Post by ouat on Feb 23, 2020 16:21:46 GMT -5
Enrandl sat with his legs crossed in the middle of an aged ceremonial chamber. His eyes were closed beneath a thick mane of drenched and tangled black hair. His body was relaxed, his arms hung limply to each side of him, and his hands rested on the rough yet molded stone floor with his palms up. The flames from one hundred candles burned brightly around him while their smoke drifted silently toward the ceiling. The candles afforded the chamber illumination, and the warmth from them enticed rivulets of perspiration to flow from his forehead down his cheeks while he remained motionless.
The space encompassing him was immaculate. The magic user had taken several hours to personally clear away every speck of dust and arrange each candle in one of the four circular tiers so that the chamber would be balanced evenly. The twisted silver candlesticks along the walls in the highest level were six feet tall. This height tapered down with each row to the lowest candles, which had no holders, and had been placed directly on the floor. An unadorned path led from him to a pair of thick wooden doors. The cold grey of the stone walls absorbed most of the light but could not dissuade an uncomfortable heat that gradually mounted within the room.
Is she conscious to the potentiality of the tomes’ cogency? His query mystically extended. This particular display of magic could not be seen by anyone observing him. The internal audience in progress was the result of an effect that he channelled to make his inquiries. This effect allowed him (at least his mind) to project out beyond the room. He seemed worlds away if any distance could define where his form sat and where his consciousness now questioned higher powers for their divine consultation. He perceived that no distance had been traveled to attain this destination, but he felt that he was nowhere near his body.
He heard a voice answering his question with, “Unknown.” It was not a thought in response to his own, and it presented him with the strangest sensation. He was expressing his portion of the commune mentally, yet the answers to his proposed questions returned as an unmistakable voice that he could hear audibly, and this left him disconcerted.
The conversation had only taken several minutes. While the effect’s magical display began to fade, leaving him with no more feeling of travel than before, his mind again united with his body. His aura weakened as the display from his powerful effect diminished. This deficiency would not impair him but would be instinctively noticeable. Weaker effects expended less of the source energy when channelled, while stronger ones could induce various intensities of fatigue. Genuinely formidable effects could even cause physical alterations to the channeller, including premature aging and possible death, when used without appropriate precautions.
The unseen source was always there. It floated and waited for a channelled effect’s specific components to merge. Then it derived the desired magical display from it. Where the source originated was unknowable, even to those with the persistence to study it, and if studied, multiple theories clouded a researcher’s investigation on the matter. The qualities of mystery and ambiguity were challenging to understand and interpret.
One constant proved accurate: Aggregate proportions of energy, which were allowed to pass through an aura, had set limits. Once they were depleted, only time could restore them. An aura’s capacity would expand with consistent practice and meditation, which enabled it to tap into more substantial quantities, however there was always a limit. No magic user truly knew his or her limitations, but Enrandl contended that he could channel as many of the weaker effects as he desired, with only minimal inconvenience.
So, he thought, that bastard had not perjured himself. “You would bargain a prevarication with your existence ventured,” he accused his former mentor aloud.
Revolutions before, his master had enlightened him about an arcane volume of incredible power. This same man had pleaded relentlessly that his student should heed his veracity about the book. Enrandl assumed the ramblings a solely vain attempt to prevent a dagger from ending his life. For many revolutions afterward, he carried reservations about the sincerity of his deceased master. Recent events and numerous divination effects (such as the one he had just finished) assured him of its existence.
Earlier in his life, the assumption of this proposed object, which supposedly allowed an unlimited amount of the source to be channelled without causing the aura to weaken, was inconceivable. He believed that anyone with magical aptitude was irrational to tell another about such an item.
Unless intention denotes falsification, he mused.
Now he knew there was no falsehood in his mentor’s story, but the book currently had a resolute guardian or possessor, depending on one’s viewpoint. There was not enough time for him to glean its age during his divine consultation, but a red dragon, with or without the book’s power to aid the beast, would prove a dangerous foe. Attempting to retrieve the book from the creature would require help.
