A Journey into the Depths [Rayage]

by **Keene Ward** on December 30th, 2014, 6:13 am

The fifth day of winter, 514 AV

The day had started out a bit earlier than it usually did for the young initiate as the rise of the citadel stood stark in against the morning sky. Atziri had, as she occasionally was wont to do, stirred him from sleep. Being shaken awake was near the bottom of his list of things he preferred when his eyes first opened, only slightly below making the long hike to the citadel in the early morning darkness. It wasn't so much he was upset about nearly being dressed by his master and shoved out of their cave with a paper in one hand and almonds in the other, but as he had groggily made his way down from the plateau, he found the situation to not be one of his more favorites after having become an initiate. In the semi-darkness, his pace had been slow, hampered by the lack of vision. Once the sun had begun to rise, however, there had been more than enough light for him to move at a more reasonable stride. While he was far from the physical fitness his master displayed, over the past season on the island, he had improved far past where he had started, and though his breath came heavy and hot and sweat glistened off his skin in a thin sheen, he found that the exercise was actually welcome.

His body had slowly begun to change. What had once been a pale vessel prone to frailty and a bookish disposition had started to develop muscle, scars, and while still pale, it seemed a healthier sort. Keene found it strange considering his diet had become extremely minimalistic, though with the constant supply of proteins it was to be expected considering the amount of physical exertion his job required. And while few in Zeltiva would have had much to compare him to, those who knew him prior would have found it a veritable transformation. He, however, simply thought of it as nothing more than the natural progression of life. The marginal decrease in the fatigue garnered from the journey was welcome, and Keene had little reason to worry about his physical appearance, as there were few others who gave him cause to worry. His hair was still kept short on the sides and longer on the top, though the cut was rough and uneven as he was no barber. His clothes too had had their fare share of wear and tear. Atiziri had forced him into his leathers and insisted he take his cloak as well before sending him out. While he had removed the draping cloth from his shoulders for the journey, as he stared down at the work order he'd been given, he found the cloak a welcome companion.

The order was short, more of a note than anything else:

An escort is required for reagent requisition from the caverns. Offensive magic preferred. Pulser preferred. Report to lab 45E.

Upon successful acquisition, a reward to be decided will be given. Upon unsuccessful acquisition, no reward shall be given.

Keene was well aware that whatever magic kept the citadel's interior so cold extended into the depths of the Gug Andjak. His sensitivity to the chill was problematic when it came to the way he typically dressed due to the heat of the tropical weather, but Atziri had thought of that for him. They had been living together long enough that she was well aware his wits were not about him unless he woke with the natural alarm of his internal clock. Glancing up from the paper as he made his way into the Vestibule, Keene stuffed the paper into his pocket, using his other hand to pull a few of the almonds he'd saved out of his other pocket and pop them into his mouth. As he let his pace slow and the sweat turn cold and refreshing on his skin, he thoughtfully chewed the nuts as he let his gaze wander between the massive statues that had yet to cease their captivating hold over him. They were so massive and impressive, found it easy to marvel at just their size. The craftsmanship was a different entity altogether, leaving plenty for his eyes to peruse as his tapped his way through the lengthy hall.

Keene had spent little time in the Gug Andjak, and as he passed through the courtyard's whispering paths and through the massive building's equally foreboding doors and headed down the stairs, he quickly realized that forty-five floors was much easier to say than to descend. The stairs seemed never ending, require Keene to take breaks first every ten, then five, until he sluggishly forced himself to plod deeper and deeper into the gradually more cavernous floors. At one point, he lost count, wandering around the strange layout of the floor until finding a metal plaque that had a definitive thirty-three on it. When he finally did arrive on the forty-fifth floor, Keene took several chimes to catch his breath. His legs burned, and his knees were a bit jarred from the near endless bounce of stairs that were just a bit too far apart for him. When he felt more in control of his sweating body, Keene began his investigation of the dimly lit floor, his cloak hung over both vambrace and arm as he made his way into what was usually the main open hall. Instead of the vast space, there was a large pillar of stone that rose from the floor to the ceiling, acting as a meridian.

Glancing to his left, he found a plaque labeled "45B", signaling that that was the proper path to take. Ambling down the hall with his eyes fixed on the passing plaques, it wasn't long until he arrived at his destination. He waited for a few ticks before approaching, the doors larger and more foreboding than those of the upper levels. Drawing the not from his pocket, Keene made a few, firm raps against the door. "I've come about the work request." He wasn't sure what else to say, squinting down at the paper. He supposed his qualifications were in order, and he spoke them as he heard footsteps from behind the door before it opened. "I'm a reimancer." He glanced back down at the paper. "And a Pulser."

by **Rayage** on December 31st, 2014, 1:18 am

Rayage spent some time at her desk. The vast amount of papers there needed to be sorted and organized for once. Taking a stack here and a stack there she was reading through the notes to organize them properly. She remembered her first successful experiment here in Sahova. The furred lizard she created was the steppingstone to where she was now. It was the key that opened the door to so many opportunities in Sahova, and her service to the island hadn’t gone unnoticed, as was evidence by the golden masters ring on her finger. Her alchemy was peerless, but she needed, wanted something more.

