View Full Version : What now? (Solo)
(So I have decided to be very boring and create a solo thread for my first quest, just as a means of getting Ellion into the thick of Althanas. It is my hope that this quest will end in such a way that opens his story up and allows him to take part in adventures with other characters. I just needed to flesh out a few more things before I jump in completely.)
I do not care where you go, but you cannot stay here.
The words were burned into his mind as he was escorted from the academy grounds. Ellion Bast had spent the last few years studying histories and lore at the small mages academy of El’lor, located in western Corone, but now that he had been cast out for uncontrollable use of ‘magic’, he could remember little of what he was taught. He knew not where he would go nor what he would do. Instead, everything seemed like some sort of strange dream. He replayed the conversation over and over in his head, looking for an alternative to expulsion.
The Arch Mage had said that those who were unable to control their magical responses were unstable and a danger to those around them. Such individuals were to be cast out in the hopes that their inborn magic ability would remain latent and eventually die. In an effort to alert others to the potential dangers said individual presented, El’lor branded dangerous mages with a distinct mark, one that looked somewhat like an ornate dark red sun. Everything had happened so fast and Ellion had not had much of a chance to plead his case: one moment he was being struck by his former master, the next he was being defended by some sort of magic doppelganger that he had unwittingly conjured. Before he knew what was happening, armed guards had come to escort him to the Arch Mages office and inform him that his presence at the academy would no longer be tolerated. He knew not why or how he had manifested the doppelganger, but one thing was perfectly clear: it had cost him the life he had formerly known.
He glanced to the guards on either side of him. Both stood a fair bit taller than he was, and each was armed with a long silver blade. For a few moments he wondered what they thought of his…instability. Were either of them worried that this ‘mage’ between them would spontaneously combust? How willing would they be to run him through if his current stress caused another magical reaction? The thought of it made his insides tighten. How many mages had these two been asked to escort from the grounds?
No, I am no mage…I know no spells, no alchemy, and hardly any lore. I’m nothing more than a beggar at this point. Ellion took another longing look at the surrounding academy; it was not big, as far as mages academies went. Some of the other students remarked that the small collection of crumbling towers and dilapidated buildings was more an outpost for unsuccessful sorcerers and burnt out soothsayers than an academy proper. True academies had sprawling grounds, enormous towers whose peaked roofs touched the sky, and all manner of strange and exotic creatures. True academies had masters who did not abuse their pupils, and who were eager to learn and experiment themselves. El’lor may have been many things, but a home to understanding and friendly masters it was not.
That is one thing I will not miss.
As they came to the main gate of the academy, one of the guardsmen produced a small sack and piece of tightly rolled parchment from his satchel.
“It is common practice to give those leaving the academy a bit of coin and a map, so that they may proceed with their lives as they see fit.” He handed Ellion the items before beginning to turn and walk away. Before he had moved more than a few feet, however, he turned and looked Ellion up and down. “I am sorry. I have seen your mark, and I know the burden you must now bear. If I…if I may offer one piece of advice, it is this: do not trust that others will look upon you kindly. You are labeled as an Unstable. The local villagers know what that means. You may find the treatment we’ve granted you kind, all things considered. Others you encounter, they do not know what sort of magic may manifest if you are provoked. If I were you, I would leave Corone…at least for a time. Good luck, poor soul.” With those final words, the guardsmen looked to one another and began to pace back towards the main academy grounds, the large oaken doors of the academy gate closing behind them.
Ellion could not say how long he stood outside of those gates; his legs would not move, his throat was dry, and his chest was tight. His mind seemed to be stuck in mud, unable to gain traction on any logical thought. After a time, he finally unrolled the map of Corone that the guards had given him and stared blankly at the ink.
What now?
The map looked extremely foreign to Ellion’s eyes. He had not done much traveling since he was younger, and though he had some vague memories of what it meant to be on the open road, he also understood the vast amount of change that time can bring. The geography all seemed the same, but beyond the physical features laid people with a variety of personalities and problems. The idea of meeting others simultaneously excited and concerned him; it had been years since he had a true confidant, as El’lor discouraged personal relationships. The more time you allowed for friends the less time you would have to focus on magic, or at least that was what his old master had told him. Companionship, Ellion thought, would do him a world of good, especially given the confusing and sudden events. However, he also needed to pay heed to the warning of the guard.
