Solo Blood, Flesh and Ink

[Celeste Arumen]

25th Day of Fall, 513 AV Celeste sighed and chewed at the end of her quill. She sat alone in her quarters, staring at the blank pages of the leather bound before her. It’d taken a lot to decide to write, but after reading through the only copy of Magic and I the library even had, she’d realized a multitude of things about the island, none of them particularly pleasant. In the first chapter, he’d said: “Problem is, you don't know if you have the talent until you try.” Perhaps the world needed a post-Valterrian account of the Island. Perhaps if Celeste were to be killed, this piece of text might live on. If she could manage to complete it, she’d pass the book off to a close associate, someone who could maybe deliver it to the rest of the world. Thus, it was with this sentiment that she dipped in her quill, face set in a pose of single-minded concentration. Writing : ‘Chapter One: Island of the Undead Welcome stranger, welcome to Sahova, where you’ve come to live out whatever dreams of grandeur you’ve had since birth. Those fantasies that you’ve no doubt obtained from the twisting of your own djed, the perversion of your human soul toward the end of power and personal gain. Perhaps you want to do some good in the world. Or, perhaps not - there are many who seek the contrary, inspired by the more sinister wizards of the pre-valterrian world. But whatever your goal, if you heart is still beating, beware. This opportunity might just as easily become a nightmare and more than likely, it will. I had the good fortune to come across this Island during a period of radical change. Under normal circumstances, the golem in the Vestibule, nicknamed the TAR for Temporal Aura Recognition, just might have kept me out. But strangely, by the time of my arrival, it was mysteriously non-functioning and has been ever since. Whatever attempts have been made to bring it back to life, I cannot say. I am currently an Initiate under Riyanna Sterder, Warden of the Prairie, though this too I’m sure is subject to change. I also have the good fortune of being her Apprentice, set to stand beside her as a Wizard one day, provided I don’t get abducted for a gruesome experiment, murdered for political gain, or simply eaten by one of the Failbeasts that roam the Testing Grounds I’ve sworn to protect. It is a very cheerful place here, don’t you think? First, there is the Citadel, the first area of which being the Vestibule. Just beyond, there lies the Courtyard, the local graveyard, which is strategically placed to provide visitors with a sense of warmth and wellbeing. On either side and on opposing levels lie the Dungeons and the Gug Adjak. The Dungeons on one hand delve below and are designed for the sole purpose of agony and despair. They have cheerful lodgings on the bottom floor though, or so I hear. The Gug Adjak on the other hand, is the resident mage’s tower for all intents and purposes. This is one of the primary sources of Sahova’s famous reputation. These labs span forty-five floors, the uppermost being one, the ground floor being twenty and so forth, all the way beneath ground. It even contains it’s own refinery, known at the Yachluria Forge, though I’ve personally never seen it. Wedged between the Quarters and the Gug Adjak lies the Palsa Hydrasa, the local embalming facility. It is perhaps, one of the most fascinating and beautiful places on the Island. It is also one of the most terrible; as a Pulser, one can imagine the sense that just beneath you lies a chamber of nothing but dead bodies, where yours would be just another in that vast collection. The Island is independent – secluded. I wouldn’t bother writing this if it weren’t. They do not get many opportunities to venture out and harvest, so you can imagine how what humans equate to, in their eyes. Cattle.’ Celeste sighed and dipped her quill for the third time, frowning. Where could she go from there? It wasn’t as if she’d been inundated by the political machinations of the fortress, just yet. It was something she was working up to. So perhaps it was time she details the Wardens, the Testing Grounds and just what they did. Writing : ‘The last place and the least worth mentioning are the Quarters, where I currently sit. I am afforded a mat, a washbasin and a single chamber pot. There is hardly enough room to fit your elbows, in here. But of course, this isn’t a human place. Again, everything here is designed to make a person leave if it does not first make them crazy. Primarily, my home is the Testing Grounds. These are areas outside the Citadel designed for the sole purpose of waste disposal, and not in the conventional sense, either. Wizards do not feel comfortable creating their abominations within the comfortable walls of the Citadel. There is too much risk involved. Instead, they do so in among the various grounds. And if the experiments turn out to be failures, they simply leave them there. Thus, it’s with pride I declare myself a Warden. The Wardens, from what I’ve been told, are a faction of human beings that are limited to being the local garbage-men. Humans cannot be real Wizards, in a Nuit’s mind. Therefore it is our rightful place to spend most of our days cleaning up their messes. And while we’re all notoriously the best combat mages in Sahova, we’re still just their slaves. It is only through Riyanna that I have a chance; only thanks to the unique position she’s afforded me might I succeed. But it has put me at great risk, as it has with her. And there are certainly those that will take notice in the event I earn any kind of power. They will do everything in their power to stop me. I, on the other hand, already have come to expect this. The Testing Grounds are separated into four different areas, one of which that actually circles the perimeter in three sections. The Mudpools and are actually three different areas, on the southeast, southwest and northwestern corners of the map. Then there are the Bloodhills, flanked by the second Mudpool as well as the first, the Prairie to the east and the Heartlands dead center. As you may have already guessed, the terrain is wholly different for each. Riyanna is the Warden of the Prairie and I, Celeste Arumen, stand as her proud initiate. It was on the 40th Day of Summer, 513 AV that I was accepted into the rank and file, utterly by chance and the blessings of Ovek. The panel of judges politely watched my demonstration in the lecture hall. They didn’t even bother to act mildly impressed. I was ridiculed, jeered at and promptly dismissed, to whatever fate the audience would choose. Until she stepped forward. I will never forget the kindness she paid me. Riyanna has a relatively contemptuous view of the undead and I cannot say that I blame her. For whatever reason, her advancement through the ranks of the Citadel has been stunted. I’ve only even caught a glimpse as to why, but politics are a fiddly thing, especially here in the Citadel. You often find your own words being used against you. Any action you take might be attributed to a larger cause, something condemning that might just lead you straight belowground, to where the Dungeons lie. I understand that. I happen to come from a slightly more forgiving society, but with its own ‘life or death’ regulations. Ever place is a game to place, and ever game has its own set of rules. If anything actually becomes of me – if I manage to accomplish something, even solely by the finishing of this book, it will be a harvest miracle. Because I, Celeste Arumen, am a dirty urchin from the streets of Alvadas who has done nothing honest in her life until about a season ago. My past, to provide context for my future, will be entered into the details of the book. But it’s for another time. Perhaps with the next chapter, I will tell my tale. As for now, all I can say is, this place that was once the Royal Academy of Magic is now a husk, a shambling mass of rotting flesh still going about the tasks it has always done The morals here, if there ever even were any to be found to begin with, have been stripped away by time, leaving only the pretense of power and domination in their wake. There is nothing here, no glory left to pursue. All that can be hoped for is advancement of the self and the loss of free will. Or the loss of life.’ She leaned snapped the book shut and sighed, looked it over as if a weight had been lifted. Perhaps Qayala had given her the strength, perhaps not. But she slid the book into her personal affects to be carried up to Riyanna’s lab, where they’d be hidden among the piles of her own items. Perhaps next she really would write about her life. If Celeste were to write a book, she wanted to write it well. But in order to do that, she had to compile research on just who and what drove the Citadel onward. Perhaps she’d speak with Elsene tomorrow.

