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Setting back into place his cool demeanor, Elsir made a quick evaluation of the daily incantations he has remaining for the day, pondering for a moment on possible uses and applications. As he had stated to Nikolai earlier, he only had a finite amount of power and each spell that he cast throughout the day drained his mental reserves. Clicking his tongue silently in thought, Elsir cocked his head. I have nothing prepared that might further affect Pharn directly. I could create a large diversion or create a figment of something happening to the Silent Blade that might play into Pharn's psyche. Pausing for a moment, Elsir considered what Pharn had said previously about his parents trapped souls. An attack launched on the final blade might emotionally impact him, but that is only an assumption. Sighing, ELsir turned to Verik. Verik, your one of the wisest beings I know. What are your thoughts? I feel as if this is but a fragment memory of Pharns mind and each time we affect or change it, it could in turn draw us closer to our goal.
Elsir wanted to turn his head away. It was one thing to intellectually know something. It was another to see it with one's own eyes. But Elsir was not weak and would not shy away from the darkness of the world. Denial led to madness and insanity. I knew Willard had lost his father.. Elsir stated quietly, watching the scene unfold in front of him. As the screams of anger, fury and terrible rage rolled over the group of founders. It seemed to resonate outward from the horrific events that were happening at that very moment. Elsir wanted to shutter, but resisted. I knew that he has lost his father, but I did not know that he had actually seen his death. Shaking his head sadly, Elsir frowned, but did not say anything else.
"Well? Did it work? Why aren't we somewhere else?" The words broke the silence and then drifted off into the distance. Elsir opened his eyes yet remained focused on his breathing. He felt his body fill with a deep breath before he concentrated on tensing and flexing first his toes, then legs, chest then shoulders until finally he had quickly, yet effectively taken stock of both his body and the ocular and auditory sensations that he was experiencing. Abruptly a voice uttered a reply. "Are you in grave danger, you mean to ask? Have you entered the world of dreams? Are you awake or asleep? This is a question that you must answer yourself. Were you asleep and are now awake? Did you wake from a dream to discover you are still in a dream?" Elsir blinked once then and cocked his head to the right before smiling softly as Tandlara Esirrian stepped into the circle. Taking a deep breath, Elsir considered the facts at hand, coupled with his knowledge of magic and the planes. Willard was contacted via his dreams and it was postulated that his defenses there would have been the weakest. Via the ritual that combined the arcane and divine magic of Elsir and Verik and coupled with the mentally shielding ward of Lady Jemini, the intent been to enter into Willard's dreamscape. The Dimension of Dreams was a catalogued and known demiplane that was created and maintained directly by the dreams of mortal sleepers on the material plane. Furthermore there were some, rarely gifted elves who possessed the inborn ability to become Dreamspeakers and tap into the power of sleep and dreams. Introspectively Elsir frowned in concentration, mulling over the facts and postulations at hand, before his mind settled on the most likely theory. Finally, after what amounted to handful a seconds, Elsir blinked again and inclined his head in a greeting. "Tandlara, I am unsure if you have been able to hear my voice during the times I have visited you over the last few years. If you have not, let me apologize and make a formal introduction. I am Elsir Tel'ran. Turning to the others, Elsir swept hit hand out to the others. I believe the combined ritual was successful, inasmuch as we had hoped. I believe we have entered into Willard's dreamscape, lucidly. Furthermore, I suspect that we are on the outskirts of the demiplane known as the Dimension of Dreams." Frowning slightly, Elsir waved a hand around him so that the others could take in the space that they now inhabited. The angles and walls seemed slightly off kilter. One corner of the room met in ninety degrees while another at eight-five and a third at one-hundred and five yet the room, somehow still existed, despite the fact that geometry should not allow it to be so. "In a way it makes sense that we should encounter you here." Elsir gestured to Tandlara. "Though in none of my visions could I have forseen it." Running an eye along the unnatural lines of the room, Elsir felt a headache begin to build behind his eyes and he had to force himself to look away. "Unless of course you’re a phantasm, brought to life by our collective imagination. Elsir paused for a moment, considering the statement. "But that's probably not the case.. probably."
Elsir's face grows mournful, hearing the words spill from his apprentices mouth. Throughout much of his life, Elsir had experienced sadness. First the death of his wife Ashandra through old age and then later the loss of his expedition within the Drowning Stones. Elsir had felt the scorn and derision from his fellow archivists within the Grand Lodge and other, fellow pathfinders. Other lesser elves might have allowed it to cause them to slip into forlornness, but Elsir had persevered. It had been two years since his arrival in New Haven and like many, Elsir had hoped that it would be a new beginning. The Harborage House and his reluctant acceptance of apprentices had been one of the first steps, in what Elsir had hoped would new a new chapter in his life. Elsir had hoped for so much from the boy, but this betrayal was personal. Apprentice, Elsir stated, his voice having returned to its cold, logical tone. You do not know the depths of my power, or what the future holds. I have viewed the threads of possibility and probability. So let me tell you what logic dictates. Holding up a finger, Elsir frowns. Now was not the time and place to lecture, but this lesson was not just for him, but everyone that watched the spectacle. Elsir spoke the foul, cursed names with a rasp in his throat as if speaking them made him want to vomit. All liches, and none cared a scant for mortals. History tells us that they viewed mortals as nothing more as tools or pawns for their own gains. Elsir shook his head sadly. Whatever you were told in your dreams Apprentice was a lie. Vordekai will not aid you. Your misplaced actions will not be rewarded. As to making us an enemy. Elsir scoffed at the word. There is no such thing as an ally to a lich, only slave fodder as the orcs of Belkzen discovered under the yoke of the Whispering Tyrant. Elsir grew momentarily silent as if summoning his thoughts. I will give you this final chance Apprentice Pharn, Tell us what you know with your own free will. Elsir frowned and then turned away, not wanting to see the look on the young boy's face when he spoke next.. But when he did speak, his words were as hard and cold as ice. You are my Apprentice, Willard... and my responsibility. I.. I recognize that I have failed you as a teacher. I knew about your nightmares and attributed them to your treatment by the Hag and the loss of your family. I should have acted, but I didn't and so I am partially to blame for what has happened today. I know this, but I cannot and will not allow my failure as your master to further harm my friends and the citizens of New Haven. Apprentice, I will have the information I need from you, even if I have to pluck it from your thoughts.
Elsir felt shocked. Shocked at the betrayal of trust that he had invested in his apprentice, shocked in the furious display of anger in Nikolai. For a moment Elsir felt lost, uncertain. But only for a moment. Elsir commanded forcefully, using a twist of his magic cause his voice to reverberate with an echo. Enough! Slamming his staff down onto the ground, Elsir's eyes flashed with power and an arcane fury at odds with his normally placid or wandering manner. Pharn is MINE to deal with. Scowling with distaste Elsir grits his teeth before taking a sharp breath. Have you all forgotten about Yanna Staghelm? Whom you tried during Abadius of 09? You found him guilty of murder yet he was spared and given a chance for redemption? Or perhaps Kressel whom even now, still lives despite years of banditry? Shaking his head in distaste, Elsir's hand closes into a fist. How is this any different? HOW? The wizard spits out the last word. It's not. Listen to his words Elsir flings out a hand. His family was lost do a Final Blade. Their souls never given peace and something promised a way to save them. Elsir closed his eyes for a moment. An image of a black bastard sword with a pommel in the shape of two snarling wolf's head rushed into his memory. Their souls. Elsir's eyes turned to Verik, piercing.. knowing, before the elf frowned and turned away. Apprentice. Elsir said softly, but with a commanding tone to his voice. Tell us what you know and try to reverse some of the terrible damage you have cause.
Nodding in Nikolai's direction, Elsir waves a hand. Of course, but again I would remind you that there are any number of explanations including various forms of mind control, both arcane and divine in nature or other magical contrivances. There is also the possibility that it was not my apprentice at all, but some form of creature that might imitate his form. Sighing, Elsir nodded again. Regardless, I will use what powers that are at my control to attempt to locate Apprentice Pharn. Turning back to the scrying bowl, Elsir pursed his lips. Now, to the matter at hand. Nikolai, your suggestions are appreciated, but unlikely. A veil of such a nature would require a massive amount of raw energy. It would require multiple wizards working in conjunction as part of a ritual. Bindings and circles of power would have to be employed and even then I don't believe it is likely that this is the case. As far as curses.. Elsir frowned. Curses tend to be more personal in nature. Shaking his head, Elsir clicked his tongue in thought. I have two suppositions. Turning to Nikolai, Elsir paused for a moment. A supposition is a statement or idea that might be true, based on some evidence, but cannot be proven completely. Holding up his right index finger, Elsir then points towards Verik. During this paster winter Verik told me about a curious scene that occurred during the Founders journey toward the Centaur Moot in Desnus of 4710. He stated.. Elsir closed his eyes, calling upon his photographic memory to recall the conversation.
