Shattering The Rivalry (Closed)

[Allennia]

Shattering The Rivalry
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=51oHwMiqslo&feature=related)


Closed to Cade Smith. Set within a tavern in the Slums of Numarr, in the City Honourable named Scara Brae.


Stars shine on the brave.
Fortune favours them.
But it is only the truly stupid, the blind, that benefit from the future.
Stumbling blindly they go,
Fighting fury,
Pain,
Hate.
For the few failing moments of empathy,
Those shining hours of rivalry, they persevere.

“You wish to rein the arcane within the city?” Abhorrash waited a moment, considering the poultice the man wished to apply to the walls of Scara Brae with considerable interest. “I am listening, although I hold my tongue not because I am weary of your pledge, but because I hold no dealings with jumping to conclusions. You will have to work hard to convince me to join your cause, even though I am honoured to be asked, honoured to be brought to the brink and precipice of our great ally; change.”

"But if you indeed are a messenger, then to the planets I praise your arrival, sir, and let us discuss this further." The words snapped in the air like frost taking lives in the bitter depths of winter. Their meeting had been one of chance, an encounter like any other spread across the expanse of time; in a dusty tavern on a spring afternoon as many clichés described in books and paeans of old. The mage named Cade Smith made Abhorrash an offer he was struggling not to accept at the simplest of behests, but here he was all the same, listening to the further description and detail of what would become, perhaps, an interesting sabbatical in the island nation of dreams.

[Cade_Smith]

Cade let his thin fingers trace an outline he had learned schooling with the Milieus Cordeaux. It was a circle surrounding a pentagram, with a hexagon touching the points within the star shape. He had learned it through study, but the symbol was nothing more than a shape without the power behind it. Summoning, elementalism, and general entropy spells had been the current course of study for the young sorcerer within the walls of the mages guild. But what he had seen while in those walls was unflattering for the power that the mages of the Cordeaux commanded. A legion of Templar soldiers, little more than heavily armored brutes, watched the everyday goings on of the mages. From the mundane to the arcane brilliance they paid close attention. When a power was developed or learned that could possibly be beneficial to the militaristic hand of the University they took it. Like leeches they sapped at the strength of the Cordeaux, taking what they wanted and empowering themselves with others accomplishments.

It was a common occurrence, from what Cade had seen and heard whispered amongst the general populace. Even in the countries abroad, magic was used frivolously and without restraint. Any man, woman, or child could find themselves with a little coin and trade in their money for a sword that could create fire, or a scroll that would streak bolts of lightning. Being a sorcerer, mage, or wizard was nothing more than being a farmer in the lands of Althanas. The young man, seeing that his future path was to be harvested and used at the will of the military and peasants, was unpleased. He wanted to not be the cash crop of the masses, he wanted to be unique, he wanted to hold the prestige that came with the title mage. If every man with a sword, shield, and armor was able to deflect or channel his latent powers with little more than an enchantment placed upon their wares he was no longer unique. He no longer had a purpose in learning his abilities.

“I’m merely suggesting that we do something about the magic whoring that had taken over Althanas.” Cade whispered his words, unsure of his own tongue and motives and untrusting of the patrons at the quiet tavern. He looked around, letting his brown eyes touch the bodies of anyone within sight. Very few frequented the slums of Numarr, of those that rested within the weary common room none looked like anything more than peasants. No swords, no weapons, just ragged garb that wrap their tired bodied. Cade was almost sure that none of the men within would be working for the University. What he spoke of, what fueled his personal fire, was nearly treasonous to both the Cordeaux and the Templar’s. “Have you not seen it for yourself? Haven’t you seen a warrior with a weapon that could stop magical assault, or a shield that could deflect and divert our arts? Is it really anything more than basterdation of our powers, the masses grow and feed on our abilities, and yet we see no money from the methods of that give them these abilities.”

Cade sipped at his ale, his first and only one. He had frequented the Promenade so often that the taste of the warm brew was familiar to his pallet, but his body was slow in keeping pace with his love of alcohol. Too many and he was just another child drooling on a worn tavern table. He could hardly afford to have control of his mind and body lost to the vices of drinking. “I want to form a group of like minded individuals, people that can see my ideas as a cause and not just a young man’s hope. I want to stop wares from being produced, unless we create them. The money gained from enchantments should come to our pockets, not the fat merchants of the Bazaar in Radasanth, or to Templar knights and anyone else that would like to stifle our goals in order to gain.”