[Celeste Arumen]

27th Day of Summer, 513 AV It’d been an exhausting day. Celeste was almost entirely brown from long hours spent in the sun. She’d been struggling to unmorph her hair, as if through sheer force of will she could undo a mistake that’d already long been made. Overgiving however, was something she’d expected. Push a muscle too hard and it’d snap. Push your djed too hard and wouldn’t realign properly, or worse, at all. She’d been working tirelessly to improve, pushing to the limits of her ability over and over again. It was typical that when she finally did overgive, it would be during an overwhelmingly mundane transformation. Frustrated, she spat on the ground, donned her robes and left. When back at the Citadel, she found herself in Riyanna’s lab, withdrawing the book almost as if by reflex. There was a craving to write, to express herself without hurting something or someone. Celeste hadn’t yet encountered a challenge she could not face. And yet something so minute, so small had her beaten. Sighing, she cracked open the weathered looking book, inked her quill and again, began to write. Writing : ‘Chapter Two: The Urchin of Alvadas I remember precious little of my childhood but I do remember being happy. I was always smiling, from what I’ve been told, always eager to learn. You could entice me into doing anything just by offering to teach me how. That was how I first learned how to morph; my Grandmother often did it, to help supplement her other, more domestic activities. She’d morph claws to clip the hedges and to cut the meat. She’d become a gopher to dig holes and pull the weeds. I spent a good amount of time helping her, so after a while she taught me how to do it myself. Of course, at the time I didn’t think anything of it. It seemed like a logical progression. But as I grew older, I began to realize how others perceived magic, how it was hated and feared. And I was just a girl, loose on the city streets. My Grandmother let me come and go as I pleased and cared little for what I did in between. So long as I was there when she beckoned me, she was content. Thus, I got into my fair share of trouble and I quickly learned, that no one would come to save me. The very first model I learned and the most notable was of the dog Daisy. She was an average street-walking mutt – a little bit of this and a little bit of that. She had sharp, pointed ears and lantern eyes with a single brown smudge in one corner. I would steal food and feed it to her, because she stood on the corner, looking so lonely. Even as a child, I never went hungry. So I thought I’d share. Needless to say, from then on I had a companion for life. The dog would follow me virtually everywhere, though Grams wouldn’t allow me to take her home. So she’d wait just beyond our backyard, eyes alight, ready to play. She was my only companion for many, many years. Thus I thought if maybe I could learn her shape, I could learn to speak with her. Of course, it didn’t work that way. I spoke like any other person did, even when in my animal seeming. But we could run together suddenly and play in a way we hadn’t before. I came to know this dog like a sister, like a true best friend and until the day she died I stayed with her. She passed after a long, grueling fight with a lump on her chest. I’d brew and steal every medicine I could find to try and make her better, but the lump would never go away. It only got bigger until one day, she could no longer run and the life went out of her eyes. I was six. I remember being so sad. That was the first instance I really encountered death. ”It’ll happen to you, too. It happens to all of us, in the end.” Grams had said. So I dried my eyes, in anticipation for the day we’d meet again, along the long lines of Dira’s Web. I also spent a lot of time sneaking about. The stealing would still occasionally get me in trouble, but after my meeting with Ionu, I was able to hide myself more effectively. On my sixth year, during the Festival of Illusion, the same year I lost Daisy, I caught Ionu. He was disguised as a panhandler at the corner of the road. I’ll never forget as I trotted by – he rattled his filth-ridden pewter cup. Now, mind you I was in the form of a dog. I wondered how he possibly knew. Now, any self-respecting adult was just assume he knew for other reasons. Perhaps he was an aurist, or he had some object that allowed him to see to