Father of Misguidance.

[Black Cat]

He focused all his mind on the scenery beyond the window, because he knew if he tried hard enough, there'd be no more voices crowding his heavy mind. Two minutes had passed in such tranquil silence, but to his dismay he found he'd been too hopeful.

"Can you hear me?" The voice shot through his mental barrier and into his thoughts. "Is there no one else you can bother?" He snapped. There was no one else. Few could hear the spirits anymore, and so they always came to him. "You are....Magnus?" The voice asked, much louder and clearer, and he could now tell it was female. "Yes." He finally answered, though he wasn't to pleased about who he was at the moment. "Do you know the way to the gates...?" She trembled asking the question. "I did, once. But I lost the map long ago." He trembled as well. The question she'd asked almost brought him to tears, and the answer he had to give didn't help. It was the question he had been asked by sick children and dying warriors, by prisoners and the lost. Heaven was their destination and their wounds were their trail he'd tell them, hoping they'd find their way. He didn't say it now, because he no longer knew what it meant. He wreathed with pain at the memories, many his fault, and began to realize people were watching him. Despite the unwanted attention he managed to produce the only consolation he could give to poor spirit."You will find your way, the good are never lost for long." He tried to smile, and with a small amount of relief she smiled back. She vanished from his sight piece by piece until the light of her soul had finally flickered away. Now he figured he better turn his attention to the people watching him, and hopefully figure out where in all the world he had run to. Wary of being the center of their focus for long in a place he'd never been to, he decided to quiet down and wait for someone to approach him. "I wonder what they thought I was talking too...hahaha!" It was amusing, and amused was a rare feeling for Magnus.

[Tristam]

After the long journey to this tavern, all Tristam wanted was a hot meal and a quiet evening pouring over his notes. The barmaid obligingly set him in a corner table away from the bar. The game stew was a little bland but a pinch of wild marjoram from one of his pouches soon fixed that. He had just settled into a treatise on medicinal herbs and his second small beer when the man at the nearby table spoke up.

"Is there no one else you can bother?" He snapped.

Tristam lowered his parchment and peered over the top. Somewhere there should be two people arguing but only the normal comings and goings of the tavern were evident. Then the man spoke up again. Tristam listened to the one sided conversation with ever growing curiosity and concern.

The scholar packed his treatise and slung his traveling bag back over his shoulder. He approached the table slowly and sat down across from Magnus. "Do forgive a presumptuous question from a total stranger but are you all right, sir?" Tristam asked.

[Black Cat]

Magnus didn't have to wait long before someone gave in to the temptation to demand an answer of him. A man had sat down across from him, and like most would be, he was interested to know why Magnus was "talking to himself".

"Do forgive a presumptuous question from a total stranger but are you all right, sir?" The man asked.

Magnus carefully studied the stranger. He appeared to be a scholar, or perhaps nobility, but it was not his clothes that gave this away. It was the way in which he spoke that revealed this. Polite, refined, and frankly quite surprising in a country tavern. Finally Magnus answered him, as the awkward stillness at the table had dragged on for far too long.

"You think I'm out of my mind don't you? Magnus responded. In truth he felt a little ashamed about the incident which this stranger had unfortunately witnessed, but it seemed the gods weren't ready to let him forget it. So he closed his eyes, sighed, and waited for the man to answer.

[Tristam]

Do I think he is mad? Tristam considered the question carefully. It would be the most likely explanation, but the man before him was more jumpy than insane. He looked tired, almost soul sick. No, Tristam did not think he was mad. Still, it was too soon to tell.

"That is only one of several plausible explanations." Tristam replied easily. "I usually don't like to commit to an answer until all of the facts are in." Tristam smiled slightly at the man. "You have more experience with your mental state than I have. What is your expert opinion on the matter? Are you mad?"

[Black Cat]

The way this man spoke was beginning to unnerve Magnus, still something about the stranger fanned the flames of his curiosity. With this being the case, he concluded the man was worth it. It was time to try again at an old game.

"Yes I'm quite insane, but that doesn't mean they aren't real." An answer he hoped would startle the scholar. It certainly startled others, Magnus could feel the eyes of a dozen individuals hanging on to every word he spoke. Were they interested in his apparent madness? Were they concerned for the stranger's safety. Or both? The man across from him didn't appear to care, but Magnus did. He never liked being watched, but to his relief the silence was shattered a third time that day, and it was something even he had not foreseen. It was starting to rain. Is the flawless sunshine always to be broken by sudden storms? Magnus thought to himself. It was not his negativity, he simply knew nothing about the area, in fact, he didn't even know where he was. Perhaps the scholar knew...