:: Verik nods to Berrin as his friend enters the house, suppressing another motion to swallow or clear his suddenly dry throat with a cough. Within a moment Verik is alone in the open space between the houses. Well not fully alone, as Valnyr stomps his hoof and snorts while Giles swishes his tail with his ears flat, both looking at him. Verik readies his shield and selects the house nearest to shore to enter, left hand resting on his warhammer to be ready with either prayer or weapon. "Good bet it's not tatzylwryms at least," mutters Verik wryly to himself. He gives momentary thought to the safety of the horses if he enters the other house, but decides that while Giles is no warhorse, Valnyr would adequately fend off most attackers until Berrin and he could get back outside. Giles won't bolt if Valnyr holds...I swear Berrin's steed is itching for a fight sometimes, and he held his ground at Dragonshead after all, so unless it's a dragon diving from the sky...bloody stool of a strutting harpy now WHY DID I JUST THINK THAT? IDIOT! Verik jerks his head up to gaze at the skies, looking frantically from lake to plains. Nothing. He searches a second time with his eyes in the late sun. Nope. No dragons. Taking a deep breath and steadying himself, he sets his jaw determinedly and marches towards the door of the house nearest the shore, working the latch and pushing inside. Verik wanders in cautiously, wondering if he should preemptively call for Abadar's blessings. The door opens into a small home of just two rooms - really, one medium-sized room divided in two parts. The cooking area stands to the side of the closer room. He tentatively walks to the small table, finding a few vegetables - curled and desiccated, as if left out for a few weeks - partially cut up and a poorly-made knife placed down neatly next to them. Nothing looks out of place at all, and Verik feels a bit like a voyeur as if the subsistence farmers and fishers that live here might come back at any moment and ask him what he is doing in their house. Verik checks the next room, slowly and carefully peeking around the divider. The room has a few beds, up on bunks to save room. A small dresser of clothes sits next to one of the beds. He opens one of the drawers carefully, as if expecting something to pop out of it and startle him. A few shabby sets of utilitarian clothes sit undisturbed inside the dresser. He spies a small shrine to Erastil, barely more than a few poorly-carved idols, in the corner of the room. He goes over to pick one up, looking at it curiously. "There's nothing here," says Berrin's booming voice from behind him. Verik jumps, startled by his sudden arrival. He turns to Berrin, trying to keep his frayed nerves from showing. "We should head back and get the others. Maybe Jemini can make heads or tails of this. Tandlara would have an idea, I bet..." Berrin murmurs to himself as he exits the house and heads for Valnyr.::
Then holding up a second finger, Elsir gestured to himself. After this recollection, It triggered a memory of something that I had considered unrelated or at least, unquantifiable at the time. Clearing his throat, Elsir closed his eyes. :: A black and white scene, the only color is a red gem that lays glittering in the darkness. Suddenly the image gives way to another picture that shows a flock of ravens bursting from the gem. Cawing the ravens take flight and swirl into an overcast sky. Then the ravens begin to descending onto what looks like an abandoned town.:: Breathing out raggedly, Elsir opened his eyes and looked at the other founders. In the span of two years, two villages have had its occupants disappear and I believe my vision is somehow tied to these disappearances. Shaking his head slowly, Elsir frowns. The gem or the ravens could both be metaphorical in nature or a literal interpretation of some past or future event. The fact that the town was abandoned is a coincident that I do not believe should be overlooked. Quietly, Elsir turned to the others, with a particular focus on Verik and Jemini. My powers of foresight might be triggered should we visit the site of the disappearance. If nothing else, being able to gather personal belongings of those missing would aid in the search for them.
Unlike his usual stony visage, or piercing gaze, Elsir looked visibly troubled. Hesitantly he raised his hand in an almost pleading gesture to the other founders. Please friends, let us not be too hasty. Willard has been though much in the few years that he has been alive. I don't claim to know all that has happened to him, but I still remember the day that we rescued him at the same time that we saved Aleza from Ghorraneaux. He was shattered man, barely out of boyhood. Should it be any surprise that after his experiences, he fled at the sight of another dark horror? Pensively Elsir pursed his lips in concentration. The diviner knew the boy suffered from nightmares and had an unhealthy interest in things that should have been best left in the past. But Elsir had taken in Willard, the youngest of his apprentices and he had hoped that with time, the wounds he had sustained in captivity would be healed. There.. there could be any number of reasons for what has happened... The words sounded hollow even as Elsir spoke them. There could be any number of reasons but only one seemed likely... Growing silent, Elsir felt a deep pain well up in his chest, followed quickly by another emotion. Anger. Looking back at the others, Elsir's face had returned to his stony visage, the emotion having fled as quick as it surfaced. There are any number of possible explanations for Apprentice Pharn's behavior and I refuse to prematurely accept a conclusion without an appropriate amount of evidence to support that conclusion. Until then, he is still my apprentice and mine to deal with. Raising his hand, in a placating gesture, Elsir raised his index finger. But, I can agree with the need to locate him as soon as possible so we can get to the bottom of this.
Clucking his tongue slowly, Elsir shook his head. The words that spilled from Apprentice Pharn were true. Starkly true. But that did not soften the arrogance and anger that underlined the words. What troubled Elsir, more then the words or the tone that they were wrapped in was the knowledge that Willard had so easily and readily recited. He had considered various implications of undeath and necromancy that was far beyond a lay man or woman. More troubling was the fact that Elsir had specifically made it a point to not train his apprentices in the schools of necromancy or enchantment, believing both had the power for terrible harms to be done. Walking silently, Elsir followed behind the others, his eyes boring into the back of his apprentices head as he considered such matters at length.
A Mohrg. Elsir stated, spitting the foul word out of his mouth. Scowling in distaste, the elf recoiled. Beware of its tongue, it can cause a powerful paralysis. It is also incredibly fast with the ability to quickly strike at prey before retreating. Eyes growing hard, Elsir nods. It is very, very dangerous. Bring all of your might to bear upon it. Finishing the words, Elsir called upon his own magic. Touching upon the strings of fate and time, Elsir sought out a more favorable future. One that empowered and strengthed his friends and companions. Clinically, Elsir knew that his actions caused the failure of some other, lesser timeline. It was a thought that had kept him awake at nights. Call it selfishness or survival, but in the quintessence of the moment, Elsir believed himself in the right. Finding the nearest time-stream, Elsir bent the threads though his transformative magic, borrowing snippets of time and probability causing each of his friends to momentarily quickened, far beyond the normal speed of a mortal race.
Listening silently, as is so often the case, Elsir waits before having something to contribute rather then simply speaking for the sake of hearing his own breath. So it was amid the conversation between Verik, Nikolai and First-Founder Lebeda that Elsir broke his silence. Clubs. The wizard stated, cutting through Verik's conversation. Wood is plentiful and they will be quiet nearly as effective as a light mace. Then without breaking stride, Elsir nodded in Nikolai directions. While I may not be able to speak with the scout, there is a possibility I would at least be able to farsee him. Provide me his name as well as a brief description and I will do what I can. Frowning in thought, Elsir turns his head to the right and gazes out to Dragonswatch as if considering a possibility. Also Nikolai, I would appercieate it if you would ask your men if they have seen my Apprentice, Willard Pharn or know where he is staying at? I sent him to Dragonswatch earlier this week to collect a set of drawings of the skelectial remains of the dragon that was discovered here in Rova. Raising a hand as if weighing something, Elsir shrugged. I'm sure things are quite fine with the lad, but with all that has been happening about the town, I thought I might collect him.
