Tale of John Primus,Master Wizard in Exile[Updated:05/13/11]

[kaeneth]

Chapter 1

Blood still dripped onto John's white robe from his broken nose as he squirmed in the hard wooden chair of the accused. His flesh was red beneath the silver necklace. His manacled hands reflexively went to his throat yet stopped a few inches short by the chain bound to the manacles around his ankles.

John's eyes roamed over the magistrate's staff of office as the nobility's creature entered the courtroom. The marks of both a nobleman and a University-trained wizard were engraved into the yellow wood. John sighed. He had hoped there were no wizards so thoroughly bought by the nobility to betray one of their own. John resigned himself to the thin, vain hope that he could escape his cell after the trial but before his execution.

The magistrate took his cushioned seat on the obsidian dais and slammed his staff into the floor, a miniature thunderclap was the floor's reply. The magistrate said evenly, "John Alexander Primus, Magister of Necromancy..."

The handpicked gallery of nobility booed. The nobility was the only class of people who would waste time on this farce of a trial.

The magistrate banged his staff a second time, the same miniature thunderclap silenced the gallery. The magistrate continued, "You stand accused of the most heinous crime of rape. Your plea of not guilty was registered at the time of your arrest. My advice to you, young man, is to admit your guilt and throw yourself at the mercy of the court. The woman's screams for you to stop were heard by witnesses and she is prepared to face you in open court and denounce your claim the sex was consensual. I may be prepared to commute your sentence to a life of hard labor, with silver around your throat. It will be unpleasant for a wizard but you might last a whole year in such a state. Otherwise, should your defense prove insufficient to convince the Court of your innocence, you will be executed tomorrow at Dawn."

John replied calmly, "Her father's bribed witnesses and pressure on his daughter does not change the truth, Magistrate. The only reason this is being ruled a crime is her father planned to marry her to ..."

The magistrate's staff thundered for a third time and the Magistrate said evenly, "His Grace's character is not on trial, defendant. Your statements are pure speculation without a shred of evidence. While I understand no lawyer was prepared to represent a villain of your evil, only evidence and direct, witness accounts are valid in a court of law. Please refrain from any further speculation or I will consider only the State's view."

John bowed his head and replied, "Very well, the sex was consensual. I stand by that fact and repeat my plea of Not Guilty."

The magistrate nodded and turned his gaze to the only other man outside of the gallery, the State's prosecutor. The magistrate said, "Understood. Sir Wicke, if you would present the State's witnesses. I know you have thorough opening and closing arguments planned. However, the State and the Accused were unable to find any proper representation for the Accused. This being the case, I see no need to engage in typical debate which would certainly disadvantage the Accused."

Sir Wicke smiled at the excuse to stand and leave his uncomfortable wooden chair behind. Wicke replied, "Very well, Sir. I call the victim herself. I will be happy to call others, if the Court desires. However, as the defendant does not deny the sex act itself I feel her testimony should be sufficient to decide the matter. Would that be acceptable, Magistrate?"

The magistrate smiled.

"Indeed, Sir Wicke. I have faith in the honest testimony of a woman of such a prestigious lineage. I understand how difficult this is for her and I would hate to delay justice a moment, should such justice be deserved by the Accused."

The rear door opened to admit a woman, every inch covered in mourning black from the veil over her face to the black boots on her feet. She yelped as her leg lightly brushed against the chair. She took a deep breath before she sat in the witness's soft, cushioned chair. Her fingers went to her leg but stopped an inch short. She took another deep, calming breath.

Sir Wicke said, "My lady, I apologize once again most humbly for this inconvenience. I know you have suffered horribly and I wish this could be avoided. Unfortunately, the law is the law. If you would, for the record, please state your full name, a short summary of events, and confirm the Accused is the man who raped you. After that, my dear, please feel free to leave immediately. I would hate for you to spend a second longer than necessary and I am certain the Court will see justice done with such a short ..."

John said calmly, "I have no right to ask her any questions? I was..."

The magistrate's staff thundered. "John, you will refrain from such outbursts. It is unfortunate you lack competent legal representation. However, you agreed that the trial should proceed without such. You have no right to ask the victim of a crime any questions, as the accused. Only a third party, such as a lawyer, is permitted such a right. However, as your defense hinges on the fact the sex was consensual her repudiation of that fact is all the Court requires in this instance. Do not open your mouth again, unless asked. You have tried the Court's patience enough for one trial."