Do not trust that others will look upon you kindly. Ellion understood that an unstable mage was a dangerous thing, and he could not begrudge others for feeling anxiety around him. One who couldn’t control their magic was like a ticking time bomb, and more often than not it was far safer to simply ignore one who had been given the mark. Additionally, though students of El’lor were mostly sheltered from the outside world, there were constantly whispered discussions of the war that raged beyond the safety of their academy. The rebels fought to carve out a brighter tomorrow for the land of Corone while the government did its best to snuff out the resistance movement. From the few times Ellion had overheard his master’s conversations, he could tell that it seemed to be the villagers who suffered just as much as the soldiers. Food stores grew low, and Ellion could only assume that a stranger such as himself would be viewed with suspicion, if not open hostility, should he stumble upon the wrong crowd. Times of war also bred outlaws, and Ellion was in no shape to defend himself.
His eyes made their way slowly from the academy’s western position. To the south lay a large mountain range that would be difficult to traverse, though it would not be the first time he had made that trek. What would they think if I returned, expelled? His parents had sacrificed much to provide him with the magical education; they were not poor by any means, for his father had been a successful merchant. However, El’lor had not been a cheap academy, and Ellion did not doubt that if there was in fact a war raging across Corone, it would have a negative impact on his father’s business. He was determined not to add to that stress. No, I must return only when I can give them reason to celebrate my arrival. He knew his mother would be pleased to see him regardless of the manner of his return, but his father would only be able to feign excitement. Ellion loved his father, but he knew that the man saw great personal gain in the magical training of his son. No longer would he be forced to simply sell crops; instead he could expand to potions and enchantments. Ellion had no wish to disappoint the man.
I should go north, he decided calmly, his nerves beginning to settle now that a plan was formulating. Radasanth lay almost directly north of the academy. As a boy, Ellion generally disliked cities; his father had given him free reign to run about and explore, but more often than not he sat huddled in their caravan. He had heard stories of bandits, thugs, and harlets who lured men in, only to take their money or their lives. Although he had never directly encountered any such individuals, the idea of large cities still brought him a bit of anxiety. Despite his negative feelings towards metropolitan areas, Ellion remembered trips to Corone’s bustling capital fondly, sitting on his father’s caravan as his mother told him stories of old heroes while he munched on sweet apples from his father’s crops. The nostalgia brought a brief pang of sadness to his heart. The idea of being a mage had seemed so exciting as a boy; he would go off on grand adventures, slinging balls of fire and great shards of ice, helping others with his knowledge of herbs and poultices. That future, however, seemed doomed now, and instead he needed to focus on alternatives. If he could gather some funds, perhaps he would be able to buy a bit of land and become a farming merchant like his father.
First he needed the capita to start. He would travel north to Radasanth in search of work, for the meager bag of coins that the guardsmen had given him would not last long. Additionally, the coins did little good if he had no place to spend them; a bundle of food would have proved infinitely more useful. A few dots appeared on the map, which Ellion could only assume were villages. Any one of those would certainly have a grocer that could provide him with provisions to last him the trip. With a last scan of Corone’s geography, Ellion rolled up the map, tucked it away in his tunic, and took a deep breath.
I should not worry. This isn’t ideal, but it could be worse.
The road had become overgrown with weeds from disuse. Where there had once been a clear cut path for travelers to follow now lay a road that was barely visible. Ellion paid careful attention to each step he took, for moving off into the wilderness would potentially add hours of travel time. In addition to being a safety measure, he also found it a nice distraction. Although he had somewhat come to terms with the thought that he was no longer allowed at the academy, his uncertain future still provided some anxiety. Instead, he focused on the road and the nature surrounding him. For a long time all he had known was the gray, decaying walls of El’lor. Now he was able to appreciate the quiet sounds of bird chirping and the gentle breeze that mussed his hair as he walked. The day looked to be a good one, with the sun rising high into the cloudless sky. He only hoped that the weather proved to be as cooperative throughout the entirety of his journey; poor conditions would prove to be an unpleasant companion.
