Moonday, Desnus 19

It feels right to be leaving. Although technically we remain the owners of this fort, by virtue of Magnimar having relieved itself of the responsibility, in practice we’ve done all we can to make it self-sufficient. The new recruits are being trained, and I smile a bit as I see Jakardos chastise them. He had spoken of retiring from this business (and still does) but I can see from the manner of his step and the way he holds himself that his words do not match his actions.

Logically, I do believe he has convinced himself it’s time to move on. Emotionally — ethically, perhaps — he seems to still feel a conflict, as if leaving now would be abandonment. I do hope for his sake that a protege rises from these recruits that will allow him to actually do what he has reasoned it is time to do. But that will still be, at least, several months off.

Our destination is Magnimar. Many of us have additional training we’d like to undergo, and while we were able to piece together some training from various elders and skilled artisans in the region this last time, it is nowhere near the same as having a skilled master, who is also skilled at teaching, guiding you as you extend your capabilities.

 

Fireday, Desnus 23

Of course, coming from the direction we were we would have to pass through Sandpoint before reaching Magnimar. And yet it startled me to come upon familiar bridges and landmarks, because I feel so changed in the intervening times. When first I arrived at Sandpoint, I knew none of my companions and few of my spells. I mean, really, a handful of goblins gnawing at my leg could have killed me. Now, with a greater mastery of magic, crossbow, and even quarterstaff, I doubt the infestation we encountered would do more than annoy me and my companions.

Sigh. Korvosa will always be my home, but Sandpoint still holds a special place for me. I look forward to an overnight here, and not simply for the promise of better accomodations than a bedroll and an open sky. I do like nature, but it is possible to have too much of a good thing. And too little of a better thing like warmth and well-built shelter.

There will be little time to socialize, but it will be hard not to run into at least a few people we know. I could see us returning here with purpose if the promise of the giants’ reclaiming of their homelands is true, because Sandpoint would certainly be in that area of dispute.

Oathday, Desnus 29

 
We arrived in Magnimar a few days ago, and although we all immediately went in different directions to accomplish different things, we find it … comforting is not the right word … comfortable to reconvene in the evening. Weeks of relying upon each other have established some old habits, and I feel like I’ve forgotten something if, before I retire, I’ve not accounted for everyone in the party. That is silly, of course; we’re in a place of safety and it’s not at all unusual for somebody in the party to be out late or away a bit longer than the majority of the party on any given night. And yet, it is how I feel.

Father never spoke to me of the camaraderie that is formed by a band of adventurers, but then I don’t believe he ever found himself in the company of such a large group. From his stories, he had the occasional companion or two, brought together by circumstance or common foe or problem, but I don’t recall him speaking of a regular coming together of the same group. I will admit (to none here, of course!) that I find the sameness a little comforting.

Comfortable, I mean. Comfortable. I wish it were possible to erase ink without ruining a whole page of parchment. Hmm. Perhaps there’s a spell for that.

And that brings me to my training. I found my usual tutor, Berik, shortly after arriving in town. After a day or two of instruction, he found me, in his words, “particularly adept” at this point in time. He warned that soon, possibly as soon as at the conclusion of this session, he might consider me more of a peer than a student. I considered that a bad thing, in the sense that it meant it would be harder to learn new spells and techniques, but he disabused me of that.

“Trask, a sorceror reaches a point,” he confided to me, “where your magical improvement hinges more on your creativity and ability to explore new areas with peers than your ability to read textbooks and burn down labs.” He smiled. “Not to say you have not been extraordinary in that capability. Never have I found my create water spell so useful as with you. But the day is soon coming when you and I will consider things as equals, and learn together. There are still sorcerors and wizards who know more in breadth than you or I, and yet are not suited to be tutors to us.” And with those words, we returned to what may be our last session as professor and student.