He opened his eyes. They were gray and had an almost kind demeanor to them. He brushed his tangled black hair from his face, wiped the sweat from his forehead onto his sleeve, and stood. His tall frame was skinny, but his healthy features reflected his age accurately. He was beyond what most humans would call the middle of life. An average human would live close to eighty revolutions. Some humans lived beyond that, if they were lucky enough not to find an unfortunate and untimely passing. Other races of people had much longer life spans. Elves, for example, lived several hundred revolutions before a natural death would befall them.
The candlelight flickered and danced on his long, sparkling blue robe as he walked to the doors. The garment gave the appearance of floating just above the ground, never revealing the black leather boots on his feet. Halfway to the chamber’s exit, he clapped his hands in front of him and uttered an unintelligible magic word. When he got closer, as part of his channelling, he pulled his hands apart and toward him to finish the effect and watched the display.
The doors opened inward as if his hands were on the handles. A slow, piercing screech emanated from their ancient hinges. Cool air rushed in past him as that high-pitched sound reverberated within and outside the chamber. He stepped between the doors and nodded his thanks to a short, burly, and bearded priest standing in the torch-lit corridor. The priest’s brown robes rustled as he removed his hands from his pockets. He nodded back while the fingers of his left hand traced an expensive gold necklace that he wore.
Without looking back to witness the new display, he channelled a reversal (his hand gestures moved in opposition from before) to close the doors. The walls around them and the rest of the temple’s lower levels were old and deteriorating, and a slight but apparent fresh crack near the upper hinge of the left door formed and spread for several inches.
Enrandl looked past the priest and regarded the wall behind him, where a screened hole, which was large enough for an average man to climb through, had been carved directly across from the doors of the chamber. Several of these holes had been placed sporadically throughout the halls, and they allowed a moderate amount of fresher air for breathing in the lower levels. Most of them had a crude mesh of metal bars to prevent any entry or exit through them. This particular aperture was missing one of those protective bars. He noted this so that he could remember which chamber he had used.
They ascended two flights of stairs to the main floor where the priest wandered off, and Enrandl was left alone to escort himself out. Other than those fading footfalls, the area was quiet and lifeless. Fourteen candles provided illumination against the darkness. Each was positioned on pews, and they formed two rows of light down the center aisle of the main floor. The temple was always open for anyone who wanted to come and worship, but not many direful followers of The Dark Gods' came this late at night unless the situation was extremely urgent.
The area where the congregation would sit was not nearly as impressive in the current light as it was near midday, but it still radiated tenfold with an impeccable appearance what the lower levels lacked in regular preservation. In those lower levels, ancient construction had been shoddily braced in most areas to keep the structure sturdy. Scattered everywhere and covered with revolutions worth of layered dust were discarded objects, which were no longer needed.
He walked between the pews and headed for the exit. Each pew was made of oak, which had not been made in separate sections to fit together later but had been precisely carved in one whole piece from a tree. On each wall, these masterful carvings were combined with lancet arches of divinely hewn stone. They contained magnificent stained glass, which decorated the temple. Whether dedicated to Dark or Light, everything he saw here was the envy of any other temple or church in Jenerv. Nothing was too expensive for the taste (greed) of Frederick Smythe.
The High Priest of the temple was no doubt asleep in his chambers. Enrandl had known him for a long time and had perhaps considered him a friend. He knew without a doubt that Smythe would frown upon Enrandl’s use of the lower chambers for his effect.
What is the resultant impairment of my desire for his ignorance? Enrandl thought.
Winter chilled air caused a shiver to run through him when he opened the main door of the temple. He took a deep breath of the brisk evening air before leaving the building.
Outside, the port city of Jenerv had a minuscule portion of dim light from the occasional unshuttered window. The dark moon, having just started its fifth cycle of revolution and promising warmer weather to come, could spare no accompanying light for the quiet city streets.
During the day, there were wagons pulled by animals, carts pushed or pulled by residents, and visitors, horses, and people walking the crowded streets of the port city. Here in the dark late-night hours before daylight, very few traveled them. Even in the upscale, high-class, cobblestoned portions of the city, it was not an appropriate time to take a stroll. A militia made regular patrols, but even an inexperienced rogue could mark its patterns and work around it.
