Ah, Clementia. Not going to post the first email (it’s the same as the previous entries) mostly because she asked me to send her a second one to get the ball moving and I don’t want people to skip over it.
Important things to know about Clem. She’s a “pacifist” Gnome wizard and former Professor with the government, which mostly means that she avoids combat and combat situations by any means necessary. She often used magic to attempt to turtle up in other dimensions or otherwise keep herself out of harms way. After a certain incident her favorite way of doing this was hiding in a bag of holding. That incident brings me to a second point, she is stupidly lucky when it comes to anything involving magic and/or certain death. In every instance when she touched some massive magical reactor or tapped into some ancient magical flow that should have turned her to ash, she’d roll a natural 20 and absorb some of that power. By the time of the Godendes Fight she was a living spell, her mortal body destroyed on the Faerie Island mentioned before. During the fight, to try and get her involved, she battled Godendes within the Crystal Spire that it turns out is pure crystalized magic. With her involvement and Godendes being torn between fighting the Archmagus and her, the rest of the party was able to take down the wizard. It also gave her a connection to the Tower, which moves us into the e-mails.
It is three days after the celebration when you are called to the Archmagus’ chambers for your “private discussion”.
It has been a rough three days as well, for now you can clearly hear the song of the spire, even through the wards that protect the middle and upper cities. It calls to you deep and clear, but you do not answer.
You know the Archmagus is testing you during those three days, he wants to see if you will try to dive back into the stream of magic, if you will once again grasp lightning and feel the power fizzle throughout your entire being.
You persevere. One realization helps more than the others. Over the last few hundred years the Archmagus has taken on students, apprentices who were highly skilled practitioners. Some left on long voyages, some died in what was reported to be “lab accidents”, most people never believe those rumors.
They believed the Archmagus killed them himself.
You know better now, it’s clear as day, whispering in your ear. He did try to teach them, to teach them of the Spire, it’s power, it’s song. The smart ones left, fleeing from its intoxication before it could destroy them. The others died, lab accidents, succumbing to the crushing, tearing power of that deep song.
You’ve caught yourself humming it once or twice, and now again you catch yourself, as you float into the Arch magus’ Office. The blaze of magic still nearly blinds you. A power play, a display of how much power he wields? The door seals itself behind you, disappearing into the wall.
He studies you for a few moments, before sighing, dropping the illusion which hides his true face. Scarlet skin and horns, with eyes that dance with infernal fire.
His voice is smooth, no longer cracked with age. His words flow to the rhythm of the Spire Song, an accompanying piece of music.
“What are your intentions, Miss Clementia?”
“We’ll get to my intentions later. I actually have a few questions, if you don’t mind.
”My list of bombarding questions (there will probably be more to come, I’m a curious gnome-gal):
1) Clearly, your true appearance looks a little different. Why the façade?
2) What happens if I reveal your identity?
3) That apprenticeship position you have seems rather enticing, tell me more.
4) What happened to those who decided not to be apprentices? Where are they now? Who were they? Ya know, the basics.
5) The spire has become increasingly a point of interest and has caused for great curiosity. I don’t think my curiosity can stay dormant for an extended point of time. Where does this realization leave us?
6) Finally, because your feelings matter to me in the same way as everyone else’s, what are your thoughts in all of this?
“I may seem slightly annoying due to my constant questioning, but curiosity means much more to me than how you view my persona.”
He sighs, “Gnomes, I should have expected as much.”
“Your interest in apprenticeship tells me much, others have dipped into the Spire of their own volition before. More than one has then decided that… a fresher face is needed to lead this Tower. That they will be the ones to depose me and rule in my stead. Godendes is the only one to cause me any serious trouble, and he is old, older than would seem possible.”
He’s silent for a moment before continuing.
“Before I explain my history to you, I shall answer your second question. If you attempt to reveal the things I tell you, if you attempt to unmask me before the entire tower. I will destroy you. I shall rend your body into shreds of aether, pull your soul back to the mortal plane and end you molecule by molecule until nothing of you remains. I hope this makes our positions clear. I am not a kind or gentle man, I have ruled this tower for a thousand years, and I have killed more than one person who would threaten me or my position.”
He reaches into his desk, and removes a black iron mirror. He places it face-down upon his desk, and just faintly, you can hear the voice of a woman.
