT

"Wizard?" I ask, first to myself, then looking at the lad who made the question "Sorry to dissapoint you, but I'm no wizard, although I do wish I was one..." I explain as I try to get up Phew. I should try this "dying-meditation" each time before versing and take a look around.
"Where am I?" I ask myself, and then I realize that the guy next to me probably knows the answer, so I ask it again, looking at him this time.

He's perhaps sixteen, and dressed in loose trousers, sandals, and a vest.  He has a metal fork in his right hand which he uses to tend a charcoal fire on which he is cooking some meat.

You are sitting up next to him facing a dusty road, and then some square stone buildings.  Beyond that, you can see a tower, and above those, a canyon wall in the far distance.

"My lord wizard, you appear out of thin air right next to me. What should I call you then?  Was a spell cast on you by an enemy?  For you have arrived in the walled town of Timwrath Forlescue, although most call it Timwrath, and the lazy name it Ti.  It is on the far reaches of the Red Lords power, and home to many peoples from across the Great Talon, and the noble Tim and the wicked Wrath."

He gives you an assessing look, estimating the worth of your items.

"Tell me, are you hungry? I have fresh caught animals, from outside the city, of course. No rat here.  I hunt every morning in the Faerie Forrests."

PT

I nod, listening to his every word "Food? Sounds great. Call me Tomas" is my greeting to this fellow "What's yours?" I ask casually.

Wait a tick... he said wizard! Magic HAS to exist here, then. I think. In a moment of inspiration, I suddenly make the following question "How much magic do you see in this land? That is, is it a widely-known thing, or more of a rare subject?"

"I am called Knife. And I live on the street of the Butchers, and work on nearby streets. My tribe gave me another name, but its so long I hardly remember it myself, and I'm supposed to keep it secret so people can't work magic on me."

He looks around, and seeing no customers settles back.

"Ah, magic, well there are many who claim to do it, but few I've seen do it.  I've seen one of the Wrath in the grip of the Lightning Rage, and the Tim shaman tells stories of throwing knives a hundred feet into the darkness and killing a bear.  But who knows if he is lying, eh?  Has to make himself seem powerful so he gets offerings to the gods for himself to eat.  Of course the walkers of the Clever, Winding Way in their tower, so full of themselves claim magic, as do the priests of the Dragon, and everyone says the Red Lords are of great and mighty power, able to smash all beneath them, but I've seen nothing.  But, I do wear this Woman Charm to protect me in the forests from the she-devils when I hunt for game."

He pulls out of his shirt a necklace on which hangs a delicately beautiful, and eerie circle made of curves and bits and pieces of leather, and twig, and silver, and tied together with hair string and grass string.

"Of course, if you have money, there is the Street of Wizards.  But I think most of them are fakes."

PT

I consider what Knife tells me, pondering my options "So, if I wanted to learn magic, I would have to go and find out which one of those groups really knows about it, right?" I ask, even though it sounds like an obvious question "Could you point me in the direction of the magic-users you mentioned, so that I know where to find them?"

"I could guide you, for a fee."  He says giving you his best canny stare. He stands, and dusts off his clothes.  "I can get someone to look after my fire."

PT

"Uh, er... how can I pay you? I don't think I have any money with me" I stumble in my explanation, while trying desperately to find something of value in my pockets (Besides the throwing knife, my only weapon)

He looks disapointed.

"You don't even have a copper penny?"  he shrugs.  "Ah, well, then you can pay me back later."

He calls down the street to another charcoal boy, and after the two braziers are moved next to each other, he sets out with you.

Soon you realize you need a guide.  The streets, while not magically enchanted like the Gordian Knot, are definitely pre-modern, and a confusing tangle.

He points to a well-dressed, and arrogant looking young man with brownish red hair who is giving orders to a number of people.

"A Red Lord."

Then he points across the square to a very neat looking tower of perhaps five stories of dressed, and smoothed local stone, a kind of reddish brown rock, with a pikeman standing at firm attention out front of it.

"That is the Order of the Spinners, or the Clever, Winding Way."

PT

I barely look at the Red Lord, but I try to remember the looks of one in my mind. Gazing at the tower, I ask Knife "Could you tell me about the tower, and the people in there? I'm interested in joining, to see if I can learn some magic"

"They are rich, and everyone there can read and write, some in more than one language."  He makes a sign with his hands as if to ward off evil.  "They wear fancy robes, and have many servants.  And they are always saying how people should be careful, and looking into uses of magic, and trying to tell people how to use magic.  They don't really like the Red Lords, but the larger merchant guilds like them so the Lords mostly leave them alone, at least as long as they don't cause too much trouble, and I don't think they do because they are so cautious."

He goes on to paint a picture of a literate bueraucracy with academic investigators.  He's never been inside the tower, but he's heard that it wondrously furnished with hot water, and its own cistern, and that every year workmen come in and fix broken spots instead of doing like everyone else does which is wait until the roof starts falling in to fix something.

PT

"Good enough. Thank you for guiding me here" I say to Knife, shaking his hand in appreciation "Is there anything else I should know, before going there? I'll pay you for the help as soon as I can"

He shakes your hand, and his head, and then slips away.

You walk across the street, and up to the pikeman who does nothing to bar your entrance.  It seems it will be easier to get into this tower than the Green Wizard's Tower.

