[b][u][center]Special Positions, Special Perks Part 1 For a-lycotonum By Draconicon[/center][/u][/b] Life outside of the Arcanamirium was…difficult. More difficult than Vitus had been anticipating, and quite a bit more difficult than it should have been for a certified mage. For all that he was appreciative for the certification, he was starting to wonder if he had accidentally overqualified himself. The sorcerer sat in the middle of a dock-side tavern, looking out the open wall that served as an oversized door for the establishment. Ships gradually wandered into the port of Absalom, the city’s lifeblood of trade constantly filling his vision, but all he saw were people that had the freedom to go as they wished. [i]Starting to think maybe it would have been better to stay in school,[/i] he thought, looking down at his mug. [i]At least there I’d get paid to experiment…[/i] Then again, it would have only been a matter of time before someone started to pay to experiment [i]on[/i] him rather than with him. The moment that someone found out about the curse that he’d been inflicted with, the moment that they knew that he wasn’t entirely human anymore… Vitus shook his head, pushing those worries down. He was no longer at the Arcanamirium, and those fears meant nothing. The more important fears, the ones regarding whether he would have a meal for the night, or a roof over his head, or whether he’d be sleeping in an alley waiting for some thief to steal his gold – at best – were the things that he had to worry about now. The sorcerer forced himself to keep his eyes on the street just outside the tavern rather than looking back at the water clock on the wall. No matter how often he looked at it, he wouldn’t make this meeting happen any faster. All he’d manage to do was stress himself out, and that would not make this meeting any easier. [i]Wish Hazel was still around…[/i] The half-elf had left some time ago, heading to the temples of Erastil far off from the great city. She hadn’t said why, or if she did, he hadn’t heard her say it. All he knew was that she was in the middle of further training, and that she wouldn’t be returning to the great city until it was done. If then, for that matter. He had hoped to propose to her, to give her something to come back to, but she’d left before he’d managed to put it to her. Their relationship, such as it was, was on hiatus until she came back, and all he could do was hope that she eventually showed her face again. Maybe then, maybe, they’d be able to make something of a life together. The soft click, click, click of hooves pulled him out of his thoughts. It might have been a minotaur, he reminded himself, considering that the bovines provided quite a few of the dockworkers for Absalom, but his hopes rose regardless. His hopes were rewarded. A man with purple-blue skin rounded the corner just outside of the tavern, dressed in the deep red and gold of a rich noble. A pair of horns popped out of his head, not demonic, but rather bovine in nature, and hooves clicked and clattered against the cobblestones just outside. He carried a short cane under his arm, his hand clenched around the jeweled tip, and soft, glowing eyes were turned up with the hint of a smile on his face. Vitus forced his own smile down, knowing that he didn’t dare look too eager for the meeting. Instead, he sat up a bit straighter at his table, putting his mug to the side. As the assimar stepped into the room, he stood, bowing his head. “Lord Brundir,” the sorcerer said. “It is an honor. Thank you for –” “Sit down, please.” The aasimar’s command was not one to be ignored, and the human did as he was told, sitting down quite firmly in his seat. His hooved visitor did the same, pulling his chair out and sitting down a bit more slowly. One of the staff members of the tavern came over, doubtlessly hoping for coin and an order from their new, famous patron, but the aasimar waved the other human away. Vitus managed to disguise his nerves with a small smile. At least, he hoped he was disguising his nerves. Inside, he was a bubbling mess of anxiety. Lord Gralon Brundir was one of the few aasimar men that called Absalom home, but for all that his species was rare, he was far from a weakened member of a minority. Few people in the city didn’t know his name, and those that didn’t had certainly heard of the exploits that he had been involved in. Slaughtering a kraken had been just the beginning of the list, and though the great lord was retired from the adventuring scene, many believed that it was just a smokescreen that allowed him to live a different sort of life, a more adventurous, secretive life that needed to be hidden from the general public to be effective. He had no idea if that was true, but he knew that Lord Brundir was one of his last chances for employment. The aasimar was known for taking the oddest of characters under his wings, giving them the chance to grow and become stronger, better, and a word from the former adventurer would guarantee someone a job nearly as readily as a word from a god. Better, in some cases. [i]You are certified,[/i] he reminded himself. [i]You’re certified, and you’re a sorcerer. And he’s got to be interested in that.