That night after dark had long since fallen, and the town had gone to sleep, Victor was still awake, burning a small oil lamp that the innkeeper had provided. In this light, he sat beside the window, sketching something new in his spellbook. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember the method he’d used the last time he made a spell of this sort, and in exasperation, he pushed the piece of paper he’d been writing on aside. Almost instinctively he felt in his pocket for his brothers ring, but immediately remembered why he was here. Groaning, he put his hand on his forehead and looked out the window again. It had begun raining a few minutes before, but only now did the patter get his attention, and he glared out at the falling liquid. “Damn rain,” he said, a small amount of anger seeping into his voice, “always at the worst moments. I need to be out of this place.” Reaching over to close the shutters before water could stain his documents, he spotted a small figure running towards the inn. The innkeeper’s kid had apparently been out very late, and was now rushing home holding a bag to keep the rain off. Victor shook his head, closed the shutters and went back to his work. He needed it prepared before tomorrow, and didn’t care about some soaked kid. Turning back to his work, he crumpled the old piece of paper he’d been working on, scratched a quick symbol into it and tossed it into the air behind him. It ignited midair, with only its ashen remains reaching the floor.
[https://i.imgur.com/JlcPE01.png]
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The next morning, Victor woke with a start as a knock sounded on his door. “Hello? Mister Victor sir? Breakfast is nearly over downstairs, are you alright?” A voice who he assumed to be Thomas sounded from behind the door as Victor sat up straight. Clearing his throat, the mage called over his shoulder
“I’m perfectly fine. I’ll be down in just a moment, thank you.” After speaking, Victor looked down at the notes scrawled on pages strewn haphazardly on the table, before sighing and shuffling them all into a neat sheaf. Tucking the papers under his arm, he stood up and popped his back before stomping through the thin coating of ash on the floor and exiting the room. Ignoring Thomas, he trudged down the stairs and sat down at the bar counter. After asking for something to eat, he started shuffling through the pages he’d written last night. “Hmm, yes,” he muttered to himself, “this should work to funnel the escaping air… then the structure needs to be-”
“Whatcha muttering about?” A young voice suddenly spoke next to Victor.
“Trying to figure out if it’s worth it to add rigidity to the air, or if simply freezing it would be effec-” Victor started, as he turned to the innkeeper's kid next to him. The kid in question was, surprisingly enough, paying attention. “Doing magic. Go bother someone else, kid.”
“Aww,” The kid in question pouted slightly, his green eyes staring up at victor pleadingly. “I just wanted to know about magic!”
Victor dismissed the kid as he had a thousand before. “You just want to do flashy parlor tricks. Real magic takes a lifetime to master.” The mage had seen them countless times, kids who wanted to throw fire and lightning, or adults who thought it was an easy way to get rich quick. None of them were worth training properly, as they flinched at the first sign of adversity, somehow expecting magic to be easy or fast to learn.
“Nope! I wanna know how to do what you do, like that… uh, water thing!” The kid spoke firmly as if declaring a fact. Victor rolled his eyes, before making a shoo motion with his hand. He’d learned before that you simply had to ignore the persistent types until they gave up, and most parents were smart enough to keep their kid from bothering a mage for too long. Sure enough, a few seconds later the barkeep walked up with a bowl of steaming porridge and seeing the situation at a glance, he spoke sternly towards the kid.
“Limbas.” The word was like a brick, shattering the focus the boy had, “Leave the man alone, he’s clearly working on something. How about you go up and start fixing up the loose tiles on the roof? The storm must’ve blown a few crooked last night.”
“Aww, but dad!” The kid, Limbas, groaned, “That’ll take all day!”
“No buts. Roof, now. And do a good job, I’ll be going up to check your work.” The innkeeper’s tone left no room for argument, and Limbas grumbled and walked towards the staircase.
Leaning forward, Victor spoke up after the kid had left. “I appreciate the quiet but is it really safe for him to be on a roof?”
Laughing, the innkeep replied “Of course. He’s fifteen winters old, and was climbing twice the height at half that age. He’ll be fine, and he knows how to take a fall. His mum made sure of that.”
Victor nodded, grunted in understanding, and went back to looking through his papers.
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Several hours later, Victor was walking down the street admiring his new book holster. It was a simple but effective design, made of some form of leather with three metal pieces holding its shape. A small flap with a latch kept his spellbook safe from the elements, with a small chain hooked onto the edge, with the other end attached to his book. Victor nodded at the craftsmanship, especially since the tanner had managed to make it the perfect size despite only a glance at his book. As he was walking back towards the Rottin Hare, his shopping for the day done, he was snapped out of his daze by a distant shout of pain. Immediately, his eyes snapped towards the source of the sound and he grabbed for his satchel before remembering the new location of his spells. Victor took a deep breath, breaking out of his momentary panic, and started to continue his walk towards the Inn when a second much more terrified scream rang out.
