II - Under Watchful Eye

The Lore of a Loremaster

Topic/Postby Liandrix » 09 Sep 2012, 09:37

II - Under Watchful Eye

Under Watchful Eye

Dalaran – 17 years prior to the first war.

With a heavy thud Liandrix’ pack thumped on the grassy ground, and he had to strain in order for his jaw not to follow suit. Liandrix had just reached the top of a hill and found the complete and unblemished sight of Dalaran in front of him.

Although he had glimpsed the city in the distance, seeing the violet towers rise up from the ground from close by took his breath away. It was a city made of purple and gold, and magic too, which seemed to radiate from the very stone itself, although not visibly. Liandrix simply felt it. The immense purple buildings were separated by wide sweeping streets of smooth stone and one building in particular seemed to dominate all the others: the Violet Citadel.

Around the city a good many cottages stood spread out in the area. Most of them looked very simply made, as if the builders had let their children play outside the construction site with wood and nails while their parents worked on the wondrous violet city.

Slowly Liandrix picked up his senses and his pack. His feeling of trepidation was marred by the urge to run in and check out the Libraries described in the letter he had been clutching the better part of the day. He had read it over and over again that morning. Only when he had missed his footing by accidentally stepping into a puddle did he put it away.

As Liandrix made his way down the hill and through the wooden village that surrounded the city he noticed that the houses suddenly seemed a lot sturdier then he had made them for. Perhaps it had simply been the enormous contradiction between these buildings and the city in its midst. The villagers seemed to be content in any case. They looked happy and gave Liandrix a jolly wave as he walked past, and for a moment he felt as if he were back in Market Row. Smiling, he returned the gestures and felt that moving to Dalaran had been the best decision.

The earthen path was replaced by one of occasional stones. It fluently changed to the smooth paved roads Liandrix had seen from a distance, and suddenly he found himself amidst the purple towers. There hadn’t been a gate or a fence or any other boundary of some sort and Liandrix wondered if perhaps the city was simply guarded with magic alone. But then how had he come in unchallenged? Liandrix added the question to the pile of things to ask he had already amassed in his head.

All around him the amount of people moving up and down the path reminded him of home. There did not seem to be a specific type of person out. Liandrix always thought of mages as old wise beings rather than simply another city of people. At once another question sprang to his mind as he wondered whether or not all these people moving fluidly around him were practised in using magic.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a figure moving directly towards him. Liandrix hastily stepped aside and he noticed that the young man with blonde hair and dressed in sweeping tan robes followed Liandrix’ movements with his eyes. It dawned on Liandrix that he had come for him. Liandrix frowned as the boy, no older than himself, it seemed, stopped right in front of him and curtly – though with a grin on his face – folded his hands behind him.

“Liandrix?” he simply said as he raised a cheeky eyebrow.

Liandrix stared at him. “How did you know?”

The boy kept grinning and merely shrugged. “You’ll find out, I’ll bet. Come on, Meredith wants to meet you.”


The boy turned back to Liandrix with a frown. “Abjurer Dippel, you did get the letter she sent you, right?”

Liandrix protruded the letter from a pocket and held it up in front of the boy in one movement. The boy grinned, turned back and with a firm stride led Liandrix into the heart of Dalaran.

The boy introduced himself as Gilbert while he led Liandrix off the road and into the close-cropped buildings into the centre. They didn’t stay on the streets but sometimes simply crossed through a building, as if it were normal to walk into someone else’s place in order to take a shortcut. Nothing seemed to be locked either.

They ended up in a large building that looked like an office, and Liandrix couldn’t tell where exactly they were in the city anymore; he had lost all sense of direction. Gilbert led him up a flight of stairs, crossed a short hallway with several golden coloured doors and without so much as knocking, marched straight into one of the rooms.

The room they stepped in was filled with bookcases along the walls, which made the office look smaller than it actually was. The bookcases seemed to be filled to the brim with records of some kind. Behind a desk an aged woman with grey hair tightly bound in a long ponytail dropped a quill into an inkpot and looked up to stare at the two boys, her wrinkled hands folded under her chin.

Meredith smiled. “Thank you Gilbert. That will be all.”

Gilbert grinned, turned to clap Liandrix on the shoulder and marched out of the office without a word.

Meredith waved Liandrix to the front of the desk. “Come, dear. Closer, so I can take a look at you without these wretched glasses. There we go.”

When Liandrix had approached the desk, feeling oddly like he was about to be examined by a healer, Meredith took off her purple glasses that matched her outfit and dunked them next to the inkpot with the quill and leaned back in her chair.

“Do you have the letter I sent you?” she asked, and when Liandrix revealed it from one of his pockets again she took it and laid it down on her desk without so much as looking at it. Instead she kept her eyes on Liandrix and intertwined her fingers as she smiled.

“Good … Now, Liandrix, before I appoint you a residence outside the city, I’d like to remind you that while you are free to practise magic here in this city you will be bound by several rules that apply to anyone who enters this city, be they mage or merchant,” Meredith said. She stood up from her chair and began pacing across the small rounded windows in the back of the office.

“The resources of the Kirin Tor are free to use at your disposal, should you have need of them, but you are required to treat them with care. No practise of magic is allowed outside the city, and that includes your residence. We have a strict engagement with the citizens of Dalaran and this is one of their most important conditions for allowing us our freedom in practising magic.”

Meredith took a long breath and appraised Liandrix with a look that clearly asked if he had understood what she had said. Liandrix nodded, Meredith continued.

“As for your study, you are on your own. You may ask help from anyone, but keep in mind that most of the mages of Dalaran have their own responsibilities. Some mages allow students to become their apprentice, that choice is up to them and you are requested not to badger them about apprenticeships.”

Another inquiring look, and another nod from Liandrix.

“You should also note that, although our agreement with Dalaran states that any practise of magic is allowed in this city, the use, practise or instruction of necromancy is strictly forbidden.”

Here Meredith looked at Liandrix again, but this time she held his gaze in an iron grip of her own.

“If you are found to have meddled in this magic you will be expelled from Dalaran immediately!”

Meredith let her words ring in silence for a moment. Liandrix remembered that necromancy was considered to be one of the vilest acts imaginable by the Church of the Light. It was also mentioned early on in the book that he had brought with him from Stratholme. The act of necromancy was subtly described with words such as ‘unholy crime,’ and ‘desecration of the Light.’

Well, Liandrix thought, at least the Kirin Tor and the Holy Church had that much in common.

“Did you understand what I said?” Meredith asked.

Liandrix looked up. He had been lost in thought again.

“I said that you will be sharing your residence with another, as we are unable to facilitate all the students separately.”

Liandrix nodded again. “Of course.”

Meredith idly crossed her arms behind her back. “Well, I think that was all I needed to tell you. I will give you a map of the city so you will be able to get around without getting lost.”

Meredith walked over to her desk end picked up the abandoned letter Liandrix had brought with him. Meredith carefully folded the parchment closed once, so that the words still showed on the outside, then folded it again so that the words could no longer be seen. She gently rubbed the paper as if making sure it wouldn’t unfold again, but then unfolded it herself, revealing a perfectly drawn image of the city as seen from above, including many of the names of several buildings and places, and even the name of Lordamere Lake.

Meredith put the letter – or map – into Liandrix’s hands and appraised him with another strict gaze.

“You’ll find that your study here will be solely based upon your own responsibility, Liandrix. How far you can take your study is entirely up to you. Now, the only time we will meet in this office from now on will be if you’ve got yourself in some kind of trouble. So, in light of that fact, Liandrix, I hope we won’t meet again,” Meredith said with a wry smile.

Liandrix pocketed the letter and recognised the dismissal. As thrilled as he was to start his study when he exited the office, he couldn’t help but think about the memory of getting himself in Sister Margaret’s office for one thing or another.

“Don’t count on it,” he muttered softly to himself.
Last edited by Liandrix on 06 Jan 2015, 01:01, edited 2 times in total.
"The motivation to study the Arcane should be born out of the understanding of the needs of those who would be affected by it.."

~ Loremaster Liandrix Emmot
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Location: The Netherlands

Topic/Postby Liandrix » 17 Sep 2012, 03:23

Liandrix looked down at his map. There was a small golden dot labelled ‘Residence’ on it, and it was placed very close to Lordamere lake. He thought about what to do for a moment. It was still early in the afternoon as meeting Meredith Dippel and getting his home appointed didn’t take as long as he had expected. He might as well go check out to library, or ‘Archives’ as it said on his map.

It took him the better part of an hour to get from where he was to the building where the libraries were. His first obstacle was deducing where in the city he was. He quickly found that it was relatively easy to navigate on the map using the many huge purple towers in the city. Once he had done that he had to actually get to the northwestern part of the city, not too far from the Violet Citadel.

Once he had entered the Kirin Tor Archives he found himself standing in a wide sweeping hallway clad in purple and dark red. The entire length of the walls – much like in Meredith’s office – was covered in bookcases that reached the ceiling, punctured only by a balustrade for each floor. Each corner was void of books and instead had a winding staircase that lead to the next floor. The stairs seemed to be made of pure gold.

Liandrix’s eyes moved to the middle of the hall where he could see neat rows of dozens of long dark wooden tables lined up. They weren’t the same size and were placed in an illogical order, but somehow altogether they filled up the hallway perfectly. Liandrix idly wondered if they were placed in a specific pattern. Looking up to see if he could find a way to look at the tables from above he could see that there were well over a dozen floors, each of them filled with books and scrolls. He didn’t think that he would ever be able to read them all even if he lived to be a thousand years old.

