Stradia: Gathering Storm Ch. 3
 

"BLOODY HELL?!" Aieris literally screamed, shades of confusion and rage in her tone. Everyone at the city center turned their heads in the direction of the angry elf. The commotion didn't last long, and ended in Raenor putting out a small fire on his cloak.

The horsemen sent ahead of the refugees arrived at the city center, their horses ready to collapse. Without giving the poor beasts a single thought, they dismounted hastily and nearly cried out: "Refugees of war! Survivors from Gole and Wistria! They will be here shortly!"

Gorn, Raenor, Aieris, Elmric, Durin, Darren, Amelia, and Tomar were all still outside, delayed as the ranger and the young knight exchanged news and stories. For most of them, their worries evaporated. Some of it stayed, wondering if their loved ones made it, but some villagers did make it. They were grateful for that. Tomar ordered the leaders of the refugees to be admitted to the inner city, and set several guards off on tasks in preparation for a very large population increase.

It took half an hour, but Jacen, Jim, Rini, Tonrel, and Alandra arrived on horseback at the city center. Elmric got up immediately. "Jim! Rini!! May Avelia bless us all!" He walked as quickly as legs could walk over to their horses as they dismounted and they exchanged brotherly hugs and pats on the back.

Durin was next. He waived the disciplined march to his loved ones and ran nearly full tilt. Meanwhile, Tonrel got off the horse and did the same, albeit a bit slower. They both hugged each other, as if in a strength contest of some kind. Durin won. "Son! Oh, how I worried about ye."

"Aye, I spent every wakin' moment thinkin' of ye and mother. Where is 'mum?" Durin replied.

"She is helpin' the villagers, son. I would 'ave been too, but these young'uns nearly dragged me here witha rope." The old dwarf gestured to Jim and Rini and Jacen, then noticed Gorn. "Ah! Gorn, my friend!" Gorn walked over, smiling widely. "How are ye, Elder?"

Gorn put a hand on Tonrel's shoulder, who reciprocated equally. "These are dark times, but I have been graced with heroic companions, one of whom is your son. You have raised a fine man." Tonrel smiled, he seemed to be on the verge of tears.

Jim and Rini forcefully introduced their apparent saviour, Jacen, and his companion Alandra to Elmric. After a few minutes everyone, even Aieris, was mingling in the social outburst. The elven archer mostly stuck to examining her longbow as if it were somehow more interesting than any other. Finally, Tomar announced above the crowd.

"Sirs and Ladies, if you please, Lord Hebridean has requested your presence. I will delay him no further." The young knight turned on his heel and started marching towards the main doors of the city hall. Everyone followed, but stayed in their social groups and continued chatting even as they entered the building.

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OOC:

Couple quick notes, right now you guys can have some quick introductions/how have you been/etc conversations during the walk. It's a pretty big building, so there's SOME time. My next post will be the arrival.

For CMP, since I'm not down with the whole spacetime tear thing, I've figured out another way to include you into the party. But it can't happen now, that would require a powerful particle accelerator. You can still post, be in Midgaard, just walk around, introduce yourself, maybe watch the refugees arriving. I'll set up your merger as soon as possible (after they meet Hebridean and such).

"So, how have you been?" Elmric asked his brother and cousin in turn. "Not too bad, got attacked by thirty-something hunters, and that wasn't looking to turn out too well, but that mage completely incinerated one of the gargoyles and the rest bolted. If it wasn't for him, I think a few less villagers would have made it."

"Well, I'm just glad that you're here. It strengthens my resolve greatly." Elmric smiled at Jim and Rini before walking over to the others and listening to what they had to say.