[/i] That didn’t do much to settle his nerves, but the thought of sleeping in an alley again did. It was only luck that he had gone without being mugged or robbed so far, and he couldn’t keep relying on that. “May I assume that you read my letter, Lord Brundir?” he managed to ask. “I have, I have. It was quite the list of accomplishments, though annoyingly vague as to how they were actually done. I would almost assume that you were under a gag order.” Not entirely incorrect, he would be the first to admit. His biggest accomplishment, saving the Arcanamirium from a demonic incursion, had been hushed up so fast that he almost wondered if it had happened in the first place. Only the marks that it had left on him kept that particular event from feeling almost like a bad dream. “They did happen, sir. I can’t speak freely in public, but…they did happen.” “My, my. And you survived? That’s hardly likely for someone that hasn’t even graduated from the school. What gave you such strength?” The aasimar looked almost amused at the whole situation, like it was a story being told for his benefit. The feeling of being under those glowing eyes, of having to justify himself in a way that he had never had to do before, was not particularly comforting for Vitus, but he kept telling himself that he needed to do this. If he didn’t get this job, then the chances of him surviving another week without going back to school were slim, at best. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to put the words together. How did he say this without breaking the contract? Hell, how did he say it without getting the Arcanamirium pissed off at him and retracting his certification? “There were deals made,” he admitted. “Not good ones, and I retracted them afterwards, but I did my best to make sure that they gave me what I needed.” That was a lie, of course. He hadn’t retracted the deals that were made with a demon; they were forced from him, ripped out of him by the half-elf priestess. He hadn’t used them for his own gains, but he had managed to turn the demonic power of Melchiresa against the demon at the end of it all. That was something. That had to be something. Lord Brundir eyed him up again, those glowing eyes flicking back and forth. It was impossible to tell just where they rested at any given moment, but he hoped that he was giving a good account of himself. As the aasimar stared in silence, Vitus fought the urge to use his magic for his own benefit. He had learned enough control to start using some less than legal spells, and there had been a moment or two during his time on the street when he had been forced to indulge himself with them. Not to a truly criminal extent, but enough to charm a person for money, or enough to make an innkeeper forget about the dues for a night. It hadn’t been something that he was proud of, either. He didn’t like bending the minds of others to that extent, but it was a matter of survival. The temptation to do it again, however, was a little easier to resist this time. After all, Brundir was famous as an adventurer. Even if he hadn’t been fighting and exploring for the last ten years or so since his retirement, he was still an aasimar of some power, and there was no chance in hell that Vitus could overwhelm him as easily as he had a few innkeepers or street toughs. However, just by touching his magic, he felt…something. The human sat up in his chair, the tingle of his magic running through his veins, and as it did, he was aware of something else around him. Another sort of magic, something that ran contrary to his own power, something that was trying to pull at it and affect it. [i]Another mage?