He had walked down several streets, turned a few corners, and had encountered only a black cat perched on a sill. The cat meowed and watched him turn down a narrow, trash-cluttered alley. He heard a scuffling sound behind him but kept walking. He was far from surprised when, before long, a man garbed in ragged clothing and armed with a dagger moved into the lane in front of him.
“Give me your gold,” the man ordered in a clear voice as he held out his filthy hand. The robber’s face was shaven, but he was dirty. His hair was scruffy and light brown, and with several feet of distance between them, his stench still assaulted the chilly air.
“This endeavor shall reign you afoul at present,” he answered.
Enrandl took delight in the disbelief of his opponent when the thief threw his dagger and then watched it fly far away from its intended target. He even allowed the other to compose himself, draw another blade, and charge forward to attack again. The knife of the second assault against him cut through his robe but deflected off something other than skin. The grungy man’s surprise threw him off guard and close enough for Enrandl to act. He seized the man’s throat, squeezing it tightly. After relieving him of the dagger, Enrandl positioned the thief between himself and his two accomplices that had moved in behind him. The captured man gasped for air.
“Retreat!” Enrandl ordered. “Your election determines his providence.” The two men ran out of the alley in opposite directions.
“Th-they are g-gone,” the thief said, forcing his words out and struggling as the grip on his throat tightened. The magic user looked directly into the thief’s eyes.
“The financial disbursement to reinstate this garment prevails against the significance of their insufficiency of aspect,” a head nod indicated the retreating companions. As Enrandl spoke, his staring eyes narrowed, yielding a chilly expression that was even colder than the night air. The fear he reveled in would be the last thing this dullard knew. The struggling under Enrandl’s grip weakened as he said, “Conceivably, your execution shall evidence a complimentary expense.”
He dropped the lifeless body and considered his hand for a moment. His usual measures concerning physical confrontation were not to involve himself, preferring to use magic to further his ends. He felt that strangling the man had been harder than it should have been. I should endeavor a solution for such nuisance, he thought.
He continued through the alley, hurrying to avoid any other encounters with Jenerv’s night crowd. Two streets away from where he had left the strangled thief, he stopped at the Goode Tavern and entered it.
The disposition inside the crowded tavern was relaxed and warm. It bustled with various activities from dagger tossing to small groups listening to painted minstrels spinning glorious tales. The odors from alcoholic concoctions and a cloud of misty gray smoke, which drifted in the air, filled his senses. Nevertheless, even in this cluttered place, it did not take him long to find the person he was looking for.
“Toran,” he called across the room. Receiving no reaction, he tried again. “Toran,” he called out much louder this time. Many people in the crowd stopped what they were doing and looked in his direction.
*
In the middle of a small huddle of half-drunken men and beside one of the two great fireplaces, which glowed with warm orange light, Toran Hensh stood upon a table. Obviously not a minstrel, the motions of his arms and the attention of the group around him proved that he had been spinning an exciting tale, nonetheless. He looked away from his following, gazed at Enrandl, and shook his head. He ran his hand through his sandy-blond hair, stopped his story, made his apologies to his entourage, and worked his way across the tavern. The excellent brown vest and matching pants and boots that he wore stood out above the rest of the patrons’ clothing.
“Too employed to venture across the taproom and greet me in more common tone with less commotion drawn to you?” Toran asked as the crowd slowly returned to their own attentions.
“Your squandered civilities with me are pedestrian. You comprehend my aspiration of extravagant emergence.” Enrandl looked around the tavern again. “An assemblage of cohorts is required. Four or five should be sufficient. An employment has come to fruition,” he said.
“And should I have no interest?” Toran asked.
“Twenty gold finance,” Enrandl answered, but hearing this caused Toran to scowl. Enrandl added, “Per day … Each.” Now he specifically paused, but Toran remained indifferent. “A ten-day excursion and all treasure discovered, with exception to my specific– divided among your company, will assuredly crown your investment in my approbation.”
“Indeed. The particulars of service to be rendered?” Toran asked.
“Protection.”
“From?” Toran continued to question.
“Protective assurance for the journey. Are we sufficiently established?”