Smiling faintly, Elsir ran his fingers along the well-worn spine of the tome Svetlana had given him. The archivist in him made the elf want to examine the tome closer. And the title; The Final March upon Gallowspire a reminder from another time that a nation had been threatened by the rise of a undead horror. Was it coincidence? Elsir thought, tapping a finger along the edge of the book. The wizard shook his head. Since his journey into the future, the wizard had begun to doubt the concept of coincidences. Where are my manners. Elsir said quietly, lowering his head slightly. You are both thoughtful and kind Svetlana, thank you. Sighing to himself, the wizard squared his shoulders before nodding at Oleg and then turning back towards Jemini. The response to your first question is one Lady Lebeda is one that I have considered at length. After all if I was not here then what alternate outcome would unfold? Frowning, the wizard spread out his hand. As I have stated before, I believe that the future is not fixed and that there are multiple timelines. If I leave here, at this moment we can assume that our timeline will branch its course. That said, herein lies the question. Did the Elsir who’s death lead up to the Darkest Timeline know about his future death at the hands of Vordekai? Elsir shook his head. I don’t believe that he did. In fact. Elsir raised his index finger as if emphasizing a point. I believe that the moment that the moment that Borodin, Willas and I returned from our alternate timeline, we experienced a significant divergence from our previous Branch Point and we may have already diverted the Darkest Timeline from occuring. Frowning in thought, Elsir shrugged. This is one possibility and it is what I believe is most likely. We are better prepared now for what the future holds then our other selves. Also I know that in at least some futures, I survive my encounter with Vordekai, as statically it is nearly impossible following the many-worlds interpretation of time that I do not. Glancing down at his empty hands, Elsir grimaced and wished for a moment it had held a cup of hot tea. Over the last two years the wizard had come to enjoy his evening discussions with Verik on the principles of Dweomercraft and magical theory. The conversations had allowed the elf moments of relaxation. At those times he was only a man, not a magister of New Haven, or a Pathfinder.. just a man. Elsir sighed. There were of course other possibilities. Time had a way of trying to emphasize the strongest probabilities. As Elsir’s prophesized death approached, the effort that was needed to divert it grew substantially. Hopefully he was right and the knowledge he had learned about his death would be enough to prevent it. Hopefully… Regardless.. Elsir finished with a wave of his cane. If Vordekai is a lich, and I suspect that he is. Then you will need a wizard when the time comes to face him. Inclining his head towards Jemini, Elsir shrugs. I hope that answers your first question. As to your second, let me clarify. To my knowledge, Vordekai is specifically named in two separate locations. The first time the name Vordekai was identified was in the runes I transcribed from Verik who first located them during your visit to the ruined tower on Lake Candlemere. The runes stated that the tower's purpose was as an outpost known as Hask-Ukrakana for an empire of cyclopes called Koloran. According to the runes, the empire's lands and power stretched across Iobaria all the to Pitax's present location until the Earthfall. Koloran split into many tribes as a shadow of its former self until a cyclops wizard named Vordekai reunited the remaining clans. His armies were endless and rose after being killed, but his rule was short-lived. Vordekai first enslaved the centaurs, then pushed into the mountains and warred with the dwarves of Tar Taargadth. The dwarven empire defeated Vordekai and drove his armies from their lands. Vordekai's demise was the last gasp of the cyclopean empire. The runes also concluded with a warning: many of Vordekai's foul rituals occurred in towers such as this, which bound the limits of his empire, and their taint lingered in them. Taking a deep breath, Elsir inclined his head. Dor-Klaggends History of Tar Taargadth validated many events referenced in the Candlemere Ruins, though it did not mention Vordekai’s name. The second mention of Vordekai was referenced during my journey. So.. Elsir said quietly, I believe my theory is correct. Turning towards Verik, Elsir nodded in agreement. Numerous ruins have been located throughout our area and there are still wide swaths of land that would have once belonged to the Koloran Empire. Something relatively unknown outside of the arcane community is that lead can prevent the usage of scrying from occurring. If we interpret Tandlara correctly and Vordekai’s location is in one such theorized location, it might explain why my scrying thus far has been unsuccessful. Now on the topic of scrying.. Elsir stated, fixing his gaze towards Berrin Myrdal who gazed at the wizard with questioning eyes. What you’re asking for is possible. As it so happened, Borodin interrupted my morning meditation and I did not yet have a chance to prepare my incantations for the day. Frowning in consideration, Elsir conducted a series of mental calculations. Regardless of being able to make contact with the target or not, each invocation will take me nearly an hour of preparation and it’s not something that can be rushed. I will attempt to farsee Maegar first, followed by Borodin’s contact in Varnhold, followed finally by Nikolai. Reaching into his small leather satchel that hung at his side, Elsir withdrew a his polished silver bowl before stretching his back out and then kneeling on the floor. Looking towards Borodin, the elf waved the man over. I need you to have a picture of your informant ready within an hour. Also have the others remain a quiet as possible. This spell is not without difficulty and I need to maintain my focus.
Searching... Seeking... And then... Nothing... Elsir looked up. The spell had failed. Berrin looked at the wizard, his eyes questioning. Elsir shook his head silently before turning back to the floor. Elsir wanted to reassure his friend, but he had two more lengthy spells to cast and the magister knew he needed to work quickly. There were others who could speak to the man. Jemini was particularly talented with words, able to use them as effectively as Elsir could magic. Focus! Elsir thought, turning back to the bowl and begging to gather his power again.
The giant turned and walked to the hearth, the fire blazed brightly in the room. He stood before it for a moment before pulling the cloak of red dragonscales from the mantle. It fit his shoulders and upper arms firmly, the lacquered red dragon snout covering his right shoulder like an ornate pauldron. "We've been allowed to prosper in both coin and peace, Jonn. Any who accost the people of Newhaven from the shadows must be shown the light." The soldier next to him arched an eyebrow. "The light, my lord?"
"Well...I can hardly go looking for them without a torch, Commander."::
Locking his farseeing firmly in place Elsir wants to shout out a cry of exuberant joy. Instead the tired wizard barely manages to stand. Looking down into his silver bowl the wizard is able to make out the image of Nikolai talking to another man. The wizard is only able to make out the end of the conversation, but it appears that something important seems to be happening in Dragonswatch. For once the spell appears strong and the wizard quickly weaves into farseeing a spell of farspeaking that allows for whispered messages. ::Nikolai, this is Elsir. Don’t be alarmed. The founders are gathered at Castle Sanctuary, we are watching you right now. Contact has been lost with Maegar Varn as well as the rest of Varnhold. Preliminary information indicates a possible undead threat. This spell allows for an hour of speech. The founders are standing by for your reply.::
Casting a knowing glance towards Willas, Elsir nods in acceptance of the request. As it so happens, I have not prepared all of my spells for today and I see no issue with your request. I should be able to farsee both your informant as well as your messenger. Turning to Kargath, the wizard frowns in thought. I'll need to stop at the tower to gather a few items and then Borodin, Willas and I will head to the Castle. Kargath, please gather Sune and have her meet me at the Castle. Scowling, Kargath eyes the elf. I'm not your bloody messenger, Elsir. Kargath huffs. No, no you’re not. Elsir states softly, nodding at the tattooed dwarf. You’re my friend, and I tell you this as a friend. The days ahead are going to be very dangerous, that much I know. Sighing, Elsir rubbed his nose. He could feel a headache starting to form. Perhaps they have already grown so while I was busy putting contingencies in place. So, no Kargath, I asked you to gather Sune, not as a messenger, but as a protector. Eyeing the wizard quizzically, Kargath squared his shoulders. Always speaking in riddles… Ah very well den. I'll go gather the librarian. But I don't like all this talk of ominous futures and contingent-whatever’s.
Standing in the central hall of Castle Sanctuary, Elsir clasped his hands together. Each of his index fingers were pointed forming a steeple while the rest of his fingers were intertwined. The room had gone silent after Jemini's announcement. Vordekai. Elsir said, spitting the word out as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. To Elsir's left was his apprentice Sune, who wisely remained silent as she studied the founders through her almond shaped eyes. To Elsir's right was Borodin while behind him was Willas and Kargath. Around the room either standing or sitting were the other founders, all looking at Elsir with questioning eyes. Vordekai, Elsir stated again. Your sure? Elsir asked Lady Lebeda, before he shook head. No, of course you are. Sighing to himself, Elsir tapped his cane against the stone floor rymthiclly in an odd but repeating pattern. Looking up at Doctor Atago and Jemini, Elsir frowned. I reached out to a contact of mine in Hymbria. Her name is Shandrah El'var, she's a herbalist of some note. I explained Tandlara's condition to the best of my ability, hoping that the Elders would have any suggestions on how best to help her. Unfortunately, Shandrah told me that after discussing it with the other Elven healers they thought that her condition might be self imposed. The only theory they could assume was that spirit was needed somewhere else. Frowning in thought, Elsir cocked his head to the right and glanced up as if looking for a hidden pattern in the walls stonework. Even now she is watching over us. Elsir said at last. That is the only explanation that fits. Grimacing, Elsir stopped. There was no more time. The hourglass had been tipped and the cascade had started. Looking at each of the Founders, Elsir sighed. They are not going to like what they hear next. The magister thought pensively. How much can I tell them about the plans I have put into motion? The fail-safe’s I have enacted should the outcome not come as planned? I think it is time for me to tell you what I know and what I have spent the last two years doing. Elsir said quietly, drawing the eyes of each of the founders. First off, I have to provide you a frame of reference. Today is the 24 Lamashan 4712 AR, consider this moment a fixed point in time, a “waypoint” if you will. As you all know, two years ago, Willas and I traveled forward in time to 4733 AR, twenty one years into the future. During that trip, I encountered three truths relayed to me the man that was once known as Taisper Stosz. Each was associated with a year and each lead to the Darkest Timeline. At this point the hall had gone silent. Elsir had been notoriously reclusive about what he had learned in the future, afraid perhaps that too much information relayed too soon would impact the present timeline in an unrecoverable area. The first of the three references draws near friends, and I am afraid. I am afraid because in the year 4713 AR, I will be killed. Abruptly the room erupted in questions and indrawn breaths. Elsir raised his hand while calling for silence. The streams of probability are drawing closer towards an event horizon that I have been fighting to divert. I will tell you some of what I have done and some of what I know. For the rest you must trust me. Smiling sadly, the wizard shrugged. After all, my life depends on the outcome of the next year. Turning back towards the others, Elsir gives a decisive nod. I know my killers name. It is Vordekai. I also know the creature is immeasurably old and unbelievably powerful in nature. It is foul and corrupted beyond scope, un-living yet immortal thanks to its power over necromancy. Taking a deep breath in, Elsir shuttered reflexively before continuing. In the last two years I have spent every day scrying the people and places of our nation, I have summoned ageless creatures and cast my divination far and wide in an effort divert the future. Make no mistake, this is not and exaggeration. I have used every iota of my power to attempt to locate the creature or identify some weakness, but thus far my attempts have proved almost entirely futile. Hand clinching in frustration, Elsir shook his head. There is of course any number of reasons why my spells could have failed. There are both items of power as well as spells that can block such divinations. Regardless, Elsir paused, frowning. My efforts to locate the creature have been ineffective… but my research has not. Turning back to the founder, the magister pointed out of the great-hall window towards the general direction of Varnhold. As I have implied, the last two years have not been entirely wasted. For instance I know that Vordekai was the leader of a nation empire of cyclopes called Koloran Empire that existed over ten thousand years ago. The Koloran empire's lands and power stretched across all Iobaria until the Earthfall destroyed their cities. Dor-Klaggends History of Tar Taargadth also makes mention of the Dwarven peoples battles against the Koloran empire, and while it does not specifically mention Vordekai, it does say that the Koloran empires armies were limitless in number and ”life-blighted”. Motioning toward Verik, Elsir inclines his head. Much of this, Verik is already aware of and I suspect is the reason why he initially sought out additional information on the Tar Taargadth nation. Lips pursing in thought, Elsir frowns thinking back to a council meeting in the month of Pharast. With that information at hand, I turned my focus to the recovered ruins on Candlemere Island back in Pharast of this year. Gesturing towards Jemini, Elsir motioned to the room. You may remember that there was some discussion that same month for the counsel to use treasury funds to rebuild the tower located on the island. This discussion jogged my memory and led me back to the ruins to research the runes that Verik had previously transcribed. Shaking his head sadly, Elsir frowned. In hindsight I am glad that I did. During my research at the tower, I found that there had previously been a dark-ward that had been overlaid into the tower. It had served as a focal point if you will, but it was only part of a larger ritualistic arcane engine. Pointing toward Verik, Jemini and the other founders who had first encountered the tower, Elsir cast his hand out. Each of you reported nightmares the night you slept on the tower. Indeed, that was no surprise considering the content of the tower itself and what it had been imbued with… :: Forlorn stands an abandoned and ruined tower upon a lonely island. Sleeping within are figured that toss and turn as shadowy horrors approach their dreams, yet are the shadows somehow pushed back by a radiant key that sheds a pure and golden light, throwing darts of luminescent glory at the umbral fiends.:: What was not considered was the reason why there was a lingering effect that remained on the tower for over ten thousand years. Nor was considered was the potential effects of dispelling the enchantments present. The room remained quiet and Elsir in frustration ran a hand through his hair. I’m not sure if it was a prison or something else entirely, but when the tower was cleansed and the necromantic power that was still present was disrupted, something took notice, and I believe that something was Vordekai. So… Elsir said quietly as all of the founders eyes were focused on him. That is what I know. I suspect much, much, more and I have put plans in place should I not be able to change the future. Regardless… this knowledge that I withheld would not have changed our response to it. Vordekai’s eye’s fell upon us from the moment that the magic sustaining Candlemere Island failed. I had hoped to have something of substance to bring to you all first rather than an ancient legend of an undead horror. But I have failed and I only have faintest visions of what is in-store for us. But even those visions scare me more then I can describe. Villages will disappear. The dead will rise again and a crimson eye will fall upon us.