A small room surrounded by screens, and filled with incense to help damp out the smells of the city greets you.  Its noticeably cooler in here, almost pleasant.

About ten people sit on the floor, or stand, obviously waiting.  A fat man in heavy robes, and shaven head sits at a table at the head of the room.  He 'favors' you with an unfriendly glance.

PT

I clear my throat, intent on giving a good first impression to this people "Greetings. My name is Tomas, and I seek to learn magic, in this tower" I begin my presentation, looking at the heavy-robed man "I have been told that this is the best place to do so"

"Yes, it is. Unfortunately, we recieve twenty applicants for every person of even modest skill we can give a place in our order too.  Times are hard with the disruption of the trading routes, and other calamities, and many seek a sinecure for a job of ease.  This is not easeful work.  It requires dedication, focus, unrelenting effort."

He then smiles just a bit.

"Now, if you wish the gift of the tower, take a coin from this pot, and go. If you still wish to enter, then tell me, in brief, why you would be able to help us."

PT

I nod, indicating my understanding, and taking a deep breath before explaining my usefulness I begin "Of the three characteristics required for this work, I have the three: I am dedicated, focused, and in matters of magic, my effort won't be diminished by any obstacle in my way" sounding as determined as I can "To learn magic is my wish, passion, and utmost desire. I'm naturally made to embrace it, and therefore, naturally apt to learn how to use sorcery" I add, with great passion in my voice.

He gives you a long look, and then hands you a tablet on which are written some simple questions.  You answer them, and after a bit come back, not sure what to do.

He gives you more.

This time, they are a trace harder, but you are more sure of yourself, and finish even quicker.

"You can read, write, and cipher numbers. Unusual."

He studies you some more, and then rings a bell.

An apprentice comes out to take you to a small, back room deeper in the tower.

PT

I follow the apprentice, at first without a word, but then I can't help but ask "Where are we going now?"

"To the private interview room."  He says, and leads you down a hall, and down another flight of well-worn steps to a small door, and a tiny room with two chairs and a table.

He looks at you as if to ask if you have any questions.

Later a man in a robe, much decorated with alchemical symbols and winding spirals steps into the room.  He thumps his rod on the stone floor.

He begins to quiz you on what you know.

Its exhaustive.

PT

OOC: As I see it, there's nothing else for me to say, other that I keep answering the questions. What kind of questions does the man ask me?

Its exhaustive.  Do you tell him of electricity, and the Copernican model of the solar system, and the quantum mechanic view of atoms...if someone were pressing you for every bit of knowledge they felt you had what would come out...

He also asks for your understanding of what magic is, and how it works.

PT

I give out a detailed explanation of how I believe magic works, based on my brief teachings in the Green Wizard Tower "... and a good analogy would be that I, the mage, am the tailor, and magic is the thread which I use to wove a spell, with concentration and delicacy."

He sighs.

"So much falsehood propagated to the people.  Dreams of ancient glories that never really happened, and other falsehoods.  Let me begin with you on exposing you to the truth."

He sits forward.

"Magic is mana, concentrated power, which can be raised by a variety of means, not all of them pleasant which is why we have occasional Witchfinders and riots because some wizards take the Easeful Road, and provoke the natural response of the authorities and uncrafty peasants.  It is properly bound tightly in precisely constructed geometric designs, and let out in a tightly built structure so as little of this precious, fading resource as possible spills out, and causes odd effects which are wasteful."

He thumps his staff down.

"A Winding Tower mage never has flowers bloom or songbirds sing when he walks by for such effects waste mana, waste power, and there is little to spare for even the great works so badly needed."

His thin, sharp, and intelligent face scrutinizes you.

PT

I bow down to the wizard, truly humbled by his explanation of mana "I thank you for enlightening me, wise one, for I was deluded before, and now I can see clearly how magic works, and I am more than willing to adapt my mind to this concept, in order to learn how to wield mana" I say to him in a serene and calm voice

Playing games like Diablo and Nox is nifty, when you are a verser!
This message was last edited by the player at 19:21, Wed 22 Feb 2006.

He nods in approval.

"Well said. Well said indeed.  I am surprised, no delighted at your level of knowledge of the arts academic, and your earnest desire to learn, and to find it capped by a humble willingness to listen to your teachers is a delight.  Welcome to the Tower, Novice Blue."

He claps you on the shoulder, and gets you a robe (plain), and a bed in a barracks like room.

Then he plunks down a small stack of scrolls.

"This will be difficult, but its essential.  It should take you from a month to two months to finish this."

You then start reading.  Its not difficult at all.  Its basic high school geometry.  You find yourself halfway through the stack in a four hour span.

PT

Oooh boy, this is going to be a breeze! The sooner the better, so I can get to the magic part I go through the scrolls, taking my time, since it's so basic for my knowledge, and then inform the wizard that I'm done once I have finished.

He turns red, and smacks you across the face with an open hand, knocking you to your knees.

"Liar!"

He shouts, and stands up, raising his hand for perhaps another strike.

PT

I cover my face where he hit me, and desperately try to apologize for what I didn't do "Please, master, I did finish the reading! The knowledge I have is such that I have no problem understanding them! I'll prove it to you, just let me and I will!" still on my knees, cowering.


OOC: Pretty severe people, huh? Who would have known!

He relents enough to let you stand up without hitting you again, and in between making some dire threats about the penalties for repeated lying to a master (it involves being lashed with a whip, and then expelled), he asks you who gave you the information, what senior initiate did the work for you.

