Mid cycle of Aperitus, Era II of the Celestine Mandate, XIV Era PF Darkening, Moonwillow Phase I: Unbinding
"Morendil!" A voice, soft and serene, melodious like a bard’s broke the named person out of his reverie.
"Uh, what?!" came the reply, harsh, hoarse and deep.
The former, feminine, a pure Sylrosian born and bred. The latter, masculine, a young half elf with striking elvish features and an exotic blend of human origins which guessing from his pale olive skin, one of Kemitish roots.
"What are you waiting for? Go in and talk to your atar," the female elf whispered, gently prodding the boy towards a closed and shut door.
"Must I? I don’t…." Kenkuroi, or Morendil as he was better known in this part of the region, whimpered in protest but quickly hushed down as his female counterpart's eyes narrowed down on him.
She was the same elf he first saw sitting beside his brother during his first Pracenda in Moonwillow more then one era back. She was also the same elf who woke him up in his first brightening of his new life, and was the same person who brought him the bad news of his brother’s departure. She was beautiful, even by elvish standards, a testament to Moonwillow’s reputation for beauty and art, and no amount of facial distortion could mar the pretty elven face for it wasn’t her frowning or growing anger that scared the half elf into obedience, but the small satchel of tobacco she held up in her right hand.
Do this….. do that….. or no tobacco…. Choose…..
Sadly, extortion was the only way to get the unruly, wild and obnoxious half breed to obey and cooperate as well as keep him in his place….
Sighing heavily, the half elf slid opened the sliding door and entered the private chamber of Llorinal Mithania, Lord of Moonwillow, his father.
The room reeked heavily of that infamous liquor, Primquist, as well as a variety odor of cheap booze and judging by the candlemark, the Lord would be half drunk by now. It had been this way ever since that fateful day, the day Mithania fell, where within the space of a few candleflicker, the Combine saw the downfall of three Lords; two into prison, one into depression. Though Llorinal survived the Combine’s onslaught, he died in spirit and mind, and thus has relegated himself to much drinking, cooped up in his chamber, refusing company, and unwilling to do anything.
“Llorinal!” Morendil called his father, by name, without any respectful title, as he closed the door behind him. By Phedos, he hated his father. Just seeing how weak and cowardly the elf was made him sick to the stomach. And he knew or at least felt that his father hated him as much. After all, wasn’t he nothing more than a reminder of past mistakes? Like some excess fat that won’t go away….
“What did you call me for?” the prodigal son continued, his tone stiff and cold. It wasn't a question, it was a demand, although no doubt both father and son already knew the reason they were in each other’s presence this darkening, a rare occasion indeed. For the few loyal clansmen left had been discussing it last pracenda, and last last pracenda, and last last last pracenda, and so on, almost since the beginning of summer, the idea of having the half-breed learn an art of their once grand House. Some frail delusions that it could calm the restless boy by keeping him busy, so called 'Mithaniarize' him, and hopefully break the frosty relationship between the Lord and his bastard son.
Morendil was rigid where he stood as he awaited his father’s response; blue eyes, cold and hard, stared sharply at the older elf he should be calling as father. One hand in pocket, the other casually ran through his messy maroon hair, the color supposedly a little lighter compared to Llorinal’s auburn bangs. The difference though was minimal as many have come to comment on how uncanny the similarities were, both physical and character-wise, between the fallen Lord and his known second son..... to an extent some have labeled Morendil, a younger version of Llorinal, much to the chagrin of the half elf.
His father was looking out of the window, Morendil having to look his side for now. Even when he was taunted with a disrespectful greeting he didn’t look into his son’s direction. No argument was started about it, but no proper greeting was given either.
“You know why you are here.” There was no intonation in the voice. It was not a question, neither was it an order. It was just a simple, irrefutable fact. A statement that the young elf had no choice in the matter. Llorinal finally turned his head and Morendil could probably noticed the glazy stare that was starting to creep into the Elf’s eyes. His voice had still been unaffected, but the abundant intake of liquor was starting to take its toll.