He moved into the hall and manoeuvred in between the tables. Many of them were occupied with one or several mages, most of them deeply sunken into their work. A smaller table near him held only one occupant, an old man who had completely covered the table with papers and books. He was muttering in a low voice as Liandrix passed and didn’t even seem to notice his presence.

Liandrix moved away from the tables and the low rumble of the mage’s babbling to inspect the books from close by. Once he could read the titles on the covers he frowned. Most of them were intelligible, not because the titles had been damaged or simply had faded over time, but because most of them seemed to be written in another language. In fact, the only books that held words of Common were books of the same language the others were written in, but possessed only a title in Common. Liandrix felt overwhelmed; how was he supposed to read any of this?

“I take it you are not familiar with Thalassian?”

Liandrix jumped at the clear voice so close by his ear. He turned around and saw instantly that it had been a Quel’dorei, a High Elf who had spoken to him. He had seen only a few in Stratholme and Dalaran seemed like a home to them. The elf was dressed in sweeping red robes and held himself magnificently tall.

“It’s our language,” the Elf said gently, and added with a slight frown, “you must be new here, yes?”

“First day,” Liandrix admitted sheepishly.

“Well, how wonderful!” the Elf said, genuine joy displaying on his sharp features. “Allow me to introduce myself, I am Althanir, Althanir Felo’dinoriel; It means Flamekeeper in Thalassian,” the High Elf said in a rush. He raised his palm as if pushing a lid of a hatch up and in the same second an orb of fire had appeared on it with a blinding flash.

“I— I am Liandrix Emmot, of Stratholme,” Liandrix said, unsure of whether he should look at the elf or the ball of flame that hovered slightly above the palm of Althanir’s hand.

“Most pleasurable to meet you, Liandrix,” the elf said, and added a dramatic bow.

Althanir noticed Liandrix’ eyes on the orb of flame and he let it fade slowly until it vanished.

“Not something you have done before, yes?” Althanir asked, smiling.

“Actually,” Liandrix began, feeling nervous, “my mother taught me the theory, but she told me never to practise this type of magic without proper supervision, so I never actually tried it.”

“Well go on, then. Show me!” Althanir said excitedly. “Don’t worry, Liandrix. I assure you, I shall maintain ample supervision,” he added with a wink.

Liandrix could not possibly back out now. A drop of sweat started to form on his brow; he hadn’t even begun to cast the spell. Slowly he raised his palm the way the High Elf had done. Somehow his mother had never discussed stances with him. He felt within himself for the proper feeling and his lips slowly muttered the spell as he had been taught only months before. He suddenly wondered if his mother had already known he could go to Dalaran at the time.

Liandrix finished the spell and opened his eyes at the same time. A flash, brighter than the one the fireball of the High Elf had caused lit the books they stood near as a ball of flames quickly came into being. Suddenly Liandrix’s hand tilted. The ball actually had weight to it. In a wave of panic Liandrix realised the fireball was about to fall and he quickly focussed his energy underneath the ball.

It was too much.

The fireball was propelled into the bookcases quicker than Liandrix himself could follow. Althanir had dived out of the way with lightning speed and avoided the burning globe which was now driving itself into the bookcase, slowly burning away any book in its path. The High Elf swiftly struck the ball with a spell of his own, immediately extinguishing the fire, leaving only a black, smoking hole.

Silence stronger than the silence one finds in a library on a quiet day hung in the air. Liandrix did not dare look behind him but knew that every pair of eyes must be on him. Slowly he chanced a look and his fear was acknowledged. Even the muttering mage had put down his scrolls as he stared openly. Liandrix looked back at Althanir as the elf brushed at the remains of a few desecrated covers.

“Well, nothing we cannot fix, I suppose.”

Suddenly the elf stopped his brushing and turned to stare at Liandrix himself, as if he only just realised what had happened. The joy on his face was gone, replaced instead by a piercing gaze that suggested he was reading Liandrix’ mind.

“That was quite the presentation, Liandrix.” He kept staring at him with the same look. Liandrix wondered what he was thinking.

“Don’t you … need to sit down?” he asked suddenly.

Liandrix shook his head slowly, a little surprised by the question, and the worried tone Althanir used. “No, I’m fine. I didn’t get hurt.”

But Althanir did not withdraw his gaze. “I see.”

There was movement from the back of the hall. People were getting back to their own reading and the silence seemed somewhat lifted. Finally Althanir looked away.

“I think you better go, Liandrix of Stratholme. Worry not of what you did. I myself am to blame for this,” Althanir said as he looked over his shoulder at the approaching party. He did not smile.

Liandrix looked at the group of people approaching as well. They looked to be officials of some sort. Not wanting to end up in trouble on the first day he obeyed the High Elf and swiftly turned to the exit and marched away.

Shorel’aran, dear Human,” Liandrix heard the elf say behind him. He had no idea what it meant, but guessed it was a goodbye of a sort.

Once outside, Liandrix decided – after taking several deep breaths to calm his growing anxiety – to go to his residence outside the city and drop his pack there. Perhaps there would be time to head back to the library before dark.

Leaves crunched under his shoes as Liandrix walked away from the stone path and into the forest surrounding Dalaran after a short hour of crossing the city again. Most houses here looked the same, although some residents had apparently added some of their own imagination to their wooden cottages. There were houses with added rooms, or a shed. There was even a house Liandrix passed that had three instead of the usual two floors.

Finally Liandrix reached his own cottage, which was evident as his name had already been added to the mailbox. Liandrix looked at the names on the wooden container.

Liandrix Emmot
Verdwald Slopes

Liandrix spoke the second name on the mailbox aloud and found it to sound odd in his tongue. He opened the mailbox out of sheer curiosity and was surprised to find an envelope bearing his name in purple lettering. He turned to the house as he began to pry open the all-too-familiar purple wax seal and jumped a foot in the air as the door to the house banged open and a tall figure jumped in front of him.

“ERIK! Erik, oh you wonderful boy, how I’ve missed you!”

The old man advanced quickly on Liandrix, his arms open wide. Liandrix quickly took a step back. The man looked as if he had lived off the street for years. His long grey hair hung in unkempt parts around and in front of his face, his brown robe was stained in multiple places, and his shoes – if you could call them that – consisted of a pair of brown pieces of leather with two leather thongs holding them in place.

“But Erik, don’t you recognise me? It’s me, Wald!” the old man said as he held out his arms as if he expected Liandrix to suddenly jump in them.

Wald waited a moment, a giant grin on his weathered, impish face, and then launched himself at Liandrix, hugging him until Liandrix was sure he would burst. Wald proceeded to pinch his cheeks ruffle his hair and clap him on the back all the while muttering things like ‘Oh my, how you’ve grown,’ ‘Where did you get that blonde hair?’ and ‘is aunt Bella still as fat as a toad?’

Liandrix didn’t even get time to answer a question. Wald suddenly smacked himself on the head and pronounced that he was an inconsiderate Dillbonger.

“How rude of me not to invite you in straightaway. Come inside and tell me all about your adventures!” and with that he vanished inside the house.

Liandrix stood outside, not quite sure what exactly had happened. Apparently he was to live with a madman. Instead of following Wald he looked down at the envelope. In order to buy himself some time he decided to read the letter outside. What he read made his mind snap back to reality.

Dear Liandrix Emmot,

It has come under my attention that you were involved in the partial destruction of the Kirin Tor Archives. You were witnessed on twenty-fifth day at twenty-two minutes passed the seventeenth hour to have used fire magic to decimate numerous books in the Thalassian section.

It was also noted that you fled the scene after your unlawful deed and did not report to the authorities who also witnessed your flight from the Archives. Destruction of Kirin Tor property, fleeing the stage of the crime as well as using a fire spell outside the appointed areas are all deeds in contradiction with the laws of the Kirin Tor as well as the Laws of Dalaran.

You are to report to the House of Keeping on the twenty-sixth day at the forty-seventh minute of the ninth hour for a preliminary hearing after which you shall be brought before the Supreme Council. You are free - although not required - to bring defence for your case.

In my own hand,

Meredith Dippel, Abjurer, first class. Liaison office.

Liandrix folded the letter with shaking hands while in front of him loud shouts of frustration could be heard coming from inside the house. Wald was probably wondering what was keeping him. The woods around the house suddenly seemed a lot smaller and darker. Behind him the sun was almost touching the tips of the trees.

The first day in Dalaran was over. But despite all that had happened Liandrix felt oddly content. He had been taken into the city, had met a High Elf, used a fire spell for the first time and destroyed the archives in the process, met a raving lunatic he was to live with and had been charged for three crimes, all in one day.

Liandrix reluctantly made his way over to the house that was now emitting high-pitched whistles like a man would use to call his dog. He vaguely wondered if the rest of his days in Dalaran would also be this interesting.
"The motivation to study the Arcane should be born out of the understanding of the needs of those who would be affected by it.."

~ Loremaster Liandrix Emmot
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Posts: 1094
Location: The Netherlands

Topic/Postby Liandrix » 06 Oct 2012, 14:38

Liandrix entered the corridor with the golden coloured doors he had visited not twenty hours before. He had gotten up early to make sure he wouldn’t be late and so he had exited the house before the sun had risen and after Wald had shouted at him that he had forgotten his packed lunch.

Any attempt at making clear to Wald that he wasn’t, in fact, Erik had fallen on deaf ears. All Wald had wanted to hear was about Erik; how Erik had spent his days, what he had seen during his travels, how Uncle Barney was doing with his uneven legs. Eventually Liandrix simply announced that he was tired and went to bed early, only to end up lying awake for hours, pondering on the awaiting hearing and trial.