She paused in her work to admire the little golden ring, which was topped with a basic looking alchemy circle. Two blue gems were encrusted on either side to represent the fount and the filter, the basic chargers of the alchemical art. She smiled at it, and tried to feel happy, tried to feel pride in her work, but oddly enough she felt empty. The accomplishments and esteem and regard she held in Sahova didn’t feel the need she felt deep in her soul. There was a conflict raging within her, between the light and the darkness, two opposing forces at war. She felt the pull to the darkness, and honestly, had felt that she was in the dark most of her existence. She wanted to see the light, and longed to accomplish her goals. There was a realization, that Sahova would not allow her to accomplish what she wanted to. Not until she gains even more power and prestige, and become the top alchemist, overcome her master in the art he specialized in.

Not only would she need the power of her formulas and her mind, but she would need support from others, political influence. All this time she had been in Qiaos shadow, the golden ring on her finger stirred within her a raging force, a need to go even higher; to go even farther than anyone has before. The creation and modification of life was grand, but there had to be something more. Something different she could grasp at. She had hoped that going through her old research notes would provide her with a moment of clarity, some direction, but it seemed that she had gotten her directions mixed up. There were no hidden signs or clues in the past, for her past research was focused on one thing, the modification of life. She needed and longed for a new angle, something to charge forth with… Though it wasn’t coming to her.

She frowned, and set the papers aside, placing them in a neat pile next to the others which were about life. Some of her research had been stolen, and that bothered her deeply. There were rats even among the alchemists of Sahova, and she had yet to smoke it out. She stared at the inkwell, before her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.

She turned to the giant doors and proceeded to the entrance of her own lab. For a master of the citadel she wore rather simple and minimalistic clothes, a cotton shirt and some leather pants. It was very plain, but she felt rather plain today after her ritual like bath. In truth she wasn’t expecting her request to be answered so quickly, and so didn’t dress to impress. She would just be in her lab working anyways. The most spectacular thing around her though was the cloak she wore, which did a good job of hiding the rather plain garb the nuit wore. It was of a deep royal purple color. The fabric itself seemed to shine a little in the artificial light of the lab. It glimmered with a mystical beauty, the fabric was obviously magical, and a creation of the alchemists own. On the back of it was the symbol of the Ouroboros. It was a symbol that her master wore, and one that she had adopted for herself. The snake eating its own tail, a symbol of eternity, a symbol of the duality, of beginning and ends existing simultaneously, in harmony with each other… It was rather poetic and represented her work rather well. Raven black hair fell across her back and draped across her face, framing it in a meticulously cut hairstyle. Her green eyes were opposing, the flame of an endless life was lit within them, and although her appearance would look rather alive, there was color to her skin. That too was just an illusion, cast upon her by a ring she held dear. Her ring gave the dead the appearance of being alive, but that is it. Just appearance. Perfumes heavily applied would try to mask the smell of rot, it specifically smelled of lilacs.

Opening the door her eyes set upon the youth standing there. When she saw him she couldn’t help but smile, ”A pulser.” she said observing him, her eyes moved across his entire body before she opened the door further and invited into the lab, ”Welcome to Lab 45E.” she said, ”I don’t have an official name for it. 45E suits it well.”

She shuffled over to her desk and moved the seat so she could be facing the human child, ”Come in.” she would say if he was just standing there in the entrance of her lab, ”And come closer.” she motioned for him to approach where she sat, ”I am Master Rayage.” She introduced herself, her voice sounded hollow and emotionless with the introduction like she had said it many, many times before and was bored with it.

”I cant believe they actually sent a pulser.” she said mostly to herself before returning her attention to the young man in her lab, ”You possess reimancy?” she asked as if the question itself was a test, perhaps testing how well Sahova can follow instructions.

x

by **Keene Ward** on December 31st, 2014, 2:13 am

The door was drawn back to reveal a set of emerald eyes peering out at him in the partial darkness. There was a hint of a smile in her voice as she noted his state of living, the tone sending a small shiver down his back. His face remained impassive, but the way the women spoke the word made him uneasy and for good reason. As the massive doors were drawn back to reveal the lab behind her, Keene's eyes flicked over the woman, interest and appraisal sparking behind his blank facade. Dark, charcoal locks fell long about her face, her bangs trimmed neatly and stark against the gentle glow of her skin and eyes. An elegant robe of deep purple adorned her shoulders, sweeping down towards the floor with an elegance unwonted on the island. From sheer appearance, the woman seemed very much alive, however her manner of speech was hollow, distant. It was time worn, and despite the strange scent of lavender mixed with an earthy undertone, Keene's face turned into a slight frown. Whatever the case, the woman had an aura of authority about her; she certainly was no apprentice.