Victor started running as the people nearby looked around in confusion. Turning an alley, the mage saw a wagon filled with bundles of wheat careen on by as a terrified horse abandoned its farmer. The man in question was on the ground, with what appeared to be a stick stabbed into his leg. Victor ran up next to the injured man and examined the situation, ignoring the cursing and pleas for help originating from somewhere near his feet. Towards the gate of the Village, there were several small creatures that seemed to be harassing the single guard. Each of them were short, bipedal creatures that otherwise resembled rodents. Only three to four feet tall, they were coated in short brown fur, blunted snouts revealed two short, sharp rows of teeth. Each of them had a tail which seemed to be almost as long as they were tall, whipping out and smacking the guard’s spear as he desperately tried to stab at them. Each of them save one held a short sharp stick as though it were a spear, victor glanced down and saw an identical weapon still embedded in the farmer’s leg, explaining the absence of the last. As the eikrat’s, as Victor identified them as, continued to snap ineffectively at the padded armor of the guard, Victor inhaled, and pulled out his spellbook from its new holster, flipping to one of the first pages before shouting out
“Guard, do you require assistance?” It was clear the man needed his help, as eventually the monstrous rodents would find a chink in his armor, but Victor needed to make sure his actions wouldn’t be misinterpreted. People tended to panic when dangerous magic was involved. Especially Victor's brand of magic.
“OF COURSE I NEED HELP, WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE?!” The guard bellowed, as he once again stepped back, deflecting a stick aimed at his throat and not bothering to glance at Victor. The ex-warmage took this as affirmation, and inhaled. He calmed his mind and his expression grew suddenly dispassionate, as he stepped forwards, stomping to draw the attention of one of the creatures. The one without a stick, and so unable to do much against the armored guard, turned at the sharp sound and saw the much more lightly armored target Victor presented. Seeing he had its attention, Victor snapped his fingers and used the same simple rune he had set many a page alight with earlier today and a flame burst into being above his now open palm. The strangely hissing flame did not seem to deter the charging eikrat as the mage flicked his hand towards the creature and with a sharp exhalation, invoked a second rune of his he'd used rather recently.
[https://i.imgur.com/JlcPE01.png][https://i.imgur.com/qIBgZRH.png]
As the air erupting from his palm met the fire, it expanded, bursting outwards into a cone of flames that slammed into the creature, charring it while hurling it back towards its companions. The whoosh of flame and the sudden arrival of their still on fire and screeching ally caused the remaining two eikrats to turn and flee, leaving the last one to wail in pain thrashing on the cobblestones until the guard’s firm boot crushed its windpipe. The guard then looked up towards Victor, who was watching the remaining two leave.
“I ah, appreciate the help, sir?” The guard spoke to victor, a slight tremble in his voice, then cleared his throat.
Victor snapped his spellbook shut, causing a slight flinch in the man, before he looked the guard in the eyes and smiled. “No problem at all, though that man over there,” Victor pointed at the still injured farmer who was holding onto his leg and huffing in pain, “likely needs your assistance.” The guard immediately ran over and started helping the poor man up, reassuring him that he’d be alright. At that moment, two more guards rounded the corner and took over. Victor took his chance and left the scene behind him, once again walking back to the Inn before he could get wrapped up in paperwork.
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That evening, Victor was exhausted. He’d not gotten much sleep the previous night so now his eyelids were heavy, but he forced himself to continue his work. Using melted candlewax, he slowly and carefully drew a rune into the floor of the room he was staying in. He could hear the banging of the kid on the roof as he did so, apparently having not finished the repairs and so trying to do them all at once before his father noticed. Victor snorted while redoing a section of the spell once again, the Innkeeper definitely noticed, and likely so did every resident of the inn. Victor disliked making a mess in a room he was renting, but the wax would come off easily enough in the morning, and the use of candle wax in the structure would strengthen his visualization. Finally, after almost an hour of both holding a flame spell in one hand to melt the wax and drawing a complicated runic circle with his other hand, he was finished. The spell was more complicated than his fireball, with an almost laughably small effect for the effort put into its creation. Victor was better at destructive spells, but he was confident it would work.
[https://i.imgur.com/g2piLAs.png]
Victor lit a new candle, placed it in the very center, and concentrated. The mage was inexperienced with this spell, it being one he had created only the night before, so it took him several minutes to work his way through each of the runes and assign them Meaning. Finally, he managed to link the entire structure to the burning candle in the middle. He had chosen a tall slow burning one so that it, and thus the spell as a whole, would last the whole night. There was a crackle in the air, and a large section of his room seemed to suddenly snap taut. There were hairline cracks hovering in midair, and a faint chill that victor frowned at. It seemed he hadn't been able to avoid a bit of a chill to it. No matter, now he only needed to sleep, and wait.