When you insist you did it, but very politely, he stares at you, and you can tell he's decided on the lash.

But he lets you make your case, after bringing in several other masters.

Within fifteen minutes, they are blank-faced, and within an hour, they are staring at you in shock.

"Ahem. Um, it seems, novice, that I did you an injustice. I...apologize."  The words grate out of his mouth.

The brightest looking of them asks you in a soft voice while fiddling with a quill pen.

"What else do you know of the maths, son?"

PT
OOC: Harsh? Oh yeah.  They believe in order, precision, intelligence, and discipline.  They are into conservation of mana with fervor.

PT

OOC: An interesting lot, it seems. Then again, thanks for going easy on me :)

I explain, as much as I can remember from my Grade 12 highschool math class, all the concepts I can to them in a brief version, but I take care to do it slowly, lest I show them something that they haven't discovered yet on their own with the level of mathematics they have.

I hope they won't ask about where I got the knowledge. Especially since they could go berserk when they discover I'm a verser.

Their eyes widen as you get into algebra, and then its like complete stillness when you tell of calculus.

"I think I have a new student." The soft-voiced man says, and the others, looking a bit spooked agree before leaving.

Across the small circular chamber, the master speaks.

"Well Initiate, no longer Novice, Green, you rise quickly.  Where do you come from, and who has taught you this knowledge?"

His eyes seem lazy, but you're already aware that he thinks on a whole different level than the people around him.

PT

I scratch the back of my head as I quickly think of a way to answer the question "Well, there's two ways of explaining it, both quite true. Would you like the short version, or the longer version, which I'm not sure you would believe?" I put simply, awaiting for his answer.

OOC: How is this nice wizard dressed like? I take it colours identify one with the rank he has, yes?

He's dressed in solid black, with gold and silver embroidery up and down the center part, and various multi-coloured embroidered designs elsewhere on his robe.  Over it, he wears a light gray over-robe which diminishes the magnificence considerably.

"I think I could do with a nice long story."

He rings a bell, and summons a servant to get some watered wine, some grapes, and some cheese.

He paces around while you two wait, and you can occasionally look up to see him studying you.  He then turns away.

"My name is Estarien.  You may call me thus in private.  In public, I am Master Magi, or Lord Explorer Estarien, unless you wish your ears boxed by a nearby listener."

The food comes, and he directs you to share it out, and then he firmly closes the door.  He drops something from his capacious sleeves, and it tinks on the ground even as you feel a swelling pressure throughout the room.

He picks it up. And the pressure remains as your ears pop.

"Tell me of your story, young man."

PT

I place a hand over one ear, curious to what lead that pressure to suddenly come into the room "Very well, Estarien" I begin, glancing first at the ceiling and then at the floor, thinking on how to begin "Truth is, I'm new to what I'm about to recount, but I think I can explain it"  are my first words, in an even and calm tone "I don't know if you believe that travelling through different worlds, which I call "versing", is possible, but this is the truth nonetheless: I am not from this world, but from another, quite different. I discovered in the first world which I versed to, one filled with even more magic than this one, that I'm a verser, one whogoes into other worlds upon dying physically". I pause, to see his reaction and make sure he hasn't gone crazy on me or something.

If everything is fine, I proceed "In the world where I was born, the knowledge about arithmetics and geometry was as advanced as the amount of things you know about magic, but with the contrast that there wasn't anything magical in that place. That's how I know so much about mathematics. So far, I've been to three worlds, counting this one"


OOC: Please tell me his reaction doesn't rely on a die roll...

He raises an eyebrow, and motions for you to continue on while idly doodling on a sand table with a pointer.

He pauses.

"You don't seem to be lying, nor do you seem to be delusional since you're not frantic, and you're acting normally.  You could be spelled, but frankly that would be a complicated spell.  And then there's the whole skill with mathematics thing, which even I don't think I could give someone, and I'm possibly the best mage in the southeast corner of the Red Lord's Empire."

He sighs, but its false.  Then he smiles.

"Absolutely fascinating.  A truly wondrous puzzle.  How I would love to travel to other worlds, and explore their mysteries.  I'm afraid you have come to not the best of all possible worlds.  We are fighting a slow rearguard action here as magic fades away."

PT

My eyebrows go up, surprised to hear this news "Magic is fading, you say? How, and why?" and then, a bit more desperate, I add "But I will still be able to learn magic, right? That's my whole purpose of being here, and I always wanted to know how to cast spells and the such. The first world where I versed to didn't last long enough for me to learn more than a simple cantrip"


OOC: An interesting plottwist.

"Magic is fuelled by mana.  While certain mana can be recreated by desperate and horrible acts, the amount of such acts required heads upward over time.  This is the source of the magic for the Ten Tribes of which you have met two, the Tim and the Wrath.  These tribal magics are purchased by pain and horror, which is why we teach against them.  Better to have no magic than blood magic."

He sighs.

"Its a lost but noble cause.  I think in the end the tribes will come fully back, already they resurge, and the faerie, and the hero-kings as well, and it will be like the Red Lords, and the Circle of the Winding Way and civilization and empire had never been here.  In a thousand years, we will be just stories of a lost golden age around a campfire told by some shaman.  Now, you could get on a horse, and ride for a thousand miles, and only then reach the other end of the empire.  My grand-children will inherit a smaller world."

