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Fantasy The Path to Power

>Yes, he who dares, wins.

The Beggar-man's hesitation lasted for all of a few moments. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain by attempting this ritual. It was clear to him that whatever power Maxwell had gained, whatever the source of his invincibility was, it was in this book. The Beggar-man wanted that power, and would not stop now that the means to grasp it were literally in his hands.

He would have to get out of the city, first. The ritual required a circle of power, and the stone streets would be too firm and unyielding for his knife to carve up.

Rewrapping the book in his tattered clothing, the Beggar-man hurried as fast as he could to the outskirts of the city. It was a long way, and it would take a few hours walking, but beyond the high walls and fortified battlements lay open grasslands that would provide the material he needed. As a stroke of good luck, it would also be close to sundown by the time he got there, enabling him to work under the cover of darkness.

Soon, faster than he expected, the Beggar-man found himself outside. His excitement and enthusiasm redoubling his efforts, he began to carve up the ground, clearing away any debris and making sure that the circle was clear and distinct in the ground.

It took a few tries to get the circle just right, and by the time he was done, the sun had long set, with the great gates leading back in to the city having closed. But it was going to be worth it, he was sure.

Putting his knife away and setting the book aside, the Beggar-man entered the circle of power, making sure that everything was exactly the same as displayed in the book's diagram before speaking the incantations.

"Fun muz wah aav dii they, koc foefco ke zead my kuco!"

...

Silence met his words, the only sound being the wind slowly rusting the grass.

The Beggar-man waited, waited, and waited some more, only for the complete lack of anything to happen slowly fill him with bitter disappointment. What had he done wrong? He had followed the instructions as best he could!

Letting out a yell of anger, he kicked the book aside as he left the circle, intent on going back to his shack and thinking of some other way to claw his way out of destitution.

Only, for some strange reason, the city gates were tilting to the side. Wait, no, scratch that. It looked like the whole ground was suddenly becoming vertical rather than it's normal horizontal. That was strange.

Oh, and there's the ground now, coming to meet him. How nice. It's moving a bit fast, though.

Seconds before impact, the Beggar-man lost consciousness.

>>>

The Beggar-man awoke in a strange place. It was just like the place he had just left, except that the whole world was frozen still, and cast in muted colors. What's more, he could clearly see himself and the book he had kicked, both suspended in the process of falling to the earth.

It was a throughly uncomfortable experience.

Looking around for anything that could help him fix... whatever this was, the Beggar-man saw a strange man, sitting at a large wooden desk, watching him patiently. He appeared to be one of the nobility, or perhaps the steward of one based on his uniform. He had not been there when the ritual had started.

"Welcome." Said the man. "Please, sit down." He gestured to a chair in front of the desk that had not been there a moment before.

Confused, the Beggar-man did as requested, looking at the strange man with reservation.

"Are you ready to begin?" Asked the man, the ghost of a smile playing over his face.

"Begin what?" Asked the Beggar-man, now even more confused than before.

"Your enlightenment." Said the man. "I am Nettrein. I am here to teach you."

"Teach me what? I don't understand what's going on here." The Beggar-man said.

"You are here in this frozen time because you completed the Rite of Edification." Nettrein said. "Thus, I have been summoned to impart upon you any lesson you desire, so long as you can afford the price."

Instantly on guard, the Beggar-man eyed Nettrein warily. "And what price is this?" He asked.

Nettrein smiled. It was not a friendly smile. "Your sanity." He said, looking to the frozen surroundings. "Once begun, the lessons will not stop until you have attained a sufficient level of mastery, or you go mad from the isolation." He said.

"If I might make a recommendation, I would advise that you focus on one skill, or perhaps the basics of an array of them. Asking to be taught how to be a great general or a powerful magician will take years or decades of study, and you will lose yourself long before then." Nettrein said.

"Now." Nettrein said, refocusing his attention back on the Beggar-man. "Are you ready to begin your lessons?"

