19 Sun's Dusk, 3E 427
I finally mentioned Velneryn to Ajira, during lunch in the dining hall.
"Ah, Velneryn. He is a good friend to this one. Khajiit and Dunmer get Journeyman at the same time, thanks to Velneryn's help. This one thinks it made Galbedir especially unhappy to be beaten twice at the same time."
Galbedir looked up at us from across the table, frowning. Ajira pretended to ignore her.
"This one hasn't seen him since before the Butcher. Ajira cannot quite pinpoint it, but she knows there is something unique about him. He studies Mysticism, very good at it. That might be all it is," she shared.
That alone told me a lot about this mer.
Magicka is omnipresent on Tamriel. It is the divine substance the Divines used to create the world, and it leaks down to us from the sun and stars, holes in the void of Oblivion leading to Aetherius. People born with talent, or who have the patience to commit themselves fully to the task, are capable of harnessing it and shaping the energies of existence with a wide array of results.
The Schools of magic, semi-arbitrary divisions between similar spell effects, all have their own sets of rules. Restoration, the manipulation of the energies bound in living flesh, has its limits: the human body can only take so much manipulation at one time, and the will of the practitioner must be willing to suspend his disbelief to truly take advantage of the hidden resources of the flesh; destruction, the creation and manipulation of elemental and destructive energies to wither and destroy, is most often held back by scale- a fireball can only be so large, a draining spell last so long before the mage casting it exhausts their internal reserves and risks harming themselves as much as their target.
Mysticism is different. Most spells belonging to the School do not create or destroy or reshape the physical world (or even appear to, as in the school of Illusion). The energies of magicka itself are bent, and the effects can be anything from teleportation -- one of the requirements of being a Guild Guide are a proficiency with the School -- to trapping the energies of a soul into a soul gem. In recent years, the Guild has done some reorganizing of the schools as more research discovers that certain effects belong more appropriately with others; Mysticism has lost a lot a lot its spells to other schools.
Regardless of the spell cast, to specialize in Mysticism is to risk a touch of madness. The School thrives on conundrums and paradoxes, by breaking all of the rules established by the others. It is a risky School, more spiritual than intellectual in nature.
For somebody focused in Conjuration, like myself, it is a difficult state of mind to imagine. If the Conjurer tries to play loose with the rules, bad things happen.
"Do you know where I might find him?" I asked Ajira.
"He passes through every so often, using the guild guide to get from place to place. He is a very busy Dunmer, Ajira hears."
"If you wouldn't mind helping me catch him, I think it might be beneficial to my research if I were to be able to speak with him."
"Ajira can do this for her friend. If you are not around the next time he passes through, this one will mention you to him."
Contented, I finished eating in silence.
___
I'm going to start teaching Conjuration once again, this time with help. Ajira, it turns out, is also fairly skilled with some of the more basic concepts. It took both of us pestering the Guild steward, but Ranis finally agreed to give us the lecture room for a couple hours in the afternoon every other day, to train guildmates and members of the paying public in some of its basic principles. She even seemed open to us actually performing a basic summoning, if we deemed the class ready for it after a couple weeks.
I have high hopes. It's been a while since I've had a chance to actually practice my Art.
2 Evening Star, 3E 427
"Okay, everybody, step back from the circle," I commanded. The students obeyed; two of them, Estirdalin and Sharn gra-Muzgob, were residents of the Guild hall. The other three were the children of Hlaalu nobles, sent to the guild in the afternoons to receive a basic education in the magickal arts. All of them had regularly attended the class since the first or second day and had, with their maturity (in my eyes) or coin (in Ranis' eyes), earned the opportunity to witness some of the principles they'd been learning put into practice.
Ajira had business that kept her stuck in her lab, so it would be just myself performing the conjuration. That was fine by me.
"Now, who can tell me the purpose of the candles arranged the way they are?" I asked.