the heart of things. Maybe he was just truly insightful. But in the mind of a child, things were that much simpler. I saw him as Ionu because that was what I wanted him to be. And he was. The old fart tore off down the street quicker than a rampaging glassbeak. I caught him. He gave me a smile, his half-rotten cloak but best of all, the mark; the inverted triangle that forever dwells on my left side, just behind my ear. In that moment, he saved my life maybe a thousand times. But then again, I really just saved myself. So it was one such life-saving time, that I discovered what became of my parents. For a long while, I’d wondered if I ever even had any. The one and only time I’d ever asked about them, Grams gave me the single worst hiding of my entire life. So I simply never asked again. But she wasn’t the only one who recognized me. One say, while walking through the Bizarre, I made a terrible blunder. They saw me. Alvadas is kept orderly by a secret police called the Womiyu, which is separated into three branches: The Speakers, the Listeners and the Silencers. The Speakers catch criminals and humiliate them. The Listeners are the local spies and usually criminals in their own right however, it’s the Silencers that are worst of all. They go and murder indiscriminately, at the behest of their superiors, no questions asked. While hiding from a group of Listeners who I’d discovered just moments before, I learned the truth. I inherited most of my talent from my Mother, apparently. She was a local mage, mulishly set against the restrictions on their behavior. Pigheaded was the term they used. Apparently, one day she’d overgiven and my Father tried to stop her. But he couldn’t. Before long, the word of her madness spread and the Silencers came. When they did, he tried to stop them too. So they both wound up in an unmarked grave, out of sight, forgotten by the world, and I wound up on Gram’s door. But certain things still don’t make sense. I still don’t have all the answers. When I was ten, shortly after my birthday, I came home to nothing. Not an empty house or a dead Grandmother. Where my house once stood, instead dwelled an empty plot of land. Everything that’d ever happened to me was suddenly called into question. Was Grams an illusion? Am I one, too? How much of my life in that city was real? I cannot honestly say. People often look at illusions as petty things, trifles to be discarded. Because they aren’t genuine, they are treated as if they have no merit. Yet my whole life has been proof to the contrary. Illusions, if they’ve any value at all, are worth more than reality by far, because in a more acute way, they can reflect the real world and in one heartbreaking instant, they’re gone. You might lose a house, a friend, or a lover but never will you understand what it is like to lose it all and to ask yourself if it ever even existed to begin with. I would not trade these memories and experiences for anything. There is no love lost between Grams and I. Maybe she was real, maybe she was fake. She taught me my letters. She educated me in three different languages. She taught me how to manipulate the wind, to rotate soil, to brew salves and solutions, to change the very fabric of who I am. There is nothing I am more grateful for. She even gave me this dream, to become a Wizard of Sahova. So, if in the end she was never real at all, it is a crime I can easily absolve her of. I often miss the city. I cannot lie. There is without a doubt, no place more beautiful and terrifying. Sahova simply cannot compare. Alvadas would unfold into a tropical paradise just as easily as it’d drop you into a pit of snakes. It reflected the seasons in a dazzling way, always through spectacle, always trying to outdo itself. It was wild, rich and perfect in so many ways. But I knew that if I stayed, because of who and what I was, I’d disappear. Or worse even, I’d become my Mother. So here I am. Just an urchin, trying to stand tall and be brave.’ Celeste set the quill and the ink aside to contemplate that which she just wrote. Never before had she poured out so many details. Tears sprang to her eyes at the loving descriptions of Alvadas. The faint scent of pine trees and a touch of remembered woodsmoke brought them to fruition. She sighed and drawing her knees to her chest, she set the book aside and truly began to weep. How she just wanted to go back to that place.

