As he said few days back, he wasn't done with Restoration yet. He was practicing Wards and in the meantime he was trying to figure out both fortify and resist spells. With no satisfying results. Actually, with no results at all. He wasn't able to figure out how to imbue his muscles with Magicka, or how to make himself invulnerable to fire.
And got a few nasty burns while he was practicing fire spells - still couldn't figure out how to cast them without burning himself either.
So with all this, Grulmar figured out that the answer might lie in healing spells. So he was trying those, mainly because he was tired of going to Collete to heal his burned hands. He understood that Restoration was a magic of the body, about filtering the Magicka through the flesh and he followed that reasoning. He drew the Magicka into his body, redirected it towards his hands and focused on binding the burned tissue back together.
Well...the first try didn't go really well. I got it all wrong, the skin and all that. Messed up. So he tried a different approach. Every living creature was able to heal over time, to a certain degree. It was deep in their bones, in every fibre of their being. So he made the Magicka run through his hands faster, speeding the natural process of healing and that did wonders. To a certain degree. Apparently, self-preservation instinct wasn't the ideal prerequisite for Restoration. Not enough empathy in that.
It was a very frustrating week. One failure followed by another, just another proof that Restoration just wasn't one of his talents. So let's do some quick math now. There are five schools - six if we count Mysticism - and out of these six ya were able to partially grasp the mechanics of Alteration and Illusion. Ya suck at Destruction, gettin' yerself burned by even the simplest spell. Ya weren't even able to understand a tuskin' word about Mysticism and now ya can barely heal yer own fuck ups that are yer hands.
Yes, definitely one damn good mage ya are. He scratched his hand and looked around Arcaneum to make sure no one was watching him. He wasn't interested in prying eyes and stupid questions like: Ya alright? Is everythin' alright? No, he wasn't interested in any kind of pity or sympathy. They can all go stab themselves. So I suck at everythin' I do. So what? Can't heal my hands properly, can't even heal someone else. What good I am?
Progress requires experimentation. Well...tusk ya, Grim the tuskin' Telvanni Magister. Ya can go tusk yerself too.
But there was still one area of Restoration he wanted to look into and that was the so called Holy Magicks. Turn Undead and Sun Spells. He didn't really expect he would be able to cast them, but understanding the subject at least a little could prove useful in the future.
So he was sitting in Arcaneum again, with books piled up in front of him and he sighed. Alright, here we go. He grabbed a book on the top of the pile and opened it. Huh. A transcription of some kind of letter.
(Ed. note: This letter is one of Margaux Cantillon's earliest recovered correspondences. Her impact on the restoration arts and her unmatched compassion will long be remembered, and this letter grants us insight into the strength of character she displayed even as a young healer.)
Delightful. Precisely what I needed to read. Accomplished healer...
Journeyman Bachand,
I received your gift yesterday, and I am taken aback. It's clear that you spared no expense; I have never laid eyes on such an ornate staff. The silver and golden symbols of Mara inlaid with pearl are beautiful, and the sculpting of my likeness into the metal at its top is … flattering.
Please believe that it is only with the greatest regret that I cannot accept it. I appreciate the spirit of the gift, but I simply cannot use it to tend to my wards. We travel in different magical circles these days. I know such a magnificent staff could be borne proudly in yours, but I have dedicated myself to tending the unfortunate, and to use such a costly implement in my work would be unseemly.
Oh for tusk's sake. What have I gotten myself into now? Another tuskin' saint? Like if Skyrim didn't have one already...
You asked about my studies. My instructor says my empathy is strong, and that the outrage I feel at the suffering of others gives my restorative spells potency. I am humbled to have a gift for this noble calling. I only wish healing received more focus during apprenticeship; the emphasis on destruction seems so misplaced to me now.
Well, no shit. And what's so surprisin' about that, ya faith brainwashed bitch? Not everyone has enough empathy to feel outrage at the sufferin' of others. Certainly not this Orc. So how about ya shove that staff ya got up yer arse with bullshit like this?
Perhaps we will meet again at the next Guild Symposium in Wayrest.
Yours in Mara's Grace,
Margaux Cantillon
He set aside the book and took a deep breath. Ya are gettin' angry. Loosin' focus. For no tuskin' reason! He sighed when he realized why it was like that. The shakes. They're gettin' back. The illusion is fadin' away, I can feel it. This won't take long until I'll need to take another big dose.
But the point of that letter was that the more empathy a healer had, the more potent the spells were. Which means ya are one cold-hearted son of a bitch, Grulmar. But because ya haven't met yer mother so ya can't know if she was bitch or no, ya should have come up with somethin' more clever. How would ya call Yamarz? Son of a bitch. Ha, that makes ya son of a son of a bitch.
He shook his head, to clear his thoughts which seemed to be wandering where they wanted. He reached for another book.
