Chapter 233: 233
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"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr..." the man prompted.
The young mage smiled and said, "Just Orison. Are you trying to take years off my life by calling me Mr... Uh, Mr..."
The man gave a thin smile and replied, "I'm off then, Orison. Let people think you're a youngster. Sorcerers of the Brotherhood may prize elven blood but the common man around these parts won't warm up to you very far. If need be, you can always tell them that you have a little islander heritage but that won't stop the mean spirited."
The young mage said, "I'd rather travel alongside than follow like a whipped dog. I'm heading to the nearest town but I'm not overly familiar with these parts."
The man grumbled, "I was afraid you'd say that."
With an annoyed thumb jerk, he pointed at the back lip of the cart. Once Orison was settled into place, they were on their way after the donkey pulling it gave the young mage the stink eye. Through stilted conversation that grew ever more strained as they reached nightfall, the young mage learned enough about the prices of things and the surrounding area that he could at least buy something without immediately being taken advantage of.
As the man set up camp, he said, "I don't share tents, so..."
Orison chuckled and set up his own, even supplemented the man's jerky with some trail mix that came with Osomo's care packages. He agonized over it for awhile but ended up bringing out the opened bottle of Doc Agave that was starting to show signs of not adjusting to extra-dimensional travel. After taking a couple of shots, he set the rest down between them as open invitation without directly offering.
The man agonized over internal issues himself before accepting. But after getting over the hump of the first drink, the man quickly followed it by three more like he was afraid his road companion would put it away if it was set down. The young mage could hardly blame him.
Like where Keita had gone, this world was close to the edge of the wide divide to the mid dimensions. It was certainly close enough to pretty much follow the more rigid law possessed there. The drink that could restore over a decade before losing that part of its benefits where it was made, did little more than shave a couple of years off at best. Its real benefit was the easing of the endless litany of wound remnants spread throughout the older adventurer's body.
The man smirked but didn't add anything. After another shot apiece, he let the man put away the rest. "Friendly acquaintanceship is the beginning of true friends. There's no push. It'll be what it will be."
The man nodded and said, "Jarvis of Rivendale. Maybe you've heard of me?"
"No but that's not such a bad thing. I can make up my mind what kind of person you are without rumors and stories getting in the way," Orison said sagely.
Jarvis looked a little forlorn as he said, "A man who has little else craves for his name and deeds to live after him, at least."
"Well, I'm a p*ss poor example of a learned person. My interests are very narrow. What I know passably well wouldn't even fill a decent sized bookshelf," the young mage exclaimed.
"I couldn't tell. You play the part of scholar so well," the man said in good-natured sarcasm.
Sobering to a grim face, he added, "At least I know what your master was thinking but he went about it the wrong way. You're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble."
"If it won't strain your doubtlessly tired and overused vocal cords, maybe you could highlight the worst of it for me," Orison said, trying not to let the dire prediction ruin his fragile good mood.
Jarvis stared into the small campfire for awhile and said, "The worst? Obvious signs of elven blood and magic. Your master flung you into the heart of the Sisterhood's domain. A month's travel in any direction would take you from most of the persecution of both your heritage and being a male sorcerer."
Thinking deeply, Orison said, "What can I expect and what could a woman not of the Sisterhood expect?"
Jarvis said, "If you're caught, bend the knee and take the brand of whatever mistress you're assigned to or have your magic burned out of you. A free woman may choose if she's seen as worthy. Those who become part of the Sisterhood play the same games you'd expect. Those who don't, can't officially or legally make a living with their art outside of healing. There's never enough of that kind to go around."
Orison thought out loud, "That's kind of harsh."
The older man snorted and said, "Shoe was on the other foot not a generation ago. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to figure out how those women were treated. The Sisterhood is strict. But believe me, they're a lot softer handed than the old Brotherhood used to be."
The conversation died after that. Before retiring, Orison talked the man into lending one of each different type of coin Jarvis had. Retiring to their own tents, the young mage spent some time converting his own coinage into a variety outside of what the world automatically stamped the survivors into.
It was a harsh and unforgiving kind of world. And even though he would have been financially fine where he was, it was obvious that he'd be moving on quickly. Few things made a person stand out in dangerous ways more than using another kingdom's coins and the adventurer's stash spoke of many kingdoms.
After exhausting himself stashing a few small bags he wouldn't be using for some time into his inner space, the young mage was ready for sleep. That sleep barely lasted long enough for him to feel refreshed as he woke up from an anxiety fueled nightmare. Since he wouldn't be getting back to rest, Orison used the time to do a round of martial and magic meditation to add the edge back on and banish the last vestiges of fatigue.
The next morning, camp was broken down quickly and Jarvis said, "You sure you want to head into town?"
Steeling his resolve, Orison said, "As long as I kept the faith with you and your life wasn't on the line, could I trust you?"
The man looked at him skeptically and said, "I don't know why you'd take my word on it... Yes. But just so you know, I WILL choose my life. I'm no coward and I have my own bottom line but don't expect too much from me."