[/i] He looked around the tavern. There was another customer in the far corner, but they were unconscious, completely drunk and out of it. There was the bartender, but he had his back to them. And the feeling wasn’t coming from either of them. It was coming from – “Is there something bothering you, Vitus?” Brundir asked. “I…a moment, please.” “Take your time. I’m sure that you’ll have another explanation to give me in a moment that will make more sense than the last one.” That wasn’t helping. He knew that this job interview was the key to his future, but at the same time, he couldn’t ignore that strange feeling. [i]It’s pulling on my magic. That means that it’s a spell that’s trying to avoid being noticed. If it’s trying to mesh with other magic, that means that it was probably cast by a wizard to avoid being seen by wizards,[/i] he thought. [i]No, no, not a wizard, a priest. Someone that wanted to go unnoticed by something divine. And that means –[/i] The pressure on his own magic grew stronger, like someone trying to force a door open. Rather than push back, Vitus seized on the magic with his own, pulling it forward. No sooner had he done it than something shimmered just behind the aasimar. An invisibility spell, he realized, one that had been ended prematurely by his interference. A drow stood where no one had been merely a second ago, a dagger raised overhead and a look of shock on her face. “Get down!” He grabbed Lord Brundir by the shoulder, throwing him to the side as he lunged over the table. Vitus extended his hand, a blast of force loosed from his palm. It threw the drow back, but only by a pace or two rather than out of the tavern the way that it should have done. [i]Warded,[/i] he realized. [i]She’s been warded.[/i] And she wasn’t a weakling, either. She was already on her feet again, kicking the debris of another table out of the way as she pulled a second dagger from her belt. Lights shimmered up and down her leather armor, the different runes that had absorbed the power of his spell fading out again. [i]Can’t hit her with something too weak or it’ll get absorbed. Can’t go too strong or I could blow this whole place up.[/i] The aasimar, thankfully, had withdrawn to the far side of the table, and Vitus made sure to keep himself between the drow and her target. When she took a step to the side, he did the same, and when she tried to step forward, he gestured at the debris and threw things in her way. “You better think about running,” he said. “You can’t hide anymore.” “You think you can stop me? That man has to die.” “I’m not exactly gonna let you carry out an assassination in broad daylight, you know.” “You don’t have to let me do anything.” The drow lunged for him, her daggers sweeping low. He jumped back, barely avoiding getting stabbed in the gut, and she followed it up with a slice up. Yanking his head back just in time – but not quite fast enough to avoid the slight shave to his chin – Vitus pulled at his magic again. The tingles running through his veins touched on everything around him. The power of a sorcerer was instinct, and that instinct told him – Flick. A chair flew as he gestured at it, catching the next stabbing motion of the woman’s daggers. She pulled back, but the blade was embedded deep in the chair. He threw it out the front door of the tavern, robbing her of one of her weapons. The other one, however – “NNG!” Vitus hissed as she leapt through the space between them, the point of the dagger finding his shoulder. His arm went numb immediately, leaving it useless, limp and weak. He grimaced at the hot pain that spread from his shoulder to his neck… But he still had one arm. He grabbed her by the face – the face, not the neck – and forced his power down his arm. The tingles of magic rushed through him at the speed of thought, and then through the tips of his fingers. The drow screamed as she tried to pull back, but he squeezed hard, forcing his fingertips against her face with bruising force. She kept shouting, screaming, her skin bruising and steaming from the heat that he pushed into her. The heat turned to frost, and then, finally, to electricity. The dark elf spasmed, shaking from head to toe as he flooded her body with magic. She flailed about for a few seconds, then went still. He stopped, letting her fall to the ground. “Ha…ha…” “…Very impressive, young man. Very impressive, indeed.” Lord Brundir. He had almost forgotten. Vitus groaned, his left arm completely useless as he turned to face the aasimar again. The purple-blue man was slowly clapping, shaking his head with a small smile. “Not many would have noticed an assassin like that. I doubt that we need further testament to your abilities after that.” “Nnngh…I guess…I guess not.” The blade. It must have been poisoned to be affecting him like this. His arm was numb, but the rest of him was hot, burning up from the core outwards. He stumbled as he tried to walk around the table, forcing him to lean against it instead. “I…I don’t feel…” “Doubtlessly you have been affected by the poison meant for me. The fact that you’re alive speaks to your body’s integrity, and its resilience.” “Mmmph…I