[Celeste Arumen]

34th Day of Fall, 513 AV ”Elsene,” she said softly, in the thick of scrubbing out a beaker. ”Might I ask you something?” Her voice had taken on the dangerously soft tone that meant she was being conniving again. The Nuit saw right through it, naturally, being immune to flattery as she was. ”What is it, you busybody?” She was not one for beating around the bush. ”You’ve always got your nose where it’s liable to get chopped off.” Her tone wasn’t entirely unkind, but it wasn’t exactly indulgent, either. ”Please tell me everything you know about the Citadel. The politics, who is in charge, the ranks one can achieve, everything and further, why.” Elsene, who was perched atop a nearby stool set down her mortar and pestle, before releasing a deep sigh. ”If I tell you, you must first explain why you want to know.” Now, there was something to be expected. Celeste knew she’d have to justify herself. ”If I’m going to amount to anything around here, I need information. And I can’t look into it myself. I still can’t read Nader-canoch.” There was more she wouldn’t say. Elsene and Celeste both knew that. ”Why don’t you ask Riyanna, then?” The woman was strangely discerning, for a total recluse. ”Because I want to figure this out on my own. I want to surprise her.” Of course, the real truth was she needed it for her book. Knowing the culture was one thing. Those would be details she’d go into later on, in fact. What she didn’t know was the story of Zarik Mashaen or the working details of the hierarchy that surrounded him. Plus, she wasn’t being entirely dishonest. She really did need to know. Elsene, sensing this, complied. ”Just keep scrubbing,” she replied irritably. Celeste nodded, waiting patiently for the true reply, which came swiftly as the age old botanist thought back to her earliest days at the Citadel. ”Zarik Mashaen was the court wizard for Alahea after Sagallius Hrinn. Of course, I can’t give you the details of his personal life. I can say he founded the Island for the purpose it serves today. He is the Archwizard of the Island. After him comes Lector Qiao and his Council of Five: Aelobius, Farke, Mizelio Takk, and Mistress Wanza.” Celeste nodded. ”Right. But Lector Qiao is the one really in charge, right?” Elsene said nothing. Instead, she carried on. ”Then there are those called Rehalias, the truly virtuous. Amaryllis would be the one you know about.” She gave the girl a piercing stare. Celeste shifted uncomfortably. ”It is the highest rank beneath the Council and is usually granted through initiation or appointment.” She nodded at this. It wouldn’t do to interrogate her; she wouldn’t get any answers anyway. ”Then there are Hyrudes, which are the renowned researchers of the island. They tend to be the least visible of the Wizards, for fear someone will steal their latest work.” So they were all mad, then. That made sense, given the circumstances. ”From there, you have Molluns. They’re the helpful Wizards, almost always Pulsers. To be a Mollun is not a good thing. It is considered more of an expletive than a rank. Your Master would be considered a Mollun.” The word was rather ugly. How typical of Sahova, to make something so innocuous seem to horrible, instead. ”Nadirs are long-term apprentices. Then you have short-term apprentices, also known as ‘temporary’ and finally, the Wardens.” And to that, she flashed the young girl a grin. Elsene was almost smug at the idea. It infuriated Celeste, but she held her tongue. It was hard to remember that this woman was not her friend. ”Fix your face. You cannot allow your anger to be self-evident. You need to work on controlling your expressions, lest your enemy knows they have won.” She bit her lip a little too hard and in the process, drew blood. ”Stop that. Get back to scrubbing!” Enflamed, she turned back to washbasin. ”You were right,” she continued. ”Though I can’t fathom how you plan to accomplish anything, human as you are right now. Lector Qiao is indeed our leader for all intents and purposes, thanks to an incident, let’s say, that happened years passed. Politics are everything here. You will earn no love from your superiors for being human, least of all him. Even if you were to prove invaluable, he very well might strap you a table and perform the ritual himself.” The thought made her shudder. ”You’re afraid.” She said simply. ”Good. Because you do not understand what you are toying with and I fear, when you do it will be far too late.” Celeste was becoming irritated again, but this time she utilized more control. ”So what do you propose I do? Other than becoming as you are.” She grew silent for a time. ”Be tractable. Allow them to use for your abilities. You’ll be a tool – perhaps a valued tool, but a tool nonetheless. You cannot exert your will knowingly. Every move you make must be calculated and more importantly, it must be secret. And ff you plan to do something, do not fail. Disgrace and humiliation are far more potent tools than you yet realize.” She gave her another penetrating stare. Celeste had already realized these things. She’d learned it from watching the Speakers of Alvadas. Perhaps it was worse to die by the hand of the Silencers, but in a bureaucracy like Sahova, death was not all they had to lose. Most of those who worked for their reputations had done so for several lifetimes. This book she was writing could be a weapon, in the right hands. Among other schemes she had yet to devise. ”Just be careful, little one,” she said suddenly. ”Whatever you’re doing, don’t you dare get caught. Work very, very hard to avoid that. It will mean the difference between success and failure and ultimately, life and death.” Those words rang like a cluster of bells throughout her mind. So later, she sat down to write out what she’d learned. Writing : ’Chapter 3: Politics and Hierarchy Within the walls of the Citadel, one must be extraordinarily careful. Golems everywhere are designed to ferret out the secrets of others. Wizards are rated by their value to the Island. All it takes is just one humiliation, one exposed secret to ruin it all. Even the failing of the Archwizard made way for another political party to gain dominion over his own, and thus, this is how Lector Qiao recently became the de facto leader of the Citadel. Lector, a political cultist, controls his Council of Five who in turn, hold sway over the various Wizards within their domains. Beneath the council are then the Rehalias, mainly comprised of those who have been with the Academy since its inception. They are the honored, the revered, such as Chief Embalmer Amaryllis or Bebe Etnerius, Chief Administrator of the Synchograph Office, just to name a few. Just below the Rehalias dwell the Hyrudes. They are the chief magical researchers and by extension, the least visible of the group. They’re often thought to be mad, obsessed with greatness, always lost in the never-ending process of their work. Perhaps decades might pass a Hyrude by, without them realizing. Then of course, are the Molluns, which are less a rank and more a derogatory term. They are usually Pulsers, or generally people who do not adhere to the traditional political structure that Sahova holds so dear. They’re often disdained for treating their apprentices with a modicum of respect, rather than rubbing their noses in the lifeless dirt. The next two are apprentices; Nadirs being the longstanding and temporaries being the transient and sometimes, unsuccessful. And finally there are the Wardens. They are nameless servants of the Nuit, heroes of the Testing Grounds. And they are for all intents and purposes treated as disposable. They are rated below even apprentices in this regard. The most valued traits in Sahova are to be cutthroat, to be surreptitious and to above all, be tractable. Those in positions of power have been there for a goodly while. They might only be usurped through the potential of disgrace, as mentioned earlier. This is not something a feat an individual can accomplish alone. Theoretically, the intervention of a deity or at least the power of one would need to be involved. Anyone is caught moving against those higher up will likely be destroyed and in the most unpleasant way imaginable. Not before they’re tortured with impunity, of course.’