Stole set and staff in hand, Elsir finished gathering the last of his things before heading towards the castle. The morning hour was growing late and it would be nearly mid-day soon. The wizard knew that Sune would be tending to her duties in the library below while Jarosh would be working with Master Suel on some new concoction. Elsir rubbed his nose while collecting his thoughts. Tamari was back in White Hart this week visiting her uncle while Willard was in Dragonswatch, collecting a set of drawings from the recently located remains of a large dragon discovered back in Rova and Tagger was more likely than not spending the day near the docks using what he called "practical application of magical theory". The elf sighed. Instinctively, Elsir knew that the man was split in his wants and needs. He saw magic as a tool, like a sword or a mace, to be wielded and commanded, but that was all. That was simply not the right mindset to have, but that was the problem with having a handful of older apprentices that were already self-trained, previously taught or set in their way. Setting himself in the present and placing his thoughts in order, the elf nodded to Kargath and Willas. Very well, let’s head to the castle. Moving towards the door, the rough and tattooed hand of Kargath reached forward opening the iron reinforced oak door. Elsir nodded in thanks before stopping short while his mouth curled up in a wry smile. Borodin.. Elsir said softly, fixing his gaze on the quiet man who lay kneeling on the carpet in the Magister’s antechamber. Standing still, Elsir focused himself and conducted a quick calculation. There’s still enough time remaining before I have to set my conversation with Berrin in motion. Inclining his head gracefully, the wizard motioned for his friend to rise. We are headed to the Castle, you of course are welcome to join us, but I can delay my departure for a moment if your visit is urgent? Forestalling an argument with Kargath, the wizard raised his hand. Kargath my friend, I know what you are going to say, but no amount of guards or wards would have prevented our friend from reaching my sanctum if he wished it. Bless her memory but Borodin is nearly as silent as Nicoleta was. Smiling sadly at the memory of the second woman that he might have loved Elsir continued. But that does not mean that your concern is not warranted, especially with what the future holds. Scowling at Elsir, Kargath narrowed his eyes. Are ye a mind reader now, elf? The dwarf rumbled, while he placed one massive hand inside of the other one and pushed down on his knuckles causing them to *Crack* Smiling faintly, Elsir shook his head. The dwarf’s question was as much a statement as it was a threat. The magister did not mind. After what the pair had been through, Elsir would have expected no less. No my friend, I would not violate your thoughts without your approval. Laughing softly to himself, the wizard shrugged. You’ve only mentioned increasing our security three times in the last week. Nodding again, this time more forcefully, the elf glanced at the door. I’ll speak to the Banker about establishing a series of wards in the more sensitive areas of the Harborage House and you can hire a few men you trust to provide security, is that acceptable? Gruffly, Kargath nodded. Excellent, Turning back to Borodin, Elsir inclined his head. So Borodin, what is it you wished to speak to me about? More assistance in your new role, hrm? The elf said, his eyes twinkling with keen interest.
Apprentice's of the Harborage House Academy: * Senior Apprentice Sune Okino (Kitsune Female 3rd Sorcerer (Fey) Age 23, NG, Gronzi Forest (Restov) (WIS 10, CHA 17, INT 13, CON 8, DEX 16, STR 8) Spells Known: 5 0lv/4 1st Lv Spells Per Day: 6 1st Lv Weapon: Dagger Specializations: Historical Research, Fey Lore, Enchantment; A first generation immigrant who parents arrived in Rostland following their exile from the fabled land of Minkai after the death of Minkai’s last emperor, Sune had a quick mind and was eager to learn more. Willing to work as a de facto librarian for the Harborage House Sune asked only for room, board and a small stipend a month as well as an continuing education once Elsir decide to take on students following the completion of the planned Lecture Hall. Unfortunately, while the request was reasonable, the three outlying cottages planned for the eventual use for visiting pathfinders were not yet complete and so Elsir instead agreed to cover her lodging at a local inn from his own rapidly shrinking pool of gold. Following the battle of Hydra Bridge, Elsir spent additional time working with Sune, who to his frustration was quick to take on the principles of magic but whose training was more instinctive rather than studious. Apprentice Notes: While Sune Okino was the first and most established of Elsir’s fledgling group of apprentices, the remaining four Apprentices are transplants from other areas of Avistan, drawn or forced into New Haven for a number of reasons. With the initial establishment of a formal academy in Sanctuary in the summer of 4712, Elsir had no lack of applicants, however previously trained students with their own established specializations provided the magister with a potential nucleus for the eventual establishment of New Haven’s first Wizards Guild. While each of the Apprentices have shown some potential for future growth, Elsir worries that the previous training that each of the apprentices have received may cause future problems in their development. * Apprentice Jarosh Talingate (Human Male 3nd Wizard (Universalist) / 1nd Expert) Age 53, CG, River Kingdoms (Sevenarches)
Jarosh has a quick mind and wise outlook. His skill with potion crafting is second only to the Harborage House’s master of Alchemy Jerrit Suel and his strong bend towards the business opportunities in bottled magic make the man a valuable asset to Elsir for his eventual plans in the forming of an official wizard’s guild. Despite his poor interactions with past members of the Green Faith, Jarosh still holds himself to be a follower of the “old ways” and in recent debates, Jarosh had shown a leaning toward Jhod Kavken’s faction. * Apprentice Willard Pharn (Human Male 1st Wizard (Necromancer) / 1st Rogue) Age 19, N, Galt (Edme)
Equal parts anxious and depressed, Willard rarely goes a single night without nightmares. Generally he is socially withdrawn and occasionally has mood-swings, however despite the terrible things that have happened to him, Willard is remarkably bright and when he tries can be charming. Because of his survivor’s guilt as well as the after effects of Ghorraneaux's influence upon him Willard has privately begun researching dark magic of his own and unless unchecked it is likely that his alignment will slide into NE as he continues his secret studies. * Apprentice Varl Tagger of Tymon (Human Male 1st Wizard (Transmuter)/ 1st Brawler) Age 26, CN, River Kingdoms (Tymon)
* Apprentice Tamari Narthropple (Female Gnome 1st Wizard (Illusionis)) Age 54, CG, River Kingdol (Sanctuary)
* Junior Apprentices (5 Human Males / 3 Human Females, 0 lvl Apprentice) Ages 15-19, LG/NG/CG/LN, Brevoy/River Kingdoms
Excellent post Verik! I think that Elsir would count you as a friend as well. Tonight I'm writing up my apprentices and a few teachers for the academy, and I wanted to address a topic that had previously been touched upon. I think that certain spells should be outlawed in New Haven with the first batch of apprentice wizards coming into power along with priests of non-abadarian religions present there should be some limitations put in place. Mind-control magic as well as most necromancy should be banned and the selling of such scrolls limited or prevented. Destructive magic should controlled in the same way that military equipment might. Some potions such as invisibility could only be obtained through approved merchants that would record a bill of sale.. Thoughts?