Some Elves disdain to venerate the et'Ada Stendarr on the grounds that he is the Apologist of Men, and thus unworthy of worship by the Children of Aldmeris. But if these narrow folk would open their souls to Stendarr's mercy, they would understand that Stendarr in his love cherishes and protects ALL mortals, even—perhaps particularly—those who are less fortunate in their heritage.
Yeah? And where was Stendarr when this Orc got kicked out of his stronghold when he was just twelve? What a piece of horseshit.
It is for this reason that we of the Sect of Harmonious Masters have dedicated ourselves to adapting the magic of Stendarr's Light into spells of healing that can be employed by all the mortal races, not even excepting the beast peoples. The restorative virtues of our rituals and ceremonies are equally efficacious for every race. They can be cast by individuals of every blood, no matter how degraded, so long as they have the will and the wisdom to learn how to use them.
As Stendarr, in his boundless mercy, has given all mortals the potential ability to employ his magical gifts, we of the Harmonious Masters feel honor-bound to provide knowledge of these spells to all the peoples of Nirn freely and without hindrance. We can think of no higher cause than to improve the general welfare of all folk in every culture.
Rrrright. So, could ya please give me a notice when Harmonious Masters arrive in town? Goin' to grab one of their super healin' spells. Oh, and could they bring me one of the Dusken Dogs from the Isles? Heard they're delicious and it would definitely improve my welfare...
Buggers. He rubbed his eyes grabbed another book. This certainly doesn't go very well. If the next book is about Stendarr to I'm goin' to hurl myself down from the balcony...
Insomuch as all fell things abhor the light, so has Stendarr-
Oh, for Stendarr's merciless boner...Just forget I said anythin'.
-gifted all those who invoke His Name with the ability to clothe themselves in a righteous aura of blessed light. Over time, even as evil's many Abominations found new ways to afflict Tamriel's mortals with destruction and death, the Priests and Resolutes of Stendarr have adapted Stendarr's glowing gift to many purposes, whether to smite, to defend, or to heal.
For offensive means, Stendarr's gift most often manifests as a piercing beam of light, resembling a spear of purifying sunlight and oft referred to in those terms.
As a form of armor, Stendarr's gift may take the form of a diffuse aura that surrounds the righteous, mitigating the attacks of the abominable, or it may focus into an almost-palpable shield to ward off a specific threat.
Worshipers who eschew all forms of violence, such as the Harmonious Masters of Lillandril, have turned Stendarr's glowing gift into a tool for healing, and then freely spread their knowledge of cleansing and healing rituals, even to Stendarr's more militant adherents. For even in the hands of a warrior, how can the curing of ills be an ill thing?
Alright, Grulmar. Ya want to say somethin' smart now, but if ya do, I'm goin' to slap ya. Myself. Ya are going to slap yerself...Whatever!
This thing about Light of Stendarr is actually interestin' even if it stinks of faith bullshit like Nords stink of mead. A lot. Grulmar knew that Aelberon of Dusk was using these spells, the holy light. Turn Undead and Sun Spells. According to him the spells were coming from Auriel. Yeah, sure. Comin' right from his arse. But the point was that these Resolutes of Stendarr, Harmonious Masters, maybe even Vigilants were saying the same light came from Stendarr.
Maybe it wasn't a matter of which god's the light was. Light is light. Light of Mara, Magnus, Stendarr, Auriel, Dibella - wait, Dibella? Now that's a light I would like to see. Grulmar chuckled and then shook his head. Focus. So the light...it doesn't matter which god. It is a light of Aetherius. Is it? Well, maybe.
It was theory as good as any other. It would certainly explain why every god has a light he can use to read late at night in his bed - Grulmar, what the tusk is wrong with ya today? But the point was that it was very possible these spells weren't granted to mortals by gods, but there was this undeniable truth that he saw only priests practice them. Well, priests. Very few people. Shiny. Who else? There's Isran and then Florentius. Both crazy in their own way.
Maybe it isn't a matter of god but matter of faith? The discipline? Clear head? Probably some similar bullshit.
So the conclusion was that he wouldn't be able to cast light spells even if he really wanted. And turning undead was out of his reach too.
Wait. Is it? He recalled something from few days back. Grulmar overheard Falion talking about Conjuration, something about banishing and turning spells. What if there is another way how to turn undead? Less empathic?
He looked at his hands which began shaking and sighed. Here it comes. Turning undead will have to wait. The shakes are back. He got up from his chair, his head dizzy. Barely able to walk straight, Grulmar headed to his room for a very big dose of Magicka in liquid form, to sweat the stuff out of himself. I could try to go through it, weather it. Get clean. Drop the shackles holdin' me.
He then scratched his neck as he was walking down the stairs to the Hall of Elements and chuckled. Ha, ya won't do that. Ya are too big coward for that. You need the extra Magicka. Ya won't stop.
No, Grulmar wouldn't stop. At nothing to get what he wanted.
Sources used in this Lesson: Cantillon's Correspondence, Rituals of the Harmonious Masters, Aura of the Righteous
Comments
I like how thoroughly you portray addiction affecting him and the creative ways he tries to mitigate it.