“You may think me similar to your companion, Miss Tana. This is not true. She is a Tiefling, one of a race that made a compact with the Devils millennia ago to save their people from destruction by a voracious enemy. Their blood contains but a sliver of the Nine Hells within it, enough to grant them a pittance of power. I am known as a Cambion, a true half-blooded devil. Logically, this would cause concern amongst the people, especially those who serve the Gods and see any trace of Infernal blood as a blight upon the lands. My father was a foolish man, taken in by promises of power and wealth, my mother was a high-ranking Succubus, a Duchess in the Court of Queen Malcanthet. My duties were simple when I was young, I would deliver messages, offer myself to patrons of the court who indulged in such appetites, but then, it was found I had The Gift. Magic coursed through my blood, and I could shape it. This pleased my mother, I became a precious tool. A wizard taught by the best tutors she could snare in her traps.” His voice is distant, deep with painful memories.
“I was never free, and yet that was all I desired. The more knowledge I gained, the more power I accumulated, but it would clearly never be enough. Any person who could teach me was defeated first by my mother, this ensured I would never grow more powerful than her. It took centuries of secret studies, of deals with lesser devils and even with demons, until I could make a move. Luckily, hubris was always her greatest weakness, and it had allowed my chain to grow just enough to accomplish what I needed to accomplish. While she was courting a new toy to corrupt, I struck. I poured forth all of my power, and sealed her within this mirror.”
He holds up the mirror for a brief moment, and inside, bound by iron chains you see a beautiful woman. Then he shifts the mirror, and you see massive bat-like wings and a crown of horns, while her eyes burn with black fire. She grins at you, and goes to speak but before she can he places it back down, hiding her from view.
“I was finally free, or so I thought. The Queen was enraged and ordered my capture. She would have freed my mother and given me back into her care. I had seen the mindless husks that my mother made those who displeased her. So I ran, I hid my true nature, and always I looked after myself. It was a few hundred years later that the Mysts came, and I retreated into the Spires like everyone else. It was the early years of Verrick. The Duke of Bastmul ruled here, the Tower had been built by within his lands, but it became apparent that keeping the magic of the crystal tame was the true challenge.”
“And here is where my story becomes important to you. I had fallen in with a group of adventurers, and many a night was spent arguing with them over the value of action. I needed money, this was true, but helping these peasants was of no importance to me. I would protect myself, personal safety was always my highest concern. My one friend, a Paladin of Erathis, held a different view. In protecting these people, we incentivized them to protect us when the time came. This was the basis of civilization which his Goddess held above all other virtues. I scoffed at his ideas, they were the idealistic ramblings of a fool who did not know the depths of mortal depravity.”
He chuckles to himself, “Only a fool would act like that. He saved my life 312 times, even when the Devils began to track me down, he fought for me. There was a Devourer, a monstrous servant of the Demon Prince of Undeath, it was making its way up through the Root and we set forth to stop it. He was knocked out by the beast, and as it reached out to finish him, I stepped between them. It was the stupidest thing I had done in my entire life, fleeing was the smart thing, the best way to keep myself safe. In that moment as the Devourer struck me down, I realized my friend had been right. In helping other, I could convince them to help me.”
“So that is what I have done. I am not a kind nor a gentle ruler, but I am a fair one. I keep this Tower safe, I fight on behalf of the people, and when I am threatened, as I was with Godendes, the people help me to survive. I am safe now, because to kill me, one would have to fight the entire might of the Tower, and as long as I arbitrate fairly, the people have no reason to wish me gone.”
“Apprenticeships are one method. Not only does sharing my knowledge and power in-debt those individuals to me, but if one can master the magics of the Spire, then they could assist me against more powerful foes, increasing the odds of victory. I have tried many times, a few have tried to usurp me and for that I killed them. Others simply drank too fast and too deep, and killed themselves. One ended up much like yourself, her body destroyed but continuing on as a living spell. It drove her mad, the desire for a body, and she focused her studies elsewhere. You have proven yourself capable of taking the first steps, and I could accept you on as an apprentice, but you hear the song of the crystal now. You are correct in guessing that you cannot resist it forever, it will draw you within its depths. This is why those of my students who found they did not have the skill were forced to flee from the Towers entirely, making their homes far from the call. To remain was to court death, and they could not face such.”
“Those are your only choices. Flee this place, die, or attempt to learn. Your records indicate one path, but they have proven false before. You need to decide where your path leads.”
“I won’t tell anyone what you’ve told me.”
“Clearly, I thrive on my curiosity, but I also don’t take kindly to death. Considering I now hear the song of the crystal, how will this affect my ability in the apprenticeship? I fear, surprisingly more than death, that in choosing this path I may have to submit myself to committing various acts of violence despite my plea of pacifism. Your thoughts?”
“Pacifism. Hmph.” The archmagus stands, facing the massive bookshelf that dominates the left side of the room.