Present! Leveling Up! Level 7 – Wizard
New gear / spells (adjusting for WPL): Spells copied to spellbook: (240gp) Improved Invisibility, (240g) Globe of Invulnerability, Lesser, (240g) Detect Scrying, (240g) Stoneskin, (60g) Create Pit = 1020g
The room had been peaceful, serene even. Now the moment of stillness had been broken by the tromping of boots, the bellowing of Kargath and the triumphant exultations of Willas. Sitting in his mediation chamber on the top floor of the Harborage House, Elsir Tel’ran frowned at the thought of the conversation with Berrin that lay ahead of him. The locket, his wife’s locket hung heavy around his neck. Elsir sighed. Knowing the conversation lay ahead of him had made the decision to continue on his path no less easy to endure. As the day had approached the wizard had considered simply not having his future’s past conversation with Berrin. Yet if he had not, would Elsir have survived The Darkest Timeline? Would Maegar Myrdal have instead killed him in that tunnel in the minutes after his accidental arrival? Troubling, Elsir was not sure. Elsir, did you hear what I said? We’re published! Willas cried again. We can claim the Harborage House as an official lodge, the Decemvirate be dammed! Mouth quirking up in the briefest of smiles Elsir incline his head, both as indication that he had recognized Willias’s words and implying there was more to the subject then the acquisition of a Pathfinder Volume. As he lowered his head however, Elsir’s eyes came to rest of the silver bowl that lay on green velvet pillow at his feet. The bowl, or rather its past, present and future came with mixed feelings. In his past, Elsir had crafted the bowl as part of his early training. It was through this same bowl that Elsir had been able to tap into the surging possibilities two years prior that had led Willas and Elsir to becoming thrown into a dark future. After returning to the present.. or his present, Elsir had accompanied the founders into a ruined Elven fortress where the group had confronted a powerful hag, Ghorraneaux. It was after her death that Elsir had found two scrolls of power. A scroll of scrying and a second of sending. Following the hag’s death and the routing of the Troll-King’s army on the banks of the Gudrin River, Elsir had turned to other matters, but he had not forgotten the power present in those scrolls. The next two years had been a flurry of action, even to one as accustomed to the twisting and twining of the streams of time as one as resolved as Elsir. The Harborage House had expanded from the simple library it had started as, expanding along the banks of the Tuskwater into a fully fledged center of learning in the city. Following Jhod Kavken’s resignation as the nation’s magister and his assumption of leadership in the new town of White Hart, Elsir, upon the request of the other founders had accepted the nomination and responsibilities inherent with the new position. In truth, while it had been a possibility that Elsir had expected, it like several other occurrences over the last few years were ones that the wizard had chosen to tolerate rather than fight against. Sighing to himself, Elsir pinched his nose. The assumption of his role as the nation’s head of learning and scholarship carried with it no amount of headaches. Chuckling to himself, Elsir shook his head. If Verik had truly hated the onerous druid, he would have let him remain the nation’s magister. Of course that ship as they said had already sailed. Within weeks the handful of requests for tutelage from the cities patrons had quadrupled in length with more coming in each day. Jhod had been many things, but a teacher he was not. Outside of the subjects of animal husbandry and farming, the scholarship program, or rather what served as such was woefully inadequate for the budding nation that was New Haven. Schools for basic learning had to be established in each of the towns. Mathematics, reading, writing, general history and geography… education would not be limited by those that could afford it. All children would know how to read a book and write their letters. Nothing less would be acceptable. However, trying to explain to farmers why their children would be unable to help come harvest carried with it another set of problems, and that had only been the issues with basic education. Thoughts wandering like the wind through a valley, the Magister’s memories turned the first attempts at higher learning in Sanctuary. Immediately apparent to Elsir had been the issue with tutelage for those in the city seeking higher learning. Outside of Brevoy there were no nearby cities with any sort of systematic advanced education, with the exception of nobles importing scholars at great expense for the individual tutelage of their wards. And so it was at the request of the other Founders that Elsir had turned the Harborage House into an academy of sorts, but again that brought with it a share of problems. The first had been finding competent educators. Elsir had deemed, and rightly so that an academy must have specialists that were experts in their appropriate field. Advanced mathematics including geometry, trigonometry, number theory and probability as well as liner and abstract algebra were musts, but mathematics was only the beginning. There were the was the noble subjects of history and philosophy, as well the physical science’s of geology, astronomy and more. And one could not forget the clamoring requests for magical theory. Indeed, despite the staggering criteria for entrance that particular subject, Elsir had been nearly overwhelmed by the amount of individuals who believed they could one day learn the true arts. It had taken six months and no small amount of research and cajoling, but in the summer of 4712, Elsir had opened to doors of the Harborage House to the first class of new students, one hundred and twenty six in all, seven of which Elsir had determined could meet his rigorous criteria for apprenticeship in the field of magical theory and application. The continuing growth and development of education within the nation of New Haven had only been one of the considerable concerns of Elsir over the past two years. With the Harborage House complete and its function as a de-facto Pathfinder Lodge already infamous in the Inner-Sea among outcast field-agents of the Society, the first of several disgraced or questionable pathfinders arrived. The first and thankfully the most reliable had been Kargath “Thunderstrike”. Hard drinking and boisterous the red-haired dwarf had been a companion of Elsir into his failed expedition into the Mwagani Expanse and the wizard had quickly put the often drunk pugilist to work handling lodge security. Over the next six months three other agents had come and gone and while Elsir had hoped that Lyton Jens would arrive, unfortunately the man never did, and of the other agents to visit the Harborage House, Elsir had suspected that all three had held ties and loyalties to Venture-Captain Istivil Bosk of Daggermark's Dryblade House. At times the veiled threats and political posturing between the Decemvirate, Venture-Captain Bosk and Archivist-turned-Agent Elsir made the wizard want to tear out his hair in frustration. If the growth of the Lodge and the supervising of educational growth in New Haven had not been enough, Elsir also had to focus on his own studies and research with what limited time he still had. As promised, Elsir had continued his personal tutelage of Sune Okinos who had thus far proven to be an apt assistant and pupil. No, all was well as far as the wizard was concerned on personal fronts. But he was still troubled. As the saying went; with great power cam great responsibility, and for once Elsir was unsure about the appropriate use of such power. In the last six months the wizard had had a breakthrough. After years of study brought on by focusing on the inherent magical theory penned in the hag Ghorraneaux’s scroll of scrying the wizard had unlocked the secrets of the fourth circle of magical application and with that came the ability to far-see upon others. The ethics for surveillance were questionable to the wizard. No longer was the wizard ruminating on the potential impact of far-flung actions that might impact the future. No, now the wizard had at his fingertips the ability at a single moment to spy on enemies of the state, suspected dissidents or anyone else that Elsir choose to focus his magic upon. Thus-far Verik and the council had imposed no laws to prevent unwanted far-seeing. Elsir had been sure to quietly check, but again it was a situation that the wizard suspected was only allowed because thus far it had not been considered applicable. Legally he knew he was not in violation of any laws. That said the wizard knew that the use of such a spell violated personal boundaries without notice or permission. There was also the issue that lay within the assumed level of trust between him and others. For instance how would Borodin have reacted had he known that the wizard frequently watched the man’s younger-self and had placed several plans in motion to protect the child and thus protect the man he would become? Likely Borodin would have found the situation a violation of trust between the wizard and the magus. This was only one example of such power at the wizard’s fingertips and one that had to be carefully judged and used. Sadly it was not the only use of magic that concerned the wizard, thinking back to Sune.. but that was an issue to be dealt with in another time. And so it was that on the 24 Lamashan in 4712AR that Elsir Tel’ran, Magister of New Haven and head of the Harborage House Pathfinder Lodge and Academy found himself rising to meet his friend and companion Willas Gunderson while placing a smile on his face. It is one year before his prophesized death at the hands of the lich Vordekai. Elsir knows this and has marked the year. Preparations have been made and research done. The wizard only prays that the actions he has set in motion over the last two years will be enough. Reaching up to his throat, the wizard’s delicate fingers brush against his wife’s necklace. Come Willas, Elsir said quietly, gazing at his friend. His voice sounded sad. This should have been a moment of triumph, but Elsir knew or at least suspected the terrible events that would follow in the months ahead. He knew that this had been a calm before the storm. We are going to the Castle.. the next act begins and we have a role to play in it.
