Completed (Flashback) The Phases of Acquisition [solo]

[Kuvarakh]

73 summer, 433 AV

Phase one:

"Kuvarakh, attend me!" the voice rose from behind the wall. Kuvarakh slipped a strip of cloth into the book he'd been reading and closed it, replacing it on the shelf. He stepped around the corner and lifted the floorlamp. The post came out of the base, which was an iron circle two feet across with three heavy spokes, decorative, but sturdy. He leaned the post with the candle holder against the wall. The candle looked well used, but had never been lit in the time Kuvarakh had been here.

He carried the base to the fireplace and slid a particular brick to the side, revealing a metal stub, cut into a hexagram. With a little jockeying , he was able to slide the hub of the base, where the spokes came together, over the metal stub. He began to turn the base like a wheel, which, in fact, it was. Slowly the hearth slid aside, revealing a metal ladder into his master's lab.

He replaced the brick and reassembled the lamp and climbed down, where an equivalent iron wheel was used to crank the hearth back into position. He did so and turned to see what his master wanted.

"Here, catch." his master said, casually tossing a 2-foot-square pane of glass in Kuvarakh's general direction. Gasping, Kuvarakh scrambled to catch the thing without slicing his hand open. As soon as he got his hand on it, he knew something was special about this glass. It was flexible.

"Yes," his master chuckled, "founted with purified leather and filtered with lacquered hide. Captured the durability and flexibility, but eliminates the stiffness and the color. Took me a few adjustments, but its perfect."

"Perfectly useless." Kuvarakh smirked, "What is this for, anyway? Glass that bends? It's not as though it will hold a shape, master. It won't replace glassblowing. If you could shape it how you wanted and then return its solidity, then maybe, but..."

"Always dead on with what a thing CAN'T do, aren't you." the old man shook his head, but the grin remained, "Let me tell you what it WILL replace...You are well aware of Lefrik, the Magecrafter? Yes, of course you are. He has that book you want so badly. I am convinced he has a strongbox of mine in his shop somewhere. I would like you to retrieve it for me, along with whatever else happens to fall into your eager hands."

"I will always do what you ask me, sir, but how will...this...get me into a magecrafter's shop?" Kuvarakh asked, intrigued. He knew his master would not have gone to the trouble of crafting this material if there was not already a preconceived purpose.

"Listen up, learner, and absorb the wisdom." he invited conspiratorially. Kuvarakh leaned in as his master outlined his plan. His grin began to mirror the older man's.

[Kuvarakh]

Phase two:

Several days later, the summer weather decided to announce itself anew with a week of eighty degree weather. On the second such day, Kuvarakh entered Lefrik's shop asking how much it would cost to have a dozen water-tight barrels made.

The Magecrafter turned a sour expression towards him and waited a few seconds to emphasize his disdain, "Are you blind, fool? Look around you. Does this LOOK like a cooper's shop? And who would not assume the barrels are to be water-tight? Have you not noticed we are built over a lake?"

Kuvarakh rattled the parchment in front of him and looked around as though he had taken no notice of the nature of the shop as he entered. "Oh, I'm terribly sorry, sir. I saw barrels by the door out front and, well, what can I say?"

"I would hope you could say you have the wit to realize that, just because I USE barrels, I don't MAKE them." He wiped his brow, clearly the heat was making him testy, "But I suppose that would be a fool's hope, hmmm?"

"Did not SAY I was sorry? Well, let me say it again then....I'm sorry, I've got a commission that does not hinge on my customer's patience, and I saw..the...aww.....ahhhhh...aahhhhh...CHOO!" Kuvarakh sneezed into the parchment raising a cloud of dust. He immediately cursed and rubbed his eye. "Bugger it! I've got something in my eye!" he took several clumsy steps around the shop, nearly knocking things over. "Don't you ever dust in here?"

"Don't blame ME for your stupid dust. Let me see your eye!" Lefrik took Kuvarakh's chin in hand and pulled his face close, looking directly in his eye. 'So very easy' Kuvarakh thought as he, likewise, looked directly in the magecrafter's eye.