At the invitation, he stepped into the laboratory, watching as the woman made a slow and deliberate retreat to her desk situated at the back of the room, turning the chair so that she faced him as she sank down into with an easy poise. At her beckon, Keene slid forward. His leather boots made quiet tapping sounds as he advanced with what deference he could muster without appearing ostentatious. There was an ancient quality about the flame that burned behind her gaze, a fire that demanded reverence without command. He stopped a good distance away from her, drawing too close seemed inappropriate. At her introduction, Keene gave a small bow. Though the address was given as if it were well worn and nothing but nicety, a master of magic - whatever magic it might be - was due proper respect. It was no small task to develop a mastery over the arcane, and Keene had the feeling the woman before him had had her fair share of trials to achieve it.

As he rose from the dip his torso had taken, he let his eyes flick around the room. There were shelves, cabinets, and tables filled with knick-knacks. Papers and books were stacked and shelved neatly. Vials and bottles both with and without contents lined the tables, neatly arranged according to some system Keene was unable to discern with a passing eye. Whatever manner of magic Master Rayage practiced seemed to either require or was better suited to a clean environment. Master Relos' lab had been much more disorganized, though Keene supposed there wasn't much a shielding lab needed beyond quiet. The current lab seemed to have that in spades as well. When she spoke, her voice floated through the air, filling it in the moment and fading the tick after. It was strange and grand, and Keene found he was quite out of his element. At one point in his life, the library had been his domain, but with the change of seasons, he had found the comfort of the Obsidian Cavern to be far better suited to his disposition than anything else. Now, within the depths of the Gug Andjak before the Master Rayage in her impressive, albeit austere, laboratory, he began to understand why many of the nuits looked upon him and the other wardens with such disdain.

When next she spoke, only a few ticks after her introduction, Keene raised a brow. He had quite certainly told her he was a reimancer, but he supposed it was only natural to doubt words. He also found her preoccupation with him being a Pulser odd, seeing as how she seemed to be one herself, in spite of her quixotic aura. Having little reason to keep the woman waiting, Keene lifted a hand between them, palm facing upward. With a small, quiet exhale of breath, res drifted from the center of the scarred "x", floating a few inches in the air. With a sharp snap, the res was transmuted into a gem of ice, tumbling down into his hand before he extended it towards her. "Yes, my name is Keene Ward." A display of his abilities, however small, was a better qualification than simply words. Drawing the paper he had replaced in his pocket when the door had opened, Keene held it so it was noticeable in the low lighting of the room. "You require an escort?" The request meant either their task was dangerous enough to require two users of magic, or that her magic was not suited for combat. From the state of the laboratory and the woman's own elegance (though upon close inspection he found the robe to be her only bit of finery, as her clothes beneath were plain and practical), he assumed the latter. While lab 45E was the deepest he had yet to venture into the bowels of the island, there had been little sign of danger. Whatever it was Master Rayage needed him to protect her from, he felt relatively confident he would be able to do so. Extended protection, however, would certainly be a problem. Reimancy was not especially suited towards lengthy exchanges.

by **Rayage** on December 31st, 2014, 3:16 am

She watched his demonstration and nodded at the ice. Her eyes fixed on the small amount he created, ”Reimancy.” she said ”Many young wizards wield its power. Many wizards have given into the sweet whispers, broken by their own power.” her voice seemed reminiscent, ”There was once a young wizard I knew, Keene, who thought it his goal to gather and lead wizards. He was consumed by his own power, arrogance, and ego. Completely consumed.” she said, shaking her head in a slow motion of disapproval.

”I tried to teach him control, patience, and caution, but it fell on deaf ears and a daft mind. He had such potential too. Youth controlling such power is extraordinary.” she went on ignoring his question about an escort, ”However, I fear for you wielder of personal magic. The vice of power is a strong one.” she stood up and took a couple pensive and inquisitive steps towards him, ”I pray you do not fall to your own ego. Only darkness and monsters and death lie there.” her voice grew louder as she carried on, saying the word ‘death’ with much strength. ”I’ve seen it time and time again, the darkness of mankind…” and she knows it personally, although the young man didn’t need to know that.

”I do require an escort.” she said as she turned and walked back to her desk. Opening a drawer, she pulled out a rolled up piece of paper, ”My magical power is quite limited.” she admitted, ”For a master, some inhabitants of this island call me half-baked. A cruel title.”

She put the rolled up paper in the folds of her robe and turned back to him, ”In the caverns deep under Sahova there is said to be lost artifacts, treasures from wizards now past.” she began to explain to him, ”I want to find and secure such a device to further my standings within the Citadel.”

