Post by bhagavat on Jul 23, 2012 7:38:39 GMT -5
They were leaving tomorrow. Thorne was having trouble keeping his attention on the wizard teaching the class. He was speaking about magic Thorne doubted he'd ever grasp anyway, having not exactly excelled in wizardry. Still, he was a Knight..... well... squire still, but soon to be Knighted. His arms training had been much easier for him.
His thoughts kept drifting away from the wizards lecture. The teacher was saying something about an illusion spell totally loosing Thorne's interest and he pictured the departure tomorrow morning. All he knew was that something of import was happening and a group was being sent from the Temple of Mystra in Waterdeep, south east into Cormyr. Perhaps some long lost artifact had been discovered... he didn't think it was but rumors for so many were to go.
Refocusing on the class he did his best to study the magic before him. Some of his companions were much more interested in the school of magic, but for Thorne, divination had always kept his interest. Taking quill to paper he spent the rest of the evening trying to scribe the spell before him. The class emptied as he kept at it. Finally the wizard took his work and shoo'd him out the door, saying... "The true art.... in the Art of Magic is using what you know.... WELL. Not just learning the magic spells themselves.... take heart young squire!"
-----
They had left Waterdeep a few hours past, it could still be seen when they topped a rise on the road. He walked along next to his mentor, Knight Kallen Willingheim. A human, like most of the folk with him, and like most of them, he felt one of them... human. He really wasn't sure what it was to be an elf. Sure he'd met a few, more often then not, with upturned noses at his mixed heritage and large build that favored his human blood. Twas fact he could beat all the squires in battle and sometimes got lucky sparring with the Knights themselves. Willingheim had told him his vows were close and he'd be Knighted soon, along with a few others that had been deemed ready to devote themselves to The Knights of the Mystic Fire, and their main purpose... the protection of the clergy. They were riding quite a ways ahead of him. The caravan was large, fifteen wagons, twenty knights, another fifty men-at-arms, and eight priests of Mystra, one a high priestess.... not to mention the mage that had come along.
The long journey was rather uneventful of course, most ruffians and bandits surely running the other direction at the first sight of the large group. Far in the Western Heartlands, following the trade routes, scouts reported a large orc war band not far and headed south.... away from us. But it was found that a village of some sort lay that way and the decision was made to pursue them while the caravan continued. A war band left in pursuit of the orcs, fifteen Knights, three priests and one magi. They took mounts and rode hard after the orcs, hoping to halt them before any massacre.
The caravan rolled along, men-at-arms scattered throughout, and the few knights left keeping a close look out for returning scouts. Near nightfall the war band returned, minus one Knight and one Priestess. It was told that the Knight sacrificed himself to... kill the priestess as she was being dragged off by the orcs. He charged to her aid it was said and fought until the point of death, and then he quickly ended the priestess life before he fell, and she was taken. A brave and true Knight.... Knight Willingheim.
His mentor dead, he rode on one of the last caravan wagons. He polished his armor, and weapons with a special solvent given to him as a aspiring Knight. It made the metal shine... glimmer.. the sparkling reflection of the sun could blind someone. He sort of laughed to himself at the thought, before they returned to his lost Knight and teacher.
He looked up at the sounds of horses approaching. Looking up he saw three war horses bearing two Knights and the High Priestess herself. "Squire Thorne" the dark haired lady spoke.
He jumped off the caravan, turned to the High Priestess in his glimmering armor and gave low bow. He was taught to show great respect to priests of Mystra, let alone this one, the highest ranking Priestesses he knew of. The horses came to a stop before him, and Thorne almost smiled when he saw the sun reflect off his armor into the eyes the High Priestess.
"I am glad to see you keep to your duty squire. Your Knight and mentor spoke to me of you before his heroic end. Tis time for you to turn your mind to your vows, your vows to the Priesthood, as well as the one you will choose to sacrifice to Mystra. Take your time, and delve deep... the truth must be your foundation, as devotion and faith are your strength." Her words were as light as air, almost hard to hear, but the power he saw in her eyes made her quiet voice draw him in all the more.... all Thorne heard was her voice and his path.
The day came a moon later. Twas full again, and a bright night. The caravan had stopped and set up in a defensive camp a short ways off the Amnish trade route cutting through this part of the Heartlands. A large tent had been set, and large bon fires about the camp.
Thorne had been at prayer and mediation all day. Sometimes reciting customary prayers, sometimes sitting there, trying to focus his mind and find the gift of truth. He knew the vows he'd take to uphold the purpose of the Knighthood, but what he waiting on was the vow he'd find within... a vow believed a gift from Mystra herself, though some had spoken of visions of Nathan Kross, a Chosen of Mystra and the founder of the Knights of the Mystic Fire.