Fireday, Desnus 30

We have settled on several new spells that Berik knows sufficiently to teach me. And he has commented again that I am picking them up very quickly. Featherfall is a very easy spell that I’ve never had the time to learn before. The rope spell is a fascinating spell that I never knew existed until somebody in the party asked if I knew how to cast it. It is a surprisingly easy way to hide from enemies in a dimensional pocket and I was fortunate to find that Berrik could instruct me in it. Neither of those requires a particularly complex lab area.

The other spells I am learning are tougher, but I see them having great use in our missions. I am learning major image, which will allow me to cast very believable illusions. I am learning greater invisibility, which conveys upon the recipient the ability to remain invisible despite taking action against another. I might find that Rigel is my new best friend if she finds I can do this to her. The last is wall of fire.

Berik raised an interesting topic with me after instruction today. He asked if I knew the basis for my magical control, and I told him I got it from father. He looked annoyed and replied that yes, of COURSE I did, but where did he get it from? And his look told me that if I answered “my grandfather” he’d create a large amount of water right over my head. I must admit that I was confused by the question. He looked astonished. “You mean your father never told you?” I continued to look perplexed, and replied simply, “He said magic ran in the family, and that as I got older, aspects of that would make themselves apparent. But it was that heritage which gave me the control and left others unable to have the same control.”

Berik looked me up and down, and commented, “If I didn’t already know your age, I’d accuse you of being intentionally idiotic.” I smiled briefly, and then paused, and said, “Hey, wait a minute.” Berik gave a wry smile and said, “You ARE an idiot, you know? At least when it comes to why you are a sorceror and others are not. Most sorcerors are well aware of why they have the gift, and whether to hide that or flaunt it. Especially given that your father apparently was reluctant to brief you on the topic, I suspect I know what it is that gives you the magic.”

I sat down for a moment and looked at him. “What can you tell me? Does this help?” And I made the claws appear. And even as I did so, I stared at them. I’d not brought them out in several weeks, since as my magic grew, my need for hand to, er, claw combat had lessened. But they seemed, I don’t know, larger than I remembered. More powerful looking.

For his part, Berik proved he had an innate ability to jump, travelling at least three steps back before regaining control. “Great Light of Desna, you need to say something before you point those at somebody in polite company!” He quickly regained his composure and stared me down. “Given this, and your predilection and adeptness at playing with fire, I suspect there is a dragon in your ancestry somewhere. Given your father’s reluctance to discuss it, that introduction may not have been entirely voluntary.”

I stared at him. I stared at the claws. I stared at him again. “A … dragon? Does this make me evil? Does it make me a freak?”

“No, and yes,” he responded. “All sorcerors, myself included, are a freak if you consider introducing magic into a human bloodline to be a freakish thing. I myself have a bit of the fey in my bloodline. But whether you choose to use this talent for good or evil is still an individual decision, borne of both upbringing, genealogy, and will. Has your father told you what to expect as you progress?”

“Well, he has said there are certain family traits that will become apparent — the claws, for instance, I’ve had since I exhibited a flair for magic,” I responded.

Berik nodded. “That’s typical. And I’ve observed your augmentation of fire spells, which tells me you’ve a red, brass, or gold dragon in your lineage. We should be able to tell from your breath weapon. What form does it take?”

“WHAT?” I sputtered. “A breath weapon? You mean like breath noxious gas on people?”

Berik chuckled. “You’ve that, son, yes, but that’s simply due to poor oral hygiene. No, at a point in your development — and I’d judge that to be soon — you will indeed be able to breath – fire, I suspect – upon those who displease you. Have you tried?”

“How does one do that?”

Berik shrugged. “Do I look like a dragon? I already told you my magic is fey based, not dragon based.” He looked bemused. “I don’t know if it’s a cough, or an exhalation, or what. I presume it doesn’t hurt you, but I may be wrong. Did your father ever barbecue dinner without the use of wood, or sneeze and set the curtains on fire?”