”However, I am no combat wizard. Which is why I would like your assistance in exploring the caverns.” She said with a small hopeful smile, the most emotion she has displayed in some time. ”There will be a reward if successful, and I do acquire such a relic.” From there she went to a small chest under one of the tables around the lab. ”I do not know how dangerous the dive will be, which is why I prepared this.” She said, pulling out a long blue cloth, neatly folded with the symbol of the Ouroboros on it.

Walking over to Keene she unfolded it and presented it to him, showing him the full length of the garment. ”Its only one size, so it might be too large for you.” she said, ”I was expecting a grown wizard, not one barely out of childhood.” she laughed at her own comment, but secretly she admired his youth. There is so much he could do, and yet he is rotting away in Sahova. It was sad.

”I made it myself,” she added, ”Steel-cloth, I call it. You may borrow it.”

If he didn’t take the cloak she would step forward, silently insisting that he wear it. She was unsure what dangers lie ahead, she didn’t want him to die because he bled out. Life, after all, was so fragile.

”Now then, we mustn’t waste any more time.” she announced turning to the doors of her lab, she advanced to them, ”Lets go to the Caverns, Keene.” she said attempting to lead the way out of the lab and into the halls of the Gug Andjak. Rayage walked at a nice, relaxed pace as if she were content with taking her time despite her earlier statement. The truth was, it was a long way up, and she didn’t want to tire the human out just ascending the Andjak to make it to the caverns. There was a lot of walking to do, and unlike her, her companion will grow tired.

”Tell me, Keene Ward,” she said while ascending the first flight of stairs, ”Why did you come to this dark and defiled place?”

x

by **Keene Ward** on December 31st, 2014, 4:25 am

Master Rayage's reply was unexpected. His magic was familiar to her, something that did not surprise him, but it drew fourth advice he had not anticipated. By the distant haze that drifted across her piercing eyes, she spoke from the past, pulling the words from her memories as they were shared in the present. He knew of the whispers, the quiet voices that were wont to pull him closer, drawing him ever closer to madness. Master Rayage spoke of one, but her words evoked the memories of another. She too had fallen to the draw of power, of control. Keene clenched his jaw, pressing the memories of the fiery headed woman back down into the twisted depths of his subconscious. Master Rayage continued, her voice gaining strength and severity. She spoke of youth with a sigh, one that held within it something that a mortal creature couldn't grasp. In spite of her appearance, Keene could not believe she was human. Whatever manner of being or beast that wore the woman's face, Master Rayage was not what she appeared but fully what she seemed.

She spoke of power, vanity. Keene nodded solemnly, his mind whirring with each tick she spoke. The island had worked wonders for his magic, his skill improving with each passing day isolated on the mountain. In that isolation, however, his only company was that of his own voice, his own thoughts. He pawed through them now, his grey gaze even with the intensity of the woman's before him. She peered into him, evaluating that which only she could see. At the sounding of "death", a ripple of foreboding trickled down Keene's spine. He broke his gaze, his eyes falling to the floor as his clenched jaw grew tighter. While he had not lived as long as she nor seen all that she had seen, he knew well the darkness that dwelled within the hearts of those tempted and tainted with power. He could feel it in himself as well, a sneering shadow about the edges of his soul. It was not that did not accept it as part of himself, but he ignored it, turning his attention from it when it flared up, pressing it farther and farther away from him. And the darkness had been in others, and it would be many more. The woman before him did not need to know him to know his heart, and the realization made Keene feel very small and very weak.

His strength had grown, but what was strength without wisdom. He knew quite well what might happen to those who valued one above the other, and he had resolved to toe the line between them. Perhaps, in spite of his attention, he had began to drift. Keene shook his head, Master Rayage's words fading into his mind with an ominous sort of echo, attaching themselves to both the present and the past. When she finally addressed his question, she moved and spoke as if the gravity of what she had just shared had transpired years prior. The switch was quick, faster than Keene could attune himself to, and so he drew careful breath in through his nose and out his mouth as Master Rayage approached her desk, drawing something out as she spoke. Raising his head to regard her as she explained her combative abilities were indeed lacking, he raised a brow at the idea of a "half-baked" master. Magic was much more than simply slaughter, and Keene found the insult to the woman unwarranted. He kept his mouth shut, however, a small sheen reflected in his eyes as he pressed the last bits of his emotion down to be dealt with later. He doubted she had much use for a blubbering guard.

As she tucked a scroll away into her robes, she continued on to explain the purpose of their journey, beyond why his help had been requested. Keene found little issue with the idea of artifacts lost in the catacombs that pocketed the island. In a city inhabited by the undead who's sole purpose was the research and creation of magic and all its cohorts, Keene found it more surprising that the artifacts were not scattered across the island in greater quantity. Her purpose was not entirely surprising as well. Sahova was a cesspool of political privilege and pomp, things he had not noticed until he was part of a sect considered lower than most others. Her desire for recognition was not unwarranted, and Keene had little issue assisting her with it. She was much more accepting of both his station as an initiate and a Pulser; even had she been like the others, he had committed himself to the task at hand. It was still a bit more convenient that he had a small desire to assist rather than a simple sense of duty. She even seemed grateful, offering him advice, a smile, and cloak.