Orison nodded. "My biggest problems are something you can help me fix but it might be a bit jarring for you... visually."
The man's face grew tight and wariness had returned. "Go on."
"I can use a trick to take on another form. I don't get much say in it, as it will make me look like what the first person who touches me afterwards... wants," Orison said.
Grimly, a look the man had obviously mastered long ago, Jarvis said, "Are you a demon or a doppelganger?"
The young mage said, "No. I was once a human and even though I don't identify AS one I still identify with humans... and being a man, no matter what I look like."
Jarvis wasn't fully satisfied until Orison volunteered a few drops of blood for the older adventurer to pour some things on. "Now, I'm more curious than anything. Are you sure this takes nothing from me?"
"Just a blueprint for another form. I'll relax the pattern of my physical vessel and we can fist bump a month of my traveling's problems away. Well, my two biggest ones, according to you..." the young mage said.
With a large towel in one hand, he relaxed the pattern of his form and deactivated his suit. Reaching out a fuzzy, slightly luminescent fist, he knocked it against the partially swollen and scarred knuckles of Jarvis'. With the towel draped down between him and the older adventurer, he checked himself out.
He thought, "Pail hair, peach skin and modest proportions. I can live with that. If I was any younger, it would be disturbing and I don't like how fragile I look but it could be a whole lot worse."
A little later and back in his suit, Orison was pacing alongside the donkey with Jarvis as the older adventurer looked him over with a derisive glare. "I want my money back."
Orison said, "Uh, I gave it to you this morning?"
The man cracked a thin smile, easily missed, as he said, "I meant that you said you would look like what I 'wanted'. You don't look anything like that."
The young mage smiled brightly and said, "Your disappointment is my joy."
As they lapsed into another long bout of silence, Orison thought, "I'm not a succubus... or rather incubus... whatever. Only the simplest of people would see the same person on me as one of those demons. They have a short term need to lure prey. I have an ability built around a longer view. And at its heart, its a far more insidious one.
"Jarvis has lived a long life as a... whatever he actually is. He's used to pursuing momentary pleasures. Somewhere along the way, he's partially convinced himself that's all he wants but in the deep of night, the hollowness of his existence eats at him. He'd be horrified, I think, if he knew how much of a billboard for his soft spots I actually am. Youth, innocence and lets not forget WEAK.
"Poor, deluded guy. What you see when you look at me isn't your vision of lust, it's your vision of love. It's what you would treasure and protect, give your life for. I'm perfectly happy with you remaining blissfully unaware. I hope it stays that way and we can part on friendly terms."
With a plethora of small worries plaguing him, the young mage asked, "I promise, this isn't going to become an annoying reoccurring question. How much longer til we arrive?"
The man said, "Midday tomorrow if the weather holds. Would that it could be sooner. This carcass is already attracting flies. By tomorrow..."
Motivated by mundane desires, Orison turned to the completion of Degree Shift. With no particular defensive magic relatively near completion, he decided to at least be comfortable and clean. Keeping from having to smell a rotting carcass he was riding with was a plus.
When they stopped for the donkey's midday break, the man faced spider thing was chilled to just above freezing. He was ready to step up and make the evening campfire a literal snap too. Instead of setting his gaze to the Fire Shot spell, however, he moved on to the Light spell. Illuminating more of the bridge between healing and heat seemed much more important.
Some instinct and inner desire made him shy away from recklessly pursuing destructive forces. Working him back towards positive energy wasn't something that would only increase his healing ability, however. The world he was in resided in a darker shade of gray, balance wise. And the ancient hunter spell was far more suited to defending from its ills than simple fire alone.
If it came down to it, he could always refer back to Stefen's changes in the spellbook for a hasty complete. But, he knew that wouldn't get him the same kind of comprehension reward as working on it himself would provide. He also still felt that the early revelations would shape end results.
There were parts of his 'super' model that touched on things that even his special sight couldn't help him with. Those things were far beyond him and delved into mysteries at the core of law when he was using a back door to catch glimpses of superficial understandings. There were no shortcuts there. Or at least, none that he knew or could use. What he knew or felt he did, was that staying true to ones own inner nature, as they wanted to be, held stronger meaning.
Aside from a few needful interactions, they passed the majority of the afternoon as they had the morning, in silence. When Orison would feel mentally and spiritually fatigued, he would meditate, stretch his legs and start again. Jarvis appreciated the silence and seemed a bit surprised at how well the young mage fit into it. Sometimes it was easy to forget he was there but the comfort another presence brought to lonely travel lingered.
While they set up camp that evening, Jarvis said, "Why do you look so tired? You didn't do anything."
Orison smiled bitterly. "The average person burns one fifth of the energy they get from food... with their brain. I was probably clocking two, if not more, times that amount. And nothing is more exhausting than mental fatigue. It just... takes the color out of everything."