Liandrix made to knock on the door of Meredith’s office but stopped when he heard voices on the other side of the door. Loud voices. One was clearly identifiable as Meredith’s, the other, however, Liandrix could not place. It sounded squeaky but still male, like a big door that needed some oil. Liandrix knocked shortly on the door and entered quickly, not wanting to interrupt the conversation but not wanting to wait outside on the chance he might be late either.

From the moment Liandrix closed the door he knew he had succeeded in entering the office without interrupting anything as Meredith’s voice sounded from behind her desk.

“Honestly, Cohlien, no one is out to get your cap,” Meredith said wearily. “I assure you, their intentions are purely playful in nature.”

Hat! I told you, it’s a hat,” the squeaky voice sounded.

Liandrix could not see who had spoken, but whoever had either had to be invisible, or so small that his head could not be seen over the tall chair. The squeaky voice continued to lay arguments on the table, and Liandrix started to grow a suspicion as to whom Meredith was talking to.

“And if you think I’m lying than you don’t know the nature of those mean little students. I swear, they’re out to get my hat. It’s a feud between them, I tell you!”

Meredith looked like she was attempting to remain impassive and considerate. She folded her hands on the desk and, with a flicker of her eyes, indicated that she had seen Liandrix enter.

“I’m afraid I cannot act upon suspicions alone, Cohlien. If you will excuse me, I have another matter to attend to right now.” She straightened behind her desk and indicated for Liandrix to step closer.

A small head appeared from behind the chair. It looked small, with relatively big ears covered for the most part by a large black bush of hair. On the dark jumble, which included a long beard and moustache, perched a slightly too big but short hat. The kind of hat that fishermen wore.

“There’s one of them!” the gnome pointed accusingly, but then pulled his hand back and absentmindedly tugged at his beard.

“No wait, this one I haven’t seen before.”

Meredith stood. “Well I would introduce you two, but I doubt you will hear of Liandrix here again.”

Liandrix looked up at the Abjurer and saw she was glaring at him. His knees suddenly felt like pudding.

“Liandrix you say?” the Gnome piped up, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “That name I have heard of.”

Cohlien jumped out of his chair and appraised Liandrix like he was an interesting piece of art, all the while tugging excitedly at his black, pointy beard. Liandrix could now see that the Gnome was dressed in ice-blue robes that gave him chills even by looking at it.

“I know you, boy. Aren’t you the one who destroyed half the Thalassian section on Quantum Conjural Ethics?”

Liandrix felt himself go red. News of his misdoing had apparently spread like a wildfire … or a fireball.

“I was asked to demonstrate … something,” he said meekly.

The Gnome snorted. “And quite a demonstration it was. Who asked you to do it? I bet it was that oaf Belindrar. I heard his excitement got him thrown out of Quel’Thalas.”

Over the top of the chair Liandrix could see the hands of Meredith tighten on the desk and he wouldn’t have been surprised if her grip had sent splinters flying.

“That will do,” Meredith said with surprising calm. “Liandrix is not here to be praised, but to be judged.”

The word ‘judged’ added another weight to Liandrix’ heart. Meredith’s eyes shot back towards Liandrix.

“A day, a single day. I have never met a student who got into trouble this fast, especially not this kind of trouble.”

Liandrix tried very hard not to roll with his eyes despite his anxiety, a feat he had become practised in in Margaret's office, aside from the feat of getting into trouble itself.

“You’d be lucky to simply be exiled from Dalaran, with destruction of the Kirin Tor property on your record.”

Cohlien, who had been standing still while watching the one-sided conversation, cleared his throat; a sound relative to that of a bird being flattened by a brick.

“I believe the goal of this hearing is to accumulate information on behalf of the Supreme Council tasked with the trial of this boy, not to speculate as to which measures the Council will find necessary to impose on him.”

Meredith gave the Gnome a venomous look, which he easily matched, and then sighed. “Very well, tell your tale, Liandrix, but be warned: I have had my share of sources that have told me what happened in the archives.”

Feeling immensely grateful towards Cohlien, Liandrix began to explain immediately how he had met a High Elf named Althanir Felo’dinoriel in the Archives and how the Elf had asked Liandrix to demonstrate conjuring a fireball. He explained in full detail how he had lost control of the fireball which had then driven itself into the bookstand before Althanir could douse it. He also added the facts that Althanir had recommended him to get out before the authorities arrived, and that he had assured Liandrix that the damage could be repaired.

“No Elf was there at the time and place of the time,’ Meredith noted.

“No Elf was approached at the time and place of the crime,” Liandrix corrected, “he was certainly present.” Liandrix felt his face flush, despite Cohlien’s approving chuckle.

“Very well, if this so-called Althanir was there we will find out easy enough. But until that time—“

“I know him,” Cohlien interjected. “And I could tell you that it would be him who would ask someone to conjure some fire. Fire-loving nutcase,” he added under his breath.

“The Council will decide the truth of that,” Meredith said. “In the meantime I want to—“

“Take my statement?” a clear voice behind Liandrix said.

Liandrix turned around and looked at the tall form of Althanir, dressed today in rather dominating red robes. He hadn’t heard the door open, and looking back behind the elf he saw that it was closed. Had he teleported himself inside the room?

Althanir stepped to the front of the desk, spread his arms and raised his head in a dramatic display. “Remove of me, my liege, my teeming freedom so – your servant, he has naught but struck your soul.”

Meredith stared at the elf. “Althanir, I presume?”

Althanir came out of his stance with a flourish and instead rearranged his features to resemble a most humbled man.

“It is I, yes, here to lay my very being before your feet and confess my crimes.”

“That will have to wait until I have sent Liandrix to the Supreme Council,” Meredith said shortly.

“I assure you, Abjurer Dippel, that such a thing will not be necessary. You see, all the crimes Liandrix here has been accused of were committed by none other than I.”

There was another moment of silence before Meredith spoke.

You were involved in the destruction of Kirin Tor archives?” Meredith asked incredulously.

“I was.”

“It was you who used a fire spell outside the appointed areas?”

“It was.”

“And you fled the scene after the incident?”

“I did.”

Meredith shook her head fiercely. “No, I have numerous eye-witnesses that can account for Liandrix to have committed all these crimes and the boy’s own story attests to those facts.

“Oh, I in no way dare to assume that it was not Liandrix who cast the fireball into the books and fled the archives afterward, but I am responsible for the events as they happened. You see,” Althanir increased the drama in his voice, “before Liandrix cast that fireball I selflessly claimed to hold responsibility over his actions and promised that no harm would come to pass. Ah, how foolish my actions were.” He finished in a deliberately trailing voice.

“Are you saying you claim responsibility for these events?” Meredith said carefully.

Althanir spread his arms wide again. “I do.”

Meredith slammed her fist on the desk. “Then you shall be brought before the Supreme Council, Althanir.”

Although Liandrix felt elated by the fact that Althanir had come to claim responsibility, he hated to see someone else pay for what he had done in the Archives. Althanir himself did not seem bothered by Meredith’s statement, however. In fact, he seemed to be genuinely surprised.

“Oh? How so?”

Meredith seemed ready to explode. “How so? How so! You are responsible for destruction of Kirin Tor property!”

“Oh I don’t question that part, Miss Dippel. But I do wonder why that would result in my being judged by the Council,” Althanir said pleasantly.

Meredith was beyond words and simply stared at the elf, her hands shaking in silent anger.

Althanir continued in a more business-like tone. “You see, I would be countable for destruction if I had in fact destroyed someone else’s property.”

“But you destroyed Kirin Tor—“

Althanir casually opened his robes a little, as if he was simply getting more comfortable, and Liandrix spotted something on his chest that he had not seen the elf wear in the Archives: an emblem of the Kirin Tor.

“I know the laws well, Abjurer,” Althanir continued, “and they clearly state that a person’s property is theirs to do with as they will as long as they do not hinder the order of things or other people.”

Before Meredith could open her mouth in response Althanir continued briskly. “But that is not the sole purpose of my visit.”

Here Althanir stole a glance towards Liandrix who still stood very much still, trying to stay out of the feud. The elf rubbed his bare chin. Somehow this made him look playful and serious at once.

“I came to recruit an apprentice.”

Liandrix’ mouth fell open. Althanir wanted him as an apprentice? He hadn’t even been in the city for a full day.

“I think not!” Cohlien suddenly spoke up. He jumped up from the chair he had reoccupied, marched towards Althanirs feet and looked up at him. Liandrix judged Althanir to be about four times his size.

“You hot-headed fool, you don’t know what you’re doing. This boy doesn’t need prodding in the wrong direction, he needs guidance you inconsiderate firecracker!”

Althanir looked down at the Gnome with a sneer. “You’re one to talk Frostweaver. I suppose you would do better, bringing him under your wings? Under your misguided tutelage the boy may get brainfreeze.”

“I’d take him as an apprentice just so I could protect him from the likes of you! As it is, if the boy is as talented as you make it sound I don’t think I need much more reason to take him in.”

Liandrix would have pinched his own arm to check whether or not he was dreaming if he wasn’t afraid to be noticed and dragged into the argument. In a heartbeat, it seemed, he had gone from criminal to the object of two mages who were actually fighting to offer him an apprenticeship.

“You already have two apprentices,“ Althanir said, “besides, his talents would be much better suited to my guidance than some ice-frog of a Gnome.”

“I’ll turn you into an ice-frog if you don’t watch your tongue!”

Enough!” Every eye in the room swivelled to Meredith. “This discussion for which my office is not the proper place has gone on long enough. Liandrix, you are free to go. Cohlien, you have more than overstayed your welcome here; and Althanir, although I can do nothing about your misbehaving, I am going to forbid you to recruit an apprentice! You have not assimilated the proper responsibility to be a master over a student yet, your deeds yesterday attest to that fact.”

