2nd Trial of Cylus - 718
The smell of the sewage of Etzos was always a surprise, no matter how much time he spent in his old home territory of the city’s most poor districts. It always brought on a distinct sense of nostalgia, the good old days when he fought for food and safety rather than... to further whatever dark, lonesome path he was on. As the stink of poverty washed over him and Neronin breathed deeply. Things had changed over the past few seasons, but the city stayed as always. Or perhaps it was that the chaotic nature of the city’s change was the root of that nostalgia? Neronin shrugged himself deeper into his robe. He had no business being nostalgic anyway, the sadness for the past implied a regret in one’s growth, one’s change. Neronin was on the cusp of greatness and he had always known his goal was to escape the shit-smelling streets of Etzos, and the rest of the world.
The mage glanced behind, down the darkening alley through which his sodden boots had trudged. The chance of discovery was a danger he now wore every time he ventured forth into civilization. Even moreso because of recent events. For seasons now Neronin had been feeling closer and closer to the shifting spark in him and the dark expanse of magic he had so diligently surrounded himself with than the society in which he claimed to operate. That shift had brought dangers. Gavrel, his old master had come to kill him, with Neronin barely escaping that conflict. He had dodged Etzori patrols and mage hunters more and more in the past few seasons, not that many of them were a match for him now. It was damn inconvenient though. The city watch could discover his oddity simply by getting a prolonged close look at him. Damn inconvenient.
Neronin tucked into the side door to the dilapidated old house he was squatting in on the very edge of Etzos. The first room was thick with dust drifting gently through the light from cracks in the boards that made up its sunward wall. As Neronin entered, his dark robes sent the dust swirling in half hidden spirals. Neronin shr`unk down into the shadows, his breath coming short and quick. He listened with all his might to the outside world.
The Etzori mage shifted his hands and felt his newest spark rise within him. The strong radiating energy felt distinctly different than the rest of his arcane sparks. It was stable and uniform in its sensation where the rupturing spark was wild and pulsating. It was also light and warm where the necromancy spark was dark and vast and cold. He was glad to have it here back in the thick of things where he may need to hide. As of now he barely knew how to do anything with it, save suppress his own power. That was enough to hide from the Etzori who may be searching for a necromancer of significant power.
Neronin wrapped the ether around himself as he cast the Mute. He could feel the arcane shield suppressing the residual presence of his other sparks. Neronin almost winced as he felt the smaller rupturing spark recoil deeper within and the massively present necromancy spark shift and tremble under the spell. It was difficult to keep the Mute spell up over his massively more dominant necromancy magic, but he gritted through it. Neronin had noticed for the first time how large and solidly tethered to his soul that dark spark was when he introduced Abrogation into himself. The necromancy spark was strong and did not enjoy the presence of a second magic to contend with, he knew. It almost had an identity within him now.
Shadows darkened the thin slivers of light as a pair of someones passed the house he was hiding in. Neronin listened as they stopped and conversed in harsh tones.
The smell of the sewage of Etzos was always a surprise, no matter how much time he spent in his old home territory of the city’s most poor districts. It always brought on a distinct sense of nostalgia, the good old days when he fought for food and safety rather than... to further whatever dark, lonesome path he was on. As the stink of poverty washed over him and Neronin breathed deeply. Things had changed over the past few seasons, but the city stayed as always. Or perhaps it was that the chaotic nature of the city’s change was the root of that nostalgia? Neronin shrugged himself deeper into his robe. He had no business being nostalgic anyway, the sadness for the past implied a regret in one’s growth, one’s change. Neronin was on the cusp of greatness and he had always known his goal was to escape the shit-smelling streets of Etzos, and the rest of the world.
The mage glanced behind, down the darkening alley through which his sodden boots had trudged. The chance of discovery was a danger he now wore every time he ventured forth into civilization. Even moreso because of recent events. For seasons now Neronin had been feeling closer and closer to the shifting spark in him and the dark expanse of magic he had so diligently surrounded himself with than the society in which he claimed to operate. That shift had brought dangers. Gavrel, his old master had come to kill him, with Neronin barely escaping that conflict. He had dodged Etzori patrols and mage hunters more and more in the past few seasons, not that many of them were a match for him now. It was damn inconvenient though. The city watch could discover his oddity simply by getting a prolonged close look at him. Damn inconvenient.
Neronin tucked into the side door to the dilapidated old house he was squatting in on the very edge of Etzos. The first room was thick with dust drifting gently through the light from cracks in the boards that made up its sunward wall. As Neronin entered, his dark robes sent the dust swirling in half hidden spirals. Neronin shr`unk down into the shadows, his breath coming short and quick. He listened with all his might to the outside world.
The Etzori mage shifted his hands and felt his newest spark rise within him. The strong radiating energy felt distinctly different than the rest of his arcane sparks. It was stable and uniform in its sensation where the rupturing spark was wild and pulsating. It was also light and warm where the necromancy spark was dark and vast and cold. He was glad to have it here back in the thick of things where he may need to hide. As of now he barely knew how to do anything with it, save suppress his own power. That was enough to hide from the Etzori who may be searching for a necromancer of significant power.
Neronin wrapped the ether around himself as he cast the Mute. He could feel the arcane shield suppressing the residual presence of his other sparks. Neronin almost winced as he felt the smaller rupturing spark recoil deeper within and the massively present necromancy spark shift and tremble under the spell. It was difficult to keep the Mute spell up over his massively more dominant necromancy magic, but he gritted through it. Neronin had noticed for the first time how large and solidly tethered to his soul that dark spark was when he introduced Abrogation into himself. The necromancy spark was strong and did not enjoy the presence of a second magic to contend with, he knew. It almost had an identity within him now.
Shadows darkened the thin slivers of light as a pair of someones passed the house he was hiding in. Neronin listened as they stopped and conversed in harsh tones.