Midgaard's Mended Drum had a reputation. Not the sort of reputation that made you the talk of the town and a must-stop for passerby. More the sort of reputation a place gains when people with existing reputations begin to frequent it, and passerby tend to erase it from their vision because...well, 'those sort' are probably inside.
Most of all it was not the sort of place a woman strolled into with the single intention of nourishment and not job opportunities. And even if a somewhat respectable girl did happen to walk in, she wouldn't scrunch up between the more casual patrons with a smile on her face, book in her hand, and insane muttering soldier at her back.
"Bugrit allem, unhand the damsel..." Artemis placed her book on the counter, ignoring Victor's muttering. A dwarf's hand started to snake towards her. A small wheeze sounding suspiciously like 'ahem' escaped her lips and Victor's sword came slamming down between the diminutive figure and the dark haired girl. The soldier's glare would be more at home if it was directed at a towering demon rather than a slightly buzzed dwarf who took the opportunity to scuttle along the bar.
"Do you think I'm pretty?" The girl's voice in the midst of the insanity snapped the bartender out of the madness and into the seemingly abyssal depths of her hazel eyes.
His face started to resemble a physical waiting symbol, some far away harps and pianos steadily clanging on inside his increasingly cloudy head. "...Yes, I think you're pretty..." And he not only believed it but devoted himself to the thought. Artemis was a shining symbol of all that was good in art, the muse upon which all future works of art should be modeled after.
"Aww, that's nice of you to say." She giggled, both a sincere and unnecessary gesture. "Am I pretty enough to have a free drink?"
The bottles were already produced before the utterance of "Of course" climbed through his vocal cords. Artemis watched the flowing liquid with great interest then took it before it overflowed. "Aww, thanks, could I trouble you for some peanuts and water for my Victor?"
"Sure..." As he walked past the girl, then the soldier, then the confused eyes of the regulars (the closest you could usually come to a free drink in the Mended Drum was prying the glass from the amputated fingers of the guy who had just insulted your mother), and into the back storeroom.
On his return trip one of the dwarfs mustered the courage to speak up against the insanity. "Hey Wolfgang, am I pretty enough for a free drink?" After Wolfgang finished knocking the dwarf into one of the dilapidated tables he stood in front of Artemis and unloaded a bag of peanuts and barrel of water.
Artemis nodded unenthusasitcally and the bartender began the first few moments of his eleven hour withdrawal and re-entry into the unclouded portion of the world. Floods of disheveled people streamed past the window. "Hmm...I'll have to go and see what fun's going on, eh Victor?"
"Stibber jikker, mac and Olaf."
"Hmm...good point, after the drink it is then."

Raenor had held back from the increasingly raucous celebration which greeted the arrival of family, friends and heroes from the refugee train in the city centre. Raenor couldn’t precisely say why, and if anyone had approached him too forcefully with his apparent withdrawal from the reunion, he wouldn’t have been able to provide any reasonable answer for his pensive mood.

As the conversation swept around him, he did his best to smile, offer small jokes and comments, and generally participate in the festive mood of the gathering. Some of the more outgoing members of the group noted the ranger's distracted expression, but paid it little heed. Too much was going well right now (though that did not stop a few from casting concerned glances at him).

“Are you well, Raenor?” Gorn asked as the ranger stopped suddenly, leaving the party to pass around him. The elder had noticed his sudden halt and had stopped in turn. “You seem troubled.”

“I wish I could tell you more certainly. All I can say at the moment is that there are unanswered questions which are distracting me,” the ranger replied, falling in beside Gorn as they resumed their walk. “Too many strange occurrences have surrounded our flight from Gole to Midgaard for me to put the fortnight of travel aside so easily.”

“What troubles you?” the Elder asked.

Raenor tried to laugh, but the laugh merely emerged as a tired, sad smile. “Too many things, Elder, and I am sure you are aware of many of the things that trouble me. My main concerns, if you wish to hear them from my own lips, run in this order: why are the Venurians attacking us? We have long known them to be a warlike people, but this seems very unusual, even for them.”

“Go on,” the Elder said. “What else do you find out of place?”

“The occurrence in the Temple of Avelia,” Raenor answered, beginning to tick things off on his fingers. “A spirit possessed the High Priest, and nearly destroyed us…” he shook his head. “On our journey through the woods, we encountered a wolf…and I cannot, for the life of me, forget it. Then there were the gargoyles we found slaughtered on the plains, with no sign of Kenshurian weapons or warriors.”

“And the vision,” Gorn finished, before falling silent in order to think. “You raise a great many interesting issues, ranger. Perhaps you should inform the group of your concerns.”

“Not concerns,” Raenor smiled again. “It doesn’t seem to fit my feelings. These…issues…seem more along the lines of riddles worth the time and attention it takes to solve them. I’ve always had a weak spot for riddles…and I prefer having as few question marks as possible surrounding my comings and goings in the world.” He looked ahead to the happy reunions going on. “No, Elder – with all respect – I think I shall let these riddles simmer awhile. The Lord, of course, must know that there are truly unusual events going on – beyond the mere course of the invasion, of course – but for now, I think our companions should have some time free from worry.”