The magistrate turned to the lady and bowed his head. He continued, "I am sorry, my lady, for the delay. Please do as the State has asked and return to the safe bosom of your family."

"Ye-yes, Magi-magi-ster."

The lady took another deep breath.

"My full name is Alexandria Catherine Hardwicke. The Accused is the man that..."

Another deep breath.

"...I met last night."

She took another deep breath and closed her eyes beneath the veil. The silence grew from moments to minutes as she kept her mouth shut.

John stared at his lady in the silence. He might seal his fate but he had to see, he had to know. She never dressed like this and her behavior was odd. She was fine when he left her yet now, she brushed lightly against furniture and yelped. Now, her graceful voice lacked its melody. He drew on what little reserves he had, the silver's fiery caress grew as the smell of burnt flesh began to emanate from him. He carefully imagined the most gentle blast of wind to grab at the front of her veil and force it back over her head. He needed to see.

"Please, my lady, continue. I understand this is most stressful, however, my Court needs to hear the truth so that I may pass judgment upon..."

A slight, unnatural gust of wind blew the veil from Alexandria's face, the slight contact of the wind on her face drew another pained sound from her throat. The court's inhabitants gasped. The woman's soft white flesh was covered in bruises. There was also a small patch of burned flesh in the form of the letter H, a brand as if she was cattle, that left no doubt in the minds of many that this was not the wounds of a raped woman but a tortured one. A woman tortured at her father's command. The H brand was the mark of the Archduke's torturers, the careless fool would likely lose their life for branding the Archduke's daughter. However, the damage was done amongst the gallery. None of them would dare breathe a word but all of them knew in their heart that John was innocent and the earlier accusation of a political marriage being the reason for this trial was the truth.

The magistrate's hand turned white as he gripped his staff. He willed a second gust of wind to blow the veil down. He said evenly, "Sorcery in a court proceeding is illegal except in the defense of the Court. I have no choice but to take that, and the lady's injuries, as proof of the Accused's guilt. I have no interest in..."

The magistrate paused as Alexandria's mouth opened beneath her veil. A second spell, slammed her jaws together and she squealed slightly through clenched, bound teeth. The magistrate breathed deeply and continued, "...delaying the lady's return to her family. I am sure their physicians will see to her health. I find the defendant guilty of the heinous crime of rape as well as the lesser crime of sorcerous malfeasance. He is to be executed, by pyre, at dawn."

The magistrate's staff thundered a final time which signaled the end of the proceeding.

[Dalton]

This story almost immediately gripped me. Please continue.

[Eternal_Freedom]

Most intriguing. An excellent piece of writing with the single flaw of being short. Please, write more.

Oh, and welcome to the forum.

[Ahriman238]

I like it well.

A fine introduction. You'll need a bit more character development if (as I hope) you continue. And you'll probably want to devolp the magic system more, and tell us more about the society they live in, for those of us on the board who get a kick from that sort of thing. It works very well as a self-contained episode and an introduction, but will need these things, character and world-building, to make a proper story.

It seems a safe assumption that the silver chain restrains John's powers. Why? Why was he able to circumvent that, even at personal cost? Is there no more effective or permanent way of restraining a mage? The judge suggested that the silver would eventually kill him, "you may last a year." Again, why?

You've certainly piqued my curiosity. More, please?

[kaeneth]

This story almost immediately gripped me. Please continue.

Yaya!

Most intriguing. An excellent piece of writing with the single flaw of being short. Please, write more.

Oh, and welcome to the forum.

Thanks

I like it well.

A fine introduction. You'll need a bit more character development if (as I hope) you continue.

Ya...I'm planning to continue but I figured I should write something somewhat self-contained if no one liked it.

And you'll probably want to devolp the magic system more,

Ya, that will slowly creep out over the next couple of chapters. It is going to be a very wishy-washy magic system since magic is well...magic. Other than giving a general scale/scope of what a Wizard can do (san silver) it won't be deeply explained. Wizards break the rules everyone else plays by, limited by their strength and their ability to apply their power intelligently.

and tell us more about the society they live in, for those of us on the board who get a kick from that sort of thing.