When the vision came it was confusing to Thorne at first. He saw drunkards, men with greed in their eyes wielding awesome power, brothels with men and women sprayed out all over eachother... hedonism at its worst. As the vision faded another took its place, of Thorne drinking small amounts of wine but keeping his duty in mind. He saw himself wielding great power, but his eyes turned upwards.... he saw his power join others and greater and greater power flow outward into Faerun. He saw himself as an much older half-elf.... with a wife, home and children.... these fading away he came back to the present.
He knelt in front of the High Priestess, sword before him, point dug into the ground, head bowed. He began reciting his vows, first those to protect Mystra's Clergy, and then to further the will of his Goddess and her Church' goals regarding magical artifacts, the creation of new ones, and the protection of Mystra gift.... the weave.
He would have been Knighted, but Tymora's grace was not with them.... well.. suppose it was with Thorne in a way. As he was to do, he offered his obeisances to the high priestess when she began to speak. He lowered himself, taking a knee, arms grasping the hilt in front of him. The chanting started, lead by the high priestess, growing louder and louder.
The mage with them suddenly jerked his head up in alarm. Strange swirls of silvery color flowed down amongst them, unexpected... and the chanting faltered a bit. Suddenly there was an explosion.... well.. seemed like there was to Thorne. A wave of raw magical energy washed over the area, exploding outward... luckily for Thorne, it washed by above him.... having exploded at about human chest height and exploding out like the circles from a drop of water in a still pond.
After the energy was gone, Thorne stood up and looked around. Everyone was confused about what had happened, and were looking to the high priestess. That's when with a clap of thunder she just disappeared. Throne eyes bugged, and he yelled out a prayer to Mystra for aid as he rushed to where she had been. Nothing.
Looking back to the others his fear grew. He saw the mage explode into a fireball, another priestess just winked out of existence it seemed, a few took off in flight.... straight up. Thorne lost it... and ran for the exit... that's when the tent vanished.
He stopped to look around... and saw nothing.. not one person, horse, wagon.... just some gear here and there. Still in shock, and unsure of his quest in Cormyr, he gathered what he could use and headed away from the wild magic area. Marking it as best he could on a map he drew of the local region. He thought of heading back to Waterdeep, but decided to press on... there must have been a reason for the journey, and perhaps he could find out more when he arrived.
His thoughts kept drifting away from the wizards lecture. The teacher was saying something about an illusion spell totally loosing Thorne's interest and he pictured the departure tomorrow morning. All he knew was that something of import was happening and a group was being sent from the Temple of Mystra in Waterdeep, south east into Cormyr. Perhaps some long lost artifact had been discovered... he didn't think it was but rumors for so many were to go.
Refocusing on the class he did his best to study the magic before him. Some of his companions were much more interested in the school of magic, but for Thorne, divination had always kept his interest. Taking quill to paper he spent the rest of the evening trying to scribe the spell before him. The class emptied as he kept at it. Finally the wizard took his work and shoo'd him out the door, saying... "The true art.... in the Art of Magic is using what you know.... WELL. Not just learning the magic spells themselves.... take heart young squire!"
-----
They had left Waterdeep a few hours past, it could still be seen when they topped a rise on the road. He walked along next to his mentor, Knight Kallen Willingheim. A human, like most of the folk with him, and like most of them, he felt one of them... human. He really wasn't sure what it was to be an elf. Sure he'd met a few, more often then not, with upturned noses at his mixed heritage and large build that favored his human blood. Twas fact he could beat all the squires in battle and sometimes got lucky sparring with the Knights themselves. Willingheim had told him his vows were close and he'd be Knighted soon, along with a few others that had been deemed ready to devote themselves to The Knights of the Mystic Fire, and their main purpose... the protection of the clergy. They were riding quite a ways ahead of him. The caravan was large, fifteen wagons, twenty knights, another fifty men-at-arms, and eight priests of Mystra, one a high priestess.... not to mention the mage that had come along.
The long journey was rather uneventful of course, most ruffians and bandits surely running the other direction at the first sight of the large group. Far in the Western Heartlands, following the trade routes, scouts reported a large orc war band not far and headed south.... away from us. But it was found that a village of some sort lay that way and the decision was made to pursue them while the caravan continued. A war band left in pursuit of the orcs, fifteen Knights, three priests and one magi. They took mounts and rode hard after the orcs, hoping to halt them before any massacre.