Are you?
>No, get me out of here!
>Yes, ask to learn the knightly basics (Martial arts, diplomacy and etiquette, letters and numbers)
>Yes, ask to learn the scholarly basics (Magic, academics and history, letters and numbers)
 
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Now that we're here, we certainly won't just leave... scholarly basics sounds as if we'd be able to throw fireballs at random people at some point, so that's my choice.
 
Hm, not quite. While I haven't been able to touch on it yet, Knights in this seting are more akin to Paladins rather than just Fighters (but god help you if you get in the way of either of them). They have their own style of magic as well, just a bit more specialized in performing Knightly duties.
 
Hmmm, I'd still say scholorly basics. Makes more sense in the context of the group's last choices.
 
OOC
Sorry fot the delay.
OOC

>Scholarly basics

"Teach me the scholar's arts." The Beggar-man said to Nettrein. Memories of the Wizards dueling over the book flashed in his mind. If he could acquire even a fraction of that kind of power, with Maxwell's grimoire, he would have a very strong advantage over everyone else who got in his way.

"Very well." Said Nettrein, reaching down behind the desk and opening a compartment. From it he withdrew several large books, some writing materials and other strange tools that the Beggar-man didn't recognize.

"You will start with these." Nettrein said, pushing the books the edge of the desk. "If you could perform the Rite, you can read some. This book will help you brush up on your reading and writing, and this here will help you familiarize yourself with how numbers work."

The Beggar-man reached out and took the books, opening one of them and flipping through it. The first few pages of book was simply a collection of letters and their corresponding sounds, while the latter half seemed like it went in to things like "grammar" and "sentence structure." Whatever those were.

Adjusting himself so that he was comfortable, the Beggar-man slowly began to try and read the book.

>>>

If he was completely honest, tutelage under Nettrein was not the most pleasant of experiences the Beggar-man had been forced to endure. The being (Man? Demon? Ghost?) maintained an eternal professional distance from the Beggar-man, making any sort of familiarity and companionship impossible to form.

Add the fact that he was in a sliver of frozen time, eternally watching his body fall to the ground, while the sun never rose, the wind never blew and the smells and sounds of nature were dulled to the point of nonexistence mean the whole experience was incredibly oppressive. Had he known what would happen, the Beggar-man would have perform the Rite somewhere with a more naturally inclined towards stasis, such as a library or a a temple hall.

The unnerving stillness of the world was a continually grating experience, always just on the edge of the perception and preventing him from relaxing or getting any rest so long as he was aware of it. To avoid thinking about his unnatural predicament, the Beggar-man threw himself in to his studies, trying as hard as possible to bury himself in the books and lessons so he could continue to maintain his sanity.

The lessons themselves were varied. Once he had fully mastered reading, writing and the basics of mathematics, Nettrein began teaching him about the sciences. The forces of nature, the interplay of mater and energy, the structure of the body and mind, and how the mystic arts could be used to influence them were a daily lecture, with the Beggar-man taking constant notes and memorizing passages of import.

The lessons on history were the most interesting to the Beggar-man, as they provided a much needed context to his life's story. The origins of the Emperor and the founding of Disandar, major conflicts, both social and military, that had shaped Disandar's culture all provided the Beggar-man with a singular lesson: That power ultimately lay in the hands of the one willing to take it.

It was with this lesson in mind that he eagerly threw himself in to the studies of magic.

Learning the mystic arts was unlike anything the Beggar-man had ever done. Nettrein provided the books and necessary materials from within his desk (which seemed bottomless, and he never ever stood up from), but unlike the memorization of facts and learning how to think about the knowledge he had acquired like in his previous lessons, actually applying his studies in to actual spell craft provided a level of physical feedback that often threatened to overwhelm him at times.

More than once he had been practicing a spell, and even after carefully charting out and double checking his diagram, it still would blow up in his face, often times literally. The dangers associated with careless spell casting were enough to make him want to give up at times for fear of his own safety. Unfortunately, that was not an option. Nettrein had made it clear, and continued to make it clear, that time would only move again once he had completed his lessons.