He looked for his own reflection in the other man's eye, an ability that became easier each time he did it. He felt a pull of djed from his own eye as the reflection seemed to grow nearer and clearer. In seconds, the reflection took on the perspective of being seen from the Lefrik's point of view. His link now established, he implanted the simple hypnotic suggestion he and his master had decided on. 'Maybe he has something for this heat.' and withdrew from the man's mind before he was detected.

"Vayt's curse, it's hot in here, I'm sweating like a pig. Have you got anything cool" the magecrafter said, wiping his brow.

"AGH!" Kuvarakh pulled back as though a new discomfort struck him, he rubbed his eye once more, "Oh hey, that's got it." he said as he held out his finger, with a tiny speck of dirt on it. "Thank you. you know, actually I have THIS" he pulled out a cloth and handed it to Lefrik. It was cool to the touch. It was, of course, an alchemically altered handkerchief, charged with ice and filtered of liquid, to be cool. Kuvarakh's master had crafted it specifically for this exchange, a small price to pay for the return he anticipated.

"Oh gods, that's wonderful!" the magecrafter sighed, "Can I trade you something for it?"

"Well, I'm rather fond of it myself." Kuvarakh responded with feigned hesitation. "I'll tell you what, if you have a knife, we could cut it in half. It should still work. I bought it in Zeltiva. It's probably nearly spent, but it should last through the summer yet."

"Splendid!" the old man clapped, "Let me go find a knife, I'll be right back, feel free to look around."

Kuvarakh smiled back, he had intended to do just that. Lefrik disappeared into a side door and Kuvarakh quickly stepped behind the counter where he spied a pair of well-worn gloves sitting on a loose stack of papers. He lifted the corners of the top paper and carried the gloves back around to slide them, paper and all, under the edge of the counter by the door, out of sight.

The magecrafter returned and, seeing Kuvarakh by the door, asked him, "See something you like?"

"Actually, yes, my daughter would probably like one of these little figurines here." There was a shelf of them, including a few ballerinas of various colors. "She's quite the little dancer that one, she...-" He stopped, a look of sudden concern crossing his face, "Oh my, I've lost track of time, I need to find that cooper at once!"

Lefrik waved a dismissive hand, "Take it. It's a pittance in exchange for this cloth." he said, referring to the dancer figurine. He then outlined a series of turns to reach the nearest cooper as he cut the cloth in half, remarking how ironic it was that he didn't dare use any of the knives in his shop for fear that, being magecrafted items, they might react against the alchemically charged cloth.

Kuvarakh paid no real attention to the directions, but did silently agree with the irony, since that very fear was what he and his master had been counting on. He thanked the old man for the directions and hurried out of the shop heading first in the direction he had been given to find the cooper, but abandoning that course when Lefrik's shop was out of sight and heading back to his master's lab.

[Kuvarakh]

Phase three:

"We are agreed then? We will continue to trust to your luck? I can see this figurine is imbued with djed, which I assume to be Lefrik's, but I can not determine its purpose. I just want to warn you. It would have been far better if you could have taken his gloves with you."

Kuvarakh agreed whole-heartedly, but explained that there hadn't been time. This time, HE was going to conduct the activation and control the flow. The reason being that he would be the one performing the break-in and it was best to take no chances involving the touch of those not involved. It was risky enough to have Kuvarakh's hands on the lockpicks, regardless of the hope of Lefrik's djed acting as a shield against triggers. It would only be compounding the risk to have someone else perform the alchemy.

Kuvarakh fed his concentration into the ring to be assured of the proper positioning of founts and filters, feeling the sensations of inflow and outflow at the appropriate slots. The imbued figurine in the fount, an identical nonimbued one, purchased at a nearby shop, in the filter. His master placed the lockpick set in the center of the ring and handed Kuvarakh the needle. He pricked his finger, placed the bleeding tip against the keystone and began to meditate. First, he focused his sense on his finger tip, willing a feeling of suction, envisioning his oozing blood being drawn by the suction into the ring, slowly flowing with the suction, coating the ring.