“Consider the matter concluded,” Toran said and bowed slightly.
“Excellent. We embark two cycles hence. A more clement season for travel.”
Toran muffled a cough as he watched the other man turn away. Enrandl left the tavern. Toran returned to his place atop the table to finish his interrupted tale.
The space encompassing him was immaculate. The magic user had taken several hours to personally clear away every speck of dust and arrange each candle in one of the four circular tiers so that the chamber would be balanced evenly. The twisted silver candlesticks along the walls in the highest level were six feet tall. This height tapered down with each row to the lowest candles, which had no holders, and had been placed directly on the floor. An unadorned path led from him to a pair of thick wooden doors. The cold grey of the stone walls absorbed most of the light but could not dissuade an uncomfortable heat that gradually mounted within the room.
Is she conscious to the potentiality of the tomes’ cogency? His query mystically extended. This particular display of magic could not be seen by anyone observing him. The internal audience in progress was the result of an effect that he channelled to make his inquiries. This effect allowed him (at least his mind) to project out beyond the room. He seemed worlds away if any distance could define where his form sat and where his consciousness now questioned higher powers for their divine consultation. He perceived that no distance had been traveled to attain this destination, but he felt that he was nowhere near his body.
He heard a voice answering his question with, “Unknown.” It was not a thought in response to his own, and it presented him with the strangest sensation. He was expressing his portion of the commune mentally, yet the answers to his proposed questions returned as an unmistakable voice that he could hear audibly, and this left him disconcerted.
The conversation had only taken several minutes. While the effect’s magical display began to fade, leaving him with no more feeling of travel than before, his mind again united with his body. His aura weakened as the display from his powerful effect diminished. This deficiency would not impair him but would be instinctively noticeable. Weaker effects expended less of the source energy when channelled, while stronger ones could induce various intensities of fatigue. Genuinely formidable effects could even cause physical alterations to the channeller, including premature aging and possible death, when used without appropriate precautions.
The unseen source was always there. It floated and waited for a channelled effect’s specific components to merge. Then it derived the desired magical display from it. Where the source originated was unknowable, even to those with the persistence to study it, and if studied, multiple theories clouded a researcher’s investigation on the matter. The qualities of mystery and ambiguity were challenging to understand and interpret.
One constant proved accurate: Aggregate proportions of energy, which were allowed to pass through an aura, had set limits. Once they were depleted, only time could restore them. An aura’s capacity would expand with consistent practice and meditation, which enabled it to tap into more substantial quantities, however there was always a limit. No magic user truly knew his or her limitations, but Enrandl contended that he could channel as many of the weaker effects as he desired, with only minimal inconvenience.
So, he thought, that bastard had not perjured himself. “You would bargain a prevarication with your existence ventured,” he accused his former mentor aloud.
Revolutions before, his master had enlightened him about an arcane volume of incredible power. This same man had pleaded relentlessly that his student should heed his veracity about the book. Enrandl assumed the ramblings a solely vain attempt to prevent a dagger from ending his life. For many revolutions afterward, he carried reservations about the sincerity of his deceased master. Recent events and numerous divination effects (such as the one he had just finished) assured him of its existence.
Earlier in his life, the assumption of this proposed object, which supposedly allowed an unlimited amount of the source to be channelled without causing the aura to weaken, was inconceivable. He believed that anyone with magical aptitude was irrational to tell another about such an item.
Unless intention denotes falsification, he mused.
Now he knew there was no falsehood in his mentor’s story, but the book currently had a resolute guardian or possessor, depending on one’s viewpoint. There was not enough time for him to glean its age during his divine consultation, but a red dragon, with or without the book’s power to aid the beast, would prove a dangerous foe. Attempting to retrieve the book from the creature would require help.
He opened his eyes. They were gray and had an almost kind demeanor to them. He brushed his tangled black hair from his face, wiped the sweat from his forehead onto his sleeve, and stood. His tall frame was skinny, but his healthy features reflected his age accurately. He was beyond what most humans would call the middle of life. An average human would live close to eighty revolutions. Some humans lived beyond that, if they were lucky enough not to find an unfortunate and untimely passing. Other races of people had much longer life spans. Elves, for example, lived several hundred revolutions before a natural death would befall them.