09/4712
Upkeep Phase
Edict Phase
Income Phase
Event Phase
Hey guys.. In Colorado today.. Hurt my hand in Salt Lake two days ago, got some stitches, but still trucking along... I like the item reserve idea.. We could
I'm a bit split on level 7.. I can qualify for two prestige classes, lore master or arcane savant.. Savant can be borderline op depending on what spells you select... Level 2 haste is pretty sweet... Feats are also up in the air. Im considering improved familiar or another crafting feat. Isaac, how am I sitting as far as WPL goes ? I'm without a computer but I have plans for my personal growth / story involvement.. It's written up on paper
Elsir had a plan. He had foreseen this combat. Following the events of the battle with the minotaur and the advisor, Elsir had predicted with reasonable assurance that the wisp would be present during this final fight and true to his estimation, it had been correct. Now three paths lay before the elf. In the first he would counter the ability of the wisp to do further harm through it's electrical blasts. In the second, he would negate the enchantments that were in effect upon the troll, Hargulka allowing for the others to attack with impunity. In the final path, Elsir would use his reclaimed wand to attack the king's weakness. In only a few moments, the founders had lain terrible wounds to the troll, but the wizard knew that this was no simple troll. Rather he suspected that this one had powers of regeneration far outstripping a normal one of its kind. Elsir had to make a choice. If he did not negate the wisp, Valnyr and Kydal might very well die. If he did not deal with the troll, Berrin might die. It was not a difficult choice. Pointing the blackened wand towards the troll, Elsir waited. The wizard knew that even magic had weaknesses and protection from elements could be overcome with a powerful enough.. or precise enough blast. Waiting until just after Nikolai swung at the troll with his flaming blade, Elsir summoned the power of the wand, causing the bolt of fire to scorch along the same path that the dragon lord's blade traveled, hoping to seek out a momentary weakness in the enchantment against fire. As the superheated ray lept from the wand, Elsir smiled. He knew what would happen next. The troll would roar with pain and know fear as it's skin was charred for the first time since it had worn the ring. And then suddenly Hargulka stepped out of range. The spell failed. The troll roared with savage glee. Elsir felt a chill run down his spine. It was impossible. The elf thought before stopping himself. No.. not impossible, only highly improbably. Elsir was shaken.
::Hargulka is not alone! The wisp is with him, to his right and across the stream. Be wary.:: Elsir spoke quietly through the shared bond of whispered speak. Quickly dismounting from his horse, Elsir spun his hands in a series of complex gestures, touching upon the quickening of stolen moments and the promise of better futures. Knowing that he could not encompass all of the founders in the bounds of the spell, Elsir choose to not target himself. While a powerful spell, it had limitations and would be best use on the others.
Quietly Elsir followed behind the others. It was likely becoming apparent that the Elf was not a man of many words. When he had an opinion he expressed it, but speaking for the sake of hearing his own voice was a trait that the wizard did not possess. Silently, the archivist considered the options before him. He had spent hours thinking through this conundrum on the ride from the ruins of the elven fortress to this battle-field. Elsir had known that the vanguard of trolls would be the most dangerous of the regular troops. He had planned for that and thanks to his proficiency in the summoning of elemental magics he had been able to assist the armies of New Haven in turning aside the trolls. During his calculations, Elsir had also accounted for each of Hargulka's lieutenants, the two-headed troll, the minotaur and the wisp. As the group followed Red Eyes, Elsir frowned thoughtfully. The time was almost at hand. By the worg's estimation the founders would reach the troll in less than a quarter of an hour. Knowing the limitations of his spell, and the potential havoc that might be caused should the wisp be allowed the ambush the founders in mid-fight, Elsir moved his hands carefully he a series of practiced gestures while intoning the halting yet flowing words of power. As he did so the wizards blue eyes flared white for a moment before returning to their luster. Elsir smiled faintly. The spell would last for an hour. Shades, spirits and yes.. whisp would be as clear to him as the sun. Continuing onward, Elsir prepared several other arcane enchantments from his quickly fleeting list of memorized spells. The first spell was an enchantment of far-speaking. One of the easiest in the wizards reputare, this would allow Elsir to speak from a distance to any of the founders with only a whisper. The last spell was another that enchanted his vision. Whereas before Elsir had used the power of the second circle to view the invisible and unseen, this spell allowed for him to view residual magic in the form of a radiant aura. Completing his final spell, Elsir nodded to the others while calling upon the power of the whispering spell to relay his message. ::I am aware Banker of his enchantments against flame. I all know what will happen if we do not defeat him and that is an alternate thread I am not willing to travel down. Regardless, I have prepared myself for this eventuality. When the fight begins I will enchant each of you with the power of stolen moments of time. As soon as that is done I will attempt to negate any enchantments that are active on him. I believe that is the best way I can be of service.:: Pausing slightly, Elsir looks around the group, taking his time to consider the probabilities and uncertainties inherent in the moment.
Frowning in thought, Elsir looks in the general direction of Hargulka's voice. ::I would remind each of you that the Wisp had not yet made an appearance and this bothers me. He will be immune to my magic, have the power to fly and make himself disappear. If it appears, it will fall on someone more martially inclined to deal with.. I have contingencies in place should that eventuality occur as well. It's invisiblity and flight I can counter. It's resistance to magic I cannot.::
Eyes narrowing in concentration, Elsir watches the conflict unfolding with timeless eyes. His second sight showed him the possibilitys present in this moment. Most were favorable, some neutral and others, though far fewer, dire. The wizard knew the beat had to be ended quickly. There was no positive outcome that would arise from a cessation of hostitlity. No, the beast must be subdued, Elsir knew this. Raising his already used wand again the wizard-archivist channeled another blast of pin-poin hot flame towards the troll with a nearly perfect accuracy.
As the others closed in to close their attack, Elsir followed suite. Nagraundi had taken up a defensive position, hunched low to the ground. He readied himself for the group to attack. Elsir knew that the troll would have an inborn ability to regenerate and there was the chance, no matter slight that he might have some ability to protect himself from the touch of flame. Seeing no other recourse and knowing that mitigating the trolls regenerative blood would be the best use of his talents, the wizard charged forward drawing forth his blackened yew wand with one hand while simultaneously flicking it in a series of fluid motions. The tip of the wand grew red with superheated flame and Elsir pointed the rod, at the massive troll, sending out a beam of scorching hot flame towards the creature.
Standing at a distance from the combat, Elsir studied the cautious troll as it advanced with long strides towards the Founders. At nearly twenty feet high, the troll was able to be easily picked out on the battle field. Elsir frowned, each of the founders seemed to be cautiously waiting for something to happen. Closer, Borodin, Berrin, Akiros and Nikolai launched arrows at the beast. Only Nikolai came close. With a blur of unheard of speed, Elsir watched as the creature, deflected the arrow seconds before it impacted against the beasts skin. Elsir recoiled, blinking in concentration, rewinding his memory. The beast's hand had managed to strike the arrow in mid-flight. Before Nagraundi, Akiros and Jemini taunt the creature, drawing it's ire and breaking it's attention. Elsir looked at the beasts feet. Nikolai's flaming arrow rested there... Elsir smiled Moving his hands in a set of gestures, Elsir touched upon a similar but different weave that he had used previously to decimate the ranks of the troll army. This was something different. Rather than heat, Elsir called upon the blinding power of fire. He linked his spell with the guttering flame that still clung to life on the tip of Nikolai's arrow. AVERT YOUR EYES! Elsir called, pointing at the arrow a split second later as it EXPLODED in a burst of blazing fireworks. From the arrow, miniature screaming dragons exploded upward like arcane fire-rockets with blinding effect.
Flame rained down from the outstretched tip of Elsir Tel'ran's scorched wand. The screams of the dead and dying echoed about him. The stamping of hooves to his left and the bestial roars of Trolls in front of him. A shiver ran through the slight elf. There were so many threads of fate that were being extinguished before him. Sons and daughters would never be born because of the actions of this day. And yet, if not for this day Elsir knew that far, far more would live rather than die. Like him, the soldiers around him fought for the future. They fought for the chance of peace, for the promise of sanctuary. It was a hope that all people shared. Fleeting, despert, it seemed so far away in the clash of battle, yet it's silent crooning song called even now. Through the press of bodies Elsir watched as Aylene Myrdal lead a charge of her own, sending the cavalry headlong into the ranks of the trolls. Wave after wave of brown dappled horse-skin pressed against the unyielding bulk of knobbled green flesh. The soldiers attacked as hard and as fast as they could. It seemed however that for each piercing blade that felled a troll, a second later another would arise thanks to it's regeneration. Ahead Elsir saw Aylene surrounded by four massive green beasts. Her horse reared up into the air, hooves lashing out. Elsir scowled in distaste. Waving his hands together, the elf summoned the power of the second circle. Wind swirled around him scattering blood matted grass and bits of broken armor. He rose into the air, levitating above the battlefield. Rising first ten, then twenty and finally thirty feet into the air, Elsir rotated in a circle, taking in the view of the battle unfolding before him. In the blink of his eyes his mind seemed to taken individual snapshots of battle. In one a man lay dying, clutching at his innards while Lizardmen swarmed over him, only to be overwhelmed a few moments later by a squad of men bearing spears. In a second a flock of crows descend upon the cooling remains of a group of kobolds, stomped to death by a charge of centaurs. A third showed the river running red with the mixed blood of the men and monsters that fought and died over the eternal question of freedom versus tyranny. More and more scenes seemed to roll over Elsir. Each place that he looked there was a scene, an object, a moment that was both beautiful and terrible. The elf closed his eyes. He blocked out the sounds of the dead and the dying. He whirled still in the air and drew in the power of the loss and the pain and channeled it with a red hot fury. Wisps of red began to stream from his fingertips. He held that power. He controlled it. He allowed it to build and build. Then he unleashed it. Pointing with his finger a pin-prick of red flew towards the horde of Trolls. The orb grew bigger as it spun towards the heart of the formation and as it grew bigger it grew hotter. Exploding with blinding light, searing skin and melting bones. The trolls screamed. The fire binded them to their bodies. The charging men of the First Mounted cheered, raising spears at the Elf that floated above them. Elsir kept his face neutral. There was still work to be done.
I have been doing some thinking about the next shift in the game and us moving ahead 2 years. Crafting wise, here are some of the items I can see myself and Verik crafting. Gloves of Reconnaissance - See through 15 feet of stone.