Exhibit A:
Cynics Win

Exhibit B (Spoiler'd as it contains my plotline thoughts): Spoiler

There will be very little society development for awhile. The 'Master Wizard in Exile' is an accurate statement, so John is going to be spending most of his time on the edge of society. I debated about explaining further but...I didn't want to give too much away.

It works very well as a self-contained episode and an introduction, but will need these things, character and world-building, to make a proper story.

Thank you. And yes, more is planned.

It seems a safe assumption that the silver chain restrains John's powers. Why?

Silver reacts to magic by absorbing it and generating waste heat.

Why was he able to circumvent that, even at personal cost?

You'll have an idea by the end of the next two chapters but I'll spoiler it in case you want to know now: Spoiler

I debated about infodumping it in the first chapter but I figured it might be a nugget to keep people interested and wanting to read more. >.>

John's Master's Thesis was creating a silver-cored staff designed to serve as a magical battery that absorbs ambient magic 'at range'. He used such a staff as his primary personal weapon ever since he graduated from the University and is used to dealing with the magic absorbing effects of silver. He lost his 'good staff' but he'll have the 'original' in a couple chapters. However, mere practice is insufficient to completely negate the effect of silver so it still absorbs a large portion of the magic.

In other words, I gave John a rare talent/skill for dramatic effect. That, and he needs that talent to survive.

Is there no more effective or permanent way of restraining a mage?

Correct. 9 times in 10, silver is enough. The 10th guy is going to be unable to do more than create a bit wind or give himself the strength of an ogre. Hence, the Magistrate being a Wizard. Another Wizard was hired to escort John to/from prison but it didn't seem relevant.

The judge suggested that the silver would eventually kill him, "you may last a year." Again, why?

Magic lets you break the natural laws but it also has drawbacks. Magic is a corrupting addiction that fucks with your head..only once you stop using it. He'll either lose his mind or have silver slowly burn its way towards vital organs. Either way, he is screwed.

In other words, a Wizard is fine as long as he can use magic regularly. If he has to stop for a couple weeks, he'll start hearing things. A couple months, he'll have full blown hallucinations.

You've certainly piqued my curiosity. More, please?

I'll probably post another chapter this weekend. Maybe two, depending on time.

[kaeneth]

Chapter 2

John sat on the cold metal floor cross-legged as he meditated in the center of his cell. The four walls of his prison are a series of bars made from Magebane Steel. Magebane Steel is an alloy of steel and silver that is nigh-invulnerable to mortal magic yet strong enough to be unbreakable by the strongest of mortal hands. The floor and ceiling were solid Magebane Steel. The size of John's two meter by one meter prison reflected the cost of such material, a single cell of such cost more than a minor nobleman's fortune.

He was thankful the cost had resulted in four walls made from bars, rather than solid walls. The flow of magic was difficult to tap but not impossible. He had wasted his reserves to see his love's face one last time, to harden his heart with hate for the man who would do such to her. Moment by moment, that reservoir of power within him filled as the silver necklace grew hot against his flesh.

He yelped slightly and opened his eyes, concentration broken by the pain. The scent of burnt flesh filled his nostrils. His hands reflexively reached for the burning, painful necklace but were stopped short by his manacles. He cursed softly. John had barely enough power to strengthen his body to burst the manacles and then break down the bars. He needed to be able to silence the racket caused by such an action. An unusual noise, such as the clang of a metal bar being torn from its mooring, would alert the guards.

John's eyes closed as he prepared to spend the next hour of life in agony. He started to tap the natural flow of magic, for that is what all magi saw it as...an endless river that flowed in strange rivers through the oceans, the air and the earth. A voice stopped him.

“Hello, John. You will likely kill yourself if you try that again, you know?”

He jumped to his feet as he searched frantically for the speaker only to be rewarded with the bare stone walls of the dungeon that lay but a few feet beyond his cell on all sides. John replied with forced calm, “Who is this? Show yourself, please.”

The voice chuckled. “John, John. As a wizard, you should know quite well there are methods of sending one's thoughts or voice quite a distance. You are not the only wizard alive that knows the secret of piercing an imperfect barrier of Magebane Steel. Pure silver is the only perfect defense, after all. Now, would you mind not committing suicide long enough for us to chat? The builders were quite accurate with their calculations, I assure you. Even the greatest mortal wizard that ever lived would only be able to draw enough power by killing himself to both break the manacles, the bars, and dampen the sound to keep it from echoing far enough from a guard to hear it.”