The candlelight flickered and danced on his long, sparkling blue robe as he walked to the doors. The garment gave the appearance of floating just above the ground, never revealing the black leather boots on his feet. Halfway to the chamber’s exit, he clapped his hands in front of him and uttered an unintelligible magic word. When he got closer, as part of his channelling, he pulled his hands apart and toward him to finish the effect and watched the display.
The doors opened inward as if his hands were on the handles. A slow, piercing screech emanated from their ancient hinges. Cool air rushed in past him as that high-pitched sound reverberated within and outside the chamber. He stepped between the doors and nodded his thanks to a short, burly, and bearded priest standing in the torch-lit corridor. The priest’s brown robes rustled as he removed his hands from his pockets. He nodded back while the fingers of his left hand traced an expensive gold necklace that he wore.
Without looking back to witness the new display, he channelled a reversal (his hand gestures moved in opposition from before) to close the doors. The walls around them and the rest of the temple’s lower levels were old and deteriorating, and a slight but apparent fresh crack near the upper hinge of the left door formed and spread for several inches.
Enrandl looked past the priest and regarded the wall behind him, where a screened hole, which was large enough for an average man to climb through, had been carved directly across from the doors of the chamber. Several of these holes had been placed sporadically throughout the halls, and they allowed a moderate amount of fresher air for breathing in the lower levels. Most of them had a crude mesh of metal bars to prevent any entry or exit through them. This particular aperture was missing one of those protective bars. He noted this so that he could remember which chamber he had used.
They ascended two flights of stairs to the main floor where the priest wandered off, and Enrandl was left alone to escort himself out. Other than those fading footfalls, the area was quiet and lifeless. Fourteen candles provided illumination against the darkness. Each was positioned on pews, and they formed two rows of light down the center aisle of the main floor. The temple was always open for anyone who wanted to come and worship, but not many direful followers of The Dark Gods' came this late at night unless the situation was extremely urgent.
The area where the congregation would sit was not nearly as impressive in the current light as it was near midday, but it still radiated tenfold with an impeccable appearance what the lower levels lacked in regular preservation. In those lower levels, ancient construction had been shoddily braced in most areas to keep the structure sturdy. Scattered everywhere and covered with revolutions worth of layered dust were discarded objects, which were no longer needed.
He walked between the pews and headed for the exit. Each pew was made of oak, which had not been made in separate sections to fit together later but had been precisely carved in one whole piece from a tree. On each wall, these masterful carvings were combined with lancet arches of divinely hewn stone. They contained magnificent stained glass, which decorated the temple. Whether dedicated to Dark or Light, everything he saw here was the envy of any other temple or church in Jenerv. Nothing was too expensive for the taste (greed) of Frederick Smythe.
The High Priest of the temple was no doubt asleep in his chambers. Enrandl had known him for a long time and had perhaps considered him a friend. He knew without a doubt that Smythe would frown upon Enrandl’s use of the lower chambers for his effect.
What is the resultant impairment of my desire for his ignorance? Enrandl thought.
Winter chilled air caused a shiver to run through him when he opened the main door of the temple. He took a deep breath of the brisk evening air before leaving the building.
Outside, the port city of Jenerv had a minuscule portion of dim light from the occasional unshuttered window. The dark moon, having just started its fifth cycle of revolution and promising warmer weather to come, could spare no accompanying light for the quiet city streets.
During the day, there were wagons pulled by animals, carts pushed or pulled by residents, and visitors, horses, and people walking the crowded streets of the port city. Here in the dark late-night hours before daylight, very few traveled them. Even in the upscale, high-class, cobblestoned portions of the city, it was not an appropriate time to take a stroll. A militia made regular patrols, but even an inexperienced rogue could mark its patterns and work around it.
He had walked down several streets, turned a few corners, and had encountered only a black cat perched on a sill. The cat meowed and watched him turn down a narrow, trash-cluttered alley. He heard a scuffling sound behind him but kept walking. He was far from surprised when, before long, a man garbed in ragged clothing and armed with a dagger moved into the lane in front of him.