[Tristam]

Tristam’s smile froze in place at the man’s words. “Yes…,” he said slowly, “I suppose those two options would not be mutually exclusive.” Tristam swallowed thickly and edged his chair back a little. Suddenly, he was grateful for the many pairs of eyes glancing their way. Likely they would simply get a good view and tell their neighbors on the morrow if a fight broke out. Still, witnesses were a comfort. Besides, the stranger’s madness did not seem of a homicidal nature. Yet.

The spattering of heavy rain on the windows jolted Tristam from his morbid musings. Having come this far, the scholar had no intention of not asking the pivotal question. “What exactly are they?” Tristam asked. “What do you see that unnerves you so?”

[Black Cat]

"The whispering." How Magnus loathed to say it, in his mind those words were eternally damned. Still he clenched his fists and continued. "They are the mad dead, lost among the living, their insanity forever excluding them from their chosen heaven." This was dangerous information, but was not what he feared the scholar knowing. "I learned to see them long ago, along with so many others..." With this Magnus paused, as the scholar now looked a little taken back. It put his mind at ease to know this, if the scholar was startled by this, he couldn't be one of "Them".

Magnus sighed once more, and pondered his words. He knew that he would wonder for as long as the stars burned, whether or not he should have imparted this knowledge. He himself knew how to endure, but thoughts like these could take there toll when floating in the minds of those so tempted by the truth. Yet perhaps this man was different, perhaps this man was more resilient. He could only hope this was the nature of the inquisitive stranger.

Magnus' ramblings helped pass the time, but the moment seemed to drag on endlessly, and the gentle melody of the icy rain striking the window made it seem as if the gods were now beginning to display their indifference to his suffering.
Had he gone to far? It would soon be time to find out.

[Tristam]

Tristam's eyes widened as Magnus described his.. well visions was the wrong word. He simply saw the dead, the restless dead. Or he was insane. Or both. Tristam felt in need of a stiff drink and went to raise his hand to call over the barmaid. His hand barely lifted off the table before he checked the movement. He did not want his jumpy host to misinterpret a raised hand.

The rain slapping against the window panes filled the silence but made it no less awkward. Tristam cleared his throat and leaned in a little. "I have read accounts of dark priests and sorcerers wresting spirits from their sleep to compel knowledge and service from them. Once I spoke with a man who claimed to call upon his ancestors' benign shades for guidance and strength." Tristam raised his face to look Magnus in the eye. "So I am prepared to accept that what you say may be true. But why would you do such a thing?" Tristam leaned further forward to speak in hushed tones. "Why train to the see the ghosts of the mad? Was that not the intent of your learning or is there a purpose to it?" Tristam shivered and the chill from the windows had nothing to do with it.

[Black Cat]

"They were not the goal, they were a byproduct. Victims of the crusades we lead." It all began flooding back into his mind, he could feel his heart beating rapidly as tried to continue. "The order cruelly imposed its beliefs on people. Hirana said it was necessary, that it was the work of the gods..." Magnus' hands started to shake, but he was determined to finish. "Hirana...He called himself a holy man, but I knew he was lying...."They" knew he was lying. He was a necromancer..." Magnus eyes widened and he without thinking he blurted out one final line. "Thats why they chase me! I killed...I killed Hirana...with all that he taught me...but they won't go away! I killed so many...so many people..." Magnus couldn't take this conversation anymore, with those last words he slammed his head to the table, and began to sob, hoping he could forget.

The rain outside was becoming increasingly violent, what was a once a small shower was quickly turning into a heavy storm, and the once lively crowd had whittled down to nothing more than a few barmaids. The scholar still sat across the table. Though Magnus barely noticed, he wondered briefly what the scholar would think, as these were days he cared greatly what people thought.

[Tristam]

For long moments, Tristam did nothing as the haunted priest shed tears to rival the rainfall. Was there anything to do? Were these visions just punishment for an evil life? It was poetic justice worthy of the greatest bards. He should walk way and leave Magnus to his torments.

Yet, Tristam continued to sit there. He prided himself on being a keen listener. That was real anguish in the broken man's voice. Magnus was penitent as well as pained. So, was there anything to do? All his years of scholarship provided no facts on how to sooth a heart in pain or redeem a lost soul.

Wordlessly, Tristam slid a hand forward and closed it over one of the fallen priest's. Words were inadequate in the face of such pain. Tristam hoped that his simple gesture would be eloquence enough.