[Celeste Arumen]

41st Day of Fall, 513 AV There was no feeling in the world like running with Riyanna. Though she always seemed two strides ahead, there was a fierce joy in competing, running madly along behind, always pushing harder, striving to one day make it by her side. It was an appropriate metaphor, too; the woman was grooming her to become a Wizard in her own right. But even though she might one day become her equal, Riyanna Sterder would always be her Master and furthermore, her friend. She was the closest thing to a female role model she’d ever had, other than Grams and maybe Kit. They ran and ran, under the bowl of the clear blue sky, Riyanna as the wolf and Celeste, the dog. It felt so good to move, to just taste the air. It was perhaps a full bell or so before they even stopped to rest and by that time, Celeste was drenched in sweat. She gratefully came to a halt, throwing up dirt. And of course, before she could even blink, Riyanna had already slid gracefully into her human seeming, using little to no effort at all. They paused for a moment as Celeste allowed the elastic of her soul to slowly creep back into place. It took a chime or so – the energy no longer snapped crisply into alignment, not like it used to and that was both a good and bad thing. Good, because it carried her closer to her goal and yet, it had its consequences. Celeste found herself being swept further and further away from whom she once was. Not even her soul could quite remember, anymore. ’Let us forever change,’ a quiet voice said inside. To that, she smiled. ”Riyanna,” she called softly, interrupting her as she stretched. The Warden turned, tear-streaked face smiling. ”What is it, sweetheart?” She cooed in reply. For some reason, the young girl was feeling especially timid. It was altogether odd, given the fact that she had every right in the world to ask the question. ”Can you tell me the history of the Wardens?” The woman just grinned. ”In the mood for a little story time?” She cleared her throat comically, moving to sit beside her. Celeste felt secretly guilty – as far as she was aware, Riyanna didn’t know about the book she was writing. Not that it was much of a book. Oftentimes, she felt at a loss for what to say. It was only recently that she’d been inspired enough to even consider continuing it. This would be a fundamental part of the story. It was the background behind her two conflicting worlds and identities - the Wardens and the Wizards. Celeste smiled, moving in closer to her favorite companion. It was a question she’d been meaning to ask eventually, anyway. ”Back when Sahova was first opened to the world, people flocked to the Island to join the city’s ranks. Shortly after their arrival however, they found out that there wasn’t a lot of space. That and of course, they realized how little room they was to advance as a regular human, so a lot of people decided to undergo the ritual. But there were some who decided they’d rather live instead.” The young girl curled up, wrapping her arms around her knees. ”The Nuit decided to give those humans a task, to put them in the position they thought they deserved. They were set to look after the Testing Grounds, to clean up their failed experiments. It was intended to exile and humiliate us. Yet, there was one man who stepped up and took responsibility for the fate of us all. He was the very first Groundskeeper, Chabiza Kormic.” For some reason, that named seemed oddly familiar. But why? ”He actually developed the faction, the Wardens, as it is known today. Chabiza encouraged those humans to overcome the challenges they faced and to develop their magic in the face of adversity.” She reached out and smoothed an errant lock of hair back into place. ”Because of him, the Wardens became arguably, the best combat mages on the island.” That was heartening. ”Since then, every Groundskeeper we’ve had has taken the name Chabiza.” Celeste shifted her feet, wiggling her bare toes in the dirt. ”What’s a Groundskeeper?” ”Ah! Right. The Groundskeeper oversees the entire Testing Grounds. They’re the boss.” Well, that at least made sense. ”We vote to decide who becomes the next one when the original passes away.” But Riyanna seemed set to continue. “There was a man named Goron Silverheart, an Isur, who saw us for what we truly are. He was the Chief Magecrafter at the time.” She smiled brightly. ”He made the Chabiza and each of the Wardens a special weapon and