The man looked at the young mage sharply. "And what, pray tell, were you doing with all that extra thinking?"
Projecting more cheer than he actually felt, Orison said as he grasped at the sky, "Making the forces of existence my b*tch."
Lowering his hand and looking tiredly at the campfire, "Relearning the Mage Light spell... correctly. Take my word for it, it might take an apprentice months to learn the spell but the spell they learn is garbage."
Jarvis sighed. "Forget I asked. All sorcerers think their special version of something is the best."
"You've seen another sorcerer cast a simple Ignite, right? That's the one most use to light candles and fireplaces until they run a full circle around a spell that place holds a lot of those minor little tricks." Orison said.
The older adventurer nodded.
"Then, watch this," the young mage added as he cast an Ignite onto the cup of water he hadn't finished.
A faint blue flame that didn't produce much heat danced on the surface of the water while small bubbles rose up out of it.
Puzzled, the man said, "You're holding a magic flame over water? That's not really..."
Orison chuckled barely registering that the voice he had turned it into a foreign, musical sound. "I'm not 'holding' anything. It's still going off that small magical charge I put in. It's 'burning' the water. Well, it's more complicated than that but the action and conversion are actually scary simple."
Jarvis looked at the young mage in concern and said, "I don't know if I want to believe you. If such a simple magic..."
The young mage watched the flame finally flicker its last as the tiny bit of magic that supported the process was finally exhausted. "That's right. A simple ignite spell was refined to the point where it could initiate a chain reaction that allowed water to burn for a few seconds. It didn't even cost any more than usual."
Orison looked up to see that Jarvis was staring at him with heavy, mixed emotion and gave the man a reassuring smile. "But I didn't do it so that I can make a fireball capable of burning down a village, unable to be put out. I did it because I'm connecting a bridge between heat and healing... Have you ever wondered how your body turns that jerky you lean on so much into the building blocks that stitch you back together while you tear yourself apart in fights and whatnot?
"There are tiny little chemical fires going off all over you, all the time. As a well traveled man, I know you know that eating will raise your body temperature by a bit. It's all those little combustions going off all over us that make us produce body heat at all..."
He explained for a bit more and seeing that Jarvis was no longer alarmed but growing bored, he said, "So, I'm creating things above and beyond the standard by so much they are terrifying. But where I'm reaching for, that's the baseline. Without that deep of an understanding, I'll be next to powerless."
After that, Orison left the speechless man to mull over his thoughts and called it a night after a surprisingly unpleasant Degree Shift to clean himself. Having called his night so early, he was up hours before dawn. Ironically, within the silence and darkness, he made leaps and bounds on the light spell.
Unknowingly, he had fallen into a light trance yet again. As he finished up the spell, connections that interplayed between certain models practically aligned themselves in his mind. A reminder from Jarvis let him realize that quite some time had passed and it was already dawn.
While he cast another Degree Shift on the carcass for the older adventurer, he said, "I'm on the verge of a breakthrough on something important. Since I have a solid road to follow, I should be alright now. Hopefully, it won't take that long and I'll catch back up with you. But if I don't, thanks for the lift."
The older adventurer paused for a moment but continued packing up with no comment.
Right before he got the donkey moving, he said, "If you run into troubles from dumb men who don't know how to leave you alone, feel free to use my name and say you've got a room at the Red Brick Inn. If you run into trouble with gate guards bringing me up is only going to make it worse."
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"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr..." the man prompted.
The young mage smiled and said, "Just Orison. Are you trying to take years off my life by calling me Mr... Uh, Mr..."
The man gave a thin smile and replied, "I'm off then, Orison. Let people think you're a youngster. Sorcerers of the Brotherhood may prize elven blood but the common man around these parts won't warm up to you very far. If need be, you can always tell them that you have a little islander heritage but that won't stop the mean spirited."
The young mage said, "I'd rather travel alongside than follow like a whipped dog. I'm heading to the nearest town but I'm not overly familiar with these parts."
The man grumbled, "I was afraid you'd say that."
With an annoyed thumb jerk, he pointed at the back lip of the cart. Once Orison was settled into place, they were on their way after the donkey pulling it gave the young mage the stink eye. Through stilted conversation that grew ever more strained as they reached nightfall, the young mage learned enough about the prices of things and the surrounding area that he could at least buy something without immediately being taken advantage of.
As the man set up camp, he said, "I don't share tents, so..."
Orison chuckled and set up his own, even supplemented the man's jerky with some trail mix that came with Osomo's care packages. He agonized over it for awhile but ended up bringing out the opened bottle of Doc Agave that was starting to show signs of not adjusting to extra-dimensional travel. After taking a couple of shots, he set the rest down between them as open invitation without directly offering.
The man agonized over internal issues himself before accepting. But after getting over the hump of the first drink, the man quickly followed it by three more like he was afraid his road companion would put it away if it was set down. The young mage could hardly blame him.
