The Thaumaturgist's Apology (Pre-Veil & GF'd)

[Malvoitre]

OOC: Training thread. PM with questions

Early Melora, Era XV PF
Written in the library of Annun Dae, the Tawnleaf

The cold light of winter shines through the stained-glass windows. It is the only color I see these brightenings. My family is gone; this house is empty. I spend my time alone in these hollowed out trees. Lord of House Gruven. Lord of Silence.

I too left this place. Long ago I ventured forth. Our kind are naturally curious and the ways of the world outside our forests, so foreign and brand new, call to us. Perhaps it is because the sprite kind long ago established their harsh laws of worship and took it upon themselves as a race to battle evil. An honor, they called it, to be born with the wings of Diana. An honor, they said, to devote magic and sword to the gods.

I too fell for the teachings. I too walked the Path of the Three. In a way I still do. In a way I still cling to my faith like fae children clutching for tree branches as their wings unfurl. But the Path of Three has become muddied and my sense of good and evil turned upside down.

In Paxia, for instance, I saw a dracon mother lose her child. The foul creature wept, the sound of her remorse so loud and genuine that it moved my heart to pity. This beast, tainted by Cyraxian, felt pain. Are we really so different then? I feel the void of missing family tonight, sitting here in a home built for many. No doubt the dracon creature is moved by the same feelings at this very moment. Their race, after all, has the same story as my own. Saved by the grace of Diana...how then are they evil and we good?

These revelations have run their course through my mind on many a darkening as I walked alone through the forests of this continent. The consequences have changed me. I doubt the order in this world now. Even worse, I doubt the gods themselves. Are the Aetherians really so different from the Aeternians? Do not those we consider holy act dishonorably themselves? I think of Phedos and Jorel, both making plays for power like common politicians here on Telath. One was allowed to stay. The other was forced from his home. Divine justice, indeed.

The above thoughts have stopped my study of arcana. Like most sprites, my mind bears access to the Plane of Life. I can draw forth its power, craft it into helpful shapes, and bring about small changes in living creatures. Our priestesses consider this ability too a gift from the gods. But how is one to wield such power when they doubt the gods? Will I be punished for using such power when I doubt them so? Can access to the Plane of Life ensue without their blessing?

These fears are merely speculative, and as I said, our race is curious. Last darkening, sitting here alone in a quiet house, surrounded by the silence only the dead of winter can bring to a forest, I sat down and meditated. I told myself simple loneliness guided me. I simply wanted to feel attached to something living, and what better place to turn than the Plane of Life? In truth, I now think it an act of defiance. My mind entered Clara and walked the astral plane. It did so without blessing from the gods. It did so for selfish reasons, because I found being there pleasurable. I stayed there for as long as I could, which admittedly wasn't very long, and I again traveled to the plane this morning.

In a few brightenings, perhaps I will have the courage to draw mana from the plane. Perhaps I'll shape some kind of spell. Thaumaturgy without the gods...a curious thought.

[Malvoitre]

These last few brightening have stirred curious revelations about the use of arcana that have previously gone unquestioned, at least in my small and sheltered mind. The gods, it seems, do not protect the Plane of Life as I once thought. I can enter that realm freely and without their blessing. The power seems no different than that of a sorcerer or mystic. Odd that I thought the Plane of Life bore some special meaning to the Aetherians, as if life would be precious to those who worry not about their own mortality. This revelation, though obvious with little deduction, would be considerable by my people.

Worse in their eyes is perhaps the reasons I've returned to Thaumaturgy's study. No longer is it a weapon for fighting evil or helping others. I simply find I enjoy its practice. Selfish reasons they are and perhaps even despicable, but comforting to me somehow. It is as if a great burden has been lifted from me. There is no great purpose behind my work, no meddling in the myopic struggle between good and evil.

This morning I found myself flooding my own body with mana from the Plane of Life. How strange to watch the life essence within me vibrate and alter from the simple weave commonly known as Nimbility. I tried my hand at flying whilst under the spells effects and can only describe the results as exhilarating.

How the light slowed down, the colors of leaves blazing in a slow wind as my body burned past, anxious for the next slow beautiful sight. So many of them to see here in the Tawnleaf. So little time with but one weave of life mana. I cast the spell again and again until my Vis depleted. Such sights. Such beauty...almost enough to believe in something holy about the world. Almost...

At spell's end I found myself far away from my home. I was so tired. A tree hollow proved worthy shelter and I spent a cold darkening in a dead sleep. Dreams drifted across my eyes almost as quickly as I had flown through the forest. What they were of...I wish I could remember.

For the first time in many eras I awoke with a smile upon my face.