"They demarcate the spatial boundaries permitted to the summoned by the summoner," one of the young nobles, an eager young Dunmer lad, answered quickly.
"Correct. Can you tell me why I chose to use candles, as opposed to chalk, or a chisel on the floor?"
"Um... because the light guides the summoned animus towards the will of the caster?"
"Close. It's actually just because it's really dark down here."
The class chuckled dutifully.
"Now, as I said last time, the circle itself is generally not needed for quick, temporary summons. With spells like that, the quick pacts that have been tried and proven over the years and are usable by the adventuring sorcerer, it's more about the will of the mage. But spells like that rob some of the will of the summoned creature, and I wanted this to be an object lesson."
I stepped forward, so that my back was facing the wall and my front facing the doorway into the small lecture room, which had had the chairs cleared back out of the way. The circle, about five feet wide all around, was two short steps in front of me. Four candles, spaced evenly around in a rough estimation of a compass, marked the edges; as far as I was concerned, it was really more of a square than a circle, but the shape wasn't what mattered.
I took a deep breath and held it until I could feel my heart pounding inside my head. Slowly exhaling, I cast the spell.
The link was tenuous at first. I went fishing in Skyrim when I was a girl; that's still the closest comparison I can think of making to the sensation -- casting a line out into slowly moving water, hoping the bait you're using draws the attention of something that doesn't snap the line when it bites down and the hook sinks into it. Of course, if the hook catches and the fish realizes what is happening, it will pull, hard and fast and down. One must steady one's mind, giving it just enough slack to wiggle around but not enough for it to get away with the pole.
The mind of a scamp is slippery and small. It is not especially difficult to control; the real danger lies in pulling too hard before the hook is truly set, letting it get away.
And of course, just as you're about to pull it out of the water, it tends to give up trying to get away and instead comes right... at... you.
I felt the scamp's awareness batter against my thoughts. It was like a small dagger wielded by a child: sloppy, but fast and frightening and just a little out of place. I managed to wrestle it back under control, keeping the link tenuous so as to not risk the scamp somehow overpowering me, as the physical form of the daedra coalesced into shape out of the air in between the candles. With it came the sudden smell of wet dog.
Two of the students, of the future of House Hlaalu, took small steps back. The rest of my audience stared attentively, except for Sharn. I didn't have time to see why she was so unimpressed, as the scamp started to speak.
"Th-tupid mortalth, lemme go! Fear the might and awe-thum powerth of Timurlan the Inthidioth!"
Timurlan the "Insidious" was large, as far as scamps go. He towered up to my height, with shoulders about half as broad as he was tall. His chest had the appearance of a man's, bulky with muscle. Below the waste, he was covered in a thick pelt of matted brown fur. His legs ended in feet capped by a triplet of nasty-looking talons covered in ichor and pieces of flesh. His hands had four fingers and a thumb, though each also ended in long, pointed claws stained with blood. His face was vaguely humanoid, though his eyes glowed red, even in the candlelight. Jutting out from the sides of his head were ears that extended out as long as his forearms, tapering off to end in narrow points.
"You shall speak only when spoken too, daedroth," I commanded, enforcing the words with just enough willpower to make sure it obeyed. I felt his mind wail against mine again, trying to insinuate itself closer to and attempt to rip it away from my will in turns. When the assault subsided a moment or two later, I asked the students, "Who can tell me what we have here?"
The same student from before answered. "A scamp, Journeyman Seidvala. A lesser daedra, most often found in service to the Price Mehrunes Dagon, one of the Four Corners."
I'd like to say that it wasn't the lack of appropriate respect in his voice, but rather the hope in teaching him that even the lesser minions of Oblivion shouldn't be underestimated, that let me give the scamp a little more autonomy. It whirled to face the Dunmer, gathered itself to its full height, and made as though to leap. Its arms swung out wide, claws extended, and moved with a speed that surprised even me.