The caravan rolled along, men-at-arms scattered throughout, and the few knights left keeping a close look out for returning scouts. Near nightfall the war band returned, minus one Knight and one Priestess. It was told that the Knight sacrificed himself to... kill the priestess as she was being dragged off by the orcs. He charged to her aid it was said and fought until the point of death, and then he quickly ended the priestess life before he fell, and she was taken. A brave and true Knight.... Knight Willingheim.
His mentor dead, he rode on one of the last caravan wagons. He polished his armor, and weapons with a special solvent given to him as a aspiring Knight. It made the metal shine... glimmer.. the sparkling reflection of the sun could blind someone. He sort of laughed to himself at the thought, before they returned to his lost Knight and teacher.
He looked up at the sounds of horses approaching. Looking up he saw three war horses bearing two Knights and the High Priestess herself. "Squire Thorne" the dark haired lady spoke.
He jumped off the caravan, turned to the High Priestess in his glimmering armor and gave low bow. He was taught to show great respect to priests of Mystra, let alone this one, the highest ranking Priestesses he knew of. The horses came to a stop before him, and Thorne almost smiled when he saw the sun reflect off his armor into the eyes the High Priestess.
"I am glad to see you keep to your duty squire. Your Knight and mentor spoke to me of you before his heroic end. Tis time for you to turn your mind to your vows, your vows to the Priesthood, as well as the one you will choose to sacrifice to Mystra. Take your time, and delve deep... the truth must be your foundation, as devotion and faith are your strength." Her words were as light as air, almost hard to hear, but the power he saw in her eyes made her quiet voice draw him in all the more.... all Thorne heard was her voice and his path.
The day came a moon later. Twas full again, and a bright night. The caravan had stopped and set up in a defensive camp a short ways off the Amnish trade route cutting through this part of the Heartlands. A large tent had been set, and large bon fires about the camp.
Thorne had been at prayer and mediation all day. Sometimes reciting customary prayers, sometimes sitting there, trying to focus his mind and find the gift of truth. He knew the vows he'd take to uphold the purpose of the Knighthood, but what he waiting on was the vow he'd find within... a vow believed a gift from Mystra herself, though some had spoken of visions of Nathan Kross, a Chosen of Mystra and the founder of the Knights of the Mystic Fire.
When the vision came it was confusing to Thorne at first. He saw drunkards, men with greed in their eyes wielding awesome power, brothels with men and women sprayed out all over eachother... hedonism at its worst. As the vision faded another took its place, of Thorne drinking small amounts of wine but keeping his duty in mind. He saw himself wielding great power, but his eyes turned upwards.... he saw his power join others and greater and greater power flow outward into Faerun. He saw himself as an much older half-elf.... with a wife, home and children.... these fading away he came back to the present.
He knelt in front of the High Priestess, sword before him, point dug into the ground, head bowed. He began reciting his vows, first those to protect Mystra's Clergy, and then to further the will of his Goddess and her Church' goals regarding magical artifacts, the creation of new ones, and the protection of Mystra gift.... the weave.
He would have been Knighted, but Tymora's grace was not with them.... well.. suppose it was with Thorne in a way. As he was to do, he offered his obeisances to the high priestess when she began to speak. He lowered himself, taking a knee, arms grasping the hilt in front of him. The chanting started, lead by the high priestess, growing louder and louder.
The mage with them suddenly jerked his head up in alarm. Strange swirls of silvery color flowed down amongst them, unexpected... and the chanting faltered a bit. Suddenly there was an explosion.... well.. seemed like there was to Thorne. A wave of raw magical energy washed over the area, exploding outward... luckily for Thorne, it washed by above him.... having exploded at about human chest height and exploding out like the circles from a drop of water in a still pond.
After the energy was gone, Thorne stood up and looked around. Everyone was confused about what had happened, and were looking to the high priestess. That's when with a clap of thunder she just disappeared. Throne eyes bugged, and he yelled out a prayer to Mystra for aid as he rushed to where she had been. Nothing.
Looking back to the others his fear grew. He saw the mage explode into a fireball, another priestess just winked out of existence it seemed, a few took off in flight.... straight up. Thorne lost it... and ran for the exit... that's when the tent vanished.
He stopped to look around... and saw nothing.. not one person, horse, wagon.... just some gear here and there. Still in shock, and unsure of his quest in Cormyr, he gathered what he could use and headed away from the wild magic area. Marking it as best he could on a map he drew of the local region. He thought of heading back to Waterdeep, but decided to press on... there must have been a reason for the journey, and perhaps he could find out more when he arrived.