It moved very slowly at first, but as his concentration brought the envisioned flow of blood full circle, he altered his concentration to generate the sense of the ring moving beneath his touch, sliding with the aid of his blood's viscosity. It went faster as he lost track of time. Soon, he meditated on the imagery that he had stumbled upon back in Zeltiva, that had served him so well since. Water, seawater, the ocean, it roared in his ears as it, too, began to swirl, roughly, loudly, with much spray distorting the surface and much foam swirling within.

The foam aided his concentration at first, as it gave a focus on the speed of the whirlpool, and he concentrated on increasing that, until it was a blur and the foam no longer helped in that regard. Now he altered his vision to bring a rocky cliff with a protruding shelf representing the filter. As the whirlpool closed on the cliff, the spray, the foam, the impurities began to wash up against the rock, being stripped as splashed debris caught on the rocks. This went on and as the impurities were removed, the whirlpool grew quieter, smoother and more translucent until it finally became near impossible to tell it still spun.

The rocky cliff sank and flowed out, becoming a sandy beach, which began to reach jetties out into the water, encircling the glass-like whirlpool, which began to close in upon its center. As the encircling became complete and the whirlpool fully closed, Kuvarakh pulled his hand away from the ring. It was finished. As always, there was that brief moment of reorientation to his surroundings. An 'Is it over?' feeling.

He picked up the tongs, shielded, as was everything else in the room, picked up the lockpick set and placed it in the waiting bucket of water. He moved to ring the bell, signifying completion of the process, but his master came in, already knowing it was done. He looked around the room, his eyes strangely 'clear' and smiled. "Not bad, not bad. Very little residual djed and took you less than a bell to finish. You're improving. Let's go have a drink and we'll come back shortly and see what we've got."

[Kuvarakh]

Phase four:

Tonight was the night. Kuvarakh had received his instructions. Preparations had been made. The middle pane of the left column, bottom panel. That was to be the 'flexible' pane. The edge had been bordered in lead, alchemically treated to look like the wood of the door. The lead would give the glass enough support to seem solid as normal glass, but a good push should dislodge it from the hold of the soft metal.

Kuvarakh assumed his master had arranged for some drunk or some child to "accidentally" break the original glass. An agent no doubt, or some citizen who owed him a favor, it mattered not. Lefrik would be in a hurry to get the glass replaced. In all likelihood, he would not examine the glass closely, trusting instead to whatever ward he had in place to encompass the door as a whole. The lead around the edge of the 'trick' glass would block the ward for a time, but it needed to be done without delay.

Kuvarakh snuck his way there, trusting his devotion to Akajia to provide shadows to conceal him. He reached the door undetected and listened for a moment. Hearing nothing, he pushed lightly on the new glass set into the appropriate position of the cottage window array. There was no effect, so he pushed a little harder. Still it resisted. He rolled to put his weight on his left elbow and propped his right arm with his left. He pushed hard and the window slipped. He immediately gripped his right arm to stop the momentum from overdoing the sudden release of the glass, else the pane would have popped out onto the floor, and he couldn't take the chance of the floor being warded.

He got to his knees and pushed a thin pole with a hook at the end through the opening in the door. He directed it under the counter where the gloves still sat out of sight. He pulled the gloves towards him. He only got one glove, but that would suffice. Now it was time to shut off the ward!

A small nondescript candle sat on a table close by. He reached in up to his shoulder, barely reaching the candle, and snuffed it out with the glove. His master had said that the candle was the key to the series of wards throughout the shop. Time to find out. On his previous visit, he had observed that the door was keyed on both sides, with no convenient handle to turn to unlock it. He got out his newly imbued lock picks and began on the door.

With a combination of picks to push back pins, a flat 'pin-slip' wedge with holes to allow bent picks to find the particular pins needing to be pushed up beyond being merely flush, and wedge-pins for the more troublesome lower pins which were spring-tensed unlike the top, which relied on gravity alone, he hoped to have the door unlocked in a few minutes.

As soon as he put the first pick in, he got a mild shock and the pin itself started bucking in his hand. He fell back, mouth agape, and watched the pin spin and bend in the lock. 'Yshul's mercy, it's dancing! it's the effect of the djed.' he cursed to himself. In the long run, each of five lock picking tools went through a five chime ordeal as Kuvarakh began to despair of ever getting the door open. But then, it seemed that the trigger had spent itself, otherwise harmlessly, and he got down to seriously working on the door.