Althanir’s face became even paler than it already was. Liandrix was impressed by the way Meredith had retaken control of the situation.

“I daresay, Abjurer. My current apprentice attests to the fact that I am a proper master. I’m sure his accomplishments have not failed to reach your ears.”

“Whatever your apprentice has done is of no argument here. Liandrix will not become your apprentice. This is my final word over this matter. Now all of you, out!”

Cohlien looked smug as he pulled the door closed behind himself and Liandrix, Althanir having stormed off in a fury.

“Well, young Liandrix, I think I better make it official,” the Gnome chirped. “How would you like to study under me as my apprentice?”

Liandrix honestly didn’t know what to say. It had all gone so fast. One moment he was walking over the paved stones of Dalaran, the next he was being hauled to justice, and in another being offered an apprenticeship. He almost backed out simply because it didn’t feel right. But he didn’t, and simply stood there, gawking.

“Tell you what,” Cohlien said as he looked Liandrix up and down, seemingly understanding his predicament. “Why don’t you mull it over for a day and we’ll talk about it tomorrow. I’m sure you’d like to shake Althanir’s trouble off your shoulders.”

“Sir,” Liandrix began, but then stopped, unsure of how to properly address a Gnome. Cohlien simply looked at him.

“Didn’t Althanir say you had two apprentices already?”

Cohlien snorted, making his dark moustache flare up. “That bears no reason I shouldn’t be able to handle three of you. I knew a mage who once who juggled twelve. Granted, he was a little deranged, but not all of them were killed,“ the Gnome said matter-of-factly.

Liandrix tried not to form a picture of that in his head. The two of them found their way outside where the sun did a good job burning through the last of the summer’s heat. Liandrix decided on the spot that, should there be no more hold-ups, he would immediately head over to the archives to get a proper look at its inventory, this time.

Before they parted Liandrix asked something as an afterthought.

“Sir, is it true what Althanir said about his apprentice? Did he really accomplish that much under Althanir?”

Cohlien Frostweaver looked at Liandrix long and hard and Liandrix actually swallowed at his rock-hard gaze.

“Do not think that a master is solely responsible for their apprentices’ accomplishments, Liandrix. This is not some class you take. You have to work at it yourself and there will be no raising your hand to get the answer for a question. A proper master will push you in order for you to find what you need to know out of your own volition, he shall never give it to you.”

Cohlien took a deep breath, his eyes staying focussed on Liandrix, although Liandrix rather thought his look softened a bit.

“What Althanir said about his apprentice is true, but I can tell you now that Althanir himself had nothing to do with it, even less than a master should.”

The Gnome smiled and shrugged as he turned to leave. “Besides, if I compare the apprentice with his master than I doubt that Kel’thuzad has learned anything from Althanir at all.”
"The motivation to study the Arcane should be born out of the understanding of the needs of those who would be affected by it.."

~ Loremaster Liandrix Emmot
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Topic/Postby Tormeron » 10 Oct 2012, 07:30

Can't wait for the next part, so well written
Lilandris wrote:Liandrix' words not mine, but Tormeron is a god apparently. Probably a bit like Loki.

serendipity wrote:Reason: Potato.

Events stories, Torm's events thread Suggestion box
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Topic/Postby Liandrix » 28 Oct 2012, 13:30

Three days later Liandrix found himself in the twilight-like seventh floor of the Kirin Tor archives, pouring over a book. But it wasn’t a book of the archives. Liandrix had brought his own book, the one he had borrowed from the library in Stratholme. It lay open in front of him, surrounded by other, older looking books.

Two days ago Liandrix had been welcomed into the fold, as it were. As he knew, Master Cohlien Frostweaver already had to apprentices under him. One, the younger of the two, was about Liandrix’ age and was called Derreck, the other was older and had been an apprentice for almost a decade; his name was Falen.

The fact that Liandrix had gotten his apprenticeship a mere day after his arrival didn’t sit well with the two, to say it lightly. Master Cohlien had said to treat Liandrix as a brother and they had at first seemed friendly towards him, even hospital. But he quickly realised their grudge, which had grown exponentially after their first plan of tricking Liandrix into doing something stupid, failed.

They had dared him to steal Cohlien’s prized hat as a bet and promised in return a keg of mead. Although they called it a bet, Liandrix had gotten the distinct impression that it was meant as a sort of initiation rite. Liandrix had remembered Cohliens accusations towards the students about stealing his hat, and had explained as much to them, to their apparent disappointment.

Cohlien, meanwhile, had taken some time to bring Liandrix up to speed on how apprenticeships work. It appeared that Cohlien’s apprentices where not his main job in Dalaran. In fact, Cohlien explained that every Master in the city who was training and teaching one or more mages was devoted to another cause, concerning the Arcane.

Liandrix was to follow his own course of action and, if time permitted it, show his work to his Master for which he may receive recommendations and advise. On occasion a Master may ask their apprentice to aid him in his own cause so that he may learn about magic in a more practical way.

Liandrix had absolutely no idea what course of action to take. He had never stopped to think what exactly he wanted to study. Cohlien had advised him to have a look around in the Archives and just pull off books at random and read. He also advised to start doing it above the fifth floor. Apparently the books had been ordered by date, starting at the bottom with the oldest volumes. This had made sense as Liandrix had only found books in Thalassian, the elven tongue, on the ground floor.

Meanwhile, Verdwald Slopes, the old man who lived with Liandrix, was still utterly convinced that his fellow-habitant was his long lost nephew Erik. Liandrix had given up trying to convince him he was Liandrix and that he had no family connections to him whatsoever. Instead whenever he was in the vicinity he just listened to the old man rambling on about him. It did give Liandrix an interesting perspective of this person and he found himself wondering who this boy was.

With every minute Liandrix was at home the image of Erik became more and more complete. Apparently Wald had taken him in after his parents had died in an accident after they had attempted to fly off a cliff in their own make-shift device that was supposed to let them float. As Erik was invited to join the mages in Dalaran one point Wald decided to join him, having vowed to always look after the boy. However, magic did not seem to strike Erik as an interesting study, and he had disappeared one morning, never to return.

And apparently, the old man’s solitude had hit him quite hard. Not a moment went by or Wald surprised Liandrix with some of his rather unique visions on daily life. After the hearing Liandrix had gone back home to find Wald on the roof of the house, declaring that he had seen the stars line up to tell him that Liandrix would lose all of his hair and regrow a mushroom on his head instead, after which Wald had jumped down, demanding if Liandrix had been troubled by spores in his ears lately. The morning after, Liandrix had woken up to find every piece of furniture gone from the living room. Wald had stacked them all on top of each other on the roof and was sitting comfortably in an arm-chair at the top, claiming that he was trying to figure out the meaning of having your head in the clouds.

The most disturbing one of all happened last night when Liandrix had returned from his first reading session. He had found Wald running around the house with a spade apparently attempting to chase the shadows away from the house. Before Liandrix could calm him down by lighting a few candles Wald had destroyed two windows, gored a book with his shovel and somehow gotten a chair wedged into the branches of a tree. He had also painted the dinner table yellow in an attempt to light it on fire to get rid of the darkness.

Liandrix couldn’t say that Wald was a radical lunatic, however. Between his odd moments he was always very caring about Liandrix. He cooked dinner, cleaned the house and even offered to tell him a bed-time story. But most times he seemed confused, frightened or determined to find an answer to a question about a non-existent matter. It meant that Liandrix often ended up taking care of Wald. It was like having a child and a parent all at once … and sometimes a rabid dog, too.

Liandrix turned a page of his book. He had shown it earlier to Master Cohlien and, after pronouncing his dissatisfaction about the narrow-minded view of the Church about the Arcane, he had set Liandrix the task of taking note of all the differences between the Church’s notions and fact, explaining their disagreements and common ground, and the reason behind both. It was a difficult task, not only because it required him to read a book on about every subject that was described in his book, but also to trace down the origin of its use.

Liandrix put a piece of paper between the pages describing the use of a so-called ‘holy ward’ and closed the book. Now he had to find a book that matched the description of that spell. He had discovered that the archives had a registry of the books on every floor with nothing but its title and year of publishing; this was enough to locate the books in a manner of minutes, provided you didn’t need to be at the top floor.

Liandrix found a book (‘Shields and Wards of the Light’) on the ninth floor. This floor was a lot darker than the seventh floor and Liandrix had trouble finding the book he was looking for. He was manoeuvring between the tall bookcases, trying to decipher the dates on the books when he bumped into another man, seated at a table. Liandrix turned around to apologise and saw that he had walked into another boy, a little older than him.

The boy was fair-haired and rather handsome, his dark hair covering his ears and his matching eyes looking impassively up at Liandrix. Liandrix stammered and apology and the boy gave a slight shrug with his shoulders and turned back to face a woman Liandrix had also failed to notice. But once he did notice her he wondered immediately why he hadn’t noticed her before, for surely her long blonde hair and piercing blue eyes would have cast their light across such a dark place; or was it simply so dark in contrast to her beauty?

Liandrix came back to his senses and noticed that he had been staring. Embarrassed he muttered another apology.

“Do you know this boy, Kel?” the woman asked, her radiating blue eyes on Liandrix.

The boy looked over his shoulder again and slowly shook his head and gave the girl’s hand he had been holding a squeeze. “No one I know, Cecilia.”

Liandrix quickly avoided her questioning gaze by diving behind a bookshelf; he had obviously walked into something he hadn’t been supposed to.

Liandrix resumed his search in the darkness and although he wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, he couldn’t shut out the voices that carried through the bookcases.

“Kel, it is taking so much time, how much longer must we wait?” the woman said in an audible whisper.

