Birth of a Warrior-Mage: Aviar Maximus

[Radog]

......The creature before him looked fierce.....and bloodthirsty. "I shouldn't have traveled this path after dusk!" he muttered to himself as he eyed the beast now just a scant 35 feet in front of him. But Aviar was a skilled fighter and quickly prepared himself for combat, the blade of his weapon flashing a brilliant shine against the moonlight as he quickly drew it from his side. Just him and a voracious predator, alone in the dark wilderness, sizing each other up.......As he gripped the hilt of his sword with all his might and poised himself for the inevitable lunge the now rapidly approaching behemoth would make, he suddenly heard a twig snap to his left, just out of his field of vision.....the noise distracted him long enough for the beast to lunge and strike first! Aviar crashed into the bush from the devastating force of the impact! The beast lunged again, slashing away at Aviar, still dazed from the intial blow.....but the young fighter quickly regained his senses and strikes the beast across the chest with a mighty blow from his weapon! "Ahaaa!", yelled Aviar as the beast backed away, stunned by the deep wound the weapon inflicted. But the wound only sent the beast into a frenzy! It growled and roared with a sound that shook the branches and the leaves from the surrounding trees, so defeaning it was! Then Aviar felt something strange......he felt a force of pure energy rapidly coursing through his body.....and his entire being took on a brilliant glow of light....
The enraged creature lunged and struck Aviar again...but this time its mighty blow had no effect! Quickly realizing that somehow he was suddenly impervious to any attack, Aviar raised his sword again and swiftly brought it down with all his might and fury upon the beast's head! Then he cracked a sly smile as he saw it drop to the ground. "You are a skilled fighter, young man," he heard a voice behind him say.....Aviar whirled around and saw a cloaked figure with a long, flowing white beard standing before him. "But you could be better, much better" the cloaked figured said. Aviar stared at him for a moment, still clutching the hilt of his sword. "Did you do this to me, make me glow like this, old man?" Aviar asked. The cloaked figure laughed and said, "I merely cast a spell on you, son, to aid you in your battle with that vicious beast!" the figure bellowed." "So," Aviar says as he begins to dust himself off, "you are a mage, eh?" The cloaked figure nods. "What kind of spell was it?" asks Aviar. The old mage ignores his question and says, "You show great potential as a warrior, that is the only reason I intervened. I see something special in you that could be brought out with the proper training. I am advancing in years and I look to pass my teachings on to a worthy student." The cloaked mage pauses for a moment and studies Aviar closely, then continues, "With the combat training you obviously have already received combined with what I could teach you....you have the potential to be an awesome force in this land...." The mage pauses to study him again, stroking his beard. "Do you think you have the discipline and character to undertake my teachings, son?" the mage asks. "Absolutely." Aviar replies. "I would love to learn more on how you did what you did to me make me a more formidable fighter......this magic stuff is intriguing...." "Excellent," the mage says, "But that spell merely scratches the surface. " "So when do we begin, old man?" Aviar asks. The wizard cracks a sly smile and says, "We already have. Walk with me through the forest for a while, we will talk." As they head off into the night, illuminated by the brilliance of the full moon, the wizard begins, "So you like that spell I cast on you, eh? It is indeed, powerful magic. It is known among magic users as......Ethereal Visage..............."

[Norah]

The room is very warm, lit dimly by a fire burning low and steady in the hearth. There is very little sound, except for the occassional snap and cough of the smoldering embers which cast their molten light upon the bed and the room about it. She is sleeping, peacefully it would seem, wrapped in a soft coverlet, her breast rising and falling, her mouth opened slightly. A bottle stands quietly on a short table beside her, her arm still bent as though reaching for it. She speaks softly, untintelligibly and stirs. A log begins to hiss. Her legs shift under the furs, pushing them to the foot of the bed.

POP! Sparks leap from the hearth and burn momentarily on the cedar floor before dying. Her eyes open. She rises up quickly, her hand straying absentmindedly to the coverlet which has fallen around her navel. She is listening to the close and pregnant silence. There is no one is this room.

She rises, and, grasping the bottle which has been standing on a low table near her bedside, approaches the fire, the flames dancing across her body as the coverlet falls away from her. There is a cougar's skin laid in front of the hearth upon which she reclines, watching the flames. Her fingers move slowly over the fur.

The silence is broken by a soft voice, quite inhuman, yet pleasing, dignified and unthreatening. Her eyes do not leave the flames.
"You have been dreaming again."
Pause. Her answer is soft, quite unlike her. "Yes. I have."
"I know. I have been listening to your heart."
The speaker reveals itself, a long-haired, grey cat which has been curled up beside the hearth in a shadow. It is very mature and has a trailing moustache of fur which almost brushes the floor as it approaches her. She raises the bottle to her lips and lets it falls, her cheeks distended slightly from the draught. She swallows.
"I have seen a man on the island."
"In your dream?" The cat is unimpressed, watching the fire.
Pause.
"I have known a man in my dream." Her face softens.
The cat stretches. "You will dream what you will dream."
She nods and looks down at her toes, curling and uncurling in the white fur. She raises the bottle again. Long drink. Swallows. "Yes, I know."
"That you dream of a man is nothing new under the sun. Why is your rest disturbed of late?" The cat watches her now.
She does not answer this time. The warrior and the cat stare into the flames, thinking their own thoughts.
"Do you want me to brush you, old friend?"
The cat looks at her for a moment. "No. Thank you."
She nods. Rising slowly, she arches her back. Crack-crack.
"Stop that. It is abrasive to the bone." The cat remains seated on the rug.
She climbs into her bed and pulls the coverlet up over her naked skin. There is only the sound of soft rustling for a moment while she shifts her legs to warm the bedding. Then silence and the crackle of the embers, now burning quite low.
There is silence for a long time.
She is the one to break the silence. "Merron?"
"What is it, child?"
"How do I know when I have met a man?"
Pause.
"Look into his eyes."
Softly. "I cannot keep his gaze."
"Then you have met a man."
Pause.
"Perhaps the dream will return to me."
"Perhaps."
Pause.
"I think I should like that."
"Sleep, child. You are young yet. Dream your dreams. Then rise...and live your life."
"You are wise, old friend."
"You are kind to say so."

Norah never spoke of the dream to Merron again, or anyone for that matter. Perhaps she felt she had gotten her answer, or perhaps she wanted to keep it for herself, to remember whenever she pleased. Merron never asked to know what had transpired in the dream between the half-elf and the man of whom she spoke, neither did he ask if he had a name. But, then again, cat's care little for the affairs of humanity and can hardly be blamed for their disinterest; but, regardless of the fact that dreams are dreams, we still dream them. Some-times, that is enough.