He smiles.

"Oh, yes. You will learn magic.  Just because the Long Night is coming, does not mean that the Twilight of Empire can not be pushed off for perhaps a lifetime.  But our chief goal is to conserve magic, and when we are forced to cast to be efficient in our usages.  But we most definitely need people like you to hold off the night a bit longer.  What we don't need are the idiots down on the Street of Wizards. Wasting magic."

PT

Troubling news indeed... Worried about this, but hopeful that I will get to learn how to wield mana and to help with preserving it at the same time, I nod in understanding at Estarion "I see. And I think I'm ready to begin my training. Count me in to prevent this Twilight that you mentioned" I state in my most reassuring tone to him.

He claps his hands together, and speaks a word.  The sense of overpressure retreats.

"Well, then, to the sandbox."

He leads you into the tower, and to a circular room of stone with a domed room no which are inscribed thousands of geometric designs upon nearly every inch of space.

"The masters are not filled with great trust for students.   The walls of this room could withstand a tornado and a lightning bolt at the same time they are so well-shielded."

In the center of the room is a huge sandbox with a rake, and a pointer.  On the walls at eye-height is a ring of tablets with each having an equation written on it.

He shows you how to work the transformation of the equation into a geometric design of daunting complexity.  Its a little like computer graphic coding.  Numbers yielding pictures.

"You draw a map here, gather mana by your effort, and will.  Then later, you can release it by thinking the equation which will then cause power to flow through you to handle your spell you have selected. Do you understand, any questions? Insights from your unusual background? And begin..."

PT

Tilting my head to one side, I ponder on how to cast a spell "But, how can I know what spell will come out, and what type of magic I can use with the mana I channel?" I ask before doing anything.


OOC: What does he mean by "draw a map here"?

"You are not casting a spell, unless you consider gathering mana to be casting a spell.  There's some arguement on that issue.  You are gathering mana to power a spell that you cast later."

He demonstrates what he means.

He flips over another tablet, and does the equation.  He shows how the numbers he derives from the equation describe the design he draws in the sandbox.  He ends up drawing a large, maze-like structure without entrance or solution.  Its precisely four meters square.

It takes him about fifteen minutes to do it, and then he reaches over the wall, and touches the center box of the maze with a small jewel from his necklace.  It glows for a second, and then he sweeps up the maze with a rake.

"Now you."

Two hours later, on your fourth attempt, you manage to capture a glimmer of mana in an emerald.  By this time, your arms are shaking, and sweat has dried your robe to your back.

Your teacher looks up from his scrolls he is studying, and nods.

"Good. Now do it again. And faster. And make the lines straighter."

He goes back to his scroll.

PT

I take several deep breaths, forcing myself to focus Concentrate , and then I begin to draw the figure out of the equation from the beggining, taking care to make each shape, angle, and turn as perfectly as possible Concentrate. After that, I perform the rest of the process to channel the mana into the emerald.

Over the next week, you work your way through the room full of equations.  Occasionally another master pops in, looks about, raises an eyebrow, and nods approvingly, and leaves.

By the end of the week, you calculate that you have drawn something like five hundred mazes.  Your algebra, and geometry math skills are improved substantially.  You're getting to the point where you can visualize what the maze is going to look like merely by looking at the equation.

An old man enters as you finish the last equation.  He examines your necklace of five emeralds which glow with mana.  He studies the maze.  He asks you questions of math for nearly two hours.

Then he hands a gold coin to your smirking teacher with a grin of his own.

"You win your bet, Master Estarion. I" he turns to you, with his white beard waving with the vigourous motion. "Would not have believed it possible. Welcome Apprentice Blue."

"Now we will teach you magic, the schools, the ways, and the devices, but we also need to engage your mind, and your heart.  It is customary for gifted students, and you sir, are frankly the most gifted I've ever met, to let the student guide their own learning to a degree.  What magic stirs your heart, fills you with the fire of longing to know, because you will need that fire in the weeks to come.  If you thought this week was hard, it only gets harder in the future."

PT

I bow in response to the man's words "I thank you for your praise, but I believe that I have done such progress only because of the teachings of the Master Magi" I say in a humble tone, really not seeing much impressive skill in my abilities "I will face my tasks ahead as I have faced this one: determined, and without doubt in myself"

After he leaves, Estarion explains.

"Others stumble over the Algebra, and muddle through Geometry.  To them, they are mind-shattering puzzles.  To you, they are what you grew up with. Now, what magic did you desire to study...."

PT

PM

PM


PT

Along the week, Estarion asks me several questions regarding what type of spells I'd like to learn how to use "Hmmm. I suppose I could learn the basic elements, like water, or earth?" is my question, and when he nods I smile "Fire and ice. Both very useful elemental spells. I'd like to know how to create fireballs, to light my path, and to scorch my enemies. I wish to wield the power of ice, too, to bring me freshness in harsh heat, and to leave my enemies frozen solid. Is this possible?"

"Indeed.  Although freezing one solid is wasteful.  Its better to simply stun someone with a cold touch, but such is harder to do.  Its always easier to do flashy spells."

He begins to teach you.  And to provide books to read in your off hours.  And scrolls to copy.

In the midst of what seems a near-unbearable workload, a sturdy man with limber limbs comes by with four swords. He's dressed in leather armour.