Anyhow, just some ideas and I'll post some more later.
As usual, Elsir had remained silent until he had something to offer. He understood that it was the way of the Founders to discuss options and solutions. Such things did not bother him, though in truth he still felt much the outsider of the group. For him the odds had already been weighted, the others were asking questions.. but were they asking the right questions? That was the issue at hand. Coughing into his hand in order to draw attention to himself, Elsir smiled faintly as the Founders eyes came to rest upon him. I believe that Lady Lebeda has the truth of it. I don't claim to be an expert on the various dynamics present in the anthropology of demi-humans and monstrous races, but there are some tenants I am familiar with. As a whole each race will likely have some elements of Tribalism present, in that they will hold a greater loyalty to the their own tribe than the whole of Hargulka's army. This can be used to our advantage, psychologically speaking. The second element is the underlying belief of rulership through strength. Who, or what ever comes forward as a challenger will not be one of the rank and file, no matter how powerful. It will likely be one of Hargulka's inner circle because their army expects the leader to respond. The defeat of one of their champions will have a demoralizing effect on the army. Nodding to himself, and then gazing towards Nikolai, Elsir frowned. I have some protective enchantments at my disposal. I would recommend a protection from electricity or cold, as you are already well inundated against fire. I think there is also a second way I could contribute as well, though there may be little to be gained. Using his cane, Elsir points towards the gathered army several hundred feet away before bringing it down on the ground with a tap. I could remove myself from sight and levitate over the battle-field. From a higher vantage point I should be able to make out where Hargulka and his lieutenants are at. If they are within range I can then use a spell of far-seeing and hearing to listen in on their plans and relay them back to the group via another spell that would carry my words over the wind. Frowning pensively, Elsir looked to the others. It's a rather large expenditure of my resources, requiring both a incantation of the second and third circle as well as one of my scrolls.. but Elsir holds up a finger. If you have any reserves about this challenge and are afraid of a trap, this is the best suggestion I can offer to mitigate it.
Silent as a statue, Elsir continued to keep his eyes locked on the unfurling combat below. At his side were his two wands. One of white yew and the other of grey heartwood. He could have used either, but like his spells and the two vials of anti-toxin he had produced moments before, Elsir waited patiently. He was no fighter. The furious melee happening below him was not his arena of expertise. Elsir was a thinker and a scholar, a historian, teacher and archivist. He was a pathfinder. He knew this was not the only battle of the day. By the wizards estimation, at least four more major engagements remained before the day was done. On their way to the hillside, Elsir had listened as Nikolai and Berrin had been deep in discussion. Oh, Elsir could have offered historical notes on various battles fought, but he was not a general. He did understand numbers however. Conservation of resources was paramount.
Standing at the very edge of the battle, Elsir watched with quiet contemplation. The others had taken their positions a few moments before while Elsir, Willas and Elsir's young student, Sune conjured into being three catapults. Like thunderbolts from heaven the Wyverns fell from the sky. Even as they did so, Elsir calculated their trajectory and speed. The Wyverns weakness had been their intelligence. A wiser foe, or one mounted atop of the Wyverns would not have fallen for such a ruse. But the Wyverns were not wise and that was their weakness, while it was Elsir's strength. Out-think your foe and you could overcome him, no matter how strong. That was why Elsir had spent the last two nights sleepless, meditating on the foes that he knew that he would face in the coming days. Each had a weakness. Elsir only hoped that he would be able to leverage that weakness when the time came. Maintaining his illusion, Elsir watched as the others fought, spilling blood and doing that what must be done. It was necessary. The Wyverns thought the catapults were still real. It would weaken the illusion should one disappear as quickly as it came. He could not allow that.
Listening to the others words, Elsir frowns in concentration considering his options and ways he might contribute. If they clump together, I have something planned to keep them from escaping. It will not likely be one hundred percent effective, but it stands a reasonable chance of mitigating the Wyverns escape. Turning back to Willas and Sune, Elsir eyes the pair thoughtfully. Willas, I know you will, as always do as you wish, but Sune, I expect you to follow my directions. You are to remain hidden and maintain the spell. Don't draw undue attention to yourself. His face hardening imperceptibly, Elsir sighs. You have a long life ahead of you. I would hate for anything to happen to you. Reaching into his bag, Elsir withdraws two vials. I happen to have some anti-toxin on me. Shrugging by way of explanation, Elsir grinned. A habit if you will after spending years in the Expanse. Quite a few poisonous creatures. Regardless, I would recommend two of you take them and drink it before we fight the Wyverns. They are known for their deadly sting.
Standing in the presence of General Myrdal and Nikolai Rogarvia, Elsir Tel'ran had until this moment remained silent. He was no general. He had a keen mind, but he was too off putting to be a leader of men. Elsir knew this. Perhaps in another time, along another path he might have been a great warrior, but regardless that was not the man that Elsir was, or would be. But he was keen and thoughtful. He looked at the arrayed map and gazed upon it considering the whirling path of fluctuating odds that was unfolding about him. The hours ahead would be retold throughout the years. Elsir knew this. It only remained to be seen if it was spoken of as a great victory, or a terrible defeat. My friends, Elsir spoke quietly and solemnly, drawing the groups attention. I will not speak of Hargulka as a King, for a King or Queen. Elsir inclines his head in the direction of Jemini. Should be a title of respect. Hargulka is a dictator, not a king. Regardless, as have been pointed out... time is short. Oddly at the mention of time being short, Elsir smiles softly. I believe I can draw the wyverns to us. I'll need the assistance of Willas Gunderson and my student, Librarian Okino, but I think I can say with confidence that the Wyverns will be unable to resist my lure. Waiting for the group's response, Elsir tapped his cane against the ground in thought. Hargulka, the two-headed troll, the minotaur and the wisp. Each will have weaknesses. It is only a matter of hoping that I have judged them correctly.
Dropping a hand to the floor, Elsir breathed in and out heavily. He looked around the room at the expectant faces, waiting, wondering what he had seen. The hag's words were correct. Elsir began, his voice quiet but powerful. Closing his eyes again, the elf mentally catalogs the conversation, captured at the most opportune time. Hargulka and his army currently hold position along the southeast bank of Lake Candlemere, They are a day's walk away from the city. Tahngrunn has not yet reached him, and whatever allies he was able to raise among the centaur's have not appeared either, Hargulka believes there is infighting between the differing clans. Glancing up at Queen Jemini, Elsir nods knowingly, before taking a small sip of water to clear his throat. I was able to listen to their plan of battle so I know what to expect. The elf states by way of explanation. They needed the centaurs to cover their flank if Varn's army should appear and because of that, Hargulka has delayed his plans to attack by one day, hoping that some will arrive. When they do, the trolls will be on the eastern flank. Wyvern's will attack from the sky. However their reserve of worgs have abandoned them, citing... a new pack leader. This will in turn require a force of defenders to be left in reserve should they be attacked. Frowning slightly, Elsir thinks back to the last words that he had heard from Hargulka. :: "Nyrissa, my queen... I will sack the humans, just as you ask. All I ask of you is--" :: As Elsir mind catched on the last exchange, his eyes go wide, thinking back to a time that may have existed both in Elsir's future.. and in his past..