“I find it to be the path of weaklings. No, that is not quite right. Weaklings are sycophants who cannot choose a path for themselves, Pacifists are deluded fools. The very Earth beneath us wants to kill us all, beasts with no sense beyond their hunger for flesh stalk beneath our feet daily. Men deluded by promises seek to cut down others to make their own place. My life has been one of violence from the start, as has every mortal soul that takes on flesh in this world.”
“And what is violence, young one? I have met those who claim to never harm a soul, yet deny the thief their gold, does this not harm a starving thief? Should then a pacifist not bend knee, and offer their neck for any blade that comes along? Clearly you do not agree, or you could not have defied Godendes within the Conflux. Yet when blade and fang are bared against you, what shall your answer be? Fleeing does not befit one with power, it only serves to embolden those who would hunt you, and eventually you will be driven to a corner. Surrender? Giving up your life in the face of an adversary, we have already ruled that as pitiful. That leaves you with but two choices.”
“Either bare your own fangs, and tear down those who would do you harm, or become untouchable.”
He lets the silence hang before continuing. “If it is merely physical harm you despise, then I would not call you a Pacifist. A master of the Arcane can bend and break the minds of his enemies without harming their bodies, seal their souls in gemstones, place them in eternal blissful slumber. These are acts of violence to me, just more subtle than the brute force utilized by others. I will not force you to learn what you do not wish to learn, but as my apprentice you will be expected to defend this Tower. If you can do so, I do not care which path you walk. I find good and evil merely labels, worthless ones at that. The strong do not care if the weak call them evil, some enjoy it. Determination, Power, Knowledge. These are the true measures of the world. If you wish to shackle your Power to a flimsy promise, do so. But do not be amazed when that promise is shattered under the reality of the world.” He turns back to you.
“As to your progress. Most of my previous apprentices were chosen for their exceptional ability, then taught to enter the Conflux and hear the Song of the Spire. You have moved beyond that, but you lack the breadth of knowledge and experience I typically expect. First, we will need to see if you can partition the Song from your mind, if you can resist it and leave the Conflux whenever you enter. That is paramount if you are to avoid death. Then, you shall need to study, expand your knowledge of the basics of the Arcane, only then can we begin the path to mastery. If you are a quick student, I expect it will only take 200 years or so until you are finished with the first stages.”
He walks back to his desk, the paneling behind his chair shifting and changing to reveal a door. He opens it, and the Song of the Spire triples in volume within you. Inside the small room is a branch of the Crystal, flowing out to a point nearly to the door. The Archmagus whispers words that thunder against you, Words of Power, and grasps the branch. When your eyes clear from the rush of magic, he has turned back, and the wall is as it was. He holds in his hand a simple ring made of pure magic crystal.
“It is a long path, difficult and you may yet make it more so by your decisions. Are you ready to take the first step?”
“I suppose you carry validity in your sentiments.”
“I’ll do it.”
You take the ring, and place it upon your finger. Immediately the Song… shifts. It takes you a moment to figure out, but the Song which came from outside you now reverberates within your mind.
The next few weeks are spent learning how to access the Conflux within the Spire and leave again intact. With every dip the song becomes more familiar. It never leaves you, but you find your life following its rhythm, placing it in the background where its impact can be reduced. Not ignored though, as you discover one morning when you find yourself unconsciously trying to enter the Conflux without the proper precautions. It is a constant strain upon you, along with the meditations and mental exercises. You find your inability to sleep a boon, giving you many more hours for study and practice.
Also open to you is the Library of the Archmagus. Not all of his work, that much is obvious, but much much more than you had access to before. When not training you devour tomes of Arcane theory, texts describing the Weave, The Astral Sea, and other even stranger theories as to the structure of magic in the universe. You learn of techniques you thought impossible, like spells to bring time to a standstill around you, or to see the future. You also find texts which explain the basis of Godendes’ work, theories on using arcane power to alter the physical structure of others permanently, of trapping the soul and even how to separate yourself into such a receptacle.
You learn that Godendes’ Emerald was transported to a Vault somewhere within the Academy, a place where dangerous items are stored.
Is there anything else you would like to do with your time until the group meets back up?
Here is also a link to a list of wizard spells if you want to copy any of them, I figure you could get another 12 spells copied with the time and access you now have.
Honestly, I would just stick to my studies. I seem to have a lot of reading to do!
Very well, as a corollary to this, any questions you have about the game or the world that I haven’t answered before now? Seems as good a time as any to answer such questions.
Nothing in particular, or at least nothing at the moment. Questions will certainly arise once the group meets back up, but I think I’m content for now!
mydarkforest 