[Allennia]

The young mage rattled through his case, and Abhorrash listened intently to each turn of phrase and scornful repertoire of incestuous insult. The livery in the man’s words inspired the noble, for he had indeed witnessed the treason to the ancient laws unravel before him in his short stay in the city. Such boundaries and control were unthinkable to him, and to his very fabric of being. “I certainly take stock of such a situation, Cade, but I come from the farm lands far from here, I do not or will not involve myself in the affairs of other nations without great rise to do so.”

“Having said that,” he continued, drinking from his flagon between clauses, “I would like very much to offer my assistance to the Guilds-man, if I am right in calling them that. Such an offer is primary to my short length of time here, for I have a task of much greater importance to solicit my day with.” He did not speak of things Cade would not understand, nor would he learn of, unless he gained Abhorrash’s trust or the rights to learn of his way of life, of his people’s progeny. “There is much left to discuss before such an offer becomes petrified with agreement, however. I know little of Scara Brae beyond its Chanter, the healing quarter and the simple layout of its districts and organisations."

The tavern bristled for a moment with a sudden well of activity and the red mage lowered his voice so that only his acquaintance could hear him. Patrons came and went in increased number as if the docklands had called time or the families and friends of families had ensconced from their places of work for their routine break. “All I know in my earnest experience is that the Milieus Cordeaux operates both as a sanctioned place of learning, but one that is chained to the Templar Ordos and the Queen’s fear of magic, of the unrestrained practice of sorcery within her city. It is an admirable, if misplaced notion, for magic can never truly be contained. If anything,” he leant back and settled into the wooden and rickety chair as the swell crowd began to fade, comfortable with speaking openly once more, “I would say that the Ordos must remain, its rigidity and academic fruition must be in place.”

He saw the distrust and disappointment in Cade’s expression, and smiled with his own. “By which I mean it is the Templars that must be removed; there is nought wrong with a university, I myself was taught the reins of magic, and I strongly believe that all such pupils and disciplines of the many schools – from destruction, to divination, to necromancy and beyond, should be taught under the tutelage of a master worthy of such a title. We all have something to impart to others, even if we ourselves are mere apprentices to the eternal foray of life.”

Abhorrash began to feel comfortable and content in speaking to another mage at long last. Whilst it had been only two months since he departed the Valley under the cover of darkness and pretence of solidarity and sanctuary, he had missed the company of his father, the Ice Oramancer, and the Magister Jurran. “So in my lack of knowledge, I ask that you tell me of the structure of the Templers, teach me all I need to know of the Mage’s Guild, of Scara Brae and the rivalry between its factions. Perhaps my repayment and pledge will come in the form of teaching of my own expertise.” He smiled once more, drank from his flagon, and returned the ball to the grass court of his new found companion, silted with sun and dust and the faint smell of urine. "More importantly," he amended, "tell me more of this group of 'like-minded' people, and how I could help."

[Cade_Smith]

Great rise to do so! What greater rise could there be than to have your own motivation for life itself torn out from under you? Cade could not understand the man’s ideals against partaking in the plot. Forming a group of individuals with a mindset equal to, if not stronger than, the enemy that stood against them was a goal that the young man had. A sip of ale to calm his nerves and his tongue, the boy waited patiently. Abhorrash was intelligent, that much could be discerned from his tongue and choice of words. He was a man with a mission in his life that surpassed that of petty grievances. Something drove him in life; Cade could tell that by how careful he was to engage in anything that might take him away from whatever it was that spurred him.

“You want knowledge of the alignment of the guilds and people of Scara Brae. I can understand that.” Cade sighed and shifted. His body was going numb in awkward places. Time was passing quickly, though only words were being passed. It was a good sign, that the ideas that the two were going to be passing back and forth were not dull or tiresome. “I have looked into the University and how it functions. As a student, my interest had been received as common, keeping me out of the eyes of the Templar’s. From what I have seen there is a troublesome current that runs under the illusion of security and common interest. The queen has a fear of the unknown, a fear of magic itself. Under her employ was once the greatest of warriors Scara Brae has ever known. The Red Halo, a man of myth and legend. Have you heard of Letho Ravenheart of Corone? The Halo was something like him, but commanded more of those around him and kept the heart of the island pumping.