The smile was, by far, the most unnerving. While it was not malicious, Keene had grown to understand that the tilt of the lips was often used to hide a tilt of the heart. Master Rayage was peculiar enough. Keene didn't want to have to add even more mental faculties to trying to determine whether she was being sincere or not. Quickly tying his own cloak about his shoulders, he stared at the azure folds of the item the woman presented him with. Her comment regarding his age was received with a small frown, but he held no resentment towards her. He was young, and he was inexperienced. Still, he was no incompetent, and he intended to display that through action rather than petty corrections. "Steel-cloth" she called it, and it felt like exactly that as he took it into his hands. He took a small step forward, the weight of the cloak surprising given its fluid and flowing appearance. It was cold against the exposed skin of his left hand, malleable like fabric but with the metallic sensation of its namesake. The weight, combined with the unfortunate length, pressed down upon his shoulders like an oppressive hand as he donned it over his own cloak. The added heat, however, was comfortable, even as the steel-cloth cloak wrapped itself around him.

Master Rayage stared at him with a soft gaze, the first time her face seemed truly human. For a moment, Keene almost believed it, but the moment passed as quickly as it had occurred. "Thank you. For your advice and..." He raised his arms, his fingers just poking out of the cloak's arms, its hem overlapped on the floor. "For your generous protection." With formalities out of the way, she beckoned them leave the laboratory, allowing the reintroduction of time to drive them from it. Keene moved to follow her, unused to the added weight. As his foot moved forward, it caught on the bottom of his borrowed garment, both hands extending outward to both sides as he stumbled forward. Catching himself, Keene took a few moments, loosening the belt about his waste that had been donned more out of familiarity than necessity, and pulling it free. Bunching up the cloak so that the hem rose up off the floor (a more difficult task than he'd anticipated given the cloak's weight), he wrapped the belt around once more, effectively shortening the length by adding it up and over his belt. It gave him a bit of an awkward appearance, but Keene supposed the utility of the garment far outweighed the fashion of it. At least now it wouldn't trip him.

Rayage had paused at the doors, and Keene hurried to fall into step slightly behind and to the side of her, the short, quiet dash requiring a bit more effort with the liquidlike metal that now draped over his body. Unfortunately for him, they were to ascend the stairs. Immediately regretting donning the cloak so early, Keene grit his teeth in silence, starting up behind the steady and manageable pace of Master Rayage, grateful that she took the steps no faster. There were not even yet to the Caverns and already Keene had the feeling the journey was going to feel over before they started. Keeping his breathing slow and controlled, he raised and lowered his legs with each step, the cloak's weight not quite as hampering as he had anticipated. As they rose, the woman asked him his purpose, his reason, for coming to the island. He let the words hang in the air between them for a few steps, preparing his answer. He had thought upon the exact question many time, often within a single day, and yet he still had not found a satisfactory answer. "Perhaps," he mused, as they began up the second flight out of many more to come, "I find the darkness more alluring than the falsity of the light." He spoke less to his companion than to himself. Shaking his head, the steel-cloth cloak rippling as he did so, he offered a less abstract reply. "What better place for an outcast with the ability to raze a city?" His voice, while steady and calm, held the smallest hint of ire. "There was no where else to go, not for me, anyway." The third flight. "And you, Master Rayage? You are... Different than the others." His statement was inquisitive, lacking any hint of hidden deviance. She was not the sort of woman he had expected to be part of that which was the citadel.

by **Rayage** on December 31st, 2014, 5:30 am

Rayage walked in silence taking in the boys answer with a deft nod. ”The falsity of light…” she repeated his answer when the young human asked her why she was here. ”I came here just like you, an outcast.” she said, ”I don’t have the ability to raze a city. My magic is more subtle than that. I came here to create, the build, and to improve upon my already existing theories. To see into the very aspect of life, to understand death, and to transmute the very soul…”

”You say that there is falsity in light.” she stopped at the top of a staircase and looked down over her shoulder at him and smiled gently, ”Darkness is just as false, and perhaps more dangerous. If you go all the way, there will be no one to guide you because there will be no one left. You will be walking alone in the shadows, as they will consume everything you hold dear. You will be laid bare and stripped of everything that makes you, you, Keene.”