“It’s time you straightened up and took up Arcana.” His father gave him a sour look. His speech was still bland, but there seemed to be some irony in his words. Almost as if father and son both shared equal expectations about the eventual outcome of the ‘Mithaniarizing’. Even if his clansmen were still trying to ‘redeem’ him, his father seemed to have given that up on his son already.
__________________
Always forgive your enemies - nothing annoys them so much. - Oscar Wilde
It was Morendil’s turn to look away as his father turned to look at him. Rather than face his near mirror-image, or what he could imagine he would look like when he was older and depressed just like the older elf in front of him, the young half elf chose instead to look at the bottles of Moonwillow’s very own brew, stacked on a wooden desk. They were prove of his father’s alcoholic state and no doubt some of them were a few brightenings old already and yet to be disposed.
He reached out for a particular bottle, one that seem freshly opened and still hold the contents of the intoxicating liquid, then proceed to drink from it, not caring that it belonged to his father and was as essential to the old man as tobacco was essential to him. Like father like son, Morendil was a good drinker. In just a few gulps, he had nearly drained the bottle dry and yet showed no signs of drunkenness, having possessed high alcohol tolerance. Truly his father’s son, though the truth was he had learned to drink from a very early age and not from his father neither but from his Kemite human mother.
Setting the now near empty bottle back down on the desk and wiping his mouth with the collar of his badly buttoned shirt, Morendil appeared to not have heard his father’s statement….. or pretended not to. But with a bored, disinterested expression on his face, he finally turned to face his father, and still with a frosty voice replied, “I’ve decided. I’m not learning Song. I refuse. Teach me Thauma-whatever is it called thing instead. They told me your brother was a master at it…” as he spoke the last sentence, careful eyes studied his father. He had purposely mentioned his uncle, the very reason his father was in the state he was now.
Llorinal’s face didn’t change when his son downed a bottle without giving a crimp. Liquor was one thing he didn’t have a shortage of. When his son finally declared his intentions face became more stern and he turned away form him again though. The mentioning of his brother brought back too many unpleasant memories. With a large gulp the last of his own glass disappeared as well. Deep down inside he knew the reasons for Morendil’s choice all to well and it hurt, but another part of him was glad for it. At least he wouldn’t have to waste his time teaching now. He could continue to just sit in his room and drown away his unhappiness.
It took some time before Llorinal spoke up again and when he did it was with the same monotonous voice as before. “We don’t have anyone in the House that can teach you Thaumaturgy.” A simple truth, but so much more was hidden beneath. Yet again silence fell, but before his son could react he continued. “I’ll call in a favour. Be ready.”
With a wave of his hand he indicated that Morendil could go now. It seemed as far as he was concerned this was the end of the conversation. A new bottle was taken, his glass filled again and the natural course of things could continue.
While his father turned away again from him, broken, detached, drunk.... well almost, Kenkuroi resisted the urge to rush at his father and punch him in the guts while yelling for the older elf to 'grow some balls' and 'stop being a loser'. To the half elf, watching his father in the state he was now was as annoying as watching some drama of a nice, beautiful, intelligent girl sobbing over her jerk of a boyfriend, believing him to be the one and only one and as reality sinks in, proceeds to commit suicide.
No doubt if he punched his father now, the older elf will simply flop to the floor without any resistance, and that would further infuriate him. He, who had been brought up by his Kemite mom, a master of the katana, a warrior hermit whose complicated and aggressive philosophy had no room for weakness such as these.
No.
Whether he punched his father or not, there was not going to be any happy ending, and so the young half elf decided on the lesser of the two evils as he refrained himself from giving into his desires, locking his arms by crossing it below his chest and taking a step back further away from his father..... as if he distrusted himself.
And then his father responded and waved him off. A signal their meeting has ended. Though he could not see his father's expression, he knew well his decision had hurt his old man. He had done it on purpose. Ken found himself smirking a little, somehow finding solace in his father's hurt that it released some of his frustrations. By Phedos! No wonder his older brother Eir'helm upped and left, though until now, what exactly happened between Llorinal and his first son was only between those two.
Storming out of the room, he bumped into the female elf, who jumped in surprise at his sudden emergence.
"That was fast... no wait! What happened? Surely he did not unbind you that fast? Not with the current arcana problems!" she yelped.