demanded they be acknowledged as a part of Sahova.” So that was how she was able to conscript her after she’d already been denied. ”I’ve only ever seen Isur here and there. He must’ve come a long way.” Celeste thought back to her time in Alvadas and how few of the hearty, smithing race she’d even glimpsed throughout her entire life. ”That’s right. Just like you, cutie.” Riyanna pinched at her cheeks. ”Kalea isn’t exactly around the corner.” She thought about the long journey by sea and shuddered delicately. ”You know, most Wardens only take two Initiates.” Celeste exhaled sharply in surprise. ”Really?” Now that was something she’d not heard. Was that why Tierra and Brom had been among the faction for so long? Riyanna had already selected them as the two she wanted. So why did she even think of taking her, too? ”But why, then? Why me?” The woman however, just laughed. ”You’ll see, one day. You’ll understand in time, little one.” Slightly deflated, the girl just sighed. There were still so many things she had yet to understand. ”So, I noticed that Ronas from the Bloodhills isn’t a morpher. Is there a set magic that each of the Wardens use?” After all, Tierra and Brom were both morphers too. ”Keen eye! Yes, each of the Wardens traditionally use one or two different disciplines, though I’d like to think we’re the most artistic and graceful of them all.” She flipped her hair in a silly sort of way. Celeste laughed. ”Ronas is a good example of the Bloodhills and further, of his Master Eli Brent. They use projection and voiding to do most of their work.” ”Voiding I’ve heard of, but what on Mizahar is projection?” Riyanna laughed merrily. Always so full of questions! You never get enough, do you?” That actually embarrassed her a little. The initiate coughed slightly, turning away. ”Oh, I’m just teasing!” Riyanna smiled. ”Projection is the ability to detach your astral body from your physical body and use it as a weapon.” Wow. The possibilities for something like that seemed vast. ”Then, there is Gresshal, Warden of the Mudpools. He uses flux and hypnotism, mainly. They’re the best in hand to hand, though I still think I could take him.” She tapped her back, where the tattoo of the sword lie. Celeste suddenly realized that it was likely the weapon Goron Silverheart made the Prairie Warden so very long ago. ”Then finally, there is Kierra Doma of the Heartlands. Generally, Wardens of the Heartlands only have one initiate.” Celeste whistled low. ”And what do they do?” She asked. ”They’re the reimancers and they generally use their familiars to great advantage.” The word ‘familiar’ cropped up again, igniting her curiosity in earnest. She inhaled, ready for a full-scale interrogation. Riyanna saw this and quickly sprang up, strategically avoiding the barrage of questions she was sure to unleash. ”But wait!” Celeste cried. ”I want to know about familiars!” She cried. Riyanna simply laughed, shuddering down into her wolf form. ”If that’s so, you’ll have to catch me first.” Well, that wasn’t likely to happen. Still, Celeste whooped and focused on stretching and expanding her djed. She looked inward at her larger model. This time, she took each facet of her being and pulled further. Starting at the spine, she pulled it longer, thickening the bones in reply, traveling onward to the paws, manipulating the djed out, flattening and stretching it. She pulled the tail to match, mindful of it this time, as well as her snout and ears, feeling her energy groan as the tension increased. She stretched out like putty, each sensation slightly inflamed. Celeste even pulled her fur outward, growing a thicker layer of shag. Her pores itched fiercely as the hair forced upward through the skin. It took her a little longer and by that time, Riyanna had sped off. But not to be underestimated, the newly larger and shaggier Celeste took off like a shot behind her, muscles pumping furiously to gain some ground. It was only later that she realized that she’d changed shape in maybe half the time it normally took her. Writing : ’Chapter 4: The Wardens The Wardens were first created not as an organization, but rather as a form of exile. At Sahova’s inception, humans were typically given an ultimatum – undergo the ritual, or be forced out to the Testing Grounds, where they would then be forced clean up after the Wizard’s failed experiments, scraping out a short and usually bloody existence. This was their lot in life, according to