Like where Keita had gone, this world was close to the edge of the wide divide to the mid dimensions. It was certainly close enough to pretty much follow the more rigid law possessed there. The drink that could restore over a decade before losing that part of its benefits where it was made, did little more than shave a couple of years off at best. Its real benefit was the easing of the endless litany of wound remnants spread throughout the older adventurer's body.
The man smirked but didn't add anything. After another shot apiece, he let the man put away the rest. "Friendly acquaintanceship is the beginning of true friends. There's no push. It'll be what it will be."
The man nodded and said, "Jarvis of Rivendale. Maybe you've heard of me?"
"No but that's not such a bad thing. I can make up my mind what kind of person you are without rumors and stories getting in the way," Orison said sagely.
Jarvis looked a little forlorn as he said, "A man who has little else craves for his name and deeds to live after him, at least."
"Well, I'm a p*ss poor example of a learned person. My interests are very narrow. What I know passably well wouldn't even fill a decent sized bookshelf," the young mage exclaimed.
"I couldn't tell. You play the part of scholar so well," the man said in good-natured sarcasm.
Sobering to a grim face, he added, "At least I know what your master was thinking but he went about it the wrong way. You're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble."
"If it won't strain your doubtlessly tired and overused vocal cords, maybe you could highlight the worst of it for me," Orison said, trying not to let the dire prediction ruin his fragile good mood.
Jarvis stared into the small campfire for awhile and said, "The worst? Obvious signs of elven blood and magic. Your master flung you into the heart of the Sisterhood's domain. A month's travel in any direction would take you from most of the persecution of both your heritage and being a male sorcerer."
Thinking deeply, Orison said, "What can I expect and what could a woman not of the Sisterhood expect?"
Jarvis said, "If you're caught, bend the knee and take the brand of whatever mistress you're assigned to or have your magic burned out of you. A free woman may choose if she's seen as worthy. Those who become part of the Sisterhood play the same games you'd expect. Those who don't, can't officially or legally make a living with their art outside of healing. There's never enough of that kind to go around."
Orison thought out loud, "That's kind of harsh."
The older man snorted and said, "Shoe was on the other foot not a generation ago. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to figure out how those women were treated. The Sisterhood is strict. But believe me, they're a lot softer handed than the old Brotherhood used to be."
The conversation died after that. Before retiring, Orison talked the man into lending one of each different type of coin Jarvis had. Retiring to their own tents, the young mage spent some time converting his own coinage into a variety outside of what the world automatically stamped the survivors into.
It was a harsh and unforgiving kind of world. And even though he would have been financially fine where he was, it was obvious that he'd be moving on quickly. Few things made a person stand out in dangerous ways more than using another kingdom's coins and the adventurer's stash spoke of many kingdoms.
After exhausting himself stashing a few small bags he wouldn't be using for some time into his inner space, the young mage was ready for sleep. That sleep barely lasted long enough for him to feel refreshed as he woke up from an anxiety fueled nightmare. Since he wouldn't be getting back to rest, Orison used the time to do a round of martial and magic meditation to add the edge back on and banish the last vestiges of fatigue.
The next morning, camp was broken down quickly and Jarvis said, "You sure you want to head into town?"
Steeling his resolve, Orison said, "As long as I kept the faith with you and your life wasn't on the line, could I trust you?"
The man looked at him skeptically and said, "I don't know why you'd take my word on it... Yes. But just so you know, I WILL choose my life. I'm no coward and I have my own bottom line but don't expect too much from me."
Orison nodded. "My biggest problems are something you can help me fix but it might be a bit jarring for you... visually."
The man's face grew tight and wariness had returned. "Go on."
"I can use a trick to take on another form. I don't get much say in it, as it will make me look like what the first person who touches me afterwards... wants," Orison said.
Grimly, a look the man had obviously mastered long ago, Jarvis said, "Are you a demon or a doppelganger?"
The young mage said, "No. I was once a human and even though I don't identify AS one I still identify with humans... and being a man, no matter what I look like."
Jarvis wasn't fully satisfied until Orison volunteered a few drops of blood for the older adventurer to pour some things on. "Now, I'm more curious than anything. Are you sure this takes nothing from me?"
"Just a blueprint for another form. I'll relax the pattern of my physical vessel and we can fist bump a month of my traveling's problems away. Well, my two biggest ones, according to you..." the young mage said.
With a large towel in one hand, he relaxed the pattern of his form and deactivated his suit. Reaching out a fuzzy, slightly luminescent fist, he knocked it against the partially swollen and scarred knuckles of Jarvis'. With the towel draped down between him and the older adventurer, he checked himself out.
He thought, "Pail hair, peach skin and modest proportions. I can live with that. If I was any younger, it would be disturbing and I don't like how fragile I look but it could be a whole lot worse."
A little later and back in his suit, Orison was pacing alongside the donkey with Jarvis as the older adventurer looked him over with a derisive glare. "I want my money back."
Orison said, "Uh, I gave it to you this morning?"