"My father says I fail. Whatever, I've keep my end of the bargain, now you will give me my leaf and tobacco!" Ken snapped as he reached out and roughly snatched the satchel out of the hand of the stunned elf.
Without a word, and without waiting for any response, he quickly stormed off, leaving the unsatisfied female elf scurrying into the lord's room for answers.
For the next candlemark, a heated argument could be heard faintly coming from the room and by darkening, during pracenda, the same female elf announced the results of their argument to a very angry Morendil.
"Your father has found you a suitable teacher for Thaumaturgy. We have arranged for you to meet him in two brightenings time."
Two brightenings later.....
They stood in the grounds of the Softwood Lodge, both Morendil and the female elf. The latter, merely there to ensure Morendil didn't run off somewhere seeing as how obvious the lie when the half elf promised he would meet his teacher as arranged.
Morendil was sore and unhappy with the decision and had been complaining about it the whole yester-brightening. How did it ended up with him dragging his heels over, one could only guess, though its pretty obvious how.
"So, where's the master?" Morendil growled out loudly, exhaling smoke from his cigarette.
“That’s no way to talk to a lady.” If he looked behind him, Morendil could see one of the clerics had stopped behind him. A old human in simple beige robes stood before him, his hands clasped together in front of him. He looked no more or less remarkable then the rest of the priests. “I am Father Sirus Mabe and you must be Morendil Mithania, my latest pupil.” He studied the Half Elf for a moment before continuing. They normally didn’t teach students outside of those following the path of Diana, but for this one an exception had been made.
Normally he’d inquiry about the why’s of his students choices for Thaumaturgy, but he had been told all there was to know about that already. It was a good thing he had the patience of a Elf too as going by what he’d got to hear he would need it. “Shall we go inside and start your training once you finished your smoke?”
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Always forgive your enemies - nothing annoys them so much. - Oscar Wilde
The half elf turned around towards the direction of the voice and found himself staring at a priest, wearing a simple robe, and assuming a posture typical to his profession.
"KENKUROI.... Morendil Mithania," the half elf corrected the elder, darker skinned human. "And please call me Ken for short, I will be damned if even the non elves starts calling me Morendil!" Morendil, or Ken now as the half elf preferred to be called retorted, all this while glaring sharply at his female counterpart, as if daring her to try dispute his statement.
The female elf merely shrugged her head and sighed, saying nothing. She smiled a little tho, amused by the half elf’s antics. After more than an era, despite no longer constantly protesting over being called Morendil whenever the elves called him so, he still clearly disliked to be called by his elvish name.
"Uh sure, the sooner this is done the better," Ken answered the priest as he hurriedly finish his ciggie.
"But does this mean I can't smoke inside?" he added later, sounding a little distressed at such a thought, as he extinguished his finished cigarette and prepared to follow the priest.
Meanwhile, the female elf spoke up, "Thank you very much Father Sirus. I shall await elsewhere. Please look after the boy, and Morendil, don't be naughty!"
The priest simply smiled as he was corrected. He had just been going by the name that he was provided with, but Morendil – or Ken as he preferred – seemed to disagree with his kin even on those matters. “Ken it is then.”
The priest seemed to be in no hurry and simply waited until Ken had finished his cigarette. “There’s no rules on smoking, so none forbidding it either, but the smoke always seems to catch on my lungs and eyes. Consider it a personal request not to smoke around me in confined spaces.” He gave the Half Elf another smile. Perhaps it was the age that was getting to him after all.
“I shall take good care of him.” He made a small bow at the female Elf before turning back to Ken. “Now follow me.” He lead the way to a small chamber in the Softwood Lodge. Sunlight falling through a small but high oval window brightened the place. The only furniture it held was a simple wooden bench and a chair. Father Sirus took place on the chair and gestured Ken to have a seat as well.
“Now tell me, how familiar are you with Arcana and with the sphere of Thaumaturgy.”
__________________
Always forgive your enemies - nothing annoys them so much. - Oscar Wilde
Bowing back at the priest, the female elf turned away to make her leave, while Kenkuroi followed the human male into the building, as beckoned.