More than once during both ordeals, he had to abandon the front step and seek shadows to conceal himself while figures strode by, oblivious of his hidden presence. More than once he got tools stuck in the mechanisms of the lock and had to start over. This was taking too long!

Ironically, it turned out that the lock being poorly made was what made it difficult to pick. It took him numerous trials and errors to realize that the placements of the upper pins was inconsistent with his pin-slip wedge's alignment. They had been made by makers of the locks themselves. It was of course, not common knowledge, but it was money to be made by disreputable employees of the lock's makers. Kuvarakh could only assume that Lefrik was trusting far more to his wards to protect his shop, and didn't worry about buying higher quality locks. 'Cheap bastard.' he muttered as he set aside his pin-slip wedge, now forced to make constant adjustments for each individual pin. It added a good half-bell to his efforts.

Finally getting the lock sprung, he opened the door a crack and withdrew all his tools, replacing them in his leather roll-up holder. He went inside and, after refitting the "glass" in the door, began to look around. He got Lefrik's other glove and found the book he was looking for and replaced it with a like-sized block of wood with a phoney cover, placing the original in his pack. There was a conspicuously door-wide section of a back wall with no barrels, boxes or shelves in front of it. He went to it and found, unsurprisingly, a keyhole, though there was no apparent door.

There were many minor items he could have stolen, but he had lost well over a full bell on the front door and he needed to find his master's strongbox first anyway. The most likely place was behind the hidden door. He unrolled his tools and started to work on the lock. Immediately a shock ran up his arm, burning and freezing it at the same time. He stifled a scream and tore his tools from the door, tossing them in his pack.

He grabbed the sleeve of his robe to check his arm, but before he even began to roll it up, he could feel that some of its mass was missing and the sleeve was wet. He pulled back the sleeve and almost fainted. His arm was melting!

[Kuvarakh]

Phase five:

'Fool!' Kuvarakh thought to himself, 'Of COURSE there was additional warding on the hidden door itself! The larger, general ward was for the basic shop, there were only low to middle grade items there. This was his SANCTUM most likely. It was probably only the protection of the gloves that kept me from dissolving into a steaming smear instantly!'

Instinct directed him to prevent any part of his essence from remaining behind. He could be tracked that way, or worse. Also, there may have just been an alarm somewhere. He needed to go, NOW! As he got up, he noticed an apron behind a barrel. He grabbed it and wrapped his affected arm in it. It looked to have fallen behind the barrel some time ago and he didn't want to remove anything that would be noticed.

As he reached the door, a thought struck him. He had nothing at hand to relight the candle and reset the ward. He hadn't expected to need to. But it occurred to him that perhaps he didn't need to. It was very windy tonight. He opened the door and stepped out. Finding a rock, he broke the pane 2 spots above the one he had replaced with the flexible one.

He tossed the rock in so it landed near the hidden door. With any luck, the mage would think some hoodlum or rival had broken his window, and the rock had hit the door, triggering the ward, but having no effect on a mere rock. Then, the wind simply blew the candle out. It was a longshot, but with nothing stolen, the mage may just believe it.

He heard footsteps and started to head towards a nearby canal. A voice called a halt behind him, "What are you doing? Hey! Where do you think you're going? Come Back Here!"

Kuvarakh broke into a run, thinking that with the right bluff, this could be just what he needed. He knew that, as a Nuit, he would not be able to outrun his pursuer, who was probably one of those self-important Night Watch or whatever they called themselves. But he didn't want to. As he reached the wall siding the canal, he stopped and faced the man.

The man sneered, "I won't report you, buddy. Just give me all your gold and I'll forget all about it." he chuckled with self-assured cruelty.

Kuvarakh tore the apron from his arm, dropped his pack and advanced on the man, letting his eyes go wide and trying to make his expression as maniacal as possible. "No gold for you, friend. But I have THIS!" he waved the horrific, oozing, steaming travesty of an arm before the man's suddenly pale face. "VAYT'S CURSE BE UPON YOU!" he wrapped his arms around the man, turning with him so that the canal was behind him.

