The Test of High Sorcery (Day Two)

06 Hiddumont 348 AC (06 Sep 1342)

Morning comes, just as it always done. The stewards who escorted the Aspirants to their rooms the night before arrive and lead each to breakfast. On the way, the hopefuls are informed that senior wizards from each Order will be interviewing them later in the day. Each Aspirant will be given time to prepare spells if they haven't already done so and that their Tests will start soon after.

Romulus is the first to arrive in the dining hall and piles his plate high with stacks of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and sausage. He, Ra’ziir, and Shadow about their evening. He explains that his room had a well-stocked bookshelf that he picked through until he found a book about fungal growths in alpine forests. But tucked in between the pages, he had discovered hand-written notes about the Tests themselves. He explains that every Test presents several challenges that examine the depth of a mage's knowledge and use of magic. While they are more-or-less what you would expect, there is a twist, at least one challenge is a trial that cannot necessarily be overcome with magic alone and the other involves the willingness to save someone or something dear at the cost of losing magic forever.

One by one, would-be mages are called from the Great Hall, disappearing into the Tower for their interview.

Finally, their turns arrive. Shadow is called first, followed by Ra’ziir. Romulus wishes both of his companions luck as they depart, smiling widely and scratching his leopard's ears. The halfling is the last to be called and his departure leaves the Great Hall empty.

Each of the party members are brought to a small room. It is barren except for a plain, wooden table and single armless chair. Three robed figures stand within. The first is an older human, bald, with a long white beard and white robes trimmed in gold, the second is an Elven woman with black trousers with a matching shirt. A black-bearded man in brown leather pants and a white linen shirt with a red jacket and spectacles rounds out the trio. They launch into what the adventurers suspect is a speech that has been rehearsed and practiced hundreds, if not thousands of times over the years.

The white wizard smiles, "I hope you have found the accommodations relaxing and encouraging. Ofttimes, a positive attitude will carry an Aspirant through a test when things become difficult."

The elf rolls her blue eyes, her tight braid of sable hair glittering with tiny colored gems replies, "I hope you haven't Wasted your time on frivolities," her tone annoyed.

The red wizard sighs, "Their time is their time. How they spent it is not our concern. We are simply here to interview them and finish crafting their Test of High Sorcery. Let us waste no time - theirs and ours alike - by bickering. The red mage interposes himself between the two. They nod to each other before facing you, "It is time to begin."

A long moment passes before the Red Mage gestures around the room. "You being here means your application to join the Brotherhood has been accepted. Before we continue this interview, understand that we will be using magic to read your thoughts. If you have protections against mind-reading, we ask that you remove or suppress them at this time. If you find this unacceptable, as is your right, we understand. However, your time here at the Tower will be at its end."

The white-robed wizards adds, "We have spoken with Mendatharan and he told us what your nurse told him. If you truly did survive a crossing of the Planes to get here, you are likely a match foe any one of us. Possibly more than a match since the majority of my prepared spells are related to performing my duties here rather than combat."

"This evaluation is more about determining which Order you will best fit in with," adds the elven woman, "that, and to ensure you are as capable as your claims would indicate you to be."

Taking your silence for consent, the White Wizard casts a spell of truth. He then nods to the elven woman.

She continues, "While I assume you have been informed about our gods of magic, their realms of influence, and their corresponding moon - I would hate to overestimate you, so let us review. There is Nuitari the Black, god of magic used to pursue personal ambition, wealth, influence, and sometimes, revenge. Lunitari the Red, goddess of magic used to maintain balance, unravel mysteries, and embrace personal freedoms. And, last of all, we have Solinari the White, god of magic used to 'patienly and compassionately create a better world'. Better by whose standards remains to be seen."

The red mage clears his throat while the white looks on, clearly annoyed by black's, snide remarks at the end. She smiles in response and continues, "Black, Red, White. Three gods of magic. Three Orders of High Sorcery, who, as much as we bicker and disagree, work together to further the advancement of magcraft. Assuming you survive your Test, which order would you seek to join?"

Shadow and Ra'ziir both deliver eloquent speeches, reasoning their way through the choices they are presented but, in the end, both choose the path of Lunitari.  Although Shadow does add that black is his preferred color” with a smile and a wink to the Elven woman in the Black Robes.

Romulus scratches absently behind his left ear for a few seconds before answering. "I don't believe that I have learned enough about any of your Orders to make a decision. I understand that White represents the Gods of Good and Light, Red holds to Neutrality, and Black is 'Evil' but things are rarely that cut and dry. I therefore choose to abstain from making such a momentous decision without all of the pertinent facts."

The White and Red mages both seem to struggle with repressing their annoyance but the elven woman appears to be hiding a smirk instead.

A few moments after answering the wizards' questions, the white-robed wizard replies to each, "No, we did ask which Order you thought you would best fit in with. Judging your own character is a trait many wizards don't have. But, as to our last question about Subtlety or Fortitude?"