They arrived in a small chamber, sparsefully furnished with only a bench and a chair. Seeing how Father Sirus took the chair, quite obviously that left the bench to the half who didn't need any second invitation to occupy it. He sat down, placing his right ankle on the thigh of his left, and arms resting upon the raised right leg. There was a noticebly sour expression on the half elf's face as he gaze around the room.
Upon the priest's question, he turned back to look at his soon-to-be teacher, and shrugging a shoulder he answered, "I've no idea. Me ma says, arcana is for the weak and lazy. But I think it has it uses. I've only seen peeps perform arcana. Once, I knew someone.... Kathery... back in Prime I think. She got into an accident while trying to boil something and her brother healed her injuries with this Thaum thing."
"And Song is arcana too right? Well I hear it sometimes in Moonwilow. Haven't seen its uses in practical but it sounds cool, but nah I won't learn Song. There's too many bards in Moonwillow already." Ken rambled on, the excuse not entirely true. The truth was, Ken was trying to distance himself from his father.
"Hmm.... that's all I know.... wait! She said something about having to be unbound and imparted and we have to get a master which is you...." the half elf pointed at the priest.
The priest nodded. “For Arcana one needs a strong mind and a lot of dedication to get the most out of it. Song and Thaumaturgy are two spheres, each with their own powers and specialties. I’m not too knowledgeable about how Song works though as it has quite a few differences from the other spheres. Thaum’s specialty is healing as you mentioned, though it can do more then that of course.”
“You’re right about the Unbinding and Imparting too. Each person is born with his mind shielded. One needs to be Unbound, which is basically breaking down the shield, before one has access to spell casting and there’s only few that don’t become bound again immediately. The Imparting places example spells in the students mind. Spell casting is too complicated and dangerous to be done without this. Only Journeymen can create their own spells.”
He paused and waited to see if there were any further questions and would answer them before continuing. “Now, I want you to lay down on the bench before I start the Unbinding. It’s rather common for people to loose consciousness for a while so it’s better to do this while you lay down.”
When Ken would stretch himself out on the bench there would be a few silent moments where nothing happened. Suddenly he could feel something happening inside his head though. The world went blurry and not long after everything was dark.
It was because the room was so bare, that there was nothing to catch the young half elf's interest was perhaps the only reason Kenkuroi was paying attention to his teacher - not!
Not bothering to hide the very bored, disinterested look on his face, Ken stared blankly at the elder human, nodding his head every now and then, as if appearing to be listening and understanding whatever his teacher was trying to teach..... though obviously, he was a bad listener and was frankly no registering a single word the priest had said..... until the part the priest asked him to lay down for the unbinding part.
"You.... you're not going to do anything bad to me aren't you?" the youth stammered as he lay down on the bench, staring at the priest suspiciously, as if priests of the CoF would do bad things to young boys.
But before there could be any last minute change of mind from Ken, slowly he found himself drifting into darkness....
Secrets :
Ken found himself awaking with a start and was surprise to find himself back in Moonwillow's main hall instead of some bare room with some old priest. In the center, sitting in a circle were a group of elves, and among that group sat his mother! A human Kemite woman who appeared to be in her early thirties, with a sleek, muscular body, dangerous looking twin katanas sheathed across her lap, a beautiful face, and still with the wild, crazy glint in her dark eyes.
"Yosh!" came the feminine but husky voice, unmistakably his mother's.
"What the feth? Why are you here bitch!" Ken roared, surprised and with joy, and in a manner and tone that is regarded perfectly normal between this odd pair of mother and son.
"To give you something you ungrateful bastard!" she roared back as she tossed a small bundle over to her son.
Ken caught it and upon opening it, discovered a cache of cigarettes. Happily he took one and tried to light it, but no matter how he try he simply wasn't successful!
"Need help lighting your cigarette?" asked a male voice.
Ken looked up startled and now found himself no longer in the main hall but in his father's room with his father laying down on the bed before him - naked and with a gorgeous female elf in his embrace, whispering erotic elvish words into the Lord's ear.
Llorinal seemed a very far cry from how he was just a few brightenings ago. He was still drunk but he wasn't drinking because he was depressed or in sorrow. Instead, he was drunk because he appeared to be indulging himself, enjoying himself. Giggling while caressing the naked female elf, he crooned to his son, "I will help you light your cig, all you have to do is join us in bed!"