The path that led travelers to and from El’lor was far more worn than Ellion would have suspected. He knew that the academy only received supplies a few times a year, but he wondered if it was even less nowadays. The provisions he received had always been meager, and it seemed rather strange to cast out an individual without providing them with any supplies other than a bag of coins. Perhaps the civil war he had heard whispers of was causing more dire consequences than he had originally assumed.
Still, he marched on with as much optimism in his heart as he dared allow. In his mind, Ellion began to practice some mental exercises that he had learned at El’lor. He recited verses from his favorite epic poems, reviewed the histories of various elf great houses, and tried to recall for a time which plants were edible and which would have you squatting behind bushes for hours. All in all, it made the time pass quickly, and that was how he preferred it.
The young outcast was in the midst of convincing himself that the small gray mushrooms he had seen sprouting on the side of the road were poisonous when an unfamiliar scent caught his nose. Where his nostrils had previously been filled with the earthy tones of dirt and leaves, he now began to catch hints of a cook fire. If he was not mistaken, a bit of game was being cooked somewhere nearby. Ellion’s stomach involuntarily voiced its approval of the smell, and he thought back to earlier that very morning when his master had given him a slab of stiff, moldy bread. He had not eaten today, and already his stomach had grown to feel quite empty. Ellion was not the type to keep his stomach waiting, if it could be helped. Sticking close to the road, he began to scour the surrounding forest for any hint of which direction the smell might be coming from.
In a bout of good fortune, he found the source a bit more up the road. Sitting next to the road on an old fallen tree sat an older looking man. His closely-cropped salt-and-pepper beard and bright eyes gave him the look of a friendly countenance, and the donkey loaded with supplies that stood next to him marked him for a merchant. The man leaned carefully over the pot that he had arranged over a fire, avoiding the steam that was slowly rising from within. When he finally noticed Ellion’s presence, he gave a short start before reaching cautiously behind the fallen oak he had been sitting on. For fear of what would come next, Ellion raised his hands, careful to do so in a way which would not reveal his mark.
“I swear, I am no outlaw!” he said hurriedly. The man paused for a mere moment before pulling out a long scabbard and laying it across his lap.
“Aye, I believe it, lad. ‘Cause if’n you was, I would have ta be putting this here blade through yer belly, and that would be one helluva way ta start my lunch here.” He continued to eye Ellion with suspicion as the mage stood as still as possible. “State yer business.”
Ellion lowered his arms slowly. “I am a courier from the El’lor Mages Academy. I come to take a missive to Radasanth, in hopes of obtaining more supplies for my companions.” Ellion reached into his tunic and produced the map, still tightly rolled. “I have my orders here. As I said, I promise I am no thief.” The old man sat and took stock of the mage. Before long, he tossed the sword back over the tree and gave a toothy grin, motion to a spot next to him on the log.
“Well then, you’ll have ta forgive my rudeness! Come then, have yerself a seat! I can hear yer damn stomach from here. Times may be tough, but not a merchant who serves both sides!” For a moment Ellion paused, unsure if he should be trusting of a man who just threatened to run him through. Before too long, however, his hunger had won him over, and he was sitting next to the man. His name was Abrahm, and he had just been headed to El’lor himself to see if he might offer the mages any assistance or potion supplies. According to Abrahm, he and his donkey, Timber, possessed the best alchemical ingredients in all of Corone. While Ellion doubted it greatly, he humored the man. In return, Ellion told Abrahm what he knew of El’lor’s alchemy supplies; they had been low on corpus root and hawk hearts, and their stores of bramble weed had nearly run dry. The old man tapped his well-trimmed beard gently and nodded his thanks before returning to his advice on gathering.
“Ya see, lad, the secret is knowin’ where’s ta find ‘em,” Abrahm said with a wink. He brought two wooden bowls from one of Timber’s many packs, filling them with the rabbit stew that he had been making. The thick cut chunks of meat had been well-seasoned, and the potatoes tasted most creamy to Ellion. Based on the quality of food alone, his expulsion from El’lor may have not been so bad after all.
“So lad, ye said yer headed ta’ Radasanth?” asked Abrahm. Ellion nodded between mouthfuls of broth. “Hrm…well, I hopes yer good with a sword then. They be havin’ need of swords.” Ellion paused for a moment, glancing once more at the sword that Abrahm had threatened him with earlier.