Gorn Altreas regarded the ranger with curious eyes, and then gave an enigmatic smile. “As you see fit, Raenor. Do not wait too long though. Tracking is often easiest when the trail is relatively fresh.” With that, the two men hastened their steps and rejoined the party.

"My specialty is elementalism. The power to manipulate the elements into what you will is, I find, truly amazing." Jacen said as he walked with the others. "I've never found much use for any of the other schools of magic. Of course, I was never very good at them." Looking over at Aieris, he spoke to her, "What really has my curiosity spiked is why such a young elf is out on her own? You can't even be over 100 yet!"

“Bah! Ye’re not even keepin’ ‘er sharp ye ungrateful whelp!” Tonrel said, looking over Durin’s axe. “I see ye never paid any mind to what this old dwarf taught.” With these words Tonrel strapped the axe Durin had carried since Gole, to his own back.

“Oy! That axe is mine ye dirty son of an she-troll!” Durin cried out in response.

“Aye, and Gorn has said ye know how to use it. However, ye may as well swing around a tree trunk with how dull ye’ve allowed me axe to become! Ye’ll watch and learn how to care fer yer weapon if I need to put ye over me knee!”

Durin sighed and gave in. He knew better than anyone else the stereotype of the stubborn dwarf was thanks to his father.

“Alright… Knowing ye as I do, father, I doubt ye let the trek remain a quiet one.” Durin questioned the dwarf with a light smirk.

“Ha! The most bothersome beast was yer dear ‘mum. Ye know, I practically had to drag that woman out of our house. Even after I got ‘er out she wanted to take this and that… she doesn’t know what its like to travel.”

“Aye…” Durin responded. A moments silence felt like an hour, as Durin’s thoughts drifted to the dream he and his companions had shared.

“Ye know,” Tonrel began to speak. “I had a weird dream a few nights back. It was… unreal… darkness surrounded me… there we’re voices. I dunna know what to make of this, but I haven’t told a soul.”

Durin’s eyes shot open in awe. For the dream to reach his father… this must be powerful sorcery. Perhaps this is a vision as Elmric suggested, a warning from the gods. “I… shared this dream too… as did Gorn and the others I traveled with.”

Tonrel now matched his son’s facial expression. “By Avelia! Sorcery has never been something I been comfortable with. This is an evil omen indeed.” Tonrel glanced over his right shoulder at the axe handle protruding by a couple inches. “I think we should get this thing battle-ready soon, my son.”

It seemed everyone overheard the two dwarves during their realization. Small talk died faster than a torch in a waterfall, and everyone was staring at each other. Even the young knight, Tomar Haus, was staring, but not for the same reasons.

"What's wrong?" Tomar asked, to everyone.

"The dream...vision...you had it too?" Raenor said, ignoring Tomar for the moment.

Jim and Rini exchanged uneasy glances and nodded. Jacen and the others hailing from the refugee group nodded. Raenor face twisted in pained confusion. "This is very strange. Two separate parties travelling across the plains of Kenshuria experienced the same vision?"

Some shrugged, some nodded, some just stood there staring. Aieris stepped in, she seemed a little less worried than everyone else. "Someone needs to ask the obvious questions. You." she pointed obnoxiously at Jacen, "Can an elementalist manipulate that kind of power?"

Jacen opened and closed his mouth for several seconds, but no words came out; the answer eluded him. Gorn tried to answer the question. "Forms of enchantment and elementalism can yield certain spells such as long distance scrying...but...I've never heard of anything like this. It is as if we were scrying on someone against our will. We must consult Lord Hebridean, and if all else fails, search the Guild Libraries." The old elf walked over to Tomar and patted him on the shoulder, then continued walking towards Lord Hebridean's chambers.

Everyone else stowed their curiousity, worry, and amazement for the moment, and followed Gorn and Tomar. The City Hall was intricately carved and decorated, no doubt by the best artisans in Kenshuria. It was also very empty, aside from the occasional grouping of ceremonial guards. Finally, they reached one large, twelve-foot high oak door at the end of the long hall. There were two ceremonial guards on either side of the door. They saw Tomar and nodded, stepping aside.

Tomar pushed the door open and revealed a spacious room not unlike a throne room for a king. For those less keen of vision, there wasn't much to see, they wouldn't even know how big the room was. For Jacen and Aieris, it was a little easier. They could make out a table straight ahead with a figure occupying the high chair at the far end.