“What do you want, then? To convince me it is suicide so I just give up and let them kill me in the morning? I'd rather fuck up this little prison of the Archduke's and die that way, thank you very much.”

“Silly human, why would I waste my time on you to discourage you? I simply said your plan will fail and you will die. I would rather make a deal that would allow you to escape, alive, instead.”

“What do you want?”

“Three books. Specifically, the books of Kaen. I have a bit of a puzzle to sort out and Pride insists on keeping them. I'm not going to risk an encounter with one of the Dark One's most powerful servants at the heart of their power. A dead man? A dead man might take on such a risk.”

“That is insane. I'm no match for your average Daemon, let alone one of the Seven. I'd rather risk killing myself channeling power with silver against my flesh.”

“Who said anything about fighting Pride? The books are relics in his library, nothing more. If you are careful, he will not even be aware of you. His mind is always focused on his Great Work as the Chosen One of his Master. I doubt he'd spare a thought for your intrusion as long as you remain in the outer sections of the Tower. There, yes, you might encounter a few Darkspawn but, honestly, your average Daemon is less powerful than you silly mortals think. I think you can manage it or I would not be wasting my time.”

“If it is so easy, why don't you do it yourself? Eh? I mean if Daemons are 'easy' and Pride won't even notice, what risk would it be for someone who can project his voice through tons of rock and Magebane Steel?”

“I never said I was certain, human. I simply said it was a risk. If Pride notices you, yes, you are a dead man. I doubt you would survive his first spell. However, Pride's flaw is Pride. He is too important to bother guarding relics. He keeps them because we don't like sharing our toys.”

John closed his eyes as the voice's words sank in. “You are one of them.”

“Yes. However, my plans require that many mortals survive. The other Six lack such a requirement.

You see, Darkspawn do not 'Lust'. I am not sure if that was intentional on the others' part, to pick me out of the herd and cripple me, or a simple accident. Darkspawn do rape mortals. However, it is always a crime of a desire for power and as such Greed benefits while I do not.

Mortals? Mortals lust for damn near everything with the proper anatomy, if one gives them the slightest nudge. They lust for the pleasures of the flesh with quite regularity. Look at the city of Hardwicke. The majority of common women, those who lack the intelligence to enter the University, become little more than breeding stock for the nobility's pleasure. Of course, the practical side effect keeps your kind alive despite the constant losses inflicted by the Darkspawn.

Does that make me an evil you can work with?”

“Well, it depends what you would do with the books, Lust. If I'm handing you the key's to the Dark One's prison, I'd like to know beforehand. What is this 'puzzle'?”

“What happened to one of my two Creators. Yes, the Dark One had a hand in making me...but so Kaen. A man whom I watched fight the Dark One to a standstill as his ally killed the Dark One's host and forced the Dark One into his prison. I could be lying, of course. Feel free to read the books before giving them to me. I simply desire to know if Kaen still lives in that petrified body of his. A fact I cannot ascertain without the books or entering the Tower of Midnight myself”

“You do talk a lot, you know that right? And more importantly, why the fuck would I risk revealing the status of someone who would intentionally create a monster of your power? I'm not sure I would want to live in a world with more of your kind.”

“I do not lie, mortal. Those who know the lore of the Seven would know such. I have never lied to a mortal. Now, as for more of the Seven, why the fuck would I want that? I do not need the competition.

I simply miss him as a son does his father. Kaen was good to us. Kaen loved us. Now, I have wasted all the time I can afford on this. Will you do it or not?”

“I will agree to recover the books. If they are as harmless as you claim, I will give them to you. I will be free to steal any artifact or treasure that might be of use to me in removing the corrupt nobles from Hardwicke. Fair?”

“Done, mortal. The books truly are harmless and you might even find the information useful as it delves into the history of your home city and the University. Now, as for the power to escape, mortal kind's magic is based on certain simple principles. Energy cannot be created or destroyed. However, energy can be manipulated through evocation to create powerfully destructive effects. The only real magic flows through reality like a series of rivers which can be tapped to exert unnatural effects upon the reality through which such rivers flow. A practitioner is burned by silver when utilizing magic. Silver disrupts the use of magic.

This is a lie, and like all great lies, is a lie of omission. There is another form of magic, another form of reality-bending power.