“Who’s ‘they’?”
“Why, everyone, I s’pose. Them Rangers, or the military…whoever pays best, I say!” The merchant gave a hearty laugh and a bit of the broth trickled down the corners of his mouth. He wiped it away sloppily before continuing. “Aye lad, if yer lookin’ ta make money, drop this carryin’ business and pick up a blade. That be the road ta riches.”
“Hm…well, if it’s a matter of riches, then I suppose the academy can get along without me,” Ellion said with a grin.
By the time Ellion had parted ways with Abrahm, the sun had started to sink lower behind the thick grouping of trees that laid to west of him. He had lingered too long, though the friendly and outgoing manner of the merchant had done much to lift his spirits. Additionally, he now had a more concrete plan: get to Radasanth, join an army. He was no swordsman- in fact, he had never even so much as picked up a blade- but he figured the army always had need of those willing to work. Unraveling the map once more, Ellion’s eyes scanned for the nearest village. The closest looked to be no more than a few miles, and he was confident that he would avoid spending the night in the woods. He only hoped that they would be as ignorant- or at least feign ignorance- as Abrahm had been. The old man never gave any indication as to whether or not he noticed the mage’s marking, and that was perfectly fine with Ellion. Perhaps others would be just as understanding.
Signs of occupation greeted him as he grew closer to the village. He started to notice individuals making their way up and down the path, occasionally nodding a greeting to him. Others regarded him suspiciously, no doubt assuming he was a deserter from one army or another. At one point he stopped to ask a young man how close he was to the nearest inn; the man shrugged and continued on wordlessly, ushering a large brown cow with him. Ellion chalked it up to bad manners and pressed on.
Before long Ellion stood near what he assumed were the border houses to the small town, though to call them houses would have been generous; most appeared to be little more than one-room huts. Some of the more well-off citizens had larger hovels, though their architecture was truly strange. Looking like large brown domes, the bases of some hovels had been lined with spikes as some sort of defensive measure. This fact alone gave Ellion a sense of discomfort. Weaving his way through the small village, he eventually came upon a true building, outside of which hung a large wooden sign labeled with one word: “DRINKS”. Assuming this establishment to be as good a place as any for information, the mage folded his arms over his chest to hide his mark and entered cautiously.
If the village and its poverty had proved a dour sight, the inside of the tavern was downright depressing. The only patron, a middle-aged man with a well-rounded gut that peeked from under his linen shirt, lay sleeping across one of the many wooden tables, while the bartender himself sat at the bar, drowning in what appeared to be a rather large mug of brown ale. Ellion’s nose caught a faint whiff of sour beer and he found himself doing his best not to gag. With a bit of work, the tavern might have been cozy, but it was clear now that it had not received any love or care for quite some time. A large fireplace near the bar was empty, its rushes scattered along the floor in front of it. Numerous tables had large gashes in them from what looked to be swords, and the bare marks where paintings once hung revealed marks and holes in the wall that added to the overall decorum of filth. Approaching the bartender, Ellion slid a silver coin from the pouch he had been given and placed it gently on the counter.
“Um…excuse me sir, I was hoping you might tell me where I can find a place to sleep for the night?” Ellion asked, doing his best to smile. The man raised his watery red eyes slowly, taking a long pull from his mug. A few droplets rolled down from the corners of his mouth before he pulled away and belched into Ellion’s face.
“Plenty of room outside. Piss off, we got our own troubles without beggars come looking for handouts,” he said, turning his gaze back to the beer.
The abruptness of it all took Ellion by surprise. He was used to people being generally friendly upon their first meeting, but this man was anything but. Biting his lip and wondering how much he was willing to press, he eventually leaned over the counter examine some of the dusty bottles that were on display.
“I am willing to pay, and I promise I am no beggar,” he said, acting with the distinct courtesy of a man who hadn’t just been belched at or told to piss off. This time, the man did not even give Ellion the satisfaction of acknowledgement. Instead, he simply drained the contents of his mug and moved to refill it. While his back was turned, Ellion slid the silver coin back from the table- there was no need to pay the man for simply being an ass.