need…need a cleric.” “I’ll do you one better than that. I’ll take you to one myself.” Vitus hoped that meant that he had the job. Otherwise, this whole thing would be completely worthless. He nodded, then fainted. # The human woke up in a bed softer than any that he had occupied before. He groaned as he opened his eyes, looking left, right, left again. The soft sheets that covered him ran for several feet on either side, and he swore that the bed itself would have been big enough for no fewer than five humans his size. Around him, a room just as opulent as the bed took shape. Walls of sweeping colors, rolling like the sea in waves and shimmering patterns, soared overhead. A minotaur could have put his cousin on his shoulders, and they still wouldn’t have reached the ceiling. The walls were lined with books at head level, and beyond that, there were torches of shimmering colors of fire, each one giving a different feeling when he looked at them. To look upon the green one, he felt a sense of energy, of liveliness. To look on the blue fire, he felt a sense of peace and serenity. Looking upon the red one, he felt the urgency, the tension of a desperate situation, but the excitement of such a rush, too. “Where am I?” he muttered. A shimmering figure appeared at his side, formed of red and white light. It turned to him, eyes glowing, wings spread ever so slightly from its back. “Sir, you are in the home of Lord Gralon Brundir. You are his guest while you recover from your poisoning during the attack. Once you have returned to full health, the lord will determine what to do with you.” “…Who are you?” “I am the servant of the aasimar Lord Gralon Brundir. His spiritual guardian, if you will.” The guardian. The aasimar were always attended to by a deva, he remembered, a spirit that connected them to the celestial sort of lineage that they always claimed. He nodded, leaning his head back against the pillow again as he took stock of the situation. His arm was still fucked. There was no getting around that, considering that he [i]had[/i] taken a dagger wound into the nerve cluster right at the base of the arm. He was lucky that it hadn’t been delivered to his right arm, he supposed; at least it was his dumb limb rather than his smart one that wasn’t working. That said, he didn’t know how long that was going to take to heal. If the cleric hadn’t been able to fix it, then the drow must have been using some sort of cursed metal. Probably was, come to think of it. She wouldn’t have tried to attack someone like Brundir if she thought that there was any chance that he could recover from the wound. But why Brundir, he wondered? The aasimar might have been a famous adventurer, but he couldn’t recall any stories of the big guy going into the underdark or dealing with the drow. More to the point, he was one of those that funded various charities for the different non-humans of Absalom. Attacking him would be counter-productive to any drow cause… And the fact that she had been hidden by divine spells meant that it was more than just a random noble attack. Divine spells that hid someone like that only came from dark gods, and they didn’t just condone any random assassinations. Someone very high up wanted Brundir dead. [i]But why?[/i] That was the question, and he doubted that he was going to get any answers sitting in bed. Vitus grunted as he rolled himself onto his side, closing his eyes and letting sleep return. If he was to be a guest, then he might as well spend some time doing what he wanted. After all, who knew how long he’d have access to a bed? # The next time he woke up, he wasn’t alone in his room. Gralon Brundir was sitting at the side of his bed, the aasimar reading a book. Vitus blinked the sleep from his eyes, trying to sit up. “You’re going to injure your arm if you do that,” Gralon Brundir said. “Ugh…I just want to sit up.” “I know. But you’re going to injure yourself.” “…” He lowered himself down again, taking a deep breath. “Better?” the lord asked. “I guess.” “You’ll need to learn to take orders if you’re going to be in service to me.” “Huh?” “Or did you decide that you were better off unemployed?” “I…didn’t know that you’d be so willing to take me in,” he admitted. “I was hoping, but –” “I’d show poor gratitude if I didn’t at least give you a chance, particularly after saving my life.” “You know, I was hoping you’d say that, but it didn’t seem too likely.” The aasimar chuckled, closing his book and setting it to the side. Leaning back on his chair, the noble shook his head. “I am a former adventurer myself. I know what it is to starve while you’re looking for your start in life. I can’t promise that you will