“Give me your gold,” the man ordered in a clear voice as he held out his filthy hand. The robber’s face was shaven, but he was dirty. His hair was scruffy and light brown, and with several feet of distance between them, his stench still assaulted the chilly air.
“This endeavor shall reign you afoul at present,” he answered.
Enrandl took delight in the disbelief of his opponent when the thief threw his dagger and then watched it fly far away from its intended target. He even allowed the other to compose himself, draw another blade, and charge forward to attack again. The knife of the second assault against him cut through his robe but deflected off something other than skin. The grungy man’s surprise threw him off guard and close enough for Enrandl to act. He seized the man’s throat, squeezing it tightly. After relieving him of the dagger, Enrandl positioned the thief between himself and his two accomplices that had moved in behind him. The captured man gasped for air.
“Retreat!” Enrandl ordered. “Your election determines his providence.” The two men ran out of the alley in opposite directions.
“Th-they are g-gone,” the thief said, forcing his words out and struggling as the grip on his throat tightened. The magic user looked directly into the thief’s eyes.
“The financial disbursement to reinstate this garment prevails against the significance of their insufficiency of aspect,” a head nod indicated the retreating companions. As Enrandl spoke, his staring eyes narrowed, yielding a chilly expression that was even colder than the night air. The fear he reveled in would be the last thing this dullard knew. The struggling under Enrandl’s grip weakened as he said, “Conceivably, your execution shall evidence a complimentary expense.”
He dropped the lifeless body and considered his hand for a moment. His usual measures concerning physical confrontation were not to involve himself, preferring to use magic to further his ends. He felt that strangling the man had been harder than it should have been. I should endeavor a solution for such nuisance, he thought.
He continued through the alley, hurrying to avoid any other encounters with Jenerv’s night crowd. Two streets away from where he had left the strangled thief, he stopped at the Goode Tavern and entered it.
The disposition inside the crowded tavern was relaxed and warm. It bustled with various activities from dagger tossing to small groups listening to painted minstrels spinning glorious tales. The odors from alcoholic concoctions and a cloud of misty gray smoke, which drifted in the air, filled his senses. Nevertheless, even in this cluttered place, it did not take him long to find the person he was looking for.
“Toran,” he called across the room. Receiving no reaction, he tried again. “Toran,” he called out much louder this time. Many people in the crowd stopped what they were doing and looked in his direction.
*
In the middle of a small huddle of half-drunken men and beside one of the two great fireplaces, which glowed with warm orange light, Toran Hensh stood upon a table. Obviously not a minstrel, the motions of his arms and the attention of the group around him proved that he had been spinning an exciting tale, nonetheless. He looked away from his following, gazed at Enrandl, and shook his head. He ran his hand through his sandy-blond hair, stopped his story, made his apologies to his entourage, and worked his way across the tavern. The excellent brown vest and matching pants and boots that he wore stood out above the rest of the patrons’ clothing.
“Too employed to venture across the taproom and greet me in more common tone with less commotion drawn to you?” Toran asked as the crowd slowly returned to their own attentions.
“Your squandered civilities with me are pedestrian. You comprehend my aspiration of extravagant emergence.” Enrandl looked around the tavern again. “An assemblage of cohorts is required. Four or five should be sufficient. An employment has come to fruition,” he said.
“And should I have no interest?” Toran asked.
“Twenty gold finance,” Enrandl answered, but hearing this caused Toran to scowl. Enrandl added, “Per day … Each.” Now he specifically paused, but Toran remained indifferent. “A ten-day excursion and all treasure discovered, with exception to my specific– divided among your company, will assuredly crown your investment in my approbation.”
“Indeed. The particulars of service to be rendered?” Toran asked.
“Protection.”
“From?” Toran continued to question.
“Protective assurance for the journey. Are we sufficiently established?”
“Consider the matter concluded,” Toran said and bowed slightly.
“Excellent. We embark two cycles hence. A more clement season for travel.”
Toran muffled a cough as he watched the other man turn away. Enrandl left the tavern. Toran returned to his place atop the table to finish his interrupted tale.