Suddenly, Ellion felt a rough tap on his shoulder. He turned to see the formerly sleeping patron, his stomach sticking so far out that the mage was sincerely afraid he would burst, covering him in the ale that no doubt filled said belly. The man nearly stumbled, bracing himself on the bar before regaining his composure and pointing a chubby sausage-finger at Ellion.
“Come with me. I gots a place you can stay…is free,” the man said, his slurring making the words sound almost childish. Without more than another word, the man began to turn and stumble slowly from the bar. For a few moments Ellion watched the man, unsure what to make of the drunken invitation. Free lodging would be wonderful and allow more money for provisions. Acting purely on a whim, the mage began to follow the man from the bar, hoping greatly that the man was not homeless.
It did not take Ellion long to regret his decision to follow the man. They passed the bar three more times before the man stated profoundly, "Wait a minute...we're walking in circles..." Ellion placed a hand over his face to hide his frustration. When he moved it, the man had continued on his way, this time at a slightly brisker pace.
"Sorry...the ale's stronger than I remember," the man stated, his words slowly becoming slightly less slurred as they trudged down the alley of huts. Ellion was not entirely sure how the man could have forgotten where his own house was, considering the village was not very big to begin with. "M'name's Jon," the man continued, "Jon Arbor. You're in Dalltown. Poor timing. My wife...can explain more."
Soon the two found themselves standing outside a sizeable burrow, the base of which was lined in wooden spikes. As Jon fumbled at the door, Ellion took a closer look at the spikes; a bit of dried blood had crusted on a few of them, giving the oak a sinister look. He turned to notice the doorway to the hovel standing open and Jon entering, so he followed suit.
The inside of the hovel, while by no means extravagant, was a rather cozy household. A large ornate rug lay across the floor, covering the one-room hut. A single large bed lay at the far end of the hut, a fireplace sitting next to it. The room was mostly clear in the middle, while the walls were lined with furniture, a washbasin, a dresser, and various crates that undoubtedly contained various supplies. And seated next to the large crates sat an equally large woman in an unfortunately sized rocking chair. Her girth appeared ready to make the sides of the chair split, though she seemed unperturbed by it as she worked on sowing some piece of fabric. For a moment Ellion was unsure if she had noted their arrival. Suddenly, however, her eyes flicked up and examined them both. Her stare made the mage uneasy.
"And what is this, Jon? Not satisfied with the bandits merely raiding our village? Now you would have them live with us too?" She shot her husband an icy look, though he did not seemed the least bit concerned.
"Mary, he ain't no bandit," the man said, the alcohol still making his speech clumsy. "He's got a mark...he's one o' them...academy folk." The man covered his mouth, and for a moment Ellion feared that Jon was about to expel quite a bit of liquid. He recovered, however, and grasped Ellion by the arm, jerking it up to show his wife the marking. "See here?"
The women slowly stood and drew closer, taking Ellion's wrist in a gentler grasp and examining it carefully. She looked back to Ellion and sighed, shaking her head.
"Poor dear...I am sorry, then. I won't ask about it, as I'm sure you don't wish to tell it," she made her way back to the rocking chair and squeezed in. "Why have you come to Dalltown?"
For a moment, Ellion paused, unsure of what to make of the fact that they were undisturbed by his expulsion. Apparently people with blood-covered spikes lining their houses did not find outcast mages all that shocking.
"Well, I am on my way to Radasanth. I was hoping to find a place to stay, and perhaps some provisions. The academy does not equip outcast mages very well, and some sort of food would help smooth the journey." Ellion followed John to one of the numerous chairs that circled the room and took a seat. His wife, Mary, continued her sowing.
"Your name, boy?" she asked.
"Ellion. Ellion Bast, actually. I promise, I do not bring danger to your village," he said hurriedly. He was impressed by their goodwill, but he felt better stating his intentions.
"Well then, Ellion Bast. I must say that you picked a poor time to traverse the roads. We've seen quite a few attacks from outlaws lately," Mary stated casually, as if they were used to it at this point. "That's why the houses are built as they are. We didn't always live in such conditions...used to be we had a house, crops, everything. But everyone suffers with this war, and the bandits know with so many fighting men off to war that now is the time to strike. I'm afraid you'll have a tough time convincing folks to part with their goods." She gave Ellion a pitying look. "We can offer you food for tonight, and a place to rest your head, but I'm afraid we must ask you to leave in the morning. Other folks in Dalltown don't look on outcast mages as kindly as we do, and the less you linger the better."