He gathers you and a few others, and sets you to learning swordwork with a one-handed sword, a scimitar.  He promises that next week, he will have one suited to you which will be yours alone.

And you begin to feel like you are falling behind.

PT

I try to organize myself, placing my tasks in order by importance, hardest first and easiest last. And for now, I will keep trying to keep up, even though it seems like I'm getting seriously overwhelmed.

Should all of this fail, I request to talk with Estarion.

You're able to keep up for now, although it feels like running on a treadmill with out let-up.

"Magic is a process of seeing what will become real as real in your mind, and the invoking of the proper words, the limiters, and delimiters, stops, and stays, and so forth.  And then the words of command."

Estarion pauses in his lecture to the small class of eight students.

"Our ancestors, and indeed many of the wizards on the Street forego the use of limiters and such.  But this yields magic that is uncontrolled, and worst wasteful of mana."

"And after we did such work gathering it, I would not want to waste any." The class clown says, and the serious faces break up for a quick giggle before buckling down again.

"Quite true. This is why some street magi refuse to do magic, but in certain spots.  Because they rob magic from the land,  mana that some previous person had pooled there.  Or from other causes."

"Let me ask you some questions. One, when should one cast magic as the street magi do? There are two answers to this. Two, what should the Circle do about the street magi?"

After this, he divides up everyone, and has them cast a spell.  Each doing his individual spell.

I try thinking hard at the questions, so that I don't answer with whatever words come at first into my mind "Mana should be used to prevent others from wasting mana, and in life-and-death situations" I reply eventually, hoping to be at least half-right "The Street Magi should be lectured about their wasteful use of mana, so that they learn how to use it wisely" is my answer for the second question.

At the time of casting a spell, I position one open palm with the arm stretched forward, the palm facing up. With my eyes closed, I imagine a small flame appearing in my hand, not bigger than a golf ball at first. I make myself feel its heat, and the small light it radiates, and then I focus on making it as big as a tennis ball, limiting its growth with an imaginary barrier around its perimeter.

He nods at your answers, and takes some other answers.

Then you cast your spell, and it is with a sense of 'well of course' you open your eyes to see a grapefruit sized ball hovering on your hand.

You practise summoning it, and toss one.

After that, he gives you a bag of balls, and tells you to pick a target and throw a hundred balls a day, every day.

That night, you have your small room invaded by the rest of your class who suddenly pop in.

"Okay, there is all sorts of rumors about you floating about the Tower, and even the City.  Since we're like your classmates, study buddies, and so on, we figure you owe us the dirt first."  The class clown announces while a girl passes out a snack of milk, and caramel popcorn balls.

PT

I stare dumbly at my classmates, not catching on whatever in tarnation they are trying to tell me Say wha'? They want rumors or something? , but I give in nonetheless, probably what they expect me to do "Uh... what are you guys talking about? What rumors?"

"Well some people say you are a mage exiled from beyond the Sea, and you got teleported here..."

It seems the events of your arrival, and your odd clothing, and your skill with math, and rapid rise have caught the attention of a number of people who have been embroidering and inventing explanations for your oddness.

"You're secretly a Faerie Prince..."

"You are a thief who stole the clothing from a rich merchant..."

"You keep a demon in your back pocket..."

They are asking for the true story instead of the lurid rumors.  Congratulations, you're the recipient of the ancient equivalent of the National Enquirer treatment for celebs.

PT

I sigh deeply, not wanting this kind of attention, nor this annoying group of people Is it forbidden to kill classmates here? What if they don't find the bodies... nah, I wouldn't do that kind of thing and I decide to give some sort of explanation just so they leave me alone "Listen, I don't have much spare time, so I will explain my origins briefly and quickly" I begin with a serious tone "Thing is, you wouldn't believe me if I told you, or one the other hand, you might believe anything I tell you, because you want to or ar afraid that it's true. So no, I won't tell you anything, and now I'm asking you to please leave my room; I've got things to do"


OOC: Wizard's First Rule. Ever heard of it?

They blink at you for a long moment, and then sadly walk out.  You get back to work, the memory of their long faces bothers you a bit, but you really don' thave much spare time at all.

The next day, you get more of a cold shoulder in class, but you shrug, and continue working on your next spell.

"Now, students, I have a question for you. There is a five stage pattern to dealing with a threatening person. What is it? And tommorrow, if you get this right, I will be giving a mana-filled ruby away as a reward. And we will be doing a little field trip to make a point."

PT

PM

Thats good, and yes.

PT

After thinking the five-stage procedure to deal with a threatening person, I say to the teacher "The first step is assesing the threat: is the opponent strong, quick, something else? Second, one should consider then if the threat is worthy enough to force one to use mana. The third step is, then, to assess the best course of action to defend oneself, now that one knows what he should use; The fourth step is executing the defensive technique, in the best possible way, but without hurting the other; Lastly, one should immobilize the threat using the least amount of force and causing the least amount of pain"

At the time of casting my next spell, I do the same as last time. First, I focus my mind, one hand open facing upwards in front of me. In my mind I imagine a small shard of ice forming on my palm. I imagine the feeling, cold and dry, coursing through my chest, going by my arm, and finally to the hand. When I open my eyes, the shard is there, floating inches above my hand.

"Well done. This is an important lesson. There are often multiple good answers to the same question.  But, I will explain our official strategy."