Faith and souls. This is not necromancy, as you understand it, but something more. Every time a mortal engages in a fantasy or an act of Lust, it feeds me a sliver of their soul. The same is true of the other Six. The belief of all Darkspawn and mortals that I am, for all intents and purposes, Lust-made-flesh. This belief is what feeds me small nibbles of their souls. The cultists who pray to me have a similar effect, each prayer feeding me a small nibble.

This power is not disturbed by a mere metal. You have no such external sources but you do have a soul, my delectable mortal. So close your eyes and take a little nap. When you wake up, you will find a second reserve of power within you. DO NOT DEPLETE IT. It will regenerate, with time, but slowly.

We will not speak again. A cultist will find you once you have returned to the city of Hardwicke. Your entry into the city will be taken as a sign you have read the books and are prepared to deliver them.

Good bye, John.”

John's eyes grew heavy a moment later and he collapsed. His head struck the metal bars on its way to the floor. The thud was audible but in a dungeon, a head hitting something hard was hardly noteworthy.

[kaeneth]

I'll be editing the OP with update dates.

[Eternal_Freedom]

Wicked. Some more worldbuilding and details on magic. Looking pretty good.

Would the Seven perchance be the Seven Deadly Sins of yore?

[LadyTevar]

Indeed... the Seven Deadlies... now the question would be if there are Seven Virtues to stand against them...

[kaeneth]

Wicked. Some more worldbuilding and details on magic. Looking pretty good.

Thank you.

Would the Seven perchance be the Seven Deadly Sins of yore?

You would be correct.

Indeed... the Seven Deadlies... now the question would be if there are Seven Virtues to stand against them...

Heh, since that was not a question I will assume you did not want a spoiler'd answer.

[Ahriman238]

Curiouser and curiouser. You continue to be awesome kaeneth, self-inserts aside.

Please sir, can we have another?

[kaeneth]

Curiouser and curiouser. You continue to be awesome kaeneth, self-inserts aside.

It isn't a self insert. I was about to give another spoiler but I'll restrain myself.

Please sir, can we have another?

I'll try to another tonight but it I only managed like one page last time I tried today :/

[kaeneth]

Chapter 3

John woke a few minutes past midnight. His blood-stained white robe shifted about his body as instinctively reached for the blood encrusted hair and the bruised flesh beneath. John's hands were brought up short and he growled. The manacles fell from his flesh to strike his feet. He yelped yet no sound issued forth.

His mouth opened and no words came out. However, if one could read lips, one would see, “What the fuck?”

His hand explored his injury until he was satisfied the bleeding had stopped hours ago. His eyes closed and he sought out that part of his mind that 'held' his reserves of magic. His feet felt soft sand as he stared at his two ponds. One of the ponds, the one filled with crystal clear water on top of hard, gray clay, was familiar but the other...

No sound left John's lips as he spoke again but a lipreader would see, “Where the fuck did...Oh. Fuck. No wonder the Seven seem so fucking powerful. They simply wish it, and it is. No thought-forms, no focus, no concentration.”

The second pool was filled with what appeared to be his own blood, which seemed to make a sick sort of sense. He conceptualized water since Wizards as his magical reserve were trained to tap into the river-like ley lines. Blood made sense as a similar analogy to his subconscious. Unlike the pool of water, the pool of blood was only slightly under half full. Forty percent, maybe. His eyes opened and he sighed. His soundless lips moved again, “And that is why they need us. A human soul does not go far.”

He was unaware of the bubble of silence that surrounded him yet he instinctively knew he had no need to erect one. He stepped towards the bars and the Magebane Steel exploded outward, the shrapnel embedding itself into the wall of the Archduke's dungeon. His eyes flickered closed as he removed the silver necklace from his throat, bits of flesh coming off with it. A bit less than ten percent left. He needed to stop.

Blood dripped down John's white robe as he closed his eyes and focused on the simple concept of him being unremarkable, him walking free was to be expected. He projected that belief into the world and so it was. For the moment.

He knew the way from his trip to the Courthouse above and he began to walk the bare stone corridors of the Archduke's dungeon. He noted the closer he got to the entrance, the brighter the torches became. Perhaps the guards changed them more frequently where the nobles might see? He froze as he heard the sound of footsteps interspersed by screams. He almost cursed aloud when he realized he must have willed silence into being at the same instant he had removed his restraints. He closed his eyes and smiled. Sixty percent water, ten percent blood. Whomever was coming would not notice anything amiss.