The party moved forward reluctantly, this wasn't what they were expecting from a Lord of Kenshuria, one of the highest ranking individuals in the entire country. The door slammed shut behind them, half of the party whirled around, now finding themselves in more potent darkness. Elmric and Raenor both had their hands floating cautiously near their sheathes, while Durin wished his father hadn't taken his weapon. Aieris would probably already have an arrow nocked, if she had any.

The figure shifted in the chair and seemed to disappear into the shadows, only to step out of them ten feet away from the party. A stumpy, chubby little human; a full inch shorter than Durin. He smiled, which puffed up his fat little cheeks. "Welcome to Midgaard. I must apologise about the lights...the darkness helps me think."

A rush of calm washed over everyone in the room, everyone except for Raenor who swore he saw the shadows move on the far right side of the chambers. His eye followed the movement, but it ended at a decorative stone pillar. He only watched the Lord with peripheral attention.

"Lord Hebridean," Tomar knelt down. "Gorn Altreas and survivors of the Venurian attacks, as well as Raenor of the Hunt family."

The little man chuckled. "Raenor, I don't believe we've met before. I know of your father and mother, they are distinguished nobility, yes?" Raenor gave a half-nod, at best. Aieris caught sight of some movement in the left corner of the room.

"This is stupid. What the bloody hell is going on here?" Aieris blurted out, receiving a horrified, angry look from Tomar.

Hebridean smiled at the young elf, but there was the faintest hint of wickedness to it. "What do you mean, my dear?" There was something about his eyes, something not right. Aieris could feel and hear her heart thumping in her chest as she stared into the eyes of Hebridean and he stared right back. As she stared she seemed to get drawn in, and she couldn't look away even after consciously trying to. A wolf howl.

"Something's over there..." Darren whispered to someone, somewhere behind Aieris as she snapped out of the trance, Gorn and Hebridean were talking now; how much time had passed?

Raenor nudged Aieris and beckoned her to look into the shadows on the left side of the room, but nothing was there. At the same time, Jacen and Durin both saw something move fluidly in the shadows behind Hebridean.

"What is this trickery!" Elmric shouted, and no one seemed to hear him. He looked left and saw Amelia and Rini, then right and saw...nothing? He looked left again, nothing was there anymore. He wasn't even in the room, he was outside. He could feel a light breeze on his face and hands. He looked down and saw grass, then up and saw nothing; no stars. He shook his head, closed his eyes, and muttered a prayer to Avelia, and then he was back in the council chambers with everyone again. Was Hebridean looking at him as he came out of it? He couldn't be sure.

Jacen was convinced he saw a gigantic snake slithering in the shadows on the right side of the room. He wanted to kill it. He had to kill it. The shadows leapt out at him, but he clenched his fists and closed his eyes. Nothing happened.

Raenor was glancing everywhere, noticing the movement around the room, and the zombie-like faces of his companions. And then Darren, who seemed pre-occupied trying to clean stains out of his shirt. He looked at Tomar, who had remained in the kneeling position this whole time, and then at Gorn, who seemed to be grinning.

"That's enough, Hebridean. Save your tricks for the Venurians." Gorn said, on the verge of laughing.

"Very well." Possibly one of the deepest, most unnatural voices most of them had ever heard replied from...no particular direction, certainly not from the fat man standing ten feet away from them. The voice reminded some of them of the man in black armour at the Temple of Avelia in Gole Forest. Three people in the group gasped, Amelia let out a brief shriek. The short, fat man was literally evaporating into white-grey smoke, and then he was completely gone. The darkness that had shrouded the entire room started to lift, and everyone also noticed the table and chairs were gone.

The only piece of furniture in the room was the massive throne. At that moment, no one even noticed the throne. They were far too busy gaping at the ten foot tall dragonnel standing in front of it. Amelia inhaled rapidly at the sight and dropped onto both knees, bowing her head down low. Elmric had trouble taking his eyes off the sight, but his discipline kicked in and told him to kneel; he complied. Gorn was bowing low, along with Tonrel, Jim, and Rini. Raenor, Jacen, and even Aieris mimicked the others. Only Darren was standing normally, intently focused on his shirt. Either he gave up, or he noticed everyone in the room start to bow. "What are you all...GUAH! Uh..." Not knowing what to say or do, he decided to bow as well. Full light returned to the room, provided by lots of torches mounted on all the walls, and by six windows no one had noticed earlier.