”Your light will go out, and you will feel empty.” Her tone was sad and she clenched her fist. Noticing her actions she quickly relaxed herself and turned, continuing on to the dungeons, ”Please don’t be so quick to give up on yourself. Sahova will offer many things, but not fulfillment. You are working for the island, for their goals, not your own. The darkness you see is just an illusion. For everything there is a price.” She said.

x

by **Keene Ward** on December 31st, 2014, 6:00 am

He had yet to understand just what it was her magic was, but he had an inkling of its power wrapped around his shoulders. To "transmute the soul"; the words echoed in his mind as he stared off into the drift of her voice. Perhaps her magic was not as flashy as his, but he could imagine nothing more potent than something with the ability to affect the very nature of life. While she seemed to believe what the others said of her craft, Keene was not so quick to join her. The cloak he wore was something he doubted held too much value, and it was impressive in its own regard. If her magic was the ability to alter the properties of objects, it was a dangerous thing indeed. Certainly not suited for fast paced combat, but as a supportive addition to martial prowess, it had the potential to far outshine even that of a reimancer. Yet, she spoke of things beyond the physical. Life, death, and that in between. He could see them dancing through her words, concepts he could grasp, but never understand to the extent that she seemed to. The wisdom, the age, they bloomed from within the fierce spark of her emerald eyes, terrible but alluring.

Again, a smile graced her lips. This time, however, Keene felt little alarm over it. There was a sadness in her eyes, memories far older than he drifting behind them. She addressed the darkness and the light, sharing with him her own truths behind them. As he laboriously made his way up the stairs to join her, allowing her to start upon the next flight, he nodded, his lips pursed in speculation. She spoke sense. How could the darkness be any less false if it were cast from a false light; and there was little guidance within the inky folds of the shadows. He could not deny there was emptiness, hollowness. It had been a part of him since before he could remember, a gnawing nothingness that had swelled up and threatened to devour him the moment his purpose had been taken from him. Yet, it had not. For whatever reason, it had been stayed, and he had come to the island. Perhaps, it was not the shadows he chased, but the light, true light. If it were to be found on the island, he knew not where, but Master Rayage's words hung about him like troubled dreams. It had been a long while since he had spoken with anyone in such a fashion, and he was out of practice at it.

Her change in tone, in intensity, was quickly brushed aside with practiced ease, but not before Keene shared a short moment of understanding that passed between the two of them. He knew what would happen if he succumbed, but he was hardly certain he could resist indefinitely. To do so required power, but to gain it required further explorations into the darkest depths of his own understanding. It was a laughable, cyclical path, but one he had committed to and would see through, no matter the warnings. There was little else left to him. The woman's supplication, however, struck a small chord within him. His brows rose slightly, and he required effort to keep his face calm and controlled. Only one other had ever spoken words similar, and he had not expected to hear such things from a woman so timeless at she who walked before him. Gathering his wits about him, "for everything there is a price" found a place in the vault of his mind. There was nothing so false as freedom, and the long-lived Master Rayage had confirmed it. To lose himself was to gain something else; whether that "else" was more or less, was entirely up to him.

"You speak of illusions." He had taken a few breaths before beginning up the next set of stairs, Master Rayage taking a short pause to allow him to catch up. "Of the darkness." At the top of the incline, he took a moment to wipe his brow, though his gaze remained strong, curiosity playing behind the grey. "These are things you are familiar with." It was not a question. Keene was no expert in the art of investigation, but it was quite clear Master Rayage knew exactly what it was she spoke about. "Why share them?" There was no challenge in his voice as they began to ascend once more. She was wise, perhaps wiser than any being he had yet to converse with (and even more ancient), but he saw little reason for her to share that wisdom with him. There was a sincerity to her words that gave them the ring of truth, at least in the subjective sense. Still, he was mortal, he was young. While he appreciated her words, he could find little reason for them to be shared. He waited with an appraising frown, his eyes searching as they approached yet another floor.

by **Rayage** on December 31st, 2014, 7:14 am

Rayage almost laughed at his question, but she kept her humor to herself as she pressed on, ”Because you are young.” she told him simply. Taking some steps in silence she contemplated what she was going to say next, ”Youth is the future. You, Keene, have quite the responsibility upon your shoulders. You need to prepare the next generation. You need to be the change you want to see in this world.”

”You may not understand, but life is the most precious gift. Cherish it, and live in a way that will make your ancestors proud. Death doesn’t have to be the end, but undeath certainly is no beginning. Being a pulser you can have a legacy, some children, a family.” she said her voice getting softer and softer as she spoke. The last few words were but a tortured whisper, a deep wailing of her soul and the inner torment of not being able to have one herself. Rayage did not come to Sahova for Sahova’s sake. She came for her own, to accomplish her own goals in a place where she wouldn’t be persecuted.

”I once met a man who promised me his child.” She smiled at the very thought, ”He was alive, like you, but he swore he was cursed. A follower of Vayt he bore the gods dark mark, which had such power to even affect me. He viewed his life a cursed one, but still was devoted to the God even though it was his mark that caused the man so much pain… So much suffering. I didn’t quite understand until recently.” Rayage told him, ”He knew no other way. He felt trapped, and so he was.”