That said, progress was definitely being made. As the complexity and sophistication of this lessons grew, so too did the Beggar-man's mastery of the material. Where he once struggled to read and write, now he did so effortlessly. The sciences and academic arts were no longer opaque and unknown, but readily understood chains of cause and effect. History was the context of the past that colored the present, and magic was not some strange and alien power, but something to be mastered and controlled. There were still questions he had, gaps in his knowledge, but the foundation he had been working to build was such that he could find those answers with a little time and effort of his own.

And it was with that thought that his lessons abruptly came to an end.

"I believe we are finished." Said Nettrein one day, taking the books that had come to occupy his desk and putting them away one by one. "Your studies are complete, and what I have left to teach is beyond the sophistication of our current agreement. Unless you wish to stay further?" He asked.

The Beggar-man paused before speaking. Part of him wanted to stay, to acquire deeper secrets, better mastery, but when he looked at the frozen world, the eternal stasis that had continually ground at his consciousness, he knew he had to get out of here, fast.

"No. I'm done for now." The Beggar-man said. standing up from the desk. "If I ever have need of you, I will call again."

Nettrein shook his head. "I am afraid that is impossible. The Rite of Edification can only be performed once per person."

The Beggar-man was about to object when his lessons came back to him. He turned back to his body, still frozen in time. In order for him to be able to interact with anything while outside of his physical being, his soul had to have been extracted from it in order to enable him any level of tangible impact. Repeatedly extracting a soul from a body was extremely stressful, and not something done lightly in the first place.

"Yes, I understand." Was all the answer he gave.

Nettrein nodded, an imperceptibly small twitch at the corner of the mouth the only indication of his approval. "Now, if you'll sign here, we can return you to your body." He said, sliding what appeared to be a contract across the desk.

The Beggar-man picked up the contract and looked it over. It was nothing nefarious, just an acknowledgement that the terms of their bargain had been completed satisfactorally, and that they were to part ways from now until the end of time. Nettrein had already signed his name at the bottom, and now all it needed was the Beggar-man's signature as well.

What do you sign?
>Vincent
>Jacob
>Daniel
 
Vincent derives form a latin word that means to conquer. So yeah, that's my vote.
 
Wkipedia said:
According to Jan Fokkelman, the name [Jacob] is a shortened version of Yaaqob-el, meaning "God may protect."
Click to expand...

No point in conquering if you don't live long enough to do it, right?
A vote for Jacob.
 
IctoraPost said:
We won't need to conquer death when God can do it for us!
Click to expand...
Then we would be subservient to another entity, relient on their power and goodwill, below it in a heirachy. No, that is unthinkable! We. Must. Become. God.
Insert nefarious laughter here
 
Con said:
Then we would be subservient to another entity, relient on their power and goodwill, below it in a heirachy. No, that is unthinkable! We. Must. Become. God.
Insert nefarious laughter here
Click to expand...

But we cannot conquer what we cannot see! If God is close enough to protect us, he's close enough for us to stab him in the back and take his power! Not that we will, of course. Because we're good and would never do that.
 
IctoraPost said:
But we cannot conquer what we cannot see! If God is close enough to protect us, he's close enough for us to stab him in the back and take his power! Not that we will, of course. Because we're good and would never do that.
Click to expand...
Touché, but in character it would make sense to name ourselves Vincent as we wish to CONQUER THE EMPIRE! Or something like that.
And we could conquer our inablity to see God!
 
I'm almost tempted to go for Daniel, just to make sure that we don't get a proper result in the end... think I prefer Vincent myself, though, let's conquer the world.
 
I am somewhat tempted now to chose Daniel to stretch out the arguing over our name. It's kinda funny how much has been said on this matter.
 
I think we deserve a last-minute Daniel here, and a couple people jumping in for a good old tie-up.

There can't be that many interesting or famous people named Daniel, so I think we oughta change things up in that respect.
except this Daniel
 
players-y-u-do-dis.jpg
 
Bad jokes and ancient memes aside, the vote currently stand with Vincent at two votes (Silanon, Con) Daniel at one vote (Jakeland) and Jacob at one vote (IctoraPost).