"A simple test of will can tell you very much about a person." The deep voice said again, the true voice of Hebridean, this time only out of the dragonnel's mouth. The childhood stories, myths, and folklore never accurately described Kenshuria's most blessed and worshipped creatures. Something about the storytelling made the creatures seem fake or far-fetched, but this dragonnel was quite real. Red, glittering scales covered three-quarters of his body, while his underbelly had smooth, leathery looking skin. A long, muscular tail extended another eight feet beyond his body, and his long, draconic head was a replica of the sketches of real dragons on a smaller scale. Lord Hebridean's eyes were literally flaming red; they didn't reflect red, they shone red. The teeth were frightening. Row after row of deadly, carnivorous blades forming perimeter around a large, snake-like tongue. His claws were equally scary, all four of them. Five razor-sharp nails designed for tearing protruded from each hand, donating further to the raw aura of power emanating from this mythical creature. "Do forgive me, it was rude to practice my magic on you all without your consent. These have become wicked times, and trust has become a scarce commodity. Please, rise. There is much to talk about." Hebridean said, and sat down in the throne.

Gorn and Tomar moved closer to the throne. Everyone else followed reluctantly again, the amount of strange things happening to them in such a short period was weighing heavily on each of them.

"You have all seen the wrath of the Venurians with your own eyes. Ateria, Socre, Gole, Ityrias, Dalennion, and Wistria have all fallen against their attacks. Local militias seem to have done nothing more than anger their push southwards." The dragon mutt paused for a moment, sensing the question on everyone's mind. "You wish me to tell you why they are here. If I knew this answer, everyone in Kenshuria would know. At this time, we do not even know how many Venurians are here. Scouts are still returning, while others have not. The count is over twelve thousand so far."

There was a long silence, but Raenor finally took a step forward. "My liege, we have come across many strange events during our flight to Midgaard, all of them without answers thus far." The dragonnel nodded and the ranger continued. "At the Temple of Avelia in the Forest of Gole, the High Priest was possessed by an evil spirit. A simple priest changed into a man of such power, it nearly destroyed us all single-handedly. The man..."

"The thing..." Aieris budded in, Raenor gave her a weary look and continued. "The man that did this to the High Priest, it was using magic I have never seen before."

Gorn nodded, "Nor have I, Hebridean. And we have both seen much magic in our times." Hebridean nodded again, to Gorn and then back to Raenor.

The ranger continued, "Not a day ago, we experienced a powerful dream, a vision of some kind. Elder Gorn described it as scrying against one's will. Everyone here save Tomar experienced the same vision, yet we all noticed different aspects. The most disturbing fact of all, is that we were not even travelling as one group, but as two, separated by miles and miles."

Hebridean emitted a low-pitched growling sound, a draconic "hmmmmmm." The dragonnel shifted in his throne, "I am afraid I have never heard of such spells. I will have to search the Libraries. For the moment however, my efforts must be directed towards the defense of Kenshuria, and of Midgaard. Our garrison is currently overflowing, three thousand five hundred soldiers prepared to defend these walls. You will have to try and solve these riddles on your own. You are all granted full permission within the inner city, if you require access to the services of the Guilds, Temples, or training grounds at the Barracks." The mutt waved his left claw slightly, and smoke puffed on everyone's clothing near chest level. The smoke cleared quickly and revealed the emblem of Bahamut, seemingly sewn right into their clothing.

"You have all been through very much, I do not need to be a practitioner of enchantment to see that. Please, relax for several days. Gorn will keep you all informed on the happenings of the war. As for temporary residence, I assume the Hunt's will have several spare bedrooms." Hebridean showed his teeth, possibly a draconic grin. I bid you all good day. Ah, Gorn, I must speak to you in private." And everyone except Gorn got up and exitted the chambers.

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OOC: Ok, it just so happens I'm going to a cottage tommorrow (later today?!) and I won't be returning until late saturday/early sunday. I'm throwing the burden of temporary GM on Barahad without his permission, since Raenor's family will end up giving you all a bed to sleep in. The plot is not be advancing while I'm gone, but there are several activities you can all partake in. I've written down little rewards you all have a chance to get for participating in them during my absence. Really, it doesn't make Barahad a GM...he's there to keep the peace and describe what his mansion looks like.

Smithing: The most obvious, I don't really need to give a prize for this. The prize is what you take the time to smith, be it weapons, armor, etc.

Searching the Guild Libraries: The vast libraries of the Magic Schools within the inner city might uncover some answers to the strange magical oddities you have all witnessed.

Praying: What cleric or paladin doesn't?