The man screamed and went into a frenzy of revulsion. Kuvarakh used the man's own panic to herd him to the wall of the canal, then gripped once and for all as best he could and drove them both over into the water.

He fought his way down towards the bottom. As a Nuit, he did not need to breathe. The human would need both hands to even make the attempt to swim with any effect, and with both hands trying to swim, he had nothing to offset Kuvarakh's interference. In no time at all, the man's body twitched as he gagged and went still.

Kuvarakh lodged the drowned body on some canal debris and returned for the apron and his pack. He went back to the body and, finding a hidden spot beneath one of the bridges, he performed the transferral ritual, which took twice as long, due to his slowly dissolving right arm interfering with his ability to form the glyphs. He became nearly comatose as the strain of the ritual was compounded by his loss of ichor from his right arm. Fortunately, he had chosen his spot well and remained undiscovered for the many hours it took for him to regain his strength. It was mid morning when he filled the pockets of his previous body's clothes with stones and sank it in the canal. He took a moment to wash his hands and face and comb his hair and then returned to his master's shop in his new body to admit his failure.

The master was furious. All his preparations, all his expense, all his favors, wasted! He ordered Kuvarakh out of his lab and sat staring at the apron. Kuvarakh decided not to mention the book he had grabbed for himself. That was to have been his reward for his efforts. But with the mess he had made of things, he figured his master would demand it to be turned over to him.

He would mention that he felt he had covered the fact it was a break-in fairly well and that the flexible pane of glass was still in place. But he knew that the general ward would work past the lead lining before long, but with the candle out, there would be some delay to that now.

He was just steeling himself to go back down and argue these points when he heard laughter. Loud, triumphant laughter! He made his way back to the ladder. "Master? is everything ok? Am I not going to be dismissed?"

"No, no, of course not, my boy! I am sorry I was so cross! Yes, you did make a mess of it, but, when you aren't good, you still seem to be lucky!" He held up a small item. It was a key. "I found it in the lining of this apron you grabbed. He must have lost it when he misplaced his apron. And given his apparent disregard for the importance of his locks, maybe it will still work."

[Kuvarakh]

Phase six:

Gifted with a fresh, new body and several items to gain trust, they decided the direct approach was best. Too much time had elapsed for any hope that the glass in the door was still shielded from the door ward by a mere edging of lead. No doubt the candle had been relit by now, and even if the old magecrafter had bought the scenario of mere vandalism, he would, nonetheless, be on his guard. No, subtlety and finesse were out. Bold-faced lying and a good bludgeoning would be the fashion of the evening.

In his body and garb of a City Guardsman, Kuvarakh approached the door of Lefrik's shop shortly after closing bell. He rapped the door-knocker several times. It would be logical that it would be unwarded. Lefrik would have to have some means of being alerted to a visitor at late bells.

"Sir, we had a report of vandalism at this location and I am following up regarding some items that may have been stolen. Have you noticed anything missing?"

"Are you saying that you have suspicious items, or is this just a routine line of questions?"

Kuvarakh sighed as if this was an annoying and all too regular part of his job. "I'm saying that we intercepted a man with items he could not account for, who then made an attempt to escape the guard, and died as a result. Did you have a break-in last night or not?"

"I had my window broken, but nothing was stolen that I'm aware of. I had it fixed today. I noticed nothing stolen, however."

"Could I come in and have a look around?"

"It's late, sir, and I have said nothing was stolen. What reason do you have to come in and 'look around'? Can't it wait?"

Kuvarakh quickly adopted an attitude of legal repercussions, "Sir, you are a powerful magecrafter. Any chance that items may have been stolen from you needs to be swiftly confirmed or disproved. Your cooperation is expected. I do not do this for fun! If you were to insist upon the sanctity of your place of business and then some foul play were to occur, injuring or killing a highly placed member of this city, and an item of yours were to be involved...it would not go well for you."

"Don't you try to threaten me! These same highly placed citizens are my friends, sir! My loyalty is well established among much loftier stations than the City Guard!" his anger and contempt were palpable.

"I see." Kuvarakh sneered with unsettling confidence, "Then you don't have a unique set of fancy initials that you put on your personal belongings. Or embroidered on certain items of clothing?" he said this last with narrowing eyes. Lefrik visibly froze in sudden dismay.