“These things take time. You know how it is. Patience, my love. They will answer when they see fit,” the boy answered calmly. He had a deep voice that made him sound older than Liandrix thought he was.

There was a silence, and Liandrix found the proper date of publishing as his fingers racked the book covers. There was a huff from the girl. “Kel’thuzad, if you think that you can get out of marrying me by some fool’s decision … “

“No hundred mages could prevent me, Cecilia.”

Liandrix found the book, grabbed it and practically ran from the ninth floor.

When he came down after cleaning up his books and marking their locations on a scroll (none were allowed to take books out of the Archives) Liandrix bumped into Derreck who had been sent by Master Cohlien to show Liandrix around the Archives and although Liandrix had been exploring the building for a few days Derreck showed him a few things he wished he had known before, not the least of which the fact that one could borrow a piece of glass very similar to a scrying orb which allowed the holder to light his surroundings.

Derreck, Liandrix learned, was a lot more agitated by his quick admittance than Falen was, and he didn’t let a moment go by without letting Liandrix know how fortunate he had been and how much he still needed to prove his worth. Falen seemed displeased as well but took a more mature approach by showing Liandrix much of the basics of the schools of the Arcane, but in turn reprimanding him harshly when he wrongly answered one of his many difficult questions or when Liandrix asked a question himself Falen deemed foolish.

This continued for a few weeks and between Derreck and Falen, his roommate Wald and the amount of work he did in the Archives each day Liandrix reflected that his time in Dalaran wasn’t as much fun as he had thought it would be. Finally Liandrix finished his project on the book he had brought with him and he had showed it to Master Cohlien.

“I see you disagreed on the arcane sources of the elemental components in a lightward,” Cohlien Frostweaver muttered as he read Liandrix’ work at the light of a candle.

They were in Master Cohlien’s study and Falen wasn’t sitting very far off at another desk, writing on a piece of parchment.

“I found the description of the components oddly familiar and when I cross-referenced them with those of a Light Shield they seemed almost the same, however a ward has no use if it is subjected to Gilberd’s Fourth Law on elemental shielding, which a shield with these sources is.”

Cohlien nodded thoughtfully and Liandrix thought he saw Falen shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Cohlien finished reading the tome Liandrix had written and finally his eyes appeared above the book. Liandrix got the feeling he was grinning.

“What is a lightbolt?” he asked suddenly.

Liandrix had felt that question coming when he had categorised all the offensive spells mentioned in his book. Lightbolt, although mentioned, had not been a part of his work for long.

“It’s a contradiction based on the fact that a spell can never both destroy and heal at once, provided it is a singular conjuration,” Liandrix said. “A contradiction cannot exist in a spell.”

Cohlien thumped the book on the table. “Really,” he said darkly. “Then how do you explain a frostfire bolt?”

Liandrix was taken aback; a frostfire bolt wasn’t mentioned in his book. He thought hard for a moment.

“A frostfire bolt is not a contradiction. Its base element is ice. The fire element is only present in its attributes of burning, which can be an effect of frost. If conjured with an additional binding solely between the attributes needed you could make ice burn like fire.”

Cohlien stared at him for a moment and Liandrix immediately reflected on his answer. But then the Master slapped his hand hard on the book. “Now you see why we don’t need any nutters like Althanir? Who needs fire if ice can burn?”

Liandrix stared and wondered if he should laugh or not. He certainly felt relieved enough to do it. Cohlien jumped to his feet and started teaching Liandrix how to conjure a frostfire bolt, which proved to be an exhausting lesson, but by the end of it Liandrix could light Cohlien’s hearth with a frostbolt as if it were real fire.

It was late in the afternoon when Liandrix returned home. It had been a long and tiresome day and he looked up against dealing with Wald again. But when he passed the mailbox Wald appeared in the doorway looking positively bewildered at Liandrix’ approach. He was clad in a simple robe that he usually wore in bed.

“But Erik, where have you been all night?” he asked.

Liandrix frowned. “It’s almost evening, Wald. And I’ve been studying,” Liandrix answered dully.

“That cannot be right,” Wald said, rubbing his chin in thought. “Your friend said it was tonight.”

Friend? Liandrix wondered who he meant by that.

“Well that explains my craving,” Wald said suddenly, pointing his finger skyward as if he had figured out a most difficult question.

“What craving?” Liandrix asked curiously.

“A bath,” Wald answered simply, and with that he discarded the robe with a single fling of his arm (Liandrix looked pointedly away) took a running dive towards the lake and landed in the icy water, belly first.

Liandrix dearly hoped he didn’t have to rescue Wald from the water, but he quickly spotted him, flaying around with his arms as if he had done it a thousand times. Liandrix went inside the house and immediately spotted someone sitting in the chair in front of the hearth.


Falen stood up and turned away from the hearth and shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes roving around the room as if he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Nice place you have here, although I question your choice of roommates.”

“What brings you here?” Liandrix asked sharply, trying to keep his voice level.

“Well, Lian, I’ve noticed that your progress is a little … slow,” Falen said, stressing the last word. “And I thought that I – as a fellow apprentice, should take the initiative to help you get there faster.”

Liandrix looked at Falen but remained silent. In his mind he recalled the words Cohlien had told him saying that no student of his had managed conjuring a Frostbolt in their first attempt.

“So Derreck and me have got this idea,” Falen said. He had a glint in his eye that Liandrix wasn’t sure about, he seemed to be sincere but his behaviour the past few weeks put him on guard.

Falen leaned forward. “How would you like to see some real magic tonight?”
Last edited by Liandrix on 06 Jan 2015, 01:26, edited 1 time in total.
"The motivation to study the Arcane should be born out of the understanding of the needs of those who would be affected by it.."

~ Loremaster Liandrix Emmot
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Topic/Postby Liandrix » 05 Nov 2012, 20:58

Liandrix carefully picked his path on the grassy hills that lead south, away from Lordamere Lake. Falen had kept them at a brisk pace for the past hour and not for the first time Liandrix wondered if Falen had plans to reach South Shore before dawn. They had started out after sunset and now the darkness surrounding the pair was almost absolute. The only thing that kept it at bay was the reading orb Falen had apparently taken from the Archives.

Liandrix was about to voice the question of how Falen knew where he was going when all of a sudden he took a right turn and vanished into a dense line of trees. Liandrix dove in after him and followed the now miniscule light in front of him, all the while dodging branches and keeping his clothes from tearing.

The shadow around them seemed to thin the farther they penetrated the woods and Liandrix quickly realised that there was a large source of light up ahead. Judging by the flickering Liandrix could tell it was a bonfire. When they arrived at the makeshift camp Derreck was rummaging in a pack, throwing out what seemed like ingredients on a piece of ground he had cleared of leaves. Falen threw the orb carelessly on the ground and approached Derreck.

“Do you have everything?”

Derreck grunted, and Liandrix, who had etched closer to the proceedings, noticed that Derreck had not only cleared the leaves off the ground but had drawn what seemed to be spells in the earth. It was a large circle divided into seven pieces by a star, and each part had a sign drawn into it. Liandrix had read enough about runes to know that these were not runes at all, although the circle and star seemed to be a basic element for a drawn arcane spell.

Meanwhile Derreck was busy dividing the ingredients over the seven signs, covering them up with earthroot, seaweed, woodsplinters and what seemed to be the skins of potatoes and some more spices and herbs Liandrix could not identify in the gloom.

“Are you ready to experience magic you’ve never seen before?” Falen said from behind Liandrix.

“I don’t think I’ve ever even read about it before,” Liandrix said uncertainly.

“You wouldn’t,” Derreck said from his position in the circle, “aren’t many books about Troll magic.”

So it was Troll magic they were attempting Liandrix thought. He had never seen it before, and the only reference he had found was in his own book, heavily despised by the Holy Church of the Light who called it the magic of nightmares. Suddenly Liandrix wondered what the mages of Dalaran would think on the use of Troll magic.

“This Troll magic relies heavily on these attributes and rituals, we’ve tried out some simple stuff together, but this particular ritual required three people,” Falen explained as he threw his travelling cloak over the reading orb.

“What sort of rituals have you tried?” Liandrix asked, his curiosity boiling.

“Simple stuff,” Falen replied. “Small hexes and incantations, but this time we wanted to try something else. Something big.”

Derreck seemed to be done with the ingredients. “We’re going to summon Troll spirits,” he said bluntly.

Spirits?” Liandrix asked aghast, “like … ghosts?”

“No, spirits,” Falen said. “Spirits are the foundation of Troll magic, it’s how it works. According to their belief any object holds a spirit, which is why we use them for our spell.”

“So why here?” Liandrix asked next. Something about this whole idea was bugging him, but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. He felt like it was something he had read not too long ago, but he could not recall it. Aside from that, his curiosity seemed to dim his feelings of worry, and also, Liandrix was sure he had never read anything on Trolls before.

“There is a small ley line here, a strong source of Arcane power,” Falen explained. “We’ll be sure to need it for a spell of this magnitude.”

The feeling nagged at him again, stronger this time, and for a moment he lost his curiosity as he thought about why this all made the fine hairs on his neck stand on end.

Derreck looked around, as if he was looking for something he dropped, then straightened. “All right, everyone take your places.”

“Just pick one of the longer points of the star and stand on its tip,” Falen said as he himself picked one with his back to the bonfire.

With his curiosity back in place he made to stand on one of the star points and Derreck did the same. Liandrix looked down at the inscriptions in the earth. What was it about this that wasn’t right?