”Does that not sound familiar?” she asked with a clever look at the boy behind her. She didn’t expect him to answer, and so turned and looked around, ”We are almost to the dungeon.” She announced and grinned when she saw a golem waiting at the entrance of the dungeon. It perched itself behind a small box, in which were supplies for the trip. Upon seeing that she clasped her hands together happily and approached the box. In the box was a backpack filled with the stuff she wanted to explore the caverns with. The only thing she didn’t get was food, which, admittedly, she wasn’t thinking about in her excitement.

She picked up the bag, which the golem seemed to have no response to. It was stuffed with torches, which could be seen poking out the top of the pack. Hanging to one side of the pack was a lantern that she wanted. She was going to have that. She then set the bag down and looked at Keene quizzing, before returning to the pack and pulling out a vial of ink, and a feathery quill. ”This will only take a chime, but it could mean the difference between life and death.” she explained to him in a serious tone. She stood to her full height and looked him in the eyes, ”How do you usually cast your spells?” she asked, ”I mean, from where do you produce most of your res?" she said the word 'res' as if she were familiar with Reimancy, "If it is your arms, please present them to me. If its somewhere else, please make the flesh available to me.”

She gave him a cool and reassuring smile, ”Strip if you have to.” she said, ”But I want to use my magic to improve yours. You will see what I mean once Im done. Your djed will respond faster to your commands, and your control over your magic will be greater. You’ll be able to produce Res faster too.” She talked herself up with a bit of pride in her voice.

Trip Supplies :

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by **Keene Ward** on December 31st, 2014, 8:31 am

Master Rayage's response was succinct, far different from the more elaborative answers she'd allowed him to expect. As they continued, he thought about her reply. Youth was, and always had been, something he had been taught to overcome, not embrace. To think that the veritable monument of knowledge amassed from who knew how many years that climbed the stairs before him chose to impart her wisdom due to his youth was near unthinkable. It was near, but it was not out of the question. His frown had turned pensive and brooding as they passed over several more floors before she spoke again, her words flowing as easily as the robe that rustled in her wake. She spoke of the future, of responsibility, and legacy. They were words Keene found strange, even more so than the peculiar woman from which they were divulged. Keene's brow knit, confusion playing at his lips as Master Rayage's voice became more tortured and soft. She spoke from experience, as she had done with everything else, yet her words did not hold the same connection with him as before.

She was not wrong. His pulsing heart and rushing blood allowed him the ability to procreate. Change was something he could incite, but he found it no easier in theory than what she might be able to accomplish with her vast knowledge gained through weathering life's storms. They differed fundamentally on what was required for change, she thought youth while he could only see sense in power. Change required power, and there was nothing more that he wanted to change than his own weakness. He would not do so thoughtlessly, for she was right in warning him that to seek only strength would lead him to ruin, yet he saw no sense in the young being the hope for the future. The young were foolish, untempered. There was no hope for them without the guidance of those who came before, and he had little intention of dragging others down his path. Those who came of their own volition, perhaps, but he was no leader. He was no champion of change. Yet, in her voice, there was something more, something tragic that had instilled in her her beliefs that were so opposed to his own.

She elaborated on them as they continued, her voice coming easily to her despite the increased weariness of Keene's own body from the strain of the lengthy climb. She wove a tale of a man cursed by a god, Vayt, of whom Keene knew nothing about. It was a story of devotion, of tragedy, and ultimately of the darkness she had spoken of prior. Keene remained quiet through it, his breathing audible but not so labored he could not have spoken if he desired it. He knew not what manner of curse the man had professed, but it was clear in the sombre tone Master Rayage employed that it had been far from pleasant. There was love, or something similar to it, in her voice as she remembered him. Even now, after years that Keene could only guess at, she still thought of him fondly, despite his end. The similarities between himself and man of the anecdote were not unnoticed by the cloudy grey frown as the two of them continued their ascension. The darkness had swallowed the man; shadows cast by his own two feet. Keene had no such intention, but he had the feeling neither had the man. It was, in a sense, a warning, further emphasized by a sly aside offered as they exited the Gug Andjak's doors. He did not reply, but there was a understanding in the glint of his eyes. He walked a dangerous path that others before him had succumbed to. Shaking his head, Keene shadowed the woman as they entered the courtyard. He may have been similar to the man, but they were not the same; he refused to share in his fate.

As the mists pulled back to reveal another building, smaller than the Gug but similar in girth, Master Rayage directed him towards one of the strange creatures that were the main source of bustle about the citadel. It sat - if that was the appropriate terminology for a metal creature with wheels for locomotion - behind a small crate, which Keene assumed Master Rayage had arranged for as she immediately began to draw the items out of it with an appraising eye. She was excited, something that was not contagious, though it did help lighten the mood as Keene approached behind her. The muggy heat of the day, though lower than it had been in the fall, was still enough to elicit a fresh bought of perspiration, especially given the fact he wore two cloaks. He watched with an partially impassive stare tinged with curiosity as she set the pack she'd taken from the crate onto the ground. The contents most visible were the two torches that poked out of the top and the lantern attached to the side. As she rummaged within the contents, Master Rayage extracted a quill and ink well, raising a brow at him expectantly. Keene returned the expression with a curved brow of his own.