He writes on a blackboard.

"First, you try to dissuade with word.  Often a kind word will win the day. And knowledge is the next. This explains why we teach you so much 'useless stuff'.  We want you smarter than others so you can outthink them. Three, we train you with the sword.  If you win with a sword, you use no mana.  Four, is magic such as what we teach you now. Five, that is magic without the delimiters and controls.  That last is what you do when you are desperate, and have no time."

Then he walks out the door, and waves for everyone to follow him.

Its a trip downtown with everyone clustering behind their teacher.  And then he stops.  You come up alongside him.

The street looks drab despite being downtown.  You see why.  There is a hole in the street, fifteen feet deep, and forty feet wide.  It still smokes.  You can see the Red Lords Palace of red tinged marble across the square.

"A year ago, someone tried to assasinate me.  I didn't have time for a careful response. So I burned up six months of mana in a moment. And permanently hurt the city of Timwrath."

He pauses.

"Evaluate. I want a paper on my desk two days from now. You are dismissed from all but sword-training."

PT

After my sword-training lessons I go back to my room, and once the door is locked (Assuming that's possible) I will start writting the evaluation of the teacher's action.

My essay goes:

"While it is true that the result of the hasteful action lead to harming the city, it should be taked into account that it was done out of need; The five-stage procedure of defense against a threat clearly indicates that desperate situations require desperate acts. The city was damaged in the process, yes, but the magi is alive, so that he may protect the city from further damage"

OOC: Not sure if that's long enough.

He says thats a good theses, and then he sends you to the libraries to come up with all sorts of supporting examples, and to provide critiques of each mage's action, and whether or not he acted prudently and ethically.

You find yourself immersed in playing 'what-if' games, and then you come across a detailed and rather critical report on Estarion's action that day.

"He clearly should have been on his guard having recieved a death threat the day before.  Thus he violated principle two.  And while he at this point had cause to violate number five, was it necessary to do it so thoroughly?  For even now, six months later, no one can fix that hole he made.  Stones placed in it evaporate.  He has damaged the city, our order, and wasted mana by his reckless and thoughtless action."

PT

PM

PM

After double checking my essay, I decide to remove "reckless" and "thoughtless" from the end of the last line Too harsh. I wonder if you can get expelled from this place if the essay is too insulting. Satisfied with the changes, I proceed to take the essay to Estarion's desk, as he told us to do.

Estarion reads yours. Nods.

"So you disagree with the Committee of Review, a group formed of high level magi, in that you think I was not reckless?"

His face is unreadable.

"Think carefully on your answer."

He continues that day with more wand movements.  Each spell has a list of actions to accompany it, rahter like an orchestral conductor, and these movements have to be right, and they all have their own jargon with sometimes very minor differences between words, and sometimes between actions resulting in different words.

If you hold the want with two fingers, and raise it shoulder high, its 'diahi scenlorax', and three fingers is "trizo subsun."

And then you spend the rest of the day almost casting dozens of balls of fire until you feel you could do it in your sleep.  Its like dry-firing a pistol.

PT

OOC: What should I do now?

OOC: Good point. I'm having that difficulty with your campaign, or we both are.

The next day, Estarion comes in, and gives you and three others of the advanced students a mission.

You are to collect mana from a grove, two days ride from town.  You are team leader, and you are to pick three companions.

So describe the students, and the first days ride which is largely uneventful other than it being your longest days travel on a horse....


PT

OOC: I have to go, but I'll post soon enough. Was that last comment a hint that my world is going down down down? :P

OOC: No. We need to work on a way to give/get you a chance/able to write some more.  To think what you would be doing, and to find ways of continuing the story.  Its both of us, I think.  And its partially the school setting.

Read Misty's games as a good example.  Sometimes, she runs a bit wild, but generally, she helps hold up her end of the story...

And I will try to give you more explicit paired choices.

PT

OOC: While this is free-form, my mental image of DM-Player relationship is basically the DM showing different situations to the player, challenges, so that the player has to decide how to react. In the case that I get to choose what to do... well, I ain't too wild, but I can try :)

Since I didn't know my classmates that well (Nor was I interested in doing so), I picked 3 that seemed nice people: a tall lady with long red hair; a chubby short-haired blond guy; and another girl, with shoulder-length brown hair tied in a pony tail.

We travel out of town, and following my recommendations we move by the most travelled roads mainly, and only ride by more dangerous territory when absolutely neccesary. Quite uneventful, but I liked the calm, instead of being eager to blast something to pieces with my newly learned spells. I answered questions or said things to my companions only when asked or when I had to inform them of something, or ask a question myself.

OOC: Its a matter of scale, is my view. I wonder if I should take this to a general thread, and get some other advice.  Anyways, back to scale. Yes, its mostly as you say, but not entirely.  Things are rarely 100% one way or the other way.

Also, when Estarion asks a question...answer it.  The last question he asked was meant to be a fraught scenario...do you tell him 'you're wrong teach, way wrong, or do you say, the high committee is wrong, or do you kiss-up in general, or refuse to answer....'

But, you did well with the description of setting out.

IC:  The trip is long, and by mid-day, your legs are seriously sore.  None of the others are all that happy either because of except for the Tim rancher girl with the long, red, hair who seems to have lived in a saddle, and actually sleeps while riding.