Two guardsmen in Hardwicke's green and gold livery arrived as one. The pair spread out to flank the stairwell to the upper floor. John walked towards them calmly as the guardsmen turned to each other, speaking softly.

“Did you hear about their youngest?”

“Philip is on the rack right now over it. Fucking hypocrites.”

“She is his daughter.”

“Still, order her tortured and make no comments about special treatment? Then torture the torturer for handling it like he would normally?”

“Poor bastard. Still, maybe he didn't order it? Some lackey did?”

“And how the fuck was...”

The guard's voice trailed off as they noticed John. The two guards said absolutely nothing as John brushed past them and ascended the stairs.

He heard them resume behind him.

“Who the fuck was that?”

“Some new guy. Philip's replacement maybe?”

“Cold one. He didn't even say Hi.”

“Can you blame him? It wasn't like we waved or anything.”

“True. Anyway, at least the Archduke is paying Philip's widow the death benefit.”

The voices grew incomprehensible as John closed his eyes to check his reserves. A third water, a tenth blood. John cursed silently but he was stuck between two sets of guards now. He had to push forward and he dared not Channel in the middle of guardsmen. They might not be wizards but they were trained to recognize Channeling. Wizards were too rare, and expensive, to use as guards which meant guards were taught to attack channeling wizards on sight. Usually.

He stepped onto the rough brick of the ground floor. The four guards were silent as he entered, each guard positioned in a corner of the room with two watching an entrance. The four men were also wearing a tunic of the Archduke's colors and carrying swords in waist scabbards. However, unlike the guards below, these four wore metal armor. Shit. Would the Archduke spend the money for sets of Magebane Steel armor?

He took his second set of steps into the room and all four drew their swords. He raised his arms in surrender and said evenly, “Sorry guys. I know no one is supposed to come up for another hour but I really, really need to take a shit. I did not want to tell everyone I'm too sick to show on my first day, y'know? I couldn't...”

The one furthest from John replied, “What is today's password?”

“Fuck man, I don't remember alright. I know I fucked up, just give me a break? Please?”

“You know we can't do that. We've got a wizard down there. Just go back down and come up during the shift change for your ilk. Take a shit on a prisoner or in an empty cell. We won't tell.”

John's eyes flicked closed for an instant, a fifth water, tenth blood. John weighed his options. He could rebuild his reserves and try again...but if too many people tried to move through at once, his little illusion would suck him dry before he could get through the line. John shook his head and began to imagine heat into the guards' armor and a burst into the weapons.

John nodded and said, “Alright. Alright. You win. I'll be back and if I smell like I crapped my underwear, you'll have to deal with it too.”

John stepped back onto the stairwell. He made it a few more steps before he released his illusion of normalcy. The guards yelped and their weapons clattered to the floor as John took another step. John spun around and charged back into the room, moving towards the exit. Footsteps thundered behind him as the guards below rushed up the stairs.

The guards in the room with him screamed. One of the guards moved for him but he fell to the floor and screamed as bits of metal melted into his flesh. The other three had succumbed faster, dying on the floor as molten bits of metal entered their flesh while the rest burned horribly.

The smelled of the guards' burnt flesh was still in John's nostrils as he found himself in the Archduke's courtyard near the gated rear exit. Two guards charged from the exit towards him and he flicked his wrist, tripping them. Their heavy armor slowed their movements as he ran past them, careful to stay out of reach.

The gate was closed. The screams behind him stopped.

“Fuck. Fuck.”

John's eyes flicked closed as the two guards ran towards him from behind. No water.

“What the fuck?”

The pool of blood was nearly full. John was on the other side of the gate and in the cobblestone street beyond the estate's brick wall. He flicked his eyes closed again as he ran toward the alley. He tripped on the uneven cobblestones and his face slammed into the stones as he fell. Fifty percent blood. No water.

He heard the sound of the guards' metal encased feet smacking against the stone road behind him. John scrambled to his feet and continued to run. He muttered to himself, “Where the fuck did that power come from? Does my soul heal itself that fast...or did killing those four men cause it?”