stay with me forever, but after seeing your potential, I’m willing to take a gamble for, say, a year or two.” A year? Even if it was just the one year, that would be more than enough to get him back on his feet. Serving someone this high up in society meant that he would be getting paid very well, and that meant that he could start investing that back into his life. A little bit of work on a house, maybe put some money into a merchant to start getting payments back… Yes, that would work out well. Not to mention, if all went well, getting the word of Brundir on his side. He’d be able to take that – and his apparently near-useless certification – to the bank and make what he could of himself. He was smiling, he realized. Not a fake smile, but a real, genuine one. He had forgotten what that sort of thing felt like. “I…I’d be open to that.” “Good. Now, have you had a contract with someone before?” Gralon Brundir asked. “Only the gag order from the Arcanamirium.” “Then you know that these are [i]quite[/i] enforceable.” As the aasimar reached into his coat, Vitus felt another tingle. Not the powerful, tugging tingle that he had felt from the invisibility spell, but something subtler, something that was a little more…intimate, for lack of a better word. He felt it touching him, tugging at his heartstrings, reaching through his magic down to his soul. Considering what had happened the last time magic went that far, he sat up again. This time, he didn’t stop when the aasimar gave him a warning look. “What are you doing? What is that?” “What do you think? It’s a contract.” “Nooo, that’s not a contract. That’s something deeper. Something stronger.” Gralon Brundir arched an eyebrow, his hand frozen halfway between reaching into his coat and pulling the thing within out. The aasimar slowly smiled. “I’m impressed. Most can’t sense that level of magic from a slip of paper.” “I’ve had some experience.” “Apparently. All the better for me to get you on my payroll immediately. If I may?” “As long as I don’t have to sign it too quickly…” Nodding, the aasimar pulled the scroll free. When it was completely out of the noble’s coat, Vitus could feel the power rolling off of it, the sheer strength of the magic more than he had felt since going down to the altar of Melchiresa. For all that, it wasn’t demonic magic that he was feeling. It was something…different. Subtle, yes, and powerful, but it didn’t have the same stink as the demonic magic had had. It was something that had been bound up in a series of laws and order, rather than the chaotic, warping power that the demon lord had used. He tentatively took the scroll from the aasimar, unrolling it to look it over. He didn’t read it; one thing that he had learned in the Arcanamirium was to take something as a whole, to take the feeling of it rather than the details. Whenever he tried to approach the details, doing things the way that a wizard would, it always went bad for him, but doing it like this… He looked over the paper, not reading the letters or the laws, but rather feeling the magic that came from the contract itself. It was imbued with something that was between arcane and divine, something that tweaked at him, that pulled at the core of him. If he were to put his name to this, he would be bound to a contract, alright. Bound and chained, of his own volition. Yet, at the same time, there was a gentleness to it, something that made it feel more…equitable than what Melchiresa had demanded of him. There was something that made it feel like power and obligation would go both ways. [i]It’s just a contract,[/i] he told himself, pushing down the fear that threatened to bubble over from the last time that he’d gotten trapped in an agreement like this. [i]It’s just a contract. A real, fair one this time.[/i] He stroked his fingers down the lettering, again, not quite reading it, but going for the feel. Vitus took in the terms that were loosely defined, promises of future contracts if things went well, a push to do as he was told so long as it was within the terms that were already agreed… [i]I guess it seems legitimate…[/i] And the desperation that had come from living on the street was still there, still clawing at him from inside. He knew better than to think that this would be the end of his troubles, but he was in a position where he couldn’t deny this sort of binding. Gralon Brundir had him over a barrel, and there was no way that the aasimar didn’t know that. “I can sign this,” he eventually muttered. “I was hoping you might.” A quill was offered, and he took it. “Do you have ink?” “Oh, I prefer to go with something a bit more…traditional.” Vitus winced as the noble aasimar