"And you haven't lost a key recently? Maybe a key to one of your secret compartments or something? Well I'm very sorry to have troubled you, sir and I have no doubt that your good friends will be happy to stick their necks out to save yours. Good evening." he turned and made as if to leave. He hadn't taken two steps before Lefrik came rushing out, sputtering and stammering out apologies for his rudeness and promising to let him look around as much as he wanted.

He fairly fawned over Kuvarakh in his City Guard livery as he brought forth Lefrik's gloves and key. "Sir, I am truly sorry for my presumption and my insulting behavior. I had no idea such things were missing. I can only say that it has only been one day and I guess I hadn't really had occasion yet to need these, so I hadn't noticed their absence. But you are absolutely right, I could have been dreadfully implicated and I have you to thank. You have my eternal gratitude!"

Kuvarakh acted mollified, "Very well, sir. perhaps it would be wise to make sure nothing has been tampered with inside." he subtly moved his hands to the hilts of his sap-hilted daggers.

"Yes, yes, of course." Lefrik grovelled, putting the key in the hole in the wall and turning it. There was a hissing sort of hum and a doorway drew itself on the wall, the appropriate lines growing bolder as the door opened. Lefrik opened the door fully and took a moment to scan the bounty of treasures he had inside. Just then, Kuvarakh slammed the side of his head with the sap handle of one of the daggers. Lefrik dropped like a sack of grain.

Shelves and shelves, crates and coffers, shields and scrolls, bracelets, breastplates, boots and bucklers. Bags of herbs, vials of dust, beakers and boilers of philters and fluids. Flasks and flagons, barrels and boxes draped with banners and tapestries. Settees and sideboards, portraits and mirrors covered with cloths. Kuvarakh's mind whirled at the magnitude of larceny that presented itself.

Beneath a stack of bundled blankets there was a locked trunk. He worked it open with his tools quickly and opened it, dumping the blankets off the back side of the lid. There, inside, under a glyphed cloth, was a small box with his master's sigil on the top. He placed this in his pack along with a bag of jewels, some wafers of metagold, and a ring or two. Knowing he would never be returning, he tried to gauge what would be the best things to grab. He was scanning the scrolls when the door suddenly closed.

Kuvarakh stared at the spot where the door had been. There was only a wall there now. He went quickly to the wall and examined the spot where the keyhole should have been, but there was nothing. He was locked in!

[Kuvarakh]

Phase Seven-A:

He stared around the little room. Surely there was something in here that would get him out. But he had no idea what any of the items actually DID. Whatever he did, it had to be done so that HE got the jump on him.

Smashing the wall out would only result in the dust clearing to find himself having a fireball flying through the hole to melt his face. Or something similar. If something in here could make him invisible, he could try to trick Lefrik into opening the door for him. Lefrik surely would know he was in here. But he didn't know how long the old man would be unconscious, and in any event, he needed to make the first move, get the first attack.

He had no idea if any of the things in the room were booby-trapped. It stood to reason there would be. He decided to wait. Just wait by the door. Make no noise. It was just possible Lefrik might not realize exactly what had happened. If he DID assume the man in the Guard outfit had attacked him he would surely realize he was not truly one of the city guard. 'He might figure that I already had some means to escape through magic. He will really want to be looking in here now.
Kuvarakh thought to himself.

'He will be biting his nails with anxiety over whether or not someone is in here. Best to just wait until he opens the door and jump him. If he has any customers tomorrow, he might HAVE to open the door. No doubt, with some magic attack and defense already prepped. But if there are customers he won't want a fight right in front of them. Bad for business. No, he'll stall and wait until he's alone. So he's either going to open it tonight or wait until after closing tomorrow. But he won't wait too long for fear that I have figured out some reprisal.'

He didn't really want to kill old Lefrik. But if his life were at stake, he would. He also had to consider that there would be others in the outer room if the old man were opening the door for a sale. Then they would be witnesses too. Damn...this could get messy. If he could get back and switch to a new body he might be OK.