Her next request, as Keene was beginning to understand, was odd. Blinking he offered, "My hands." She spoke of reimancy with a confidence of one who was familiar with its basic concepts at least. The word "res" sounding as common as anything else she had said. The demand that he present to her his flesh elicited a suspicious frown, but Keene did not disobey. He did, however, shake his head at the proposition that strip if need be. "Rarely anywhere but my hands and arms." His voice was factual, amusement nowhere near his tone. Carefully removing both cloaks, he let them hang from his waste where his belt still held them to his body, fiddling with the vambrace on his left arm before sliding his arm out, tucking it under his armpit. "I also use my mouth." His eyes squinted a bit in thought, "But I think my arms will suffice." The prospect of easier casting was more than enough for him to agree to whatever it was the master was intending, though his limbs were still extended cautiously. He was not fond of touch, and while he was willing to subject himself to it for the sake of magical strength, he wasn't excited about the idea. "What is it, exactly, you're going to do?" He eyed the ink and quill with interest and suspicion. The obvious was that she was going to write on him. To what effect, however, he was curious about.

by **Rayage** on December 31st, 2014, 2:10 pm

The woman listened to the short and concise words of the youth and nodded, watching patiently, expectantly as he began to remove the garments of cloth. Keenes question amused her, but also spoke to the sad state of wizards everywhere. In truth, it shouldn’t have amused her at all. It should have appalled her, but she reminded herself that she couldn’t judge, as this child was a product of his time. In this age of darkness, or ignorance, they, the races of this world, were lucky that magic survived at all. Yet alone the will and knowledge to cast it.

She opened the inkwell and dipped the tip of the quill into the black fluid. She then brought the quill up and rapped it a few times on the side of the well, letting the excess ink fall back into its container, ”Boy,” she started, setting the inkwell down before using her free hand to grab ahold of one of the youths wrists. She would then use a light twisting motion, nothing forceful, to guide him to expose his forearm to her quill, ”be as still as possible. The quill might tickle a bit.” she told him before her green eyes returned to the blank canvas which was before her.

She set the quill around the middle of the guys wrist and drew her first, wavy, line diverting to her right. The tip never left the skin and drew a rough outline of the first stroke. At the very edge of the line she drew, she took it almost to his elbow, it seemed to wrap around the curve of his arm just so slightly before coming back to the ‘center’ at his elbow. ”When I was your age,” she began, ”this magic was as common to wizards as learning the alphabet was to people around Mizahar. It is among one of the first disciplines of magic I was introduced to.” she said, rewetting her quill with ink.

”Magic used to be a refined and proper art.” she nodded at her own words, ”Something respectable.” She sighed, ”Being a wizard meant a lot more than being able to just throw a fireball or two. It was a responsibility. Wizards these days are just picking up the fragments of knowledge their ancestors possessed and using it like it is the end all answer to everything.” Tapping the quill on the glass again, she brought the tip back up to the arm she was working on and she did her best to mirror the line, but on the opposite side of his arm.

”It is barely the tip of the iceberg.” She announced finishing the second line. She would then perhaps twist his arm into an uncomfortable position, so she could get a clear view of the elbow, or a semi-clear view of it. Enough to glyph it.

”This magic is called Glyphing.” She smiled, ”It is something every good magician should know, that every proper wizard should at least know the basics of. I use it in my lab to stabilize my magic procedures, and to gain a necessary edge in my workings. Just like I can use it to guide the djed I work with, I can use it to help guide your djed as well.” She began her work on the focus she was going to put on the elbow.

”The overall design is going to be rather simple,” she explained, ”Two focuses, and a couple of paths, with some sigils between to further define the purpose of the symbols. They may look like just lines and squiggles to you, but the glyphs come from the heart, not the mind. It is a very intuitive art, something you need to trust your gut feelings with, and through that you will gain insight into what exactly the purpose of the symbols are. They will tell you themselves.”

”Knowing oneself is part of the wizards journey. It is as much introspection as it is a balancing act between sanity and insanity, the light and the darkness. Those who tell you otherwise are lost in the thralls of their own power, and are perhaps one of the most dangerous kind of wizard out there. They seek only sheer power to force change. As if change is something that can be forced.” she scoffed at her own remark, finishing the focus on the youths elbow. It was something of a spiral in shape. The tail of it went down slightly beyond the two lines she had drawn earlier, onto the forearm, right down the ‘middle’ outlined by previous marks. When she drew her eyes were completely focused on the task at hand, watching her hand, watching the line form on the skin, carefully carving away, leaving its mark in ink.

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