All three party members reply that subtlety is their weakness with Shadow saying he us too reliant upon it with Ra'ziir and Romulus claiming to have little more than a passing acquaintance with the concept.

After a long moment, White raises his hand and taps three fingers to his heart. "Strength comes, not only from the gods, or even ourselves. It comes from friends, family. No mage should isolate themselves with only books for company." He looks to his black-robed companion and nods. She smiles and reaches into a pouch, producing a tuft of fur and a small bottle of pitch. She speaks a single word, "Σκοτάδι" and you find yourself engulfed in darkess.

White continues, "Imagine yourself on a ship, sailing through a storm. Dark clouds hide the sky and the moons, water crashes on deck, threatening to capsize your vessel. The mast has shattered, hauled away by the raging waves. WHO is your anchor during such a storm?"

Shadow's reply is “My companion Raven has always been my anchor.  When all seems lost he alone can weather the storm with me” Shadow replies. "We may not be the friendliest but Raven has never done me wrong, treated me like a Drow or failed to be there when the chips were down."

Ra’ziir ponders the question, thinking of his beloved S’nietha and how long it’s been since seeing her. The Elf wonders if she waits for him still…

Then his mind focuses on those he’s been traveling with across worlds, and possibly through time. The adventures with Raven, Cedron, Shadow, and the others flooding his memory.

The Elfemental starts to say something, then pauses before answering, sensing the importance of the words he utters next.

Ra’ziir dwells on the question, trying to honestly determine just who exactly provides his personal foundation. Who he depends on most above all others. Who he can always undoubtedly rely on when things go wrong…

“Myself” is his only response.

Romulus smiles, "That's easy. I have been blessed with many friends over the years. Any one of them would be willing to step in and help if ever I needed it."

In the darkness, there is the sound of movement, followed by the delicate touch of fingertips at your temples. The black-robed wizard's voice chants arcane words, beautiful and dreadful as she casts a spell. When her song ends, there is a deafening silence that lasts for several moments before the darkness thins, replaced by a sense of sudden movement, the change in air pressure that accompanies teleportation magic, and then a rising silvered fog.

The fog parts and each of Aspirants find themself standing amongst a small, silent crowd in a cemetery. All of the faces are featureless, blank slabs of flesh. Pressing through the crowd carries them to the front. There, a fresh tombstone with their name stands at the edge of an open grave. A laugh carries from somewhere behind the throng, a voice not-quite familiar and filled with contempt. "You really think you will survive the Test? You have no idea what they will do to you in there. But I do. And I will be watching, waiting for you to fail. I want my laugh to be thenlast thing you hear when you die." The speaker begins to point and laugh and is joined by the faceless mob who manage somehow to laugh without mouths. Hyenas, shaggy and drooling emerge from the fog, their hideous cackles joining and blending with the laughter, and begin stalking toward you. The ground hisses with smoke where each drop of spittle lands. 

It takes but a moment for the three wizards to respond to the mental assault. Ra’ziir defeats the attack by imagining the crowd turning the hyenas to ash with lightning, the heckler is dispatched with a green ray of disintegration, and the hecklers are transformed in mewling kittens.

Shadow defeats the nightmare images with a combination of magic missiles and swordwork.

Romulus does nothing for a few long moments before he replies, "Oh, I get it. You want to know what we fear. Like I told the faeries outside, the fact that I am standing here in this body means that I have already died once and I have close to dozen more lined up just in case something goes wrong so death holds no power over me." With that, the grave fills in and the crowd disperses. "And I was laughed at when I decided to become a wizard. I was turned down by one mentor after another until I found Sir Wiglaf. That old knight took me on and taught me all he could before turning me loose on the world so your mockery means less than nothing to me." The heckler vanishes, leaving only the hyenas. Romulus eyes them for a moment before taking a deep breath. "I'm not sure what the hyenas are supposed to represent - a vague physical threat meant to compound the general anxiety of not being accepted, perhaps? Either way, by themselves, they do not scare me." He levels his hand and snaps his fingers. A tremendous roar fills the air, engulfing the predators in an expanding ball of flame that leaves nothing but smoldering remains behind.

Red's voice cuts through the haze as the last illusion was defeated, his voice a mixture of empathy and resolve, and perhaps a little pride that the two wizards who had declared for his Order met the challenge of fear with a high degree of skill, "The Test of High Sorcery is a forge - and your soul is the metal it transforms. Push yourself. Challenge beliefs. Face your demons head on. Prove to the gods what kind of mage you will become. But first, rest. Tomorrow night, it begins."

Then the darkness fades and each found himself back in their guest chamber, the archmages nowhere to be seen. The bookshelves have vanished, along with the scrying orb. Even the bathwater was gone, leaving only an empty tub. Thankfully, they had been left with the sturdy table, the comfortable bed, and the blazing hearth to keep warm.