He started to look around again, trying not to make any noise. he decided to replace the blankets on the trunk, No need to make it obvious that items belonging to his master were primary targets. He stepped lightly to the trunk and hoisted the stack of blankets back up. he saw something familiar leaning against the wall behind the trunk. A smile started to grow on his face. A daring, foolish, reckless, suicidal smile. It was an alchemy ring. An 8-slotter!

He looked again around the room, seeing a multitude of available enhancements he could make use of. This would either be the most heavily overpowered escape in Mizaharian history, or the most spectacular suicide! Both possibilities held a twisted appeal to him.

[Kuvarakh]

Phase Seven-B:

He set the ring in the one clear spot on the floor. He grabbed several items and placed them in the fount slots. He had no idea what properties they might possess, so he looked for mundane filters to remove only basic aspects from the target. He had a knife that was undoubtedly enhanced, so he filtered a metal hanger, so the target, a robe folded on a shelf, would not be turned to metal. The same with a wooden shield that displayed several glyphs. He offset that with a plain chunk of wood in the corner. A small hand mirror that glittered offset by an empty glass bottle. Lastly, a finger bone that he found laid in a velvet box. It had a reckless appeal, though he could find no offsetting filter for it.

He shrugged, bit his finger and set the ichor-oozing wound against the keystone. He concentrated on essence of the ring, willing it to move. There was barely a twitch and he found himself unable to visualize anything more. He tried to resort to the whirlpool meditation that had always served him but, though his imagination linked his mind to the ring as an image of water, it remained still, though it bubbled slightly. There was too much resistance, too many items. He wasn't strong enough yet.

He considered removing an item or two, but another idea occurred to him. He had wondered about this for quite some time, actually. He was going for broke, otherwise he would never consider such a thing. He bit a finger on his other hand and reached across the ring, setting this finger on the opposite keystone and began to concentrate again.

With two points of force, he might be able to generate momentum since each hand would now only be fighting past the resistance of two items, instead of just one hand trying to be the focus to force djed through four.

It stirred under his hands. It wanted to move. he needed to alter the perspective of his meditation. Water, again, was his most easily linked focus, but, this time, HE entered his visualization. A board, floating on the water, with him kneeling on it, hands in the water. He imagined the board to be cut in a circle. He moved his hands in opposite directions to each other, as if to spin himself on the surface of the water.

Spin the water, not the board, spin the water, not the board, spin the water...spin the water...

He tried to orient his equilibrium to make himself feel as though he was sitting still. After several minutes, he felt himself beginning to stabilize his dizziness.

Spin the water, not the board, spin the water, not the board, spin the water...spin the water...

The arm that extended across the ring began to tingle...

Spin the water, not the board, spin the water, not the board

He no longer felt as though he was spinning, but the water was still moving so slowly...

Spin the water, not the board, spin the water, spin the water...

He lost track of time, his arm felt like a hollow tree branch filled with angry bees...

Spin the water, not the board, spin the water, spin the water...

The board was still, riding in the center of swirling water, he was exhausted, but not dizzy.

Spin the water, spin the water, spin the wa...

"DIRA'S TEETH!! YOU ARE IN HERE!-...WHO ARE YOU WORKING FOR?" A voice screeched in rage, breaking Kuvarakh's concentration.

He instinctively raise his hands in defense, releasing the activation in a clumsy, uncoordinated order. With two points of focus, the circular vortex was supposed to be balanced by the offsetting positions. With one hand released early, that balance was not established in time to prevent a wave of enhanced djed from washing over the ring into a shelf of glyphed scrolls against the wall...

"Oh crap..." Kuvarakh muttered as he grabbed the robe and rolled himself in it, Lefrik screaming in sudden panic.

[Kuvarakh]

Phase Eight:

The scrolls literally exploded into a conflagration of reactions. Fire, ice, wind and water boiled and blazed across the room, blowing things off shelves to collide with fields of Djed growing in dozens of different directions, themselves, now, activating in dramatic and brilliant fashion, freezing and incinerating, ricocheting off invisible panels of shielding to fly into corners, igniting flames of ice and geysers of multi-colored steam. It was as if a hundred mad reimancers were sucking the djed from the very heavens in a frenzy of overgiving insanity.