Sitting placidly with the scroll of scrying infront of him. Elsir breathes in and out slowly. To his left and right were Banker Jarrow and Ms. Bellavieu. Silence pervaded the room. The blood inscribed ring lay before Elsir. Quietly, so as not to disturb his concentration, Elsir pursed his lips at the circle. It was a vile thing, likely created from the blood of the captured people that the founders had rescued. What little that Elsir had read on blood magic had turned his stomach. While the sage could not deny that there was power in the blood, it was no different that the power trapped in time or precious and rare components. No, what bothered Elsir was the ease at with the power of blood could be accessed. The Cyclops of Grazh’tolar had used it. The Sin Magi of the Thessalonian Empire had as well. In fact Elsir could think of other examples of nations who had the height of their power had tapped into blood magic, thinking themselves immune to the pitfalls and dangers associated with such magic. The Jistka Imperium had, as had others. Any scholar could have drawn similar examples. And yet, each time the lessons of the past were ignored. Sighing to himself, Elsir, still seated withdrew another scroll, this created by his own hand. Concentrating, Elsir focused on the Arcadian Gold Coast Pearl that was set in a gossamer mount of mithril upon his right index finger. Tapping into the stored energy inside of the pearl, the warmth that was usually present, fled and filled him for a moment with a burst of creative energy. Touching that energy, Elsir directed it along mental pathways. He focused on the spell he had cast earlier in the day that created the illusionary image of a trap. Like the blossoming of a flower the spell was restored to him. Ms. Bellavieu, Elsir stated matter of factly, gazing at the woman. The scroll I hold in front of me will allow me to detect your surface thoughts. In order to maximise the probability of creating a scrying focus on Hargulka, I will try to leverage the effects of the spell. Therefore I will be casting two preparatory spells, both simple in nature but their combined effect should have a multiplicative result when used in conjunction with the scrying. Lightly picking up the first scroll, Elsir runs a finger along the penned edge. When my first spell takes effect, I want you to think of everything you remember about Hargulka. What he looked like, smelled like. Impressions you receive about him. It does not matter how complicated the thought. Simply do your best to concentrate on Hargulka and I will be able to know whatever it is you think. Inclining his head, Elsir glanced at the wounded woman, guarded over by Verik. With your permission, I will begin? Wordlessly nodding Aleza Bellavieu closed her eyes and scrunched up her face thinking about Hargulka, the troll who would be king. ::His height and strength were incredible, that was the first think that Aleza remembered. The troll king dwarfed the other members of his retinue by at least a head. Quaking in fear, but unwilling to die a coward, Aleza stared up at the troll. He stood ten feet tall at least and possessed massively muscular arms, each one was as long and as thick as a tree trunk and they ended in huge, sharp claws. The troll's mouth was filled with sharp tusks that appear fully capable of rending a human into pieces. The troll king carried himself with an air of danger, but his eyes are the thing most remarkable about him. He sized up the captured galtan woman from afar with canny eyes that burn with intellect and ambition. :: Breaking the spell, Elsir breathed heavily. That.. that will suffice. The wizard stated, glancing at the woman. Elsir had asked her to focus on her memories of Hargulka and she had done so, but he could still feel her fear bleeding over into her thoughts. Being focused on remembering the memory as if it was his own, Elsir felt that fear and let it become part of him. We defeated the hag, but the minotaur, and two headed-troll that serve as Hargulka's lieutenants remain. The hag herself was a dangerous foe but nothing compared to the combined might of this monstrous army. This will be more dangerous than anything else the Founders or New Haven have faced before. Moving onto the second step.. Elsir murmured, focusing on the memory of Hargulka while calling upon the same spell that allowed him to summon the illusionary cage of metal, less than an hour before. Focusing on the memory that Aleza Bellavieu had shared with Elsir, a troll sprang to appearance in the room. Tall, nearly ten feet with massive arms, long and strong with wickedly sharp claws at the end. Splotchy green scales covered the beasts back and arms and a crown of black iron was worn upon its thick, warty brow. The eyes however were the part of the illusion that Elsir appreciated the most. A steel cage was a simple illusion. Making something appear to be alive, that.. that was far more complicated. Nodding again to himself. Elsir stood up. He kept the image fixed in place. It was a perfect replica of Hargulka, plucked from the memory of Aleza Bellavieu. In truth any of the Founders who had been present at the centaur moot could have done this, but Elsir suspected that if the woman felt that she had played a critical role in assisting the founders, it might give her some peace. Walking around the fixed image of Hargulka, Elsir nodded to himself. He studied the image, looked at it from all angles. He had shared memories of being in the creatures presence and now he had seen it up close. Outside of a personal belonging, Elsir had done all that he could to skew the likelihood of success in his favor. Turning his back to the illusionary form of Hargulka, Elsir waved in it's direction causing the image to disappear as quickly as it formed. If only dealing with the true Hargulka were so easy. Elsir thought before turning back to Verik and Aleza. Let us begin the final spell in our efforts to scry upon Hargulka. Elsir said picking up the scroll and focusing on it. _________________________________
His mind drawn to Nikolai tossing to bit of fur at his feet, Elsir blinks slowly. He could have handed the fur to me. The elf thinks to himself, before smiling softly. A display of dominance, of course Elsir murmurs to himself, glancing down at the fur and rags. Flicking his hand in a series of motions, the fur levitates up into the air by Elsir's unseen mage's hand. Such a useful spell. Like so many in Elsir's arsenal it was not about how [/i]much[/i] force was applied, but where it was applied that made all of the difference. Keeping the fur held in the air, with his right hand, the left flicked out and whirled in a complex gesture, causing the dirt, grime and filth to fall from the rag and the bit of fur. Nodding again to himself, Elsir opened his bag and directed the hand to deposit the fur into it. Turning his attention back to the remaining founders, as well as rescued refugee Aleza, Elsir, places his hands together and taps his index fingers together three times while considering the woman's words. Akiros, your's is the simplest question and will be answered first. The sending is the more complex of the two spells, but the scrying will take longer to cast. Based on my calculations I believe it will take me at least and hour to draw together the power for the scrying. It's a very.. delicate spell. Turning to Verik and Aleza, Elsir inclines his head softly in mute thanks. I do have a spell at my disposal that will allow me to detect your thoughts. If you concentrate purely on the image of Hargulka, that should suffice.. and.. thank you. I cannot begin to fathom what you and your people have been through, to open your mind after such a event is very brave of you. Turning to Verik, Elsir nods before pointing with his cane towards the hag's chambers. There is already a scrying circle that was established. It should improve the efficiency of the spell, though I am hesitant to use it.. I believe blood magic was used in it's creation.. it's.. Trailing off, Elsir thinks back to his time in the ruins below the Expanse. The stone vaulted rooms that were sized for giants with their horrid frescos of human sacrifices and divination through bloodletting. It's, quite horrible, though not out of line with what we would have expected from Ghorraneaux. Turning back to Aleza and the Founders, Elsir points towards Ghorraneaux's chambers. The circle is already in place. Banker if you would help Ms. Bellavieu, we will begin. Any who wish to observe the scrying may do so, but it is a lengthy spell to cast and will take my total concentration.
Nodding at the cold logic the Staglord displays, Elsir finds himself nodding. Yes.. that would.. He trails off glancing at Nikolai, his intelligent eyes re-evaluating the man whom at first glance appears to be simple and brutish. Feeling a shiver roll down his spine, Elsir breathes softly to himself, letting none of the anxiety that he felt show upon his face. Yes, that would suffice. Some bits of fur would be enough to focus the spell upon the minotaur with a nearly perfect probability of success.
Glancing quietly at Borodin, Elsir nods softly to himself. I had wondered when we would have this conversation. Opening his mouth to continue, Elsir hears Akiros bellow from the central room. Sighing, Elsir frowns and looking apologetic gestures towards the door. There are matters we need to discuss. Issues at hand I have wanted to speak to you about for some time, but I have been waiting for the time to be right. Bah! Grabbing up the two scrolls of tattooed ink upon human skin, Elsir grimaces in distastes before placing them in his bag and hurrying out of the room back towards the sound of Akiros. Stepping out onto the landing with quick but controlled steps, the elven wizard nods once before tucking his arm behind him and walking down the circular landing to the center of the room. Borodin and I searched Ghorraneaux's chambers. The room had some material wealth, but nothing important at this time. However, she did have a single scroll of sending and scrying remaining. There were quite a few more scrolls that had been exhausted of magic. I suspect she has been watching us from the start and communicating with Hargulka. Tapping his chin thoughtfully, Elsir cocked his head in thought. I have never met Hargulka and only heard his description in passing from Banker Jarrow. This will increase the complexity of the spell. Casting his eyes over the founders and refugees, Elsir raises his voice. Are there any here who have personally seen the troll who calls himself a king? I know the founders all have, but what I require is an accurate description of him. A drawing would be helpful. Sighing regrettably Elsir frowns. Of course some sort of belonging would be more useful, and better yet a bit of hair, but a picture would hopefully suffice. Glancing back up towards the Founders, Elsir withdraws the vile skin-stretched parchment. My intent is to try to scry Hargulka first. He would be with the army. Then I will use the scroll of sending to relay a message to someone in sanctuary. I think that General Myrdal would be most appropriate. The success or failure of the first spell will determine the content of the second. The message will have to be short. No more than twenty five words. Do you all agree with my intentions?
As the sword fell, the room fell silently save for the moaning of the dying. Elsir watched from a detached standpoint. He was still new to these lands and was not heartless, but he knew his strengths, and he knew his weaknesses. Elsir was no healer, nor had he ever had any inclination to be. In the distance, Elsir hears the rageful bellowing of Nikolai, seeking out their foes. In his immediate presence he watches as Akiros, Verik and Jemini begin to physical healing of the maimed, captured citizens. While no expert, Elsir knew that the suffering inflicted by the hag was not skin deep. What these people had been through might take years to recover from, if at all. It was like so many things a tragedy. As a scholar, Elsir had read about the rise and fall of nations, the extermination of races and even the near destruction of the world that had caused his people to leave. There was something cold and unfeeling about the words that were used to describe such terrible losses. It was as the words themselves could not be used to convey such terrible things. The death of one, a tragedy. The death of a million, a statistic. Elsir thought, recalling a quote from the Ulfen Warlord, Red Sickle. But, it was sad. Softly Elsir closes his eyes. He was sure, even now he did not want to allow himself feel. The death of his wife, his human wife had nearly caused him to slide into become forlorn. Then came the death of Nicoleta only a few years later. Feeling.. feelings hurt. They could not be stopped, they marched onward and as soon as you allowed them to take hold they fundamentally changed you. They were in some way magic. Powerfully transformative, wild and usually uncontrollable. Biting down on his teeth, Elsir shook his head and fixed upon himself his usual, placid demeanor. He would consider this later. Now was not the time, nor the place for speculation or self-reflection. What mattered now was the hag's last words that had filled Elsir with dread. Quickly, silently, Elsir began several mental calculations before nodding once to himself. Moving towards the throng of slowly recovering citizens, Elsir made his way towards Queen Jemini. Nikolai made mention of magics.. I am regretful to say I have no tools at my disposal to verify the validity of the hag's last words. Nor any that would allow me to far-speak with Sanctuary of view the city from our remote location. Face temporarily turning into a frown, Elsir sighs. Such spells exist, but they are beyond the third circle of mastery. I am sorry
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