The Test of High Sorcery- Denouement


7th Day of Hiddumont 348 AC

Evening falls upon the Wayerth Forest and the Tower of High Sorcery. Of the close to one hundred Aspirants who came to take their Test, only a dozen or so successfully completed their Trial.

The three party mages, all newly minted members of the Order of High Sorcery, reunite in the Grand Hall of the Towers of Wayerth. Shadow's and Romulus's red robes are draped casually across the back of their seats. Ra’ziir's black robes seem to drink in the wane light of the hall and although conversation is lively amongst the other fledgling wizards, it feels muted and distant as if the Masters of the Order have chosen to elect a semblance of silence to allow quiet reflection on the events of the past few days.

Romulus toys with a small gray mouse that runs about on the table, moving his hands back and forth to keep it from escaping. His spotted leopard, Macula, sits beside the chair, eyes following the rodent as it scurries around. The halfling motions toward the rodent, "Darien Ariantal, the loudmouth we met when we arrived at the Tower... he attacked your friend Kyrian during the Test. She surrendered her access to the Weave, or whatever they call it here. I don't know what happened to her after that. I was going to feed him to Macula," at the mention of its name, the leopard perks up, "but I think she wouldn't want for me to seek revenge in her name so I don't know what to do with him now."

The trio of wizards look each other over. Ra’ziir has patches of skin that are simply gone, revealing crystalline muscles beneath. Romulus is missing a finger and Shadow keeps subtly turning his head so his right side faces whomever is speaking.

Romulus looks up at his two friends, "I guess we'll be heading back in the morning. Can't say that I'll miss this place."

“We have passed their assessment, for whatever that is worth…” the Eldritch Knights eyes stay obscured by the shadow of his robe’s cowl.

“The Weave is different here… regulated by the lunar cycles, as I’m sure you’ve both deduced.” The Elfemental in Black shifts his stance. “It leaves us vulnerable as it wanes. Moreso for me than either of you though.”

"Everywhere we've been has had a different type of Weave. On Hyboria, spells took longer to cast, in Lankhmar, we had to draw power more slowly to keep from being deformed by straining against the draw of the Devourer. The Grimmlands seemed like our spells were controlled by the 'Narrative' more than our own actions. Only Asgard has passed for normal. At least the moons' influence follows some sort of understandable logic," Romulus replies.

Shadow nods.

It is at just that moment that another elf approaches the group. Tall, with long white hair and a furred cloak, he stops iand introduces himself as Feal-Thas and bids welcome to all of them.

Ra’ziir turns and quietly nods to Feal-Thas.

“Well met, Feal-Thas. I am Nym Millithor.”

"And I am Romulus Bramblefoot, and, I feel like I must add that I am not a Kender."

The elf looks mildly confused, "All right, then. I thought I would congratulate you on passing your Tests. I'll let you get back to whatever discussion you're having. It was good to meet all of you." With that, he adjusts the sword on his belt and walks off to speak with Ladonna, head of the Black Robes.

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