"Get away from me!" Ken shouted as he bolted for the door. But the moment he took a step, he felt the floor gave way below his legs and suddenly he was falling....
BAM!
He had hit grass. But there was no pain, no feeling at all.
Confused, Ken got up, wiping the dirt from his clothes while looking around for the first thing that came to his mind; where was his damn ciggie that couldn't be lighted?
And lo! Before him he saw a demon!
The demon was huge, with bulging, powerful muscles. On its back was a pair of leathery wings, that spun out and seem to rip the very air apart. On its head were massive, cruel looking horns. It was garbed in intimidating ornate black armor, with great spikes as big as its horns and it wielded a great red sword. The demon appeared to be engaging a person....
...... a person who looked very much like himself! In fact IS himself!
Well, except *this* Kenkuroi appeared to be more mature looking.... older perhaps was the word. The older Ken was more rugged, more manly, and was garbed in priestly robes akin to his teacher while wielding a katana made of white light. And still with a cigarette jutting from the mouth, one thing that didn't change.
A dumbstruck-still-dreaming-Ken found himself rooted to the spot, unable to move or talk as he witness the great battle between the demon and his 'other-self'.
The demon was mighty and it swung its great sword relentlessly, while summoning legions of undead to battle the foe. But 'other-Ken' was skillfull and was so fast, that his movements were nothing but a blur. Each time a legion of undead was summoned, it was countered with a wave of white aura that annihilated them all in a blink of an eye. For a while both seemed equally matched, and both wielded devastating arcane powers that were beyond comprehension. But slowly, the tide of the battle turned and eventually there was an outcome - the demon won. However so impressed was the demon that it spared the life of 'other-Ken' provided a choice was made between left or right.
On the left are things, not just objects, but ambition, goals, dreams and desires where interestingly, the stubborn unlighted cigarette were amongst it and a beautiful woman Ken had never seen. Ken recognized most of the stuff as those he had ever wanted so far in his life (most of them cigarettes and booze), and many more he didn't recognized (maybe there were the soon-to-be desires like that woman).
On the right, were the people most important, most loved, most cared for by 'future-Ken' so the demon said.
Ken looked curiously at the right side, eager to know whom is this person or persons that he will grow a great attachment to in the future. Sadly there was just thick mist, and nothing can be seen except the faint outlines of some humanoid figure.
Future-Ken however seemed to have great trouble trying to decide which to choose, something that greatly infuriate the present-Ken whom had privately made his decision in mere seconds. After what seems like eternity, a decision was finally made and the choice was.....
...... and just like that the half elf awoke. This time it was back to reality for sure.
Sad.
Typical of dreams, everytime it was about to enter the climax part, one just had to wake up didn't they?
The priest silently shook his head as the Half Elf lay there out cold. This CoF priest wasn’t known for doing bad things to young boys. Instead he seated himself on the floor, legs crossed, and meditated while waiting for his pupil to wake up from his dreams. When Ken would wake up, he would still be sitting at the same spot.
Shortly after the Initiate opened his eyes, the Master did as well. “You are now unbound and capable of casting spells.” The world most likely wouldn’t feel any different because of it though, they’d be getting to that part next. “So, how do you feel? Are you well enough to continue or do you want more time to recover.” He rose from the floor, standing up.
If the answer was a positive one he’d carry on. “Very well. The first step to spell casting is attaining Clara. This is done through Meditation, which is basically clearing your head of all thoughts. Normally our students Meditate through prayer, but something tells me that’s not something for you.” The priest smiled. “Fortunately, prayer is just one way. The best way to practice this to put yourself in a soothing, comfortable situation. The goal is to try to clear your head of all thoughts and this goes better in a relaxed environment. For the ease of working we’ll simulate this relaxing state somewhat differently. Eventually you’ll be able to reach this state with some distractions around even, but you’ll have to start out with total peace around you.”
The Half Elf would suddenly start feeling really relaxed. All restlessness faded and even his cigarettes seemed not so important anymore. Not that he’d suddenly start saying if he was offered one, but the desire to have one between his lips all the time was no longer present. It seemed the priest had cast a spell to simulate a relaxed environment.
