<div class="floatright">(https://i.imgur.com/VjfvTWw.png)</div><strong>Taris Vannel</strong>(https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=293833.msg14533999#msg14533999)<br/><strong>HP:</strong>46 / 46<strong>AC:</strong>18<strong>CMD:</strong>21<strong>Arcane Pool:</strong>6 / 6<strong>Arrows:</strong>54<strong>Posts:</strong>32<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Guardhouse, Captain's Quarters --> Road to Valenland<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Xara<hr/><strong>Daybreak</strong><hr/>Daylight had found her much too early, tiny fingers reaching through the gaps in the heavy shutters of the Captain's chambers.  If she stared here long enough, Xara'd probably hang some heavy curtains to keep the night air blocked out.  Still, the two women had been too caught up in each other to worry about it last night.  Carefully, silently, Taris had slipped her way out of the bed she'd shared with the Captain, making sure not to disturb her as her bare feet padded against the cold stone.  Her elfblood compensated for the low light as she examined herself in the mirror ... it seemed like most of the marks had already begun to fade.  A few, however, made in moments of heightened passion, were clearly going to linger.  That notion sent a slight flush of warmth through her, little reminders of last night tickling at her memory.<br/><br/>She sighed slightly, tipping her head back and moving to the wash basin to clean the wax and the night's sweat from her body, a kettle having been left for the Captain to warm to her preferences.  Taris kept it cold, not wanting to make any sounds that might rouse her hostess.  Cool water beaded on her pale skin as she ran the cloth over her figure, the dull aches left in her muscles from last night's play leaving their own satisfying after effect on her body.<br/><br/>No breakfast, not here at the guard house at least.  Xara had, after all, spread the story that Taris had already left on her journey, so appearing in the mess hall wouldn't do at all.  Instead, she dressed herself in silence, draping the enchanted cloak around her shoulders to hide her from sight once again and drawing the hood up to shelter her ears from the cool draft from the window.  Borrowing a bit of stationary from the desk, she dabbed the quill in the inkwell, pressing the nib into the vellum and scribing each letter in turn.  Her handwriting was crowded and small, the precise hand of a clerk used to keeping inventory or trying to force comprehensive notes into margins or scraps of paper in the field.  When she finished her missive, she looked it over once again, pressing her lips together into a thin line.<br/><br/>... Somehow, it felt like less than Xara deserved.  But then, of course it did.  Relying on a piece of paper to convey her feelings was just another sign of her own weakness, wasn't it?  She sighed softly, looking at the raven-haired form of Xara resting in her bed, her face open and innocent in a way that waking people never were, her breath even and restful.  Her heart ached slightly, and her will wavered, as though she might lose her nerve.  She had been abandoned, and now it felt like she was abandoning someone else in turn.<br/><br/>She folded the page into a simple prism and set it on the nighstand next to the Captain's bed, a hand rendered imitation of her family crest scrawled onto the page.  Ultimately, she'd be back ... or she'd be gone forever.  She couldn't condone drawing a promising officer of the Hawken guard into her personal matters, especially not when the solutions to her problems likely lay outside the borders of her homeland.  She wouldn't be able to dissuade Xara from comming along, so, this was the option left to her.<br/><br/>Even if it made her feel like scum.<br/><br/>If she survived, she'd be free to repent thoroughly.<br/><br/>Openning her pack, she produced a simple mask of white porcelin, the face a blank field aside from the eyeholes and silver filigree in the twisting pattern of vines encroaching inward from the edge of the mask.  The door didn't creak as Taris openned it, as she'd grabbed the door ring and lifted it to put less weight on the hinges.  Like a shadow, she slipped into the halls, avoiding the sounds of conversation and people moving in heavy armor where she could.  She was fortunate that the guard house was relatively small, and designed more to resist people comming in than to prevent people inside from escaping.<br/><br/>With a flick of her wrist, she disengaged the grappling hook from the steeply angled wall she'd slid down to land in the dirt streets of Steinhelm.  She watched it tumbled through the air, the tines once clattering against the slanted stone before it bounced free again with a quick jerk on the darkly dyed silk rope.  Once it fell into her open palm, Taris slipped the coiled rope and hook back into their place under her cloak, bowing her head and backing away from the guardhouse.  She wondered if a guard might catch a glimpse of her before she disappeared into the woodwork of the town, if perhaps they'd make a connection between the escaping figure and their failed "guard whore" from the night before.  if the cloak might identify her.<br/><br/>Well.  It wasn't impossible, but it was decidedly unlikely.  No sense in worrying about it.<hr/><strong>Noon-ish</strong><hr/>Taris sat down in a clearing along the side of the road, her horse grazing in the open field as she sat on a blanket she'd laid out on the ground.  Stopping for lunch had been a bit of a gamble, if anyone was pursuing her from Steinhelm she doubted they would be doing the same.  Unfortunately, as a Magus, there were realities of her powers that had to be addressed.  One might be able to ride and eat, but preparing spells was wholly out of the question.<br/><br/>Her spellbook was laid out in front of her as she sat in the field, her legs tucked under her in a simple lotus position as her hands rested on her knees in precise positions.  Periodically, they would move from one mudra to another, her voice lowly chanting in an even rhythm, each syllable designed to gently shape and massage the weave of aether around her.  Slowly, she created her Pattern for the day, a mandala of arcane power, a symbol of her self and power that would be recognized by higher forces when she demanded they bow to her law.<br/><br/>She was worried.<br/><br/>Taris had carefully cultivated her Pattern for the last nine years, ensuring that it would not erode, and that it could not be exploited against her.  She knew its limits as intimately as she knew body's.  Or, she<em>had</em>.  When she'd begun the chant for the day, she found that it had grown.  She was pulling more aetheric threads in than she ever had before, another circle added to her mandala, bleak and waiting to be filled.  Her body too had changed, slightly, her voice stirring the aether in ways it hadn't before, her sense of sense less certain.  She couldn't imagine when it had happened before, but the rote preparation of her spells meant that she was aware of even tiny shifts in her state.<br/><br/>Worse yet had been her spell book.  When she'd openned it, new pages had been filled.  The spells she'd been researching were completed, but six more pages detailed greater mysteries still.  Taris had always written out her spells in inks distilled from sacred herbs and powdered minerals that could conduct arcane energies.  It left her script in deep blue-green for the most part, a slight nod to her elvish heritage.  The new work, however, was written in a deep, browning red, the paper around it singeing with residual heat.  Imp's blood, most likely.  How had it gotten into her spellbook though?  More disturbing, how was it so accurately tuned to her aetheric harmonics?<br/><br/>Unfortunately, with her scuffle with the self-proclaimed Wrath on the horizon, she didn't have the luxury of turning down the increase of power.  So, she drank more deeply of magic than she ever had before, letting that vibrant and intoxicating energy in.  More changes, more twisting of who she was to better fit someone else's agenda, but however reluctantly she kept striding on the path that had been laid out before her.  She was resolved to move forward, even if she didn't know what she was moving<em>towards</em>.<hr/><div class="floatleft">(https://i.imgur.com/WLVeGed.png)</div><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Memorized Spells</div><div class="spoiler_body">Cantrips:  Detect Magic, Light, Prestidigitation, Mage Hand<br/>1st Level:  Magic Missile, Ray of Enfeeblement, Expeditious Retreat, Obscuring Mist, Weaponwand<br/>2nd Level:  Molten Orb, Mirror Image, Scorching Ray, Web <br/>3rd Level:  Bloody Arrows, Haste</div></div>