The man cracked a thin smile, easily missed, as he said, "I meant that you said you would look like what I 'wanted'. You don't look anything like that."
The young mage smiled brightly and said, "Your disappointment is my joy."
As they lapsed into another long bout of silence, Orison thought, "I'm not a succubus... or rather incubus... whatever. Only the simplest of people would see the same person on me as one of those demons. They have a short term need to lure prey. I have an ability built around a longer view. And at its heart, its a far more insidious one.
"Jarvis has lived a long life as a... whatever he actually is. He's used to pursuing momentary pleasures. Somewhere along the way, he's partially convinced himself that's all he wants but in the deep of night, the hollowness of his existence eats at him. He'd be horrified, I think, if he knew how much of a billboard for his soft spots I actually am. Youth, innocence and lets not forget WEAK.
"Poor, deluded guy. What you see when you look at me isn't your vision of lust, it's your vision of love. It's what you would treasure and protect, give your life for. I'm perfectly happy with you remaining blissfully unaware. I hope it stays that way and we can part on friendly terms."
With a plethora of small worries plaguing him, the young mage asked, "I promise, this isn't going to become an annoying reoccurring question. How much longer til we arrive?"
The man said, "Midday tomorrow if the weather holds. Would that it could be sooner. This carcass is already attracting flies. By tomorrow..."
Motivated by mundane desires, Orison turned to the completion of Degree Shift. With no particular defensive magic relatively near completion, he decided to at least be comfortable and clean. Keeping from having to smell a rotting carcass he was riding with was a plus.
When they stopped for the donkey's midday break, the man faced spider thing was chilled to just above freezing. He was ready to step up and make the evening campfire a literal snap too. Instead of setting his gaze to the Fire Shot spell, however, he moved on to the Light spell. Illuminating more of the bridge between healing and heat seemed much more important.
Some instinct and inner desire made him shy away from recklessly pursuing destructive forces. Working him back towards positive energy wasn't something that would only increase his healing ability, however. The world he was in resided in a darker shade of gray, balance wise. And the ancient hunter spell was far more suited to defending from its ills than simple fire alone.
If it came down to it, he could always refer back to Stefen's changes in the spellbook for a hasty complete. But, he knew that wouldn't get him the same kind of comprehension reward as working on it himself would provide. He also still felt that the early revelations would shape end results.
There were parts of his 'super' model that touched on things that even his special sight couldn't help him with. Those things were far beyond him and delved into mysteries at the core of law when he was using a back door to catch glimpses of superficial understandings. There were no shortcuts there. Or at least, none that he knew or could use. What he knew or felt he did, was that staying true to ones own inner nature, as they wanted to be, held stronger meaning.
Aside from a few needful interactions, they passed the majority of the afternoon as they had the morning, in silence. When Orison would feel mentally and spiritually fatigued, he would meditate, stretch his legs and start again. Jarvis appreciated the silence and seemed a bit surprised at how well the young mage fit into it. Sometimes it was easy to forget he was there but the comfort another presence brought to lonely travel lingered.
While they set up camp that evening, Jarvis said, "Why do you look so tired? You didn't do anything."
Orison smiled bitterly. "The average person burns one fifth of the energy they get from food... with their brain. I was probably clocking two, if not more, times that amount. And nothing is more exhausting than mental fatigue. It just... takes the color out of everything."
The man looked at the young mage sharply. "And what, pray tell, were you doing with all that extra thinking?"
Projecting more cheer than he actually felt, Orison said as he grasped at the sky, "Making the forces of existence my b*tch."
Lowering his hand and looking tiredly at the campfire, "Relearning the Mage Light spell... correctly. Take my word for it, it might take an apprentice months to learn the spell but the spell they learn is garbage."
Jarvis sighed. "Forget I asked. All sorcerers think their special version of something is the best."
"You've seen another sorcerer cast a simple Ignite, right? That's the one most use to light candles and fireplaces until they run a full circle around a spell that place holds a lot of those minor little tricks." Orison said.
The older adventurer nodded.
"Then, watch this," the young mage added as he cast an Ignite onto the cup of water he hadn't finished.
A faint blue flame that didn't produce much heat danced on the surface of the water while small bubbles rose up out of it.
Puzzled, the man said, "You're holding a magic flame over water? That's not really..."
Orison chuckled barely registering that the voice he had turned it into a foreign, musical sound. "I'm not 'holding' anything. It's still going off that small magical charge I put in. It's 'burning' the water. Well, it's more complicated than that but the action and conversion are actually scary simple."
Jarvis looked at the young mage in concern and said, "I don't know if I want to believe you. If such a simple magic..."
The young mage watched the flame finally flicker its last as the tiny bit of magic that supported the process was finally exhausted. "That's right. A simple ignite spell was refined to the point where it could initiate a chain reaction that allowed water to burn for a few seconds. It didn't even cost any more than usual."