pricked the tip of his purple thumb, squeezing it until the blood started to run free. His patron took the quill, dabbing it in the blood before scrawling his name on one half of the bottom of the contract. As he passed it back, the human hesitated. “Does it have to be blood?” “Are you afraid?” “Yes.” “Good. A little magic should always make you afraid.” Gralon Brundir chuckled. “But you don’t have to worry too much. Trust me. I would not strip the talents of someone so useful as you.” “…” “You examined it. You know it’s safe.” That was the hope, at least. He had been wrong before, but he had grown since then. Hopefully, the dangers of the world hadn’t grown with him. Tensing up, he pricked his thumb and did the same as his employer. As soon as his name was scrawled out on the bottom of the scroll, he felt the power of the contract settle into him. It slipped past the magic flowing through his body and went right down to his soul, wrapping around it and squeezing tight, almost like a hug for his insides. It wasn’t a particularly nice hug. For a moment, he thought Gralon Brundir’s face twisted up. There was a strange expression there, almost like surprise mixed with annoyance, but it was gone so fast that he swore that he must have imagined it. “And that takes care of that.” “That’s it?” “That’s it. You’ll start as soon as you’re healed. I believe you should be on your feet and moving about by tomorrow, and by next week, I imagine that arm will be back to normal.” That seemed remarkable, but then again, clerics were not the only way to get better. He looked forward to being able to use both arms again, though; with one limp and useless, he couldn’t help but feel…vulnerable. His patron was halfway to the door out of the room when another question occurred to Vitus. He hesitated, but forced himself to ask. “What happened to the drow?” “Hmm?” “The assassin. What happened to her?” “Oh, she’s being questioned as we speak. She’s being quite accommodating, actually; must not like her employer very much.” “You’re not hurting her?” “…” Gralon Brundir turned, cocking his head to the side. “Would it bother you if I were?” “She’s a woman.” “And an enemy.” “She…” He shook his head. “It would feel wrong.” “Heh…so you’re one of those, hmm?” He didn’t know what to say to that. All he could think about was Hazel, how he had hurt her when he had been bound by Melchiresa’s power, how he had seen her shake beneath him as the corruption strove to take her, how she’d been hurt by what he had done. They’d gotten past it, but… But the idea of someone being corrupted, warped, tormented by a power greater than their own had stuck in his head. He fought that temptation daily, and the idea of someone else giving in to that sort of thing…Bad enough if it was someone like him, someone that had a chance to fight against it, but a woman that didn’t have any protection? No. Just…no. Before he could answer, the aasimar shook his head. “I assure you, she is not being tortured, merely questioned. No torture devices are being used, no chains, no starvation. She’s giving us all we want to know without anything to force it out of her.” “You swear?” “By the power of my deva, I swear.” That would do. An aasimar might do many things, but by invoking their connection to the celestial, they were bound. Breaking that word would be as good as switching sides to the demons of hell. Vitus nodded, slowly rolling back into bed and covering himself up again. His patron left the room, shutting the door behind him, and the human was left alone once more. He closed his eyes, trying to fall asleep again. It wasn’t easy. The sensation of the contract and its grip on his heart and soul was not an easy one to get used to. He could feel it squeezing at random times, almost like there was a fist around his guts rather than a simple spell, and he had to keep telling himself that the contract [i]was[/i] a benevolent one. There was no demonic energy in it. So…why did he feel like he had just made another deal with the devil? Vitus forced himself to forget it. He had to get better, first, and then he had to start learning what his new duties were. If he was going to make a good life for himself and Hazel – if she ever came back – then he needed to make a good impression on his new patron. His new boss. His new – [i]Master.[/i] The word came to mind out of nowhere, but despite the way that it felt to call anyone that…it did fit. The aasimar was his employer, true, but with that contract, it went deeper. Vitus let that word settle in his head, and then forced himself to try and sleep again. It took a long time for the dreams to come. [b][u][center]The end[/center][/u][/b]