Then Falen raised his hands and silence seemed to suddenly press in on them all, the roaring of the fire behind Falken seemed to dim and the sounds of the forest grew weaker. Then he started to chant. Falen spoke a number of words Liandrix had never heard the language of. In fact, he was surprised that Falen was capable of pronouncing the words; they sounded strange in his ears, as if Falen was chewing his tongue while he spoke them

Nothing aside from the silence happened for a moment and Liandrix waited patiently on his spot, sometimes throwing Derreck a look to see if he had to do anything specific, but Derreck just stood there, waiting. After a while Liandrix thought he heard a point where Falen started over, and a moment later he recognised the end of the chant. He was repeating it over and over again.

Minutes passed and even Derreck seemed to be wondering what took so long. Liandrix himself was wondering if Troll magic was supposed to be this slow when suddenly the fire behind Falen shrunk to half its original size. Liandrix stared at it and suddenly recalled the words he had told Master Cohlien about a frostfire bolt.

If conjured with an additional binding solely between the attributes needed you could make ice burn like fire.’

Why did this pop into his head all of a sudden?

Falen stopped in mid-chant, and another silence was added to the former.

“Falen?” Derreck asked, his voice uncertain.

Falen was still standing in the same pose, his arms and head slightly raised, his mouth half open as if he had forgotten his words. His eyes weren’t moving.

A dull hum struck the air and Liandrix’ eyes shot back to the bonfire. Then everything happened at once. The humming noise disappeared and the fire suddenly popped out, leaving not even smoke behind. Falen stumbled forward, catching his breath as he tried not to fall over. Derreck started forwards, but before he had made a second step fire bloomed into existence behind Falen again with a roar that made the earth shake. The bonfire burst into life, twice as big as it had been left before the ritual.

Liandrix had one second to appreciate the heat coming from the fire before the circle and star on the ground started glowing, thick smoke billowed up from within the circle. Liandrix looked down and saw that the outlining of the drawing was glowing, but that the seven unfamiliar drawings had turned black as coal, as if they had been on fire seconds ago.

Suddenly Liandrix understood. The connection between the fire, the bindings of frostfire, the spell drawn in the sand, the strange markings and the hum in the air all linked together. He suddenly felt like fainting.

“Falen,” Liandrix said weakly from his end of the spell. He cleared his throat and shook himself mentally.


Falen seemed frozen on the spot, trying to avoid the blaze of the fire behind him. His feet seemed stuck to the ground. Behind him the fire seemed to grow even bigger.

“Falen! You need to—“

The fire suddenly changed colour. The bright orange and yellow hues were replaced by blue and purple shades. Then with a thundering roar that went through bone the entire wall of blue flame shifted towards the spell on the ground, engulfing Falen entirely, his scream dying as quick as it started. The fire reached the middle of the circle. Liandrix’ eyes met Derreck’s but before either of them could open their mouths the night exploded in a purple blow of sound and heat. The impact hit Liandrix like a brick wall and flung him into the darkness.

The world around him seemed to have vanished. There was no light, no sound, and no movement around him. No, there was sound. It was a constant high tone that Liandrix couldn’t place. It filled his head and made it throb. Well if he felt pain than surely he had not yet died.

Liandrix rolled over on the grassy floor. Apparently he had landed on his back. The impact had driven the air out of his lungs and it felt as if he was using them for the first time as he drew a deep breath. Slowly normal forest sounds began to return to his hearing, and after a moment he could discern his shadow. That meant there had to be light behind him.

But before Liandrix turned around to meet the source of it he noticed that his shadow had a purple tinge. His heart faltered as he remembered the colour of the flames before they had exploded. He forced himself to turn around and he met with a towering substance he couldn’t possibly name. It was at the same time liquid and solid, smoke and earth, fire and water. The creature seemed to have no limbs or other attributes that would give it a clear definition. But it clearly had a mind of its own. It approached Liandrix, forcefully showing aside bushes and trees in order to get to him.

Liandrix scrambled to his feet. At a second glance he saw that it had shrunk a lot since he saw the fire column engulf Falen, but somehow it did not ease him in the slightest. His mind raced, trying to order his thoughts. He had forgotten the conclusion he had pulled right before the explosion.

Suddenly the monstrous creature jumped at him; or rather, it projected itself from its middle and the top and bottom followed. Liandrix jumped aside, too dazed to even think of casting a shield of some kind. Again he bounded to his feet and didn’t turn around until he had put some distance between him and the glob of magic. It was still heading for him, making a strange sound Liandrix thought sounded like a giant rumbling stomach. What had they conjured?

Liandrix sought the peace in his mind, a trick his mother had taught him. He decided to test out the creature with small magical pricks to see how it responded. He started with casting a small shield without elemental attributes, but the monster ran through it as if it were smoke. Next he tried a small frostbolt, a firebolt, and even a frostfire bolt, all the while retreating step by step. His attacks did not seem to affect it at all.

Suddenly it stopped. Liandrix stopped too, peering anxiously at the giant mass. It was widening itself, stretching out as if creating a barrier between Liandrix and what lay behind it. Liandrix could see through it more easily now and the trees behind the creature shone with a dark purple glow.

He felt it rather than heard or saw it. Goosebumps appeared all over his skin as he whirled around to the sound of another monster that looked exactly like the stretched creature in front of him. Now Liandrix understood the other monster’s movements: it was making sure he could not escape. Its sides grabbed at trees and pulled bushes from its place as it crawled to form a wall of smoke and curling water around him and the other creature.

Then Liandrix spotted something in the creature behind him that made his knees weak: Inside the other monster Falen floated, lifeless, still in the same posture as before with his hands protectively around him, but his eyes blank. His edged appeared blurred in the monster. Another understanding thundered through his mind: the creature hadn’t shrunk. It had multiplied during the explosion.

Liandrix heard a growl behind him and he realised with a shock that he had been walking backwards into the wall of magical substance that was the other creature. Suddenly the creature with Falen lunged in the same way the first had, its middle shooting towards him.

Liandrix had no way out. No way to stop it coming and no way to avoid it. In a wave of panic he dove on the ground, arms first. His hands had almost touched soil when suddenly there was an impact to the ground that shook the nearby trees. Earth shattered beneath his body and around him a wall of dirt flew up to meet the purple blobs of magic. It stopped the advancing one dead in its tracks.

Liandrix struggled to his knees as he tried to make sense of what happened. He found himself lying in a deep hole in the ground, a few feet below the monsters. The stunted monster lunged again, covering the hole. Falens face swam before Liandrix’ clouded mind. His head felt thick and heavy, his arms would no longer move. He felt weak and helpless as the water that turned into gas covered him. He was about to join Falen. The world turned purple.

There was a flash of blinding light and Liandrix covered his eyes with heavy hands. The light hurt his eyes and shone through his eyelids even with his arms blocking it. When the light was gone, so was Falen. There was a gaping hole in the mass of the creature where Falen had been, and the gassy form slowly covered it again, regrowing itself. Suddenly an arm plunged through the crack that was still open and without waiting for Liandrix to reach out and grab it, it buried itself in Liandrix’ robes and pulled him through the creature.

The sensation of going through the creature felt bizarre and seemed to last an eternity. Liandrix could only describe it as falling apart. His hands and feet seemed removed from the rest of his body, his head swam worse than ever, his hair pulled at him and his eyes hurt as if he hadn’t closed them for days. It felt as if he was slowly being erased from this world.

And then suddenly he was through. With a deep breath Liandrix entered the darkness of the forest. He landed among the leaves and small branches scattered across the forest floor. His strength and mind seemed improved from the moment he had been covered by the creature, and he turned around to face his saviour.

In the darkness, framed by the purple light of the magic that they had summoned with Troll magic, Wald rose from his crouching position and towered over Liandrix. His grey, poor-looking robes and long lanky hair were in place, but instead of a confused look in his eyes or a childish grin on his face he wore his features like a warlord on a campaign. It was all Liandrix could do not to quail under that look.

With both hands Wald grabbed Liandrix’ shoulders and brought his face close to his as behind him the creatures both rose as if preparing to attack.

“Stay on the ground,” the old man said. He had spoken in a normal tone, and yet; it had not been a request, it had been a command.

Liandrix hastily raised his hand, pointing in alarm to the purple gas cloud that was now hovering dangerously close but Wald had already turned away before he could open his mouth. Liandrix stared as Wald spread his arms aside, as if to say he knew not what to do. There was an impact to the air that blew back Liandrix’ hair and both creatures stopped moving. Wald raised his hands and from the ground under each creature a golden circle rose to enclose them. It split into four circles and encased the substances that were both gas and water and solid.

The creatures resisted. Both were emitting squeaks like frightened dogs and attempted to escape their bindings but every time a part of them pushed beyond its golden cage it seemed to burn itself and retract. Wald brought his hands together with apparent difficulty, and the creatures followed, their prisons colliding to form one creature in one round cage, the bright shafts of light turning in place, round and round.

The scene seemed frozen aside from the moving golden bars. Wald and the creature were no longer moving. Liandrix still sat on the ground behind him and tried to make himself as small as possible. It took minutes before something happened. A dull hum struck the air around them that quickly rose in volume until the darkness positively vibrated. Liandrix was surprised the trees around him were not struck by the power that radiated from the old man in front of him.

This can’t be Liandrix told himself This is Wald, my crazy roommate.

Slowly the gold of the rings turned ashen.

I must be dreaming … or dead.

The rings were black now and the creature seemed to burn until it had all turned into a big black mass. The air now shook as if there was an earthquake without earth, or a tornado without wind. It seemed to reach a pitch at which point Liandrix pressed both hands firmly against his ears in an attempt to shut out the horrible feeling of his brain turning inside-out.