I just stared a little goggle-eyed at him, until he smiled a little. “I wish I was an artist,” he said, “because the look upon your face is worthy of canvas.” He sighed. “I know something of what you may expect from speaking with other sorcerors I have known. Exactly how it works and when it happens varies from person to person and my own inexact understanding of other bloodlines. But I believe you should expect yourself to become increasingly resistant to fire itself. You should expect to find yourself with fire breath that you can use infrequently, like once or twice a day. Those claws you already know about. They will continue to get more vicious. I would guess you already have a hide that is tougher than the average human, although it still won’t break a blade or be as good as the armor a fighter wears. At some point you may develop wings, or at least the capability for them.”

I took a deep breath and stared into the distance. At that moment, my pride in my father was at an all time low. And yet, I was excited. Enervated. Angry. Sad. Frustrated. Quivering.

“Trask?” Berik broke a very long silence. “Do we need to take a break?” There was real concern in his voice.

Still in a bit of a daze, I looked through him, and then focused. “Yes, please. I’d like to call it a day if you don’t mind.”

He looked at me intently. “It is still a gift, you know,” he said softly. “Even if it isn’t wrapped as nicely as you might have wanted.”

I looked at him and a thought occurred to me. “Do sorcerors and priests control magic in the same way?” I asked.

Berik snorted. “Completely different. Priests are granted power from their deities. Sorcerors utilize naturally occurring magical forces to concentrate them in ways that produce the effects of the spells they cast. It’s all rather metaphysical and a complete understanding of it is an area of study all its own. Why?”

“So priests don’t manipulate the same energies by focusing them through their holy objects and intense concentration?”

Berik remarked, “You really are an idiot, you know. But you’re 18 or so, aren’t you? So there’s still hope.”

I gloomily looked at the ground. “I think I have some apologies to make to some priests.”

And I knew I had a long letter to write. And probably rewrite, before sending.

Toilday, Sarenith 3

Instruction is going well. Berik says I am learning more spells than he would normally ascribe to a sorceror of my skill, and he thinks that too may be due to my lineage. We did not intend to study either fly or fear, but a few times I almost “accidentally” cast those in reaction to lab events. The imprecise reactions I had make the almost-cast spells dangerous, but it is taking but a small amount of instruction to formally pick up on those as well.

I continue to compose the letter to my father. It has already been rewritten twice and remains unfinished.

Others are also training and restocking, but for now I’m simply keeping my share from the artifacts we’ve sold. I’m in an awkward state where I have too much coin for mundane stuff and not enough for truly useful magical stuff.

 

Sunday, Sarenith 8

 

The letter is still not complete, and while I’m normally pretty outgoing and talkative with the party, I’ve been rather contemplative of late. Others are telling of the new skills, languages, and spells they’ve picked up, but although I’ve done well and completed my training with Berik, it just seems to not be an interesting topic to me.

I thought I was doing fine, but I’m not. And I don’t know when I will be. Berik has given me much to think about.

We are part way to Sandpoint. We have decided we must make a circuit across the cities and villages that may be targets of the giants and their allies. It may happen next month or next year, but we need to consider it urgent that they be prepared … if only for the advanced warning the fall of one city may give the others.

Moonday, Sarenith 9

We are back in Sandpoint, and apparently are remembered, judging from smiles and waves.

In fact there is a celebration scheduled in a few weeks to commemorate the great Goblin invasion (and defeat). Seems like a bit of Chamber of Commerce marketing effort, but hey, tourism supports the town better than random travellers so who am I to complain?

We will meet with the sheriff and mayor later today or tomorrow to discuss what we know. In the meantime, it’s rooms at the Rusty Dragon and Amiko’s friendly smile.

While many greeted us openly, on our way to the mayor’s office, Avia thought she saw somebody watching us secretly. Our resident sneaky people were unable to turn the tables on this person so we know little of whether they really were following us or if they were, why.

We discussed the need for a plan, and Takkad looked frustrated at the mayor’s Sandpoint-centric view point. Glyphs of warding were suggested and a reasonable defense was discussed. There is no standing army here and never will be, but perhaps a reasonable defense can still be put in place for any small foraging parties (whatever a small foraging party may look like in the context of giants.)