Your group is sullen, and quiet for much of the morning, but then they start talking to each other.  At first to gripe about the pain, and then eventually to just pass the time as they wander along at 4 mph, but they after making a couple efforts to include you, ignore you.

Your map decisions irritate the blonde guy who wants to take a shortcut through Dirindi Canyon, but in the face of your quiet, he shuts up as well, and does as you say.

That night, they ask for a decision on watches.  You also have the problem that your legs are chafed, and wincingly sore.

PT

OOC: My bad, I should have answered before, but I thought it was meant to "think about it and answer later on". If you feel you need to ask for recommendations in a General thread, it's perfectly fine with me.

"I say we each make one watch, but I'd prefer to be near the last ones; my legs are terrible, after the long ride, and I don't think I'll be able to remain standing for long if I go in the first one. The rest of the watchs are up to you, since I don't think it will make a difference in which order it is"


My answer to Estarion is "Yes. I believe that life goes above mana, thus your action wasn't as reckless as the council described"

The two girls argue about taking the first watch.  Both want it since it will allow them to sleep through the majority of the night.  The guy just shrugs, and takes second watch.

You get woken up during the second watch by someone shaking your shoulder. When fully awake from your vivid and pleasant dream, you hear the horses are nickering, and pulling at their strings.

The stomping of the horse's hooves echoes through the night faintly.

The snores of your other two run in harmony with each other.

PT

"What the... what's going on?" I ask, half-asleep and drowsy, shaking my head and caressing my eyes with both hands to be more alert. I try standing up, and look around to see if anything is wrong. Should that be the case, I wake up the rest as quickly as possible.

Do you let the girls keep on arguing until one wins, or do you intervene?

PT

If they go on for more than five minutes, I intervene and tell the girl with good riding skills to get one of the last watches, since she won't be as sore from the ride.

It does.

The other girl says that the Tim rancher girl's hair is not really red anyways, its just juice colouring.  Which seems to be a palpable hit since the rancher girl blushes.

And then the other girl says that its just because you favor the Tim, and she is a Wrath, and ....mutter, mutter.  At which point, the rancher girl is giving the other girl, the Look to Kill.... (not a magic spell, just sincere irritation.)

============================================================================

You look around in the night, and something bothers you.  A shadow passes overhead.  Its gone, but it seemed large.

A faint snatch of what could be flute music in the wind.

A general feeling of uncanny powers in the night....

The horses have suddenly calmed down.

PT

OOC: So, who woke me up then? Blond guy?


I remain alert and wide awake, looking everywhere around me, to make sure whatever it is that came by is gone for good. I'm not sure if it's my watch now, or if I was waken up because of whatever appeared out there, but if it is my turn to stay on guard, I do so.

Indeed, the blonde guy woke you.  Its not your watch, and so to his astonishment, you begin to arrange your bedroll to sleep in again.  And just as you get your tired eyes closed, you hear a faint snatch of flute music again, a wild, and eerie tune which almost makes you want to sleep...

The blonde guy shakes you again.

"There it is again.  The Fey are afoot, I swear it."

PT

Although a bit annoyed, I get up from my bedroll to survey the surroundings "Should we be wary of the Fey, or are they pacifists?" I ask the other guy as I squint my eyes to see any signs of the mentioned creature.

You have to explain to him what a pacifist is. Once he understands, he laughs darkly.

"No, the Fey are not pacific, at least not in the old stories. Mischief, madness, and mayhem in equal measures, I'd say.  Too bad I left my cold iron knife at the Tower, even though the Tower frowns on such things, considers it superstition, I'd feel a lot better right now."

You notice the horses are walking away into the night.

PT

I glance back at the sleeping beauties and say to the other guy "Wake them up, then. I'll go get the horses. What magic is most effective against Fey?" in a whisper, and then I walk as silently as possible to get the horses (But without passing right behind them; I don't want to get kicked!)

"Well the Red Lords supposedly sent them fleeing like rats, if you can believe our overlords.  But other than that...well, they are creatures of chaos, so they won't like order."

You find yourself walking alongside the horses, catching up to the small figure in front of them who is playing a flute, and then you realize its dawning...

And you still haven't gotten to the front of the horses...and your shoes are now rags.

PT

Oh dear I sigh, somewhat defeated, as I try to catch up "Halt, Fey-being!" I command in a rather weak voice "In the name of all that is orderly, just, and fair, stop where you are, and let me judge you with proper justice for what you've done!" with an imperious tone, using words that I would never actually utilize in normal speech, but then again, I was hoping that their dislike of order meant something like this.

The horses stop, several rearing, and then they look about with horsely looks of bewilderment.

A manling, perhaps two feet tall, steps out from the front of the horses.  A flute is in his six, no seven, no four fingered hands.  He grins, and you see sharp teeth in his smile.

"Nay, for it is I who will judge you.  You who were sent out by the boors of the oh-so-self-important Tower in order to steal my mana that I had set my hand upon.  I and my kin are the ancient owners of this land, rousted out by the filty interloping Red Lords, and you dare to think that with your puny magics you will master me, and deliver me, to judgement?"

He begins to laugh.  It sounds like crows cawing.