The black ball of smoke suddenly shrunk to the size of a marble and the feeling of relief that washed through Liandrix as the air and his head suddenly stopped trembling were short-lived as in the same second an explosion that came from within the black marble thundered through marrow and bone as it blasted Liandrix against a tree, his right arm crunching under the rest of his body.

There was a short moment of clarity mingled with a stabbing pain in his arm during which Liandrix seemed to be overviewing the scene from above. A lingering fog of light surrounded Wald while the orb that had exploded was nowhere to be seen and the darkness seemed to be closing in from all around him. The realisation that he was falling from up high where he had hit the tree struck him right before he met with the ground, and the darkness became absolute.

"The motivation to study the Arcane should be born out of the understanding of the needs of those who would be affected by it.."

~ Loremaster Liandrix Emmot
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Topic/Postby Liandrix » 08 Dec 2012, 14:44

Liandrix sat on a tree one of their conjured creatures had felled, framed between Derreck and Falen. His arm was wrapped in a sling, made from his own robe which was torn at the bottom as well as several other places; it still throbbed and a painful spike shot up his shoulder now and then.

Derreck and Falen seemed no better off. Falen was staring at the ground while he had both arms firmly wrapped around his stomach he had emptied violently after being pulled out of the midst of his own creation. His entire robe was fringed at its outline making him look like an old treasure map.

Derreck sported so many bruises and scratches that it looked like he had been fighting with a mountain lion. After Liandrix had been revived Wald had strolled out into the darkness and had returned with a limping Derreck at his side by means of teleportation.

Hovering above them all was Wald himself. He was standing with his back to the three boys and his arms neatly folded, looking out into the darkness. None of them dared to make a sound, let alone ask him what he was waiting for. He had simply told the three of them to wait. Liandrix wondered what was going on with Wald. He had clearly used advanced arcane magic, that and the impressive posture he stood in belied the confused and erratic old man Liandrix had been living with the past weeks.

There was an unnatural woosh in the air and Liandrix spotted a small figure, wobbling over to where they sat. Cohlien Frostweaver looked at the three of them, and then up at the tall form of Wald who was smiling kindly at the Gnome.

“Ah! A fine evening to you, Master Frostweaver. I take it my message found you well?” His voice was gentle, and steady; Liandrix had never heard him talk like that before.

“Quite so, but it explained little,” Cohlien said scornfully. “What happened, then?”

Wald slowly turned his ancient looking head and gazed at the three boys. “It appears your apprentices tried their hand at Voodoo.”

Cohlien looked around the site for the first time, his eyes grazing the carnage around him, the spells drawn into the sand and the injuries Liandrix Falen and Derreck had sustained. “Tried would be a poor description,” he said, and Wald chuckled.

“All right you three, get up. We’re going home and when we’re there you may be granted the chance to explain your poor spell making.”

Wald reached down and gently laid a hand on Cohlien’s shoulder. “If I may, Master Frostweaver, I would speak to your student before he returns,” he said, and looked up at Liandrix.

The gnome looked up at the old man and nodded, before joining Falen and Derreck who were both straining just to get on their feet. When Cohlien had teleported them away from the site Liandrix, still seated on the fallen tree, looked up at Wald. He felt oddly small under his mysterious gaze. He also felt extremely vulnerable at the moment.

“Well my dear Liandrix, it is time we got on our own way,”

It took Liandrix a moment to digest what he had just heard, and when he had he shot to his feet. Blinking back the darkness that bloomed in his vision by rising so fast he struggled to find the proper words to voice his surprise.

“But you … I … you … you know my name!

Wald frowned, a pleasant smile on his face. He unfolded his hands. “Why of course, why ever would I not my dear boy?”

Liandrix started forwards but suddenly tripped over something and fell to the ground. He trust out his working arm and it met with wood. A Sharp pain shot through wounded shoulder again. Liandrix lay face down on a surface of unpainted and old but dry wood, a beautiful pattern of triangular cut oak, varnished enough to reflect his image. Liandrix raised his head. Wald was still standing in front of him, but the forest had vanished, to be replaced by what seemed to be a study of some kind. Looking behind him he saw that he had tripped over a pile of books that now lay scattered on the floor.

The room itself was round and filled with scrolls, books, and small bedside tables that bore inkpots. There was a fireplace with stone carvings on the mantle in unrecognisable shapes; an ornamental stave hung on the wall above a bed so richly clad it seemed fit for a king. The stave had a purple crystal on the tip, which glowed dimly in the light of the burning candles scattered around the room, except the light was not the usual flickering yellow but instead icy blue and sharp as glass.

“How did we … where are … what is this place?” Liandrix scrambled to his feet again.

Wald was still smiling, clearly enjoying himself. “Why, this is my … well not my quarter; I obviously live with you. And please forgive me about the books; I had forgotten I left some on the floor.”

Wald suddenly frowned and flicked a finger in the air. “Ah yes, and your first question,” he said as he looked happy that he had remembered. “We teleported here.”

Liandrix strained to put the questions that thundered through his mind in order. “It’s … that’s not possible. Galmeth’s third law on teleportation of matter beyond the own host of magic that initiatively transports indicates a need of a connection between the host and the transported matter!” Liandrix blurted out.

Wald slowly shook his head, smiling with a hint of sorrow. “So much yet to learn, Liandrix of Stratholme.”

Liandrix looked straight into Wald’s eyes, and they suddenly showed much more than confusion and merit. It was like gazing into a spell book of both wondrously powerful and terribly perilous magic. There was more hidden in those dark orbs of his than he dared imagine. He wished he could look away.

“Who are you?” His voice shook.

Wald suddenly smiled a wicked smile. “That,” he said in a strong voice, deeper and steadier, “you already know.” The voice was so powerful now that it seemed to press in on Liandrix’ ears, and he was astonished that it did not make the windows rattle.

Liandrix felt as if he had somehow gotten in deeper trouble than he was an hour ago and suddenly he craved for the simple anxiety of being chased by a magical creature. This was different. This was dangerous. This man was dangerous.

Wald extended a hand, shrugging it out of the long sleeve of his plain, old robe and put it to his own chest where he grabbed the filthy garment and pulled it forcefully away. But instead of ripping it to shreds he simply cast it aside as he would a cloak; and instead of dropping to the floor, it vanished. The robe that was now visible made Liandrix’ knees buckle.

The robe was clearly intended to be purple, but it was adorned with so many rich cloth patterns that purple was not the dominant colour. From neck to sleeves to feet the robe was adorned with green leaves encircling magical patterns ornamented in white silk. In the middle of his chest was a sphere of pure spun gold that housed the language of the high elves. It surrounded a mark that Liandrix had so often before seen in the city of Dalaran: it was the golden eye of the Kirin Tor. But not the eye as he had seen countless of times. This eye was embellished with a crossed wand and stave, the sign of an archmage, yet it even surpassed that, for the emblem in the eye was in turn surrounded by two entwined silverleaves in the colour that matches its name.

Liandrix had heard the description of that emblem and the man who bore it only once, and that was enough never to forget that the emblem belonged to the head archmage, the guardian of the Kirin Tor, the leader of all the mages in Dalaran, the most powerful sorcerer in Azeroth …

“… David Spellsword,” Liandrix muttered weakly. “I did … not know that,” he added half-heartedly.

“Oh?” the mage said. “And what was my name as you recall it?”

Liandrix answered automatically. “Verdwald Slopes, and that—“

Liandrix stopped in midsentence and cast his eyes at the ground. Of course: an anagram. Verdwald Slopes spelled Dave Spellsword. How had he not seen that before?

Liandrix looked back up at the old man. “This is a joke. This is some horrible trick you pulled. Did you cook this plan up with Derreck and Falen?”

The old man smiled. “No, though I am glad I found out about the plan you cooked up with Derreck and Falen. Had I not, I might not have been on time.”

Liandrix felt like denying again. It made no sense: the archmage of the Kirin Tor living with him in an old wooden house. But deep down he realised that the facts were undeniable.

“Go to the window,” David Spellsword said gently.

Liandrix moved to one of the golden windows on either side of the bed as if spellbound. It was still dark outside, but Liandrix could tell from the way he could look over the city of Dalaran that they were in the Violet Citadel, and on one of the highest floors as well.

For the past weeks the man he lived with had been the archmage of the Kirin Tor, but had instead acted as a madman, surprising Liandrix with his irrational behaviour almost every day.

Liandrix turned away from the window. “Why?”

“Why what?” the old man said innocently.

“Why are you living in a place like that? Why me? Why did you put me through that ordeal? Why didn’t you reveal who you were?”

“Sit down, Liandrix of Stratholme, and I will tell you everything.”
Last edited by Liandrix on 06 Jan 2015, 01:32, edited 1 time in total.
"The motivation to study the Arcane should be born out of the understanding of the needs of those who would be affected by it.."

~ Loremaster Liandrix Emmot
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Posts: 1094
Location: The Netherlands

Topic/Postby Liandrix » 09 Mar 2015, 16:48

David started to pace slowly around the room, looking at all the ancient furniture and odd items scattered around the place.

“I never enjoyed living here. Luxurious it might be, but your eyes always adapt to the darkness after a while. And spacious it might be, but here there is room for but one. You see a study, Liandrix? I see a cage; a prison for an old man to die in.”

Liandrix was surprised as his sudden solemnness. The archmage continued to stroll around and finally halted at the window and looked down upon the sleeping city.

“Four decades I’ve been archmage of the Kirin tor. Forty years of captivity. Do you know what happened to the last archmage?” he asked, but did not wait for an answer from Liandrix. “There was a political rebellion and the archmage was … removed from his office, right here. There was a battle; one could even call it a war. And at the end of that war I suddenly sat here, in this room, alone. I decided quickly that I’d rather trade this cold house of iron and stone for a wooden one amidst grass and earth, and I did.”