Orison looked up to see that Jarvis was staring at him with heavy, mixed emotion and gave the man a reassuring smile. "But I didn't do it so that I can make a fireball capable of burning down a village, unable to be put out. I did it because I'm connecting a bridge between heat and healing... Have you ever wondered how your body turns that jerky you lean on so much into the building blocks that stitch you back together while you tear yourself apart in fights and whatnot?
"There are tiny little chemical fires going off all over you, all the time. As a well traveled man, I know you know that eating will raise your body temperature by a bit. It's all those little combustions going off all over us that make us produce body heat at all..."
He explained for a bit more and seeing that Jarvis was no longer alarmed but growing bored, he said, "So, I'm creating things above and beyond the standard by so much they are terrifying. But where I'm reaching for, that's the baseline. Without that deep of an understanding, I'll be next to powerless."
After that, Orison left the speechless man to mull over his thoughts and called it a night after a surprisingly unpleasant Degree Shift to clean himself. Having called his night so early, he was up hours before dawn. Ironically, within the silence and darkness, he made leaps and bounds on the light spell.
Unknowingly, he had fallen into a light trance yet again. As he finished up the spell, connections that interplayed between certain models practically aligned themselves in his mind. A reminder from Jarvis let him realize that quite some time had passed and it was already dawn.
While he cast another Degree Shift on the carcass for the older adventurer, he said, "I'm on the verge of a breakthrough on something important. Since I have a solid road to follow, I should be alright now. Hopefully, it won't take that long and I'll catch back up with you. But if I don't, thanks for the lift."
The older adventurer paused for a moment but continued packing up with no comment.
Right before he got the donkey moving, he said, "If you run into troubles from dumb men who don't know how to leave you alone, feel free to use my name and say you've got a room at the Red Brick Inn. If you run into trouble with gate guards bringing me up is only going to make it worse."
"Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr..." the man prompted. The young mage smiled and said, "Just Orison. Are you trying to take years off my life by calling me Mr... Uh, Mr..." The man gave a thin smile and replied, "I'm off then, Orison. Let people think you're a youngster. Sorcerers of the Brotherhood may prize elven blood but the common man around these parts won't warm up to you very far. If need be, you can always tell them that you have a little islander heritage but that won't stop the mean spirited." The young mage said, "I'd rather travel alongside than follow like a whipped dog. I'm heading to the nearest town but I'm not overly familiar with these parts." The man grumbled, "I was afraid you'd say that." With an annoyed thumb jerk, he pointed at the back lip of the cart. Once Orison was settled into place, they were on their way after the donkey pulling it gave the young mage the stink eye. Through stilted conversation that grew ever more strained as they reached nightfall, the young mage learned enough about the prices of things and the surrounding area that he could at least buy something without immediately being taken advantage of. As the man set up camp, he said, "I don't share tents, so..." Orison chuckled and set up his own, even supplemented the man's jerky with some trail mix that came with Osomo's care packages. He agonized over it for awhile but ended up bringing out the opened bottle of Doc Agave that was starting to show signs of not adjusting to extra-dimensional travel. After taking a couple of shots, he set the rest down between them as open invitation without directly offering. The man agonized over internal issues himself before accepting. But after getting over the hump of the first drink, the man quickly followed it by three more like he was afraid his road companion would put it away if it was set down. The young mage could hardly blame him. Like where Keita had gone, this world was close to the edge of the wide divide to the mid dimensions. It was certainly close enough to pretty much follow the more rigid law possessed there. The drink that could restore over a decade before losing that part of its benefits where it was made, did little more than shave a couple of years off at best. Its real benefit was the easing of the endless litany of wound remnants spread throughout the older adventurer's body. The man smirked but didn't add anything. After another shot apiece, he let the man put away the rest. "Friendly acquaintanceship is the beginning of true friends. There's no push. It'll be what it will be." The man nodded and said, "Jarvis of Rivendale. Maybe you've heard of me?" "No but that's not such a bad thing. I can make up my mind what kind of person you are without rumors and stories getting in the way," Orison said sagely. Jarvis looked a little forlorn as he said, "A man who has little else craves for his name and deeds to live after him, at least." "Well, I'm a p*ss poor example of a learned person. My interests are very narrow. What I know passably well wouldn't even fill a decent sized bookshelf," the young mage exclaimed. "I couldn't tell. You play the part of scholar so well," the man said in good-natured sarcasm. Sobering to a grim face, he added, "At least I know what your master was thinking but he went about it the wrong way. You're going to get yourself into a lot of trouble." "If it won't strain your doubtlessly tired and overused vocal cords, maybe you could highlight the worst of it for me," Orison said, trying not to let the dire prediction ruin his fragile good mood. Jarvis stared into the small campfire for awhile and said, "The worst? Obvious signs of elven blood and magic. Your master flung you into the heart of the Sisterhood's domain. A month's travel in any direction would take you from most of the persecution of both your heritage and being a male sorcerer." Thinking deeply, Orison said, "What can I expect and what could a woman not of the Sisterhood expect?" Jarvis said, "If you're caught, bend the knee and take the brand of whatever mistress you're assigned to or have your magic burned out of you. A free woman may choose if she's seen as worthy. Those who become part of the Sisterhood play the same games you'd expect. Those who don't, can't officially or legally make a living with their art outside of healing. There's never enough of that kind to go around." Orison thought out loud, "That's kind of harsh." The older man snorted and said, "Shoe was on the other foot not a generation ago. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to figure out how those women were treated. The Sisterhood is strict. But believe me, they're a lot softer handed than the old Brotherhood used to be." The conversation died after that. Before retiring, Orison talked the man into lending one of each different type of coin Jarvis had. Retiring to their own tents, the young mage spent some time converting his own coinage into a variety outside of what the world automatically stamped the survivors into. It was a harsh and unforgiving kind of world. And even though he would have been financially fine where he was, it was obvious that he'd be moving on quickly. Few things made a person stand out in dangerous ways more than using another kingdom's coins and the adventurer's stash spoke of many kingdoms. After exhausting himself stashing a few small bags he wouldn't be using for some time into his inner space, the young mage was ready for sleep. That sleep barely lasted long enough for him to feel refreshed as he woke up from an anxiety fueled nightmare. Since he wouldn't be getting back to rest, Orison used the time to do a round of martial and magic meditation to add the edge back on and banish the last vestiges of fatigue. The next morning, camp was broken down quickly and Jarvis said, "You sure you want to head into town?" Steeling his resolve, Orison said, "As long as I kept the faith with you and your life wasn't on the line, could I trust you?" The man looked at him skeptically and said, "I don't know why you'd take my word on it... Yes. But just so you know, I WILL choose my life. I'm no coward and I have my own bottom line but don't expect too much from me." Orison nodded. "My biggest problems are something you can help me fix but it might be a bit jarring for you... visually." The man's face grew tight and wariness had returned. "Go on." "I can use a trick to take on another form. I don't get much say in it, as it will make me look like what the first person who touches me afterwards... wants," Orison said. Grimly, a look the man had obviously mastered long ago, Jarvis said, "Are you a demon or a doppelganger?" The young mage said, "No. I was once a human and even though I don't identify AS one I still identify with humans... and being a man, no matter what I look like." Jarvis wasn't fully satisfied until Orison volunteered a few drops of blood for the older adventurer to pour some things on. "Now, I'm more curious than anything. Are you sure this takes nothing from me?" "Just a blueprint for another form. I'll relax the pattern of my physical vessel and we can fist bump a month of my traveling's problems away. Well, my two biggest ones, according to you..." the young mage said. With a large towel in one hand, he relaxed the pattern of his form and deactivated his suit. Reaching out a fuzzy, slightly luminescent fist, he knocked it against the partially swollen and scarred knuckles of Jarvis'. With the towel draped down between him and the older adventurer, he checked himself out. He thought, "Pail hair, peach skin and modest proportions. I can live with that. If I was any younger, it would be disturbing and I don't like how fragile I look but it could be a whole lot worse." A little later and back in his suit, Orison was pacing alongside the donkey with Jarvis as the older adventurer looked him over with a derisive glare. "I want my money back." Orison said, "Uh, I gave it to you this morning?" The man cracked a thin smile, easily missed, as he said, "I meant that you said you would look like what I 'wanted'. You don't look anything like that." The young mage smiled brightly and said, "Your disappointment is my joy." As they lapsed into another long bout of silence, Orison thought, "I'm not a succubus... or rather incubus... whatever. Only the simplest of people would see the same person on me as one of those demons. They have a short term need to lure prey. I have an ability built around a longer view. And at its heart, its a far more insidious one. "Jarvis has lived a long life as a... whatever he actually is. He's used to pursuing momentary pleasures. Somewhere along the way, he's partially convinced himself that's all he wants but in the deep of night, the hollowness of his existence eats at him. He'd be horrified, I think, if he knew how much of a billboard for his soft spots I actually am. Youth, innocence and lets not forget WEAK. "Poor, deluded guy. What you see when you look at me isn't your vision of lust, it's your vision of love. It's what you would treasure and protect, give your life for. I'm perfectly happy with you remaining blissfully unaware. I hope it stays that way and we can part on friendly terms." With a plethora of small worries plaguing him, the young mage asked, "I promise, this isn't going to become an annoying reoccurring question. How much longer til we arrive?" The man said, "Midday tomorrow if the weather holds. Would that it could be sooner. This carcass is already attracting flies. By tomorrow..." Motivated by mundane desires, Orison turned to the completion of Degree Shift. With no particular defensive magic relatively near completion, he decided to at least be comfortable and clean. Keeping from having to smell a rotting carcass he was riding with was a plus. When they stopped for the donkey's midday break, the man faced spider thing was chilled to just above freezing. He was ready to step up and make the evening campfire a literal snap too. Instead of setting his gaze to the Fire Shot spell, however, he moved on to the Light