“Now, try to clear your mind of all thoughts. Don’t get stressed if it takes some time. It’s perfectly normal that it takes some time.” Not that it was very likely he’d get aggravated for something as small under the influence of the calming spell.
__________________
Always forgive your enemies - nothing annoys them so much. - Oscar Wilde
The half elf blinked the sleep from his eyes as slowly his vision cleared. For a while he stared at the bare ceiling above, then slowly towards the priest and around the room before getting up, as if trying to discern reality from the dreamworld. There was a very confused, disappointed look on his face, such as one who had just been awoken from the most pleasurable dream only to find out.... its just a dream.
"How do I feel?" Ken muttered, echoing the priest's question.
"I feel like a pile of giant dung worth two cycles! So I'm unbound now? Strange.... I don't feel any difference.... don't feel like I can cast arcana anyhow..... anyway, yeah, continue..." the youth sighed as he gingerly felt around his face and body, as if expecting some changes.
The priest continued his explanation, and this time Ken was listening though it appears the youth was still a little distracted, a little disturbed by his most recent experiences. However, by the time the priest finished his speech, Ken felt an unusual sense of calm and peacefulness invade his mind and body.
Was this some form of arcana?
He felt like asking but somehow just didn't felt like it.
Sitting crossed-legged on the bench, Ken took a deep breath as he closed his eyes and tried to meditate. He recalled having seen his mom do it sometimes, supposely for her continuous mental conditioning as a katana master, but she had never taught him how nor ever explain it properly or nicely. Right now he was simply immitating her, while trying to do as his teacher had instructed.
The calming aura was comfortably soothing. And for a rare moment, Ken didn't feel the need to resort to cigarettes to calm that raising, volatile tension that always seem to creep within him each second without a cig in his mouth. It was clarity, but at the same time, it was such clarity that even his thoughts went crystal clear.....
.... but he wasn't suppose to be thinking was he?
Frowning at that thought, Ken tried to free his mind from any thoughts.
A minute passed by.... two minutes.... three.... four....
How long, he himself didn't know himself, but at last - he broke out of his meditative stance, let out a loud sigh, jabbed a finger at the priest and said, "This is not working! I've to ask you something before I can free my mind! Earlier, I was being urm... unbounded.... and thus I was dreaming. Do unbinding dreams tell me about my future? Are they... real?"
The priest looked unfazed by the finger pointed in his direction. “The first time entering Clara is perhaps the hardest step in learning Arcana and unfortunately it’s the first. The Silrosia area seems to somehow make this process more difficult as well, so it’s not that uncommon that it will take you a long time to succeed.”
He rubbed his chin for a moment as he thought about his question. “The unbinding dreams are different for each person and occasionally there are some that don’t even have one. It’s not impossible that they give a hint of the future or maybe just one possible future, but many of those I’ve been told about seem to simply reflected the mage’s desires.”
__________________
Always forgive your enemies - nothing annoys them so much. - Oscar Wilde
"Well my desire is to find out the answer in my dream! It is nagging me and I hate it!" the young half elf blurted out, and as if sensing confusion from his teacher, proceeded to tell the elder man his dream, especially the part of seeing himself from some future, garbed in the same manner as the priest and wielding kick-ass arcane powers (of what nature, Ken was too inexperienced to know). Eventually defeated, his future self was given a choice, and it was this that was disturbing Ken presently. So it appears, he was going to go through a moral dilemma, or so from Ken's current perspective.
"I don't get it, why can't my future self make up a decision fast? Isn't it obvious which choice to choose? And then finally, when there appears to be an answer, I couldn't know because I woke up!" the youth wailed, appearing to be rushing into a temper again, and would have wasn't it for the soothing aura that helped the boy relaxed a little.
"Is it possible to return the dream to me? So I can know the answer, or maybe you know the answer? What does my dream mean? Maybe, it is because what happened during the unbinding thing? I know you say it as breaking down the shield for spell casting, but what exactly happened to me when I was dreaming? What did you do? How do you do it?" the half elf babbled, looking at the priest earnestly for answers, temporarily forgetting about the task of clara. But then again, perhaps somethings are best settled first.