“He is gone though, and with his retirement, or death – either could be the case because nobody knows where he disappeared to – the queen has given control of much of his former domain to those she sees as powerful enough to handle it. The hands of the mages of the Cordeaux have been tied down by the Templar knights that join them – for what little that is worth – to create the University. The Knights of Scara Brae, the elite fighting force of the island, have been put to the task of defending against goblins. What is left in the socio-political power that was once under one person is divisions of intrigue that have formed into multiple smaller bands. Knights fight goblins, Guard fights Scourge, and peasants have risen up against the nobles when they can, and the only thing that is seemingly united is the University… but at its heart there is more strife than any other factions currently vying for control.”

Cade sat back and sipped at his ale, letting his words sink in. The mug was halfway through, a signal that his time left was growing smaller and smaller. Eventually the student would be required to attend class. If he passed another day without going it would be noticed, and the generosity that had allowed him to join without a penny and on his merit alone would be lost. The sun peered through the window; the bottom edge of its light was just barely meeting the top of the grimy window. Another hour at most, that was all that the boy could afford to the discussion. How have I gotten myself into this mess? I came from a simple life, daily chores and adoring family. The life of my father and mother gone, and suddenly I desire to be something much more than my age would normally allow. I wonder where I would be if the outpost they had labored in had not been destroyed, if it had been passed to me? Would I have been just another merchant stuck in a life of repetition?

“The point is that if we do nothing that the University will continue to be a split-interest faction. It will be nothing more than another warring community of people forced to feign friendship.” Cade leaned in towards the man and looked into his eyes. The boy’s face was stern, his lips were pursed between sentences, and he hoped to the gods above that his conviction was not ignored. “If anything, I am still looking for people to join. That is the truth. I need to start small, gain an interest with other people who proclaim to be mages, sorcerers, and wizards. I need to get those that no longer want to be taken advantage of. This idea, this mission of mine goes far beyond individual goals in life. What can one do to protect a wronged family when those that stand against them are allowed to have our magic with nothing more than gold? What can one do to protect his people, village, or anything for that matter if they can do nothing to right the wrongs of the world itself?

“Some will call my idea a foolish errand. I know that I am young, barely a man, but these are not illusions of grandeur that spur me. I want to have this done. The stronger my convictions, the possibility that my idea will spread. There will be naysayers, those that look at what I want to do and laugh at me.” Cade pushed his hands across the worn table and tilted his head. The dull light of the inside of the tavern caught the sides of his hood, casting shadows. But he wanted the man to see his eyes, peer into his soul if he could. The light of the sun pierced the shadows of the hood and lit up his face. Instead of wincing against the sun-shine, or turning away from it, he let it give him the glow he wanted. “What I need is you, and me, and anyone else that will accept what I say as truth. Magic is not to be controlled by those that cannot understand it.” He huffed and leaned back to sip his ale. “By the gods, those of us that use it don’t even know how to control it, we only know how to manipulate it. That there are those that cannot fathom its use other than how to wield it after they steal from those that can use it, that those people think that they can actually control it or us should be reason enough to join.”

[Allennia]

“I think that I have heard all I require to make a decision,” Abhorrash smiled, flicking his hair from his eyes and tucking them in parallel strands behind his ears. “So my simple question is one of reciprocation. You speak of control and disorder, and of magical unruliness within the city. If you show me the extent of your control; that you Cade Smith, are of the right body and mind to lead a rebellion of sorts against this stagnation of intellect, then I am yours; willingly serving the cause you seek to implement into action.” He spoke with a firm and resolute tone, but one that carried friendliness in it's accent.

The clatter of glasses and the smattering of cries and laughter in-between created an erratic ambiance of change in the tavern, one the red mage liked very much. In the village he came from, everything was serene and idyllic, a transient sort of twilight between existence and solitude that he had expected to be so comforting. The bustle of the city was a mind’s stretch away from his own reality, but already he had come to admire its electrical impulses, its static excitement. He could do very well here, if he ever got the chance to return from the ecclesiastic rite of his birth title.