spell. Illuminating more of the bridge between healing and heat seemed much more important. Some instinct and inner desire made him shy away from recklessly pursuing destructive forces. Working him back towards positive energy wasn't something that would only increase his healing ability, however. The world he was in resided in a darker shade of gray, balance wise. And the ancient hunter spell was far more suited to defending from its ills than simple fire alone. If it came down to it, he could always refer back to Stefen's changes in the spellbook for a hasty complete. But, he knew that wouldn't get him the same kind of comprehension reward as working on it himself would provide. He also still felt that the early revelations would shape end results. There were parts of his 'super' model that touched on things that even his special sight couldn't help him with. Those things were far beyond him and delved into mysteries at the core of law when he was using a back door to catch glimpses of superficial understandings. There were no shortcuts there. Or at least, none that he knew or could use. What he knew or felt he did, was that staying true to ones own inner nature, as they wanted to be, held stronger meaning. Aside from a few needful interactions, they passed the majority of the afternoon as they had the morning, in silence. When Orison would feel mentally and spiritually fatigued, he would meditate, stretch his legs and start again. Jarvis appreciated the silence and seemed a bit surprised at how well the young mage fit into it. Sometimes it was easy to forget he was there but the comfort another presence brought to lonely travel lingered. While they set up camp that evening, Jarvis said, "Why do you look so tired? You didn't do anything." Orison smiled bitterly. "The average person burns one fifth of the energy they get from food... with their brain. I was probably clocking two, if not more, times that amount. And nothing is more exhausting than mental fatigue. It just... takes the color out of everything." The man looked at the young mage sharply. "And what, pray tell, were you doing with all that extra thinking?" Projecting more cheer than he actually felt, Orison said as he grasped at the sky, "Making the forces of existence my b*tch." Lowering his hand and looking tiredly at the campfire, "Relearning the Mage Light spell... correctly. Take my word for it, it might take an apprentice months to learn the spell but the spell they learn is garbage." Jarvis sighed. "Forget I asked. All sorcerers think their special version of something is the best." "You've seen another sorcerer cast a simple Ignite, right? That's the one most use to light candles and fireplaces until they run a full circle around a spell that place holds a lot of those minor little tricks." Orison said. The older adventurer nodded. "Then, watch this," the young mage added as he cast an Ignite onto the cup of water he hadn't finished. A faint blue flame that didn't produce much heat danced on the surface of the water while small bubbles rose up out of it. Puzzled, the man said, "You're holding a magic flame over water? That's not really..." Orison chuckled barely registering that the voice he had turned it into a foreign, musical sound. "I'm not 'holding' anything. It's still going off that small magical charge I put in. It's 'burning' the water. Well, it's more complicated than that but the action and conversion are actually scary simple." Jarvis looked at the young mage in concern and said, "I don't know if I want to believe you. If such a simple magic..." The young mage watched the flame finally flicker its last as the tiny bit of magic that supported the process was finally exhausted. "That's right. A simple ignite spell was refined to the point where it could initiate a chain reaction that allowed water to burn for a few seconds. It didn't even cost any more than usual." Orison looked up to see that Jarvis was staring at him with heavy, mixed emotion and gave the man a reassuring smile. "But I didn't do it so that I can make a fireball capable of burning down a village, unable to be put out. I did it because I'm connecting a bridge between heat and healing... Have you ever wondered how your body turns that jerky you lean on so much into the building blocks that stitch you back together while you tear yourself apart in fights and whatnot? "There are tiny little chemical fires going off all over you, all the time. As a well traveled man, I know you know that eating will raise your body temperature by a bit. It's all those little combustions going off all over us that make us produce body heat at all..." He explained for a bit more and seeing that Jarvis was no longer alarmed but growing bored, he said, "So, I'm creating things above and beyond the standard by so much they are terrifying. But where I'm reaching for, that's the baseline. Without that deep of an understanding, I'll be next to powerless." After that, Orison left the speechless man to mull over his thoughts and called it a night after a surprisingly unpleasant Degree Shift to clean himself. Having called his night so early, he was up hours before dawn. Ironically, within the silence and darkness, he made leaps and bounds on the light spell. Unknowingly, he had fallen into a light trance yet again. As he finished up the spell, connections that interplayed between certain models practically aligned themselves in his mind. A reminder from Jarvis let him realize that quite some time had passed and it was already dawn. While he cast another Degree Shift on the carcass for the older adventurer, he said, "I'm on the verge of a breakthrough on something important. Since I have a solid road to follow, I should be alright now. Hopefully, it won't take that long and I'll catch back up with you. But if I don't, thanks for the lift." The older adventurer paused for a moment but continued packing up with no comment. Right before he got the donkey moving, he said, "If you run into troubles from dumb men who don't know how to leave you alone, feel free to use my name and say you've got a room at the Red Brick Inn. If you run into trouble with gate guards bringing me up is only going to make it worse."