Practicing a Skill: Head on over to the training grounds and practice your swordsmanship or your archery. Or head on over to the Guild Halls and practice your spells. Depending on how in-depth you can get, maybe you'll get better at it?

Wandering around, bumping into a farm girl enchantress and avoiding spacetime tears: Hey, a GM can hope.

Have fun! I rushed these posts because I'm leaving later today, and I double posted because I was WELL over 10000 characters. And play nice.

"Now...what is this?" The elder librarian looked over the tattered cover and its mispelling of 'magic'.
"It's a book if enchantments (and other oddities) that I think is enchanted." Artemis slid her finger through the pages and spread the books trappings wide, opening it to Eragon's Memory Scry. "It's been opening to that a lot."
"Yes, well books tend to display the same things again and again, would you mind telling your - "
"Victor."
"Yes, your Victor to stop attacking the books, most are quite valuable." The librarian cast a sideways glance at the young man who was currently fighting to a draw with some indexes. His small squinted eyes then fell back to the book in front of him. "And all are more important than some...enchantments. Pathetic waste of magic, parlor tricks and hoodoo, stick with the useful arts if you ask me and he's doing it again."
"Victor, those are safe." The young man, now encased in a small mountain of paper and bindings, seemed to settle down and regroup with no apparent effect on his muttering. Artemis turned back to the bookkeeper. Although he deserved it she knew none of her abilities would touch his mind. "Please put your finger inside the book."
With an expert eye roll that conveyed the sentiment of 'I guess I have nothing better to do at the moment' the wizard placed his finger inside the books groove. Artemis softly closed the book with the finger holding place and then opened it up, now revealing Strengthening the Physical Bond of Conjured Items. "So you managed to guess my abilities and changed the page, I'm oh so amazed."
"Well can you at least, I dunno, conjure something to make the book a normal book?"
Sighing lightly the wizard closed the book and placed his hand over the cover. He concentrated slightly and was completely taken aback when he opened his eyes and found that he had been turned into an oragutan.
"Soo enchanting is a silly art?" The book was flapping itself in front of the oragu-brarian. It sounded like an archetypical grandmother. "Well enjoy your new shape, MAYBE it'll wear off, enchanting IS an impractical art right. Cmon sweetie we're leaving." It flapped over Artemis's hands and fell dead in the just-as-suprised former farm girl's hands. She nervously held it to her ears but whatever outburst that had just erupted seemed to have been reactionary.
"I'm sure it'll wear off, most of the enchantments do." Victor chose this moment to walk over and shake the ape's hands. "Most. Plus, you're so ceeute. Let's go Viv-vic."
As they exited the Guild Library the Librarian scratched himself in thought and went to reorganizing the newly-disheveled shelves.

"I'm going to go practice at the guild. You can come if you want." Jacen said to Alanda. "It's OK, I'll just go explore the city." she responded with a smile. Heading their separate ways, Jacen came upon the Mages Guild. Entering, he looked upon the splendor of the entrance hall, the pillars lining the walls, the exotic plants spaced between. Walking across the shinning marble floor, Jacen couldn't help but gaze in wonder.

Moving farther in, an aide came up to him, glancing quickly at the crest upon Jacen's chest. "How might we serve you, noble master?" Looking at the man in surprise at this sudden acquisition of a title, a slow smile spread across his face. "Please, call me Jacen. I humbly request to use your magnificent Guild to practice my magic. If it is any inconvenience, I can come back some other time." Beaming at the comment bestowed upon the Guild, the aide ushered Jacen forward, "No,no. It is no inconvenience at all. Please, if you would follow me, I shall show you to the training hall." Leading the way, Jacen followed, his face alight with awe at the splendor of the Guild. Everywhere he looked, some spectacular feat of magic was going on. Wether it was creating a new decoration through conjuration or a quick glimpse of a class in session, everything carried a life of it's own.

Finally arriving at a large oak door, they went through. In front of Jacen lay the most magnificent room he had seen. A giant hall glowing with a light of it's own, the floor was covered with students practicing their preferred art. Everywhere he looked, fireballs were scorching straw targets, swords were being conjured out of thin air, and people were being controlled by others to jump around the room. Leading Jacen to a particularly wizened old man with a great flowing beard and crimson robes, the aide introduced him, "Great Master, this is Jacen. He wishes to practice his magic here." Bowing himself away, he left. Turning to Jacen the old wizard spoke up, "Well then, let us see what you've got shall we!"