“How one might accomplish such a demonstration when one cannot practice magic in the streets with an open audience is something I have not considered. Perhaps, if you would consent, we can demonstrate our understanding of the semantics of the magical arts in the Citadel.” He adjusted his robes and leant sideways, disappearing briefly behind the veil of the blood stained table to scoop something up from the floor. “I-” he grunted himself upright, “do not wish to push you into such an event, but it is the safest way beyond theoretical discussion.”

He deposited the spell book onto the table and let it fall open naturally. As he leant back and crossed one leg over the other, clearly showing signs of comfort in his surroundings, the pages stopped dead centre. Fate shined and smiled on them both. “Tell me Cade, what is that pattern you see before you? It is something universally recognised between the schools of magic and its practitioners, regardless of their artistic form.”

Before the young sorcerer was a pictogram of eight concentric circles, located and connected by a coloured line to a central sphere, in which there were five more circles connected into a star. Whilst its form was somewhat different to the magical teachings of the University what Abhorrash showed Cade, his new friend and ally, was the very depiction of the winds of magic - the very fabric of chaos and wrath Althanas over. The red mage sipped the dregs from his tankard and waved for the barman to bring over another round as a form of passing the time, whilst he gave the young man a chance to prove his worth in return.

[Cade_Smith]

Cade watched with interest, but little understanding of what the man was trying to convey. He wanted to help, had said so through his own strange way of phrasing his intentions. Abhorrash, though, was one of the types of people that the boy had trouble understanding. The mage was not exactly atypical Coronian commoner, he did not have the false illusions that everything in the world was meant to be good or bad. He understood balance, and understood being taken advantage of –in whatever capacity; Cade figured it had happened to him at some time. He is sporadic, changing his thoughts from help, to fighting. What is the point of displaying my ability to use magic if it is going to gain nothing more than another bruise and another defeat in the Citadel?

Fighting, though a necessity in life had been something that the young sorcerer had found was not exciting. The Citadel was a magnificent place to display ones prowess with blade or arcane ability. It was a religion for some, but a place of decadence for others. People like Cade, those that had no reason to prove anything, were subjected to being destroyed at the hands of another –only to be revived and sent on their way as nothing physically had happened. A place that the battle-heartened and powerful thought of as a breeding ground for future failures.

“If we fight in the Citadel, what will that prove?” Cade tapped the side of his glass mug, the ale quivering with every rap. Wasting time was not something that he was willing to do; once his mind was set in something it was hard to keep him from going through with it. A child, barely old enough to be called an adult, yet ready to fight to make a difference. “Fighting does not show what a person who’s magic is useful for healing can do, much less someone who can make it rain, or a mage with the ability to read magic. You want to know if I can throw a fireball? Yes. Can I create a shield to defend myself? Of course. Is there a point in traveling to Corone and fighting in the Citadel only to come all the way back to Scara Brae? Not in the slightest. There is too much work to do, too little time to do it in, and I do not want to waste it fighting to prove nothing that I can’t show in other ways and at other times.”

Indignantly the young sorcerer looked at the opened book and at the symbol that he was shown. It was a magic drawing, what it had to do with anything was beyond Cade. “It’s something about wind, I don’t know though. I’ve only just begun to study magic, and my ability to read magic isn’t as good as other people’s yet. Still a student of the arts. What does it have to do with anything though? It feels like you’re trying to force me to prove something, when in truth I think I have proved plenty. I have given you much more than most would have, trust. You know my intentions, and though that isn’t enough to go to the government with and be taken seriously, it is enough to bring to the University. The Templar’s will take you more seriously, though a kid without a name to impress anyone is hardly worth anyone’s time. I still gave you enough to cause myself trouble if you did something with it.”

Cade rose from the chair and downed the rest of his mug. “If you have something important to ask me to create undoubted proof of what I have to say, do it. At the moment, you’ve spent more time worrying about yourself and what you can get out of things than you have what I’ve said. The Citadel? Tell me what this symbol in my big book of magic is? What do those have to do with anything other than you wanting to test me?”

[Allennia]

“Good,” said Abhorrash, wistfully appreciating Cade’s resolve. In his eyes, he believed in his cause, and that belief was all that the red mage wished to see. “You’ve no need to prove yourself to me sir; I have seen all I wish to see and ‘tested’ you enough to know that you are sincere in this cause. I will obey, and be at your side to see an end to this extremity. Forgive my manner,” he stood and mimicked Cade’s departure, downing the remnants of his beer with fortitude beyond his years.