"Gah!" the student screamed, startled and falling backwards at the feint. The scamp itself was pressed up against the edge of the invisible boundary marked by the candles.
"You may speak," I told it.
"Fool mortal, Timurlan the Inthidiouth hath killed eleven and two of your kind! Fear Timurlan the Inthidiouth!" the scamp shrieked, its voice getting higher in its anger, somewhat lessening the impression I'd hoped to give.
"You are dismissed, daedroth. I banish you back to the waters of Oblivion from whence you came," I commanded with a wave of my hand, using my mental link to the creature to compel it into obeying. Its form dissolved as it continued to scream threats and taunts, its voice shrinking down until it was hardly a whisper, before it fell silent altogether.
"I think that'll be all for today, class," I said, making sure the that the unfortunate student had recovered to his feet and was otherwise alright. As the students filed out, I spotted somebody standing around outside the partition, looking in. As the last student left and I started to put the candles out, he walked in.
"Excuse me," the Dunmer asked, his voice the sound of lava flowing over rock, "are you Seidvala?"
I started collecting the candlesticks, but turned to look at him more closely. He was an inch or two shorter than I, tall for a Dunmer. His face had a sternness to it that told me he was probably not used to laughing - not unusual, I'd learned, for a dark elf. His dark hair was tied back, and he'd had a large palm (one of the signs of the Tribunal faith, I'd learned) tattooed or painted in black onto his face. He had on armor made out of dreugh chitin (which I recognized only because I'd recently seen a piece for sale in one of the market stands), and moved like he was used to wearing it for days at a time.
"I am," I responded. "Do I know you?"
"No, but Ajira told me that you were looking for me?"
"Oh. Oh! Are you Velneryn?" I asked, hurriedly stashing the candlesticks into a corner.
He nodded.
"Are you... oh, sorry, I wasn't prepared at all," I stammered. "If you have some time, I'd simply like to interview you, if I might."
"I... ah, I don't know if that's a good idea," he answered.
"Oh, no, it's just for my research. I don't need to interview you... I mean, I would like to interview you for... I need..." I stopped and took a deep breath. "I was hoping I could ask you a few questions as a priest of the Tribunal Temple," I clarified. "I had hoped that since you are an outlander like myself, you may be more willing to speak openly with me about some of the practices of the faith. Dorian mentioned you, that's why I'm asking."
"Dorian mentioned me?" he inquired.
"Yes, said that you might be the one willing to help me. Not too many priests eager to answer the questions of every mage that pokes at them. Er... not that I'd actually poke at you."
"I understand," he dismissed. "I've been... away... for a while, and have some business to attend to, but if you'd like, I'll be back here by sunset. I'll let you ask any questions you might have then, on a few conditions."
"Of course, just name them!"
"First: Anything I tell you will not be used to slander the Tribunal Temple or its members. I'm not entirely sure what the purpose of your questioning might be, but I shall still answer, unless, and this is the second condition: I can refuse to answer any questions that I deem too personal or that I feel you do not have the necessary respect for the Temple to understand the answers to. And third, related to the second: I will answer as honestly as I am capable of doing. If I am restrained by oath or creed from giving an answer, you must respect that."
I was a little unhappy with the second condition, but at least he was offering to answer honestly. I would have to think carefully about the questions I would ask, but this could be a valuable addition to the stack of parchments that hadn't been added to in far too long, languishing away in a drawer in Ajira's desk.
"I agree to those conditions," I answered. "And let me thank you in advance, Velneryn."
"No need to thank me, yet. Besides, I'm not doing this for you," he said as he turned to leave. "Not enough outlanders truly understand the Dunmer or our ways. If my voice can bring enlightenment to others, then that is what I should use it for."
As he walked away, I sat down and started to figure out what I would ask, and how.
Comments
It is a risky School, more spiritual than intellectual in nature.For somebody focused in Conjuration, like myself, it is a difficult state of min... more