David’s smile returned to his face as he turned to face Liandrix. “Many a mage came to live with me, all oblivious to my true identity. None ever figured out who I was. In that, you are the first.”

“No one knows?” Liandrix asked disconcerted.

“At first, no. but at one point I decided I let one person into my secret, I found it important that this person knew. And this, in turn, is the very reason why it was you who came to live with me.”

“Whom did you tell?”

David narrowed his eyes, still smiling. “You know, Liandrix.”

Liandrix looked down at the varnished floor. Indeed, he didn’t need to think on it.


David nodded in silent acknowledgement.

Liandrix’ head shot up. “But that means there must have been a reason for her choice.”

David’s smile was mysterious. There was a hint of pride in it, mingled with sorrow. He nodded. “Your acceptance into Dalaran and your living arrangements were no coincidence.”

Liandrix knew as much, but to his feeling it didn’t add up to his being here. “I thought I was invited because I was talented.”

“Yes … and no.”

Liandrix watched David’s face carefully. The old mage was dabbling with words in his mind, weighing which ones to tell him. It seemed to take an eternity before he opened his mouth again, and when he did Liandrix feared which words would come out.

“A few months ago Meredith received a letter from Stratholme. It spoke of a boy with great magical talent, little room to put it to use, and a teacher who knew she would not be sufficient for him.”

“My mom?” Liandrix interjected. “My mom sent a letter about me to Dalaran? About how talented I was?”

The archmage held up his hand, his face grave.

“The letter told a tale of a young boy not yet old enough to read or write, let alone bear responsibility for his deeds. It was a beautiful day in the month of the harvest fourteen years ago, and all hands were called to the lands beyond the city walls to gather before the winter hit. The children were left in the middle of the biggest field so that the rest may keep an eye on them. The boy was among them, his parents busy on the field.

“It was still early in the day when it happened. There was an explosion that turned the very sky black and the air was rent by a storm of fire that could be seen from the other side of Stratholme. The fire was strange, for it emitted no smoke and burned for mere seconds before vanishing as quickly as it came. What remained of the destruction after the last pieces of the carnage had fallen to the earth was nothing more than a giant hole in the ground where the farm had been, a giant basin of death.”

Liandrix kept quiet. He felt like something was closing in on him. David continued.

“People gathered around the crater fifty feet deep and three times that wide, but none dared venture below. They did not need to climb down to see that the explosion had killed everyone on that farm. The first one to dare lower himself to the bottom of the pit found only a boy, scared, but unharmed. No one else dared follow him, so Dale Emmot took the boy and brought him home to his wife, Olivia, who knew immediately that the explosion had been created with magic.”

The wall pressed up against Liandrix’ back and he realised he had been backing into it unconsciously. The story wasn’t true. He had heard of a terrible fire that happened around that time. Fires were common during the harvest. This version made no sense. How could he not remember something like that happening?

David Spellsword fixed him with an ironclad stare.

“That cannot be true, I could never have killed all those … that many.” Liandrix covered his mouth with his hand as the taste of bile rose to his tongue. “The harvest … there were so many people … and kids!”

David approached him. “Liandrix, what happened there—“

“It did not happen!” Liandrix roared. “It’s impossible. It’s a lie.”

“Is it?” the archmage said coldly. “Is it a lie that your parents don’t share your magical prowess? Is it a lie that something destroyed that farm all those years ago? Tell me, Liandrix, how much do you think you look like your parents?”

Liandrix felt the floor vanish beneath his feet and his heart leave his chest. He wanted to scream, to deny, to storm out, but deep down his reasonable mind and logic formed the picture in his mind. Somewhere he had always known that something was amiss, that something was out of place.

My own parents. I killed my own parents.

David took a firm step forward. They were now nearly standing face-to-face. “Liandrix, that event was not your doing. You are not responsible!”

“Then why are you telling me all of this!” Liandrix said louder than he intended to.

David grabbed Liandrix’s upper arms and Liandrix tried not to winch when the archmage squeezed the injured one. “Because it is essential that you know what you are capable of, Liandrix! Why save you from this pain if it prevents you from inflicting it on another? I’m sure you would not be able to live with yourself had you done so, and nor would I, knowing that I could have prevented it.”

David released his arms and Liandrix wrapped them protectively around his midriff. He felt like there was something dark inside him, a monster that was trying to come out, and only his arms could keep it in.

“If I have done it once … I could do it again.”

David’s gaze softened somewhat at that. “Doubtful, Liandrix. The magic that you displayed on the farm took an extensive mount of cause to conjure. You would have needed something that motivated you to do it, and I must confess that I cannot imagine what that might be. But you should know that you did do it again this night. When you were pinned down by those conjured creatures of your friends’ making you dive on the ground and shatter the earth. The spell you used was only a fraction of the one that destroyed the farm, and it was under threat of death that you had cast it.”

Liandrix did not remember shattering earth, but there was something in the eyes of the archmage that made him believe what he said was true. That didn’t take away what already happened, however. Liandrix just wanted to put it from his mind.

“So you let me live with you just so you could observe me?” Liandrix asked.

David smiled. “Not just for observing, I rather thought that I might teach you a few things whilst sharing a roof.”

Liandrix stared at him. “teach me things? Every time I came home or woke up you were up to something weird, and most of the times it involved me in a way that I had to clean something up or repair something that had been broken!”

David’s grin grew and Liandrix started to grow annoyed by it. “I found you trying to chase shadows away and you nearly burned the house down!”

David chuckled, apparently at the memory of it. “And how did that make you feel?”

“I felt like I was responsible for the care of a mentally deranged child,” Liandrix said honestly.

“Responsible?” David rolled the word in his mouth. “Good.”

“Good?” Liandrix stared at the old man. Was he playing another game with him?

The archmage seemed to contemplate something for a moment and then marched to the desk next to the bed and took from a cabinet a gem-studded box. From the box he extracted something small that Liandrix couldn’t identify and sat down on the bed.

“When I was taken as an apprentice my master refused to teach me anything, until I presented him with proper diction as to the definition of magic. I was to tell him what magic was. And so I wrote, but when the master looked down upon my work he tossed it into the fireplace without reading it entirely and told me under no certain terms that I was wrong. I kept on writing, searching through every book in the archives of the Kirin Tor. I wrote of spells scarcely known and of history long forgotten, but all my work ended in the same place.

“Finally I left for Quel’Thalas and searched far and wide for a proper definition of magic. I learned things I doubt many masters know to this day, but never a definition of magic that I knew would satisfy my master. Finally I came to meet an elf who told me some of the history of their people. It was the tale of Queen Azshara and how the magic of the elves had sundered the world, nearly wiping out every living being. The way he told it brought tears to my eyes, I could not comprehend how anyone could abuse magic in such ways to grant themselves greater power. But I understood, Liandrix, I finally understood.

“I returned to Dalaran where I presented to my master a small strip of paper with only one word written on it. He took one look at it and gave it back to me but said nothing. I asked if he would teach me and he shook his head and told me ‘You know all that you needed to learn.’”

David got up and moved across the room with the strip of paper between his fingers and put it in Liandrix’s hands. The paper had turned brown and cracked by time but the word was still clearly readable, and Liandrix instantly knew what the archmage had meant.



Cohlien Frostweaver closed the book and handed it back to Liandrix. “Fine work, as usual, but are you sure you don’t want to give me a practical presentation?”

“I am sure, Master.”

Cohlien peered up at him. “And your choice of study … Are you sure about that too?”

Liandrix put the book on his desk and kept his eyes on it for a while as he ran his hand over the words ‘Responsible Use of Teleportation’ before looking back at the Gnome.

“Very sure, Master.”

“Well, lore is a broad subject; you might want to specify which type of lore you—“

“Lore of magic. Every kind, Master.”

Cohlien bounced back and forth on his feet for a moment and Liandrix could tell that it didn’t sit right with his Master.

“So, why lore? It’s not a very sought-after course of study, especially by young mages such as yourself.”

Liandrix stared at nothing in particular, and answered with a shrug. “I just feel I need to.”

When Cohlien Frostweaver had gone Liandrix left his study to Falen and Derreck. After the incident in the woods both of them had become a lot friendlier towards Liandrix and he had at first wondered if that had been Cohlien’s doing. Later he realised that the archmage had not told Cohlien everything, he had kept all they had shared in the study of the archmage between the two of them. Derreck and Falen had been a bit reluctant to do any sort of magic for a while after the incident, but they quickly recuperated and even helped Liandrix with his work where they could.

Liandrix himself had not cast a spell since. It wasn’t that he was afraid of using magic; he just didn’t feel the need to, anymore. There no longer was a burning curiosity every time he learned about a new spell and he felt happy just knowing how the spells worked.

David Spellsword had left the house to Liandrix, believing that he too had taught Liandrix all he needed to learn from him. He hadn’t seen or spoken to him since and Liandrix often wondered if he was driving another student mad with his strange acts at the moment.

Liandrix climbed the steps to the balcony above the study. Above was a small veranda which Liandrix had found to be a great place to study, but his books were absent, now. Liandrix leaned over the railing and looked at the sun as it slowly started to vanish behind the distant hills. He wondered if his parents were looking at the sunset as well, and why they never told him what had happened on that farm all those years ago. Still, he knew that he could never change what had been done and realised that whatever had happened didn’t make Olivia and Dale any less his parents. They had been there for him as long as he could remember, and nothing could ever take that away.
"The motivation to study the Arcane should be born out of the understanding of the needs of those who would be affected by it.."

~ Loremaster Liandrix Emmot
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