“Walk with me a while and I will tell you of these ‘winds’ you seem to recognise. Forgive my manner also, I am much accustomed to the courtly regalia and high speech that accompanies it, I’ve yet to find,” he minced his words, struggling to think of an appropriate metaphor, “My roots, you might say.” He flipped the book closed and tucked it into his robes, hiding away its secrets from prying eyes and tormenting paranoia.

“Perhaps, just perhaps, we can come to understand one another a little bit more – beyond the propensity to dream and the mutual interest we both have in shattering the rivalry between apostate and preacher, warrior and scholar.” He gestured to the door as he dropped a few lose coins onto the table in the way of a tip. “Lead on, you know the city better than I and it is a glorious day!” Abhorrash began to like Cade, like him very much. The comment on trust had appeased the Lord’s curiosity more than he had anticipated, and slowly, but surely, as the sun and the alcohol in his blood boiled to fruition, he began to trust the young mage in return.

[Cade_Smith]

Apostate and Preacher, he said the words so easily together that it almost seemed they contradicted each other. One was an outcast against some social norm. The rebel, the renegade, a fugitive against culture and structure. In Scara Brae the Scourge were the renegades against society, but so too were the Rangers of Corone. Both stood against what was commonly accepted, yet they did so in completely different ways. What made one appear evil and the other appear good was not that they were rebels, but a difference created by their causes. A preacher, on the other hand, was someone that stood out and made it known what his beliefs were. Persecution was to be expected. “Is there really a difference between the two? Am I not preaching my rebellious cause? I am both; I am already shattering the rivalry that is assumed to exist between the two.”

Cade stood with his companion, his quickly budding friendship showing on his face. He flushed slightly with how quickly he rose and how warm his cheeks felt from the ale he had finished much quicker than he had intended. A smile lit his face. The barmaid watched the two with a smirk as they left. It was not often that two people came in to meet in a slum tavern in Numarr, especially not during the daytime. The boy met her eyes with his and nodded towards her knowingly. It was the reason he had chosen the tavern to meet with Abhorrash, secrecy. If the sun fell, the tavern would be sprawling with cutthroats and knifes-for-hire, during the day it was quiet.

“Sorry for not ordering much more than a couple pints,” the sorcerer said as he smiled at the woman. He pulled out a few extra coins and placed them on the table. “I know we’ve taken up your time, and have not really paid for anything more than the couple drinks we had to compensate. The least I could do would be giving you a little extra for your patience.”

Without waiting for a reply, Cade pushed open the door and closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply. The scent of the salty winds sweeping through the tightly packed slums was tinged with the stale taste of the Numarr district. The warm, high sun basked the dingy district with a light that was as bright during the day as the night was dark. “So,” Cade said when the red-mage walked through the door and just past him. “Explain to me what you know. I’d be interested in learning more from anyone, even if the mages of the Cordeaux aren’t involved in my teachings.”

[Allennia]

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” the red mage replied ad homonym as the sun kissed his temple and he felt momentarily alive, if not a little lethargically drunk in the heat. “There is more to life than the correct application of liquid pressure to a cause, I’d say,” he reeled a little bit, “you’ve outdone yourself in that regard!”

As Cade asked him the question he had no doubt wanted to ask all along, it came to Abhorrash’s attention that he did not know that much – after all, he was no more than a student himself, but his education had been more productive than whatever chances and opportunities the young sorcerer before him had access to. He would start with the Circle, the Eight Pronged Star within, and the fundamental tenets of the magical lore – the Ancient Laws themselves. He half placed a bit with himself that his new found friend would not lest the whole lecture, students the universe over had done far worse.

“The symbol I showed you inside,” he went about opening his spell book again, proffering the visual aid to his new pupil with an eager finger and a grin, “is that of the Circle – the eight schools and colours of magic that permeate most wizardry, magery, and to some extent sorcery, although the later has its own laws of governance far more complex than things I could come to comprehend.” They walked down the alleyway and came out onto an altogether busier street, two streams of people crossed east and west, to and from the busier Market Square to their right, and the departing ships to distant lands to their left. Abhorrash felt this was the perfect opportunity to discuss magic right out into the open, their flaunting of these pedantic laws from the pedagogues of the Queen’s council would begin right away, if not a little silent in its bark.