Tomorrow is update day, so I'll close the vote at midnight tonight, or in roughly four hours.

EDIT:
Also, I will just pick a name randomly if you guys try to force a tie. :xFtongue:
 
Why not choose a double name, though? Maybe something like Jakob-Vincent McDaniel?
 
So the options are "To conquer" "God may protect" and "God is my judge" (Daniel). The emphasize on God has me wanting to go for one of the Biblical names...

I vote for Jakob-Vincent McDaniel! The man that will conquer and be protected by God. Like his ansestors before him, God will be by him.

Yeah, no? Ok.
 
OOC
If I went for a double name, 99% of the time the character would be referred to by their first time, negating the point. :xFtongue:
/OOC

>Vincent

Vincent signed his name on the contract, and watched as the words on the paper shone briefly before slowly growing warm, warm enough to set the contract ablaze with a green fire.

Nettrein nodded his satisfaction. "I bid you fair tidings, Master Vincent. May your lessons empower you to attaint your goals." He said, his words sounded faint, as though coming from far away. To Vincents surprise, Nettrein began to grow transparent, before slowly fading away in to nothing. Before he could move or act, color bled back in to the world, and Vincent's vision went black.

He hit the ground with a bone jarring thud, impacting the ground and completing the fall that had been months in the making. Letting out a groan of pain, Vincent sat up and rubbed his side, cursing himself for his carelessness. He really should have known that this was coming. Had he not been staring at his body frozen in mid-fall throughout all his lessons?

He resolved to not be so careless in the future.

Standing up and retrieving Maxwell's Grimoire, Vincent gave his surroundings a quick scan. It was completely unchanged form when he had first completed the Rite, proving that time had indeed been frozen for all of his lessons, and it had not been a massive hallucination.

Of course, a quick conjuring of magical light only further cemented the fact that he had been host to a strange spirit of knowledge.

Vincent had to struggle to suppress an exclamation of triumph. He had power now, real, tangible power! This was the break he had been looking for, the thing that would let him get what he deserved. The paths wealth, fame and status were all within his grasp, and he had ever intention of sizing them.

The question now was, how to it?

With the knowledge he possessed and the spells at his command, Vincent's options were now wide open, and he was left somewhat paralyzed with indecision.

Above all else, the first thing he needed was money. The clothes on his back were barely better than rags, and he had no coin to his name other than what he could sell, which consisted of a few trinkets back in his shack, his knife and the grimoire, the last of which irreplaceable.

He could stay here, sell his skills and services to someone rich enough to afford him but stupid enough not to train themselves in the mystic arts. That was how most of the Wizards in Disandar made their initial fortune. Alternatively he could apprentice himself to another Wizard and learn their secrets as well The problem with that was it would take a lot of time to properly built up his fortune and skills to a level where he could be independent.

Alternately, he could leave Disandar, strike his fortune out on the frontier. Living on the streets had him ample opportunity to overhear the latest gossip as people tended to ignore the homeless, and it seemed like every day there were new stories coming back of some brave and daring soul finding a fortune out on the fringes of the Empire. It would be risky of course, the frontier was nothing like the civilized lands of the Empire, but it could be worth it in the end.

After mulling over the pros and cons of staying or leaving, Vincent eventually decided he would...

What do you do?
>Stay in Disandar. Sell your services or apprentice to another Wizard. Low reward, but also low risk

>Leave for the frontier. Find fortune and fame in the lands were anything can happen. Highest reward, but also highest risk.

OOC
More meta question: Would you prefer to have Vincent's spells be written out for you in the OP, or would you prefer to have them be a surprise? I plan on drawing most of the spells from DnD, due to an abidance of choice.
 
But we could have chosen to use the second name whenever it'd been more convenient... anyway, about the question: Think I'd prefer them to be unknown myself. Nothing better than a pleasant surprise when we're back against the wall. Also: Leave for the frontier - don't think we went all-in just to slow down any time soon.
 
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