Ellion sighed and nodded. He did not wish to bring added stress to these people, despite the fact that it would bring added stress to himself.
"I see," he said. "Well, might I ask, how many days is it from here to Radasanth?"
The woman stroked one of her chins slowly. "Been quite a while since Jon or I have had to make our way into the city. But I would say...four days on foot, maybe? Assuming you don't run into trouble from outlaws. There's a nasty fellow that patrols these woods, goes by the name Red Rotan. Best to avoid his men. He used to be one of us, a villager, but the war took quite a toll on the man."
Ellion chewed his lip for a moment, considering how he would fare against a group of bandits. His conclusion: not well.
"What would you recommend I do, should I stumble across this Red Rotan?"
"Honestly," Mary said, "run."
The bedroll they had given him had not been comfortable, but it had served its purpose. Ellion was well-fed and rested by the time he left Dalltown. The locals had regarded him suspiciously as he was leaving, though no more suspiciously than when he had arrived. Mary had been kind enough to provide him with a thin strip of cloth to wrap around his hand to cover his mark. If anyone asked, it would be easy to explain it off as a burn or cut, which Ellion hoped would save him trouble down the road. The eclectic couple had pointed him in the right direction to where he might find further shelter, though they informed him that he would need to keep a brisk pace in order to reach the town by nightfall.
According to their description, Dalltown had suffered the worst from the bandit raids. Since this Red Rotan fellow had hailed from Dalltown, it only made sense for him to pick it clean before he moved on to bigger and more lucrative targets. From what Ellion could surmise Dalltown had never been rich, or even very lavish at all; rather it had always been a farming village that had been made even more rundown by the attacks by bandits. Aside from Jon and Mary, none of the locals he encountered had been very friendly, and as a result he was not upset to be leaving.
The sun was beginning to rise as the town dwindled slowly out of sight, and soon he was surrounded once more by the pleasant sounds of nature. He had been blessed once again to travel on a pleasant day, though he did notice some clouds beginning to form in the formerly sapphire blue sky. Should the day's journey take longer than expected, he would surely be facing cold and wet conditions come nightfall, and that was not a prospect that Ellion relished.
The mage had been traveling for a few hours before he heard the distant sound of voices ahead. Whereas previously he had been eager to meet any sort of travelers in order to inquire about the distance between himself and the next village, his newfound apprehension over bandits taught him to be more cautious. Quickly he moved off the road, laying in wait behind a thick tree that looked partially dead. The voices grew louder, one a female and one a male; the topic of conversation was one that made bile rise in the back of Ellion's throat.
"So, so he flays her! She wouldn't give it to him, so he flays her! He said he was gonna make a new coat!" the man guffawed. The women seemed none too amused.
"Aye that's disgusting!" she shouted. "I understand he wants to make a point, but honestly Bren, that is some devil work if I ever heard it." The voices had grown close enough that Ellion figured they could be no more than twenty feet away. In the quiet solitude of their surroundings, their voices seemed amplified.
"You've a women's heart, I tell ya. A man has gotta make his point, otherwise folks don't take him seriously! That's why he killed that farmer chap- did no good to keep him around, had to kill him outright so there'd be no-" the man broke off suddenly. Ellion felt his heart begin to pound harder and for a moment he feared that the two would hear it.
"What is it?" the woman asked, clearly agitated. In a move that could not be defined as wise, Ellion peeked around the corner of the thick tree to search for the location of the voices.
What happened next all seemed like a blur. The two individuals ran towards him, hands outstretched. Ellion leapt to his feet in a panic and began to wheel around in an attempt to run. The thick brush around his feet tangled, and he clumsily fell to the ground. Soil filled his mouth and nose, though the sensation of disgust was quickly replaced with a painful surge of pain as he felt a knee land squarely on his back. He tried to call out, but merely coughed up some of the dirt that had clumped into his mouth.
"Should we carve him up?" the female voice asked. Panic began to seize Ellion, but only for a brief moment. He did not hear the response before he felt a dull pain erupt on the back of his head, followed by dizziness and black.
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