“The first four colours are those of the elements, mages and wizards draw a myriad spells from these and their colours are recognised by most. Orange for fire, cyan for water, olive green for the earth and light purple for the air; each has an ancient name but that depends on which culture you learn from, and to what extent you believe in calling upon ancient deities in your spell casting. Fire for example was once named Indigro, the Ravenous, and water to my people is known as Zithr, the Wind of Knowledge and so forth,” he cocked a smile to Cade, realising he had probably gone too quickly, “call them what you like in your own time is what I’m trying to say.”

“Then the bottom four is Spirit, represented by the dark grey circle, and then life, which is golden, and death, the arts of necromancy and neurosis of course is represented by this deep purple and obsidian shade of black,” he tapped his finger definitely onto the relevant circles as he described them, and bit his lip to concentrate on his memories, reprising his long evenings spent in the company of the Magister Jurran, and how boring they had been. “Then there is the circle some call the Eight Eye, the one I draw my skill from, for it is more an amalgamation of the other colours and their associated schools of knowledge; The Colour of Magic combined – Numarr, the Wind of Fusion.”

They came to the end of the road and the smell of Redden pies and a thousand and one delicacies from Scara Brae and far beyond folded in on itself into the unique aroma of Market Square. It had been famously described as ‘tantalising and ravenously odorous’ at the same time, kicking you in the gut and lifting you on a sugar high in a rotating cycle. Long had Abhorrash wished to see it for himself and fate had lead him here, for had he not long had he the urge to look for ancient relics in the Bazaars that lead off from this hubbub of economy to procure aid in his own search for answers?

“The eight of the winds is where I draw my power from, an ancient school of mages known as the Red Brethren, or simple as Red Mages if you like. I cannot proclaim greatness in anything but thaumaturgical knowledge and the ability to fuse very minor spells from the other winds into perhaps a more utilitarian school and repertoire, but perhaps, if you tell me what spells you know and what machinations you need to conjure them, I could teach you the simplest tenets of the School and aid your understanding of fusion and expansion and combination?”

He looked at Cade, smiled once more, put the spell book away and stopped to conquer a stall owner with greedy talons stretched before him, dropping coins into the man’s nervous hands as he withdrew. “But of course, food for thought is always welcomed!” He held out one of the apple-based treats to his companion, and waited for his return serve to come full force into his slowly burgeoning sobriety.

[Cade_Smith]

Everything the mage said, everything he explained, it was so much and so quickly explained. Cade wandered with him, mostly looking at the man. Instead of paying attention to where they were headed, he was staring at the man’s face. His mouth moved as quickly as it seemed it did, but it was the expressions on his face that the younger sorcerer paid attention to. True love and understanding was plainly shown with every explanation. Cade would curiously look at the book, but paid more attention to the man’s words. If he was going to even remotely learn anything about what Abhorrash was trying to teach, he was going to need plenty of books of his own to study. Also, it would be paramount that he could practice without being hated for what he did and wanted to know. Knowledge was a dangerous thing, feared by many in Scara Brae.

It wasn’t until the sweet apple-treat was presented and the spellbook put away that Cade finally looked around at where he was. The streets were lined with people, from commoners to those that looked like they belonged to the infamous Scourge of Scara Brae. Guards meandered, or simply leaned against walls and watched from a distance. Their brilliant cuirasses were highly polished, brushed steel to symbolize their position among society.

“We can’t talk about this in the open,” Cade said as he sniffed the pie and hid his mouth behind the sweet-treat. Some would consider his notions something akin to anarchy, but he saw it as nothing more than awakening what should have been legal and allowed long since. “Let’s continue as we walk,” he said as he shrugged his head towards the river of people. Muttering in the crowd would allow their voices to be masked by the chatter of the sea of citizens; merely another undertone of unimportant dialogue.

[Allennia]

Abhorrash nodded in agreement and turned on a heel to follow the young mage as they dissipated into the teething masses. The curious state of affairs regarding magic and it's use in Scara Brae, across the whole island in fact was still unsettling to him. Suddenly, he had gone from a world where the ether was an every day part of living, to one where it was chastised from society and exiled into illegality.