PT

Upon receiving this new information, I show my palms wide open to my sides, showing that I meant no harm "You'll have to excuse me, but my knowledge of your race is... zero, really. I'm not from this world, actually, thus many things I see here are new to me" I explain slowly, trying to get the Fey to understand my situation "While I'm against stealing, I didn't know that that was in fact what I was doing, by taking the mana from your people. As I see it, though, we aren't taking it away, but storing it for further use, since mana is fading, or so I've been told"

"It was my mana. Just like these are my horses. Took them fair and square, and now you want to steal them.  Well, little thief, we have ways of dealing with your kind."  He smiles, answering your second question first, and then relaxes.

"Ach, lad, I understand, I do.  You mean no harm.  I can see that.  The thing is, the Fey can live on a sip of mana now and then, just so long as its not tainted by order and justice and all that tommyrot.  You and your Tower, they need more mana than us to survive. Red Lords, they need more than even your tower.  But as the mana fades, so does the Lords, and then the Tower, and then its the time of the Fey again, see?"

He seems a little demented.

PT

I shake my head slowly at his last words, not approving that ideology at all "How is that fair? You take mana away from others, so that you are the only one who remains alive?" to make a point, I gesture towards the horses "How would you feel if those were your horses, and I took them away from you, and there was nothing you could do about it? Well, that is how I feel at the time, and I don't believe it's a nice thing to do. Why can't you share mana with others, instead of taking it all for your race?"

He starts screaming at you.  In the midst of the curse words, and speculation about your personal faults, you gather the idea that he's upset about your continuning to use the word 'fair'.

"The natural state of the world is a dessert of mana.  Yon proud Red Lords dug themselves wells, and disturbed things greatly.  There is not enough mana for the Tower and the Fey.  But worse, and worse still, your sin is thus.  You poison the land with your presence.  You dream of justice.  I say thee nay. The universe is chaos.  There will be humans, as there was in the days before.  The Ten Tribes of humans will rise again. But even as they rise, they will shiver in their huts for outside in teh dark, and at teh corner of their eye will be the Fey, teaching them the true nature of the universe. Fickle, vicious, and vain She is.  She does not love you humans, nor care ought for you."

PT

Now I sigh in resignation, and in my mind I begin to go through the process of summoning a fireball "A pity you don't want to understand. But at least I tried" I lament, and then I channel a fireball into my hand, imagining its head and power, then throwing it at the Fey.

Your fire appears, and he fits pipe to his lips, and begins to play....

Toss...

It hits him, and he winces as his clothing catches on fire, but continues to play, and he starts backing up, and every step seems seven times as long as the one before.  He's shrinking away before your eyes.

PT

Instead of pursuing him, I toss another fireball at him. If the effect is satisfactory (Say, he goes away), I will get the horses and bring them back to the camp.

You throw it dead at his face, and it flies, and flies, and then flickers out, and it still never reached him.  And then he's gone.

You are left with the horses.

As the dawnlight comes up, you yawn, and look about.  You're in the dessert.  Wind-carved stones, rocks layered with dust, waves in a thin bed of sand, a scraggly cactus, a lizard looking at you with modest curiousity...

Along the road, it had been dry country, but this is much worse.

PT

Someone must hate me pretty badly. Oh, right, the Fey I just encountered. That must be it Without time to ponder on my predicament, I will attempt to get back to the road by backtracking, either by following my own tracks or simply by walking down the way I came, which should be right behind me, with the horses.


OOC: I can pretty much guess the result of the GE roll

You set off, and find that your tracks disappear behind the horses path.  The land is undisturbed by your presence, except for where you have trod after the Fey had left.

"Ok, horsies. Lets go for a walk."  And you set off with your hands on the leather reins of the lead horse, and make toward the path you have come.

But soon enough, you find yourself wandering off course because the straight route is impassable, and so you walk around a steep hill of shale and limestone baking in the sun, and then try to correct your course on teh other side.

But you're starting to fear that you're going to get seriously lost doing this.

PT

Realizing that I'm in a bigger problem than I first thought, I commence to place waypoints as I go, to make sure I know when I walk in circles, with any form of rocks or objects that get my attention on the ground.


OOC: I'm honestly out of ideas, besides doing what I just did.

You start marking locations, and pressing onward, not finding water, and you realize that you have come a lot further than you at first thought.  Your shoes are rags, which means you somehow walked a perfectly good set of shoes that should have lasted at least three months into rags in a few hours.

Obviously, you've been the victim of a magic spell.  Possibly similiar to the same one the Fey used to escape you where his every footstep took him further and further, something like Seven League Boots, but with your shoes suffering every bit of the travel.

You've gone several miles, and you begin to realize the Fey REALLY hated you.  You could die out here.

PT
OOC: How good are you at marking waypoints, and desert survival?

OOC: Will it suffice to say that not only I never needed to make waypoints, but I also haven't been to a desert? Honestly, if I verse now it won't be an issue, since I already got most of the stuff I needed (Mainly, magic, and also swordfigthing skills). I do have the scimitar with me, right?

OOC: Okay, we'll do that.


PT

I kept going on. One foot in front of the other... then the other foot... keep going... Why is the ground approaching so fast? I wonder, as I fall face-down to the dry earth beneath me, and lay there, without moving an inch for a while Silly Fey; why bother with a verser?.

How much time passed, I couldn't tell. Namo I only knew that it was that time when I went into another world, almost painlessly. Amida Too bad I couldn't even manage to sit straight, legs crossed, as I performed in that planetoid not so long ago. Things would have been easier, then. With resignation, I let go of my body, and embrace the earth and the heat Butsu