the Nuit. Humans were designed to be subservient, given the inferiority of their pathetically short lifespan. Interestingly enough however, one man stood forth from the rest. His name was Chabiza Kormic and he became the very first Groundskeeper - the individual who oversees all other Wardens in the Testing Grounds. He gave the faction life, lending them organization and encouraging each one to overcome the limitations placed upon them by their Nuit masters. Before long, the Wardens became the best combat mages in all of Sahova. Every Groundskeeper since has taken on the name Chabiza and works selflessly in the interests of those humans he oversees. Thus, the different sections of the Testing Grounds were appointed a Warden and those Wardens chose the magical discipline that suited them best. For the Prairie it was the art of Morphing – my art – and those that stayed were notorious for artistry and the ability to adjust their forms in both beautiful and terrible ways. For the Bloodhills, it was the more subtle and insidious arts of Voiding and Projection, utilizing the ability to capture and restrain as well as kill. Then, for the Mudpools it was Hypnotism and Flux, augmenting both physical and emotional influence, debilitating foes from nearby. And then finally, for the Heartlands, the Warden chose Reimancy and Familiary, using their companion to great effect. Each Warden then chose two initiates to work beneath them so that one day, the strongest would rise to take their place. The Warden of the Heartlands however, chose only one, the answer to which only that initiate could say. And as time passed, new and more balanced individuals came into power, namely the Isur known as Goron Silverheart, Chief Magecrafter and Master Wizard at the time. Being one of the only living beings to ever ascend so far within the Citadel’s ranks, he felt a strange kinship with the Pulsers of the Testing Grounds. So he strove to lend them a voice. Goron magecrafted an item for the Chabiza and each of the Wardens with his own two hands, the likes of which would be passed along from one individual to the next over time. Because of his influence, the Wardens suddenly had a role in the politics of the Island. They were perhaps not encouraged to interfere, but were able to. And thus, they sit in on the seasonal Judgments in the hopes that an unfortunate Pulser who finds rejection might still make a life on the Island in another respect. They’re often merciful, though one should never mistake their compassion for weakness. Every initiate must prove themselves, lest their life will be forfeit to the extremely hostile circumstances of the Testing Grounds.’ Celeste sat back and stared at the book between her hands. Each time she revealed a detail about the island, she felt a secret delight. It was almost akin to being a historian. She was certainly doing more writing than she’d ever expected she’d do when coming to the Island. In her mind, only Wizards had to write. What good did it do for apprentices? Yet she found it to be an excellent outlet and further, a godsend. Perhaps this was only the beginning. Only the start of an incredible story. And so she snapped the volume shut and ferreted it away amongst the various items of Riyanna’s lab, where it would hide out of sight, in the periphery of the Citadel. DisclaimerI know the writing is a little advanced and I really apologize for that. You don't have to award me much if you feel like I was too articulate! I was in a writing frenzy. I just wanted to let you know that I'm aware of it. Sorry!

[Mirage]

Celeste

Experience

• Writing: 5
• Investigation: 4

Lore

• Sahova: Wizard Ranks
• Lector Qiao: Defacto Leader of Sahova
• Zarik Mashaen: Archwizard of Sahova
• Identities of the Council of Five
• Sahova: Something Happened to put Qiao into authority
• Wardens: The History of the Wardens
• Wardens: Specific Magics of each Warden
• Writing: Recording Accurate Accounts

Nothing but a Mirage

First off love this new grading template, and 2nd woo good job! To cut down on the flood of lores I decided to give you more general ones instead. If you find any others you would specifically like to request do not hesitate to PM me and I can add it. Celeste did the foot work this time, and it was great! I loved hearing the history I helped create written about. It gives one a big feeling of warmth knowing players are using what you have created . If you have any questions PM me!