He darted out of the alley and into a crowd of commoners, wishing to blend in. His blood-stained white robes became a simple brown tunic and trousers. His feet shifted from soft white shoes to leather sandals. John's hair changed from brown to blonde. He slowed his pace and started off in a new direction.

The guards exited the alley as John's eyes flicked closed again. Forty percent blood. No water. The guardsmen's eyes scanned the crowd in vain as John. John turned a corner before the guardsmen had manged to pick through a couple of faces.

John would make his way to the small cottage he kept outside the city in a friend's name to gather his things and be on his way. He had known one day, someone would find about his lover and he would need to flee. He had never imagined they would torture her instead of him, if they were caught.

---

John left his bolthole, tired but motivated. The Archduke had not seen through the ruse and his supplies were waiting for him. It was not the massive armory of powerful magic one would desire when sneaking past one of the Seven but it would have to do. Once his lover healed, he had no doubt the Archduke would marry her off to the highest bidder. The Archduke was problem enough. The Archduke plus a husband would be insurmountable.

The old wooden staff, with a silver core, he had enchanted as his master's thesis. The staff is capable of absorbing magic in near proximity and allowing the wielder to treat the staff as a second energy reserve. The use of such a staff while working magic required a great deal of practice and even then the staff would absorb some of the energy from John's spells.

He now wore a dark green greatcoat over his light 'city clothes'. The traditional robe of a Wizard would be too unusual outside of a city and it would draw unwanted attention. That, and his greatcoat was enchanted to ward off extremes of temperature and mundane weaponry. Another relic from earlier days.

The last item was a leather sack with a strap to hang off a person's shoulder. The sack was filled with food and coin. It was enchanted, of course, to keep its contents and fresh. It also had an impermanent enchantment to cloak itself from mortal eyes. However, that second enchantment would only function for a couple of days and then need weeks to recover.

[LadyTevar]

The pool of blood was nearly full. John was on the other side of the gate and in the cobblestone street beyond the estate's brick wall. He flicked his eyes closed again and ran towards the alley. His eyes flicked closed and slammed his face into the paving stones as he fell. Fifty percent blood. No water.

Is this a typo, or a missing sentence?

Otherwise, Fantastic!!

[Ahriman238]

Ah, good to see you again kaenath. And so soon!

That bit of illusion work drained him awful quickly. 30% just to get past the first pair of Guards? Still, he is young, and maybe you want Wizards to be rather limited in this series anyway. Plus, John can now drain on the power of his and maybe other people's soul, plus his staff.

Great work, as per usual.

[kaeneth]

Ah, good to see you again kaenath. And so soon!

I'm going to try to post a new chapter once a week. Hopefully, I can keep that up.

That bit of illusion work drained him awful quickly. 30% just to get past the first pair of Guards?

John is kind of like a college grad going back to one of his 101 classes and trying to apply it to the real world. Someone with real ability at illusions would be more efficient. He is a Necromancer with an emphasis on Artifice. He is far, far better equipped to kill another Wizard then sneak through a dungeon.

Still, he is young, and maybe you want Wizards to be rather limited in this series anyway.

He is mid twenties. And yes, mortal Wizards are rather limited in power. However, a Wizard can with preparation (like John with his staff) to achieve far greater effects.

Plus, John can now drain on the power of his and maybe other people's soul, plus his staff.

Yep. Souls taste like cheescake, or so I hear. Nom nom nom. But ya, 'naked' wizards are generally less dangerous.

Great work, as per usual.

I'm glad the audience approves.

The pool of blood was nearly full. John was on the other side of the gate and in the cobblestone street beyond the estate's brick wall. He flicked his eyes closed again and ran towards the alley. His eyes flicked closed and slammed his face into the paving stones as he fell. Fifty percent blood. No water.

Is this a typo, or a missing sentence?

Otherwise, Fantastic!!

I think that is just awful writing on my part.

Would this make more sense:

The pool of blood was nearly full. John was on the other side of the gate and in the cobblestone street beyond the estate's brick wall. He flicked his eyes closed again as he ran toward the alley. He tripped on the uneven cobblestones and his face slammed into the stones as he fell. Fifty percent blood. No water.

[LadyTevar]

No... the double "flicked eyes closed" is confusing

[kaeneth]

Fixed. Thanks.

[Feil]

I like this. I hope you continue.

[kaeneth]

I will...just been distracted with starting a RP this weekend and some RL bullshit.