"Hushed voices and silent witnesses do not change my offer, my question, or indeed, my state of mind." He waited for a few steps before continuing, side-winding with heavy and clumsy footfalls between a bacon seller and his profitable mistress. "You need only ask something of me, and I shall provide. Apple treats aside, fortunes cessated, we shall end this tyranny of the mind."

He doubted strongly that 'his word' would carry any more weight than his pledge of allegiance. The sun was beating down across the cobble stones and the exposed heads of the city's unwary citizens, and the heat was beginning to get to him. He pulled up his head and found the shade and the ability to see allot more comforting. With a crunch and a slurp, he finished off his food and deposited the wrapped into what appeared to be a rubbish cart; or perhaps it was somebody's possessions, he could not tell.

"The most important question now however, is where to go to next - what shall we do, whom shall we talk to, when shall we meet again?"

[Cade_Smith]

Fortune favors the bold; it was an expression that Cade’s father had told him over and over when he was still little more than a child. When he was young, fiddling with the unknown and exploring the latent talents that manifested more each year, he had not understood the expression. His father had been a great man, lived a life that not only showed the sorcerer how to be a man in his own right, but also how to be something more. His mother, on the other hand, had drilled diligence and the necessity for perfection in everything he did. Cade’s entire life had been something of a naïve fantasy. Both aspects of growing into a teenager had influenced daily life, and his training as a mage. On the streets of Scara Brae, standing next to another mage, he finally began to understand the expression.

At his command and request, Abhorrash was waiting to assist him in his goal. Magic would not be shuffled to the side, would no longer be something spoken of in hushed whispers as they were forced to do amidst the crowd of citizens. Cade was bold, and fortune was favoring him. Scara Brae was quickly becoming a place for power of an underground movement, and two mages were the only people leading the charge.

“What we should do is meet again in a couple weeks. Allow me to financially settle into the Cordeaux, as well as become welcomed. Friends in the fold, that is what we need. Without a group of people, we have no power.” Cade shrugged and stared at the pie without taking a bite. “When next we meet we will make a plan then, until then we need to keep quiet and figure things out personally.”

[Allennia]

"Then meet in a couple of weeks we shall, good sir." Abhorrash stopped in his stride and gave the young mage a re-affirming smile. There was much to do and much to see before they reconvened their machinations of liberty and justice. In the midday sun and under the clear blue sky, a bond was formed.

"I shall meet you this day, at midday, by the fountain in Market Square in two weeks?" He held out his hand to bid his farwell, and with his free hand he flipped up his hood to hide his face from the inquisitive nature of strangers. It was a long walk to the South Traveller's Quarter, and a longer walk in the grand scheme of life's journey before he was free to spend time sight seeing and doing things at his own leisure.

He had to save the council, but he did not think it a bad decision to save the souls of others as he did so.

"Perhaps we can share more of our knowledge of the arts then too?"

But he was long gone into the crowd and the potential of the morrow.

[Lord Anglekos]

Hey, I'll be the Judge for this thread. As requested, I'll be doing this with the condensed rubric; forgive me for the lack of heavy commentary, but from the impression I got in your request you weren't exactly looking for that in the first place.

~ Story: 14/30
I won't lie. At first, I was utterly befuddled as to what the heck was going on; with no background information to go on, I pushed through. I managed to get a grasp of what was going on, however, and despite the weak introduction and even weaker conclusion the strong sense of rising action kept me reading.

~ Character: 21/30
Your best areas. Your characters intrigued me with their words and actions, and the plot they had going on between them interested me. It's too bad you don't plan on going anywhere with it; I may have been interested in reading more, especially of Cade and his burgeoning youth.

~ Writing Style: 20/30
Allenia, you have your own unique style of creative writing, which I can appreciate. However, sometimes you use words in ways that I don't expect, and not in the "oh, that's a neat way of saying that" kind of sense. Your poem in the beginning was a nice creative touch, I felt, and added a point for that creativity.

~ Wildcard: 6/10
A short, but mildly entertaining thread. The use of symbolism and your characters defined personalities definitely trademark your work. I threw in an extra point again for the surprising read.

Final Score: 61/100
Allenia gains 710 EXP and 100 GP!
Cade_Smith Gains 710 EXP and 100 GP!

[Silence Sei]

GP-Exp added.