A spider suddenly grew twenty times its size and was instantly incinerated as it took a step. A porcelain figure of an eagle came to life and was swallowed by the fly caught in the web. The fly was sucked into a vortex and bubbled up out of a nearby vase, turned inside-out. Several books started arguing with each other and the pages flew from them, turning into winged hands that fought in a lunatic dogfight before transforming into sand and getting sucked into the shape of a statue. The statue, then, turning and running into a mirror, which folded in on itself and disappeared with a pop.

Wolves howled from a tapestry and the lightning depicted in the image started striking metal objects, including the alchemy ring, which rose, spinning, and shot into the back wall, slicing through a rack of weapons, turning them to shards of rust, which exploded out into the walls and ceilings, shattering into flakes, which drifted down to become a blanket of ringmail. The lightning struck it and it curled up to form a tube which started drilling into the floor. Dirt showered from the tube forming spikes of rock, which impaled things randomly as fire, ice and wind continued to batter everything in a cyclone of piercing, scorching hail.

Kuvarakh crawled towards the door, keeping the robe, which was remarkably unscathed, tightly clenched around him. The mage was backed into the counter on the far side of the outer room, droning, "What have you Done, what have you Done?", his ashen face hidden behind his hands.

Kuvarakh looked up to see Lefrik just turning his eyes to him. Their eyes locked and a cold, killing hate lit the mage's eyes with murderous purpose and his voice seemed to span a dozen dimensions as he thrust his hands at Kuvarakh. Spears of stone shot up every square foot for ten feet around him, but none pierced him as several of them seemed to meld into the robe and did nothing more than lift Kuvarakh to his feet.

For a moment, both men looked at each other in dumb shock. Then the mage began another gesture, snarling an incantation with unrestrained venom. Kuvarakh was not about to let curiosity decide his actions. he dove at Lefrik, slamming his hand over the other man's face to interrupt the words. it wasn't until he actually SAW his hand that he noticed he had no feeling in it. It was formed of Stone!

He felt the sense of numbness start to travel slowly down his arm and saw to both men's mutual horror that the old mage's face was developing a crust of it as well. Kuvarakh did not hesitate. He grabbed a heavy candle holder and smashed through his wrist, leaving the portion of his hand stuck to the mage's face, which was growing red with asphyxiation and terror.

Kuvarakh did not worry about breathing, but he needed to get out now. He slammed into the door, getting a shock, which was insignificant to him now, and tried to run. he felt resistance in his legs and knew that they must be turning to stone as well. he fought against the stiffness to reach the wall bordering the canal. If he could just get into the water he would be hidden.

Every step was an eternity and sounded with a smack of stone on stone. He threw his pack over the wall as he felt his other hand starting to feel the numbness and heard it splash. As he reached the wall, he went blind. He tried to climb but his legs would no longer bend. He pulled, but his arms likewise went stiff. he leaned out trying to will himself over into the canal, but failed.

He heard voices. Kids' voices. Young men, more like, laughing and telling crude jokes. In his mind, he prayed to Lhex to let these youngsters be typical young hoodlums out looking for mischief like in every other town.

"Hey, what in Rhysol's Ass is that?"

"it's a freakin' statue! I don't remember a statue here."

"It looks like its tryin' to puke into the water." there was laughter.

"Aaaw, its hand is broke off."

"I don't like it, its stupid! And its ugly." someone spit followed by several more.

"Nice robe though, help me get it off." they struggled with it for a few moments.

"Screw the robe. Screw this sta..." Kuvarakh could no longer hear. For a moment he felt a dizziness.

[Kuvarakh]

Phase Nine (epilog):

He blinked...

He Blinked! Yes, he was certain of it! His eyelid had moved! He was still blind, but something had come back! As a nuit, he had no heartbeat to feel racing with excitement, but it didn't matter, He was excited!

He instinctively tried to pump his fist, but no, not that, not yet. But a finger had twitched! There was no doubt! He suddenly got a jolt of concern. He didn't know where he was. Had he been upended into the canal by those kids? Had that angry mage come out after him? Turned him in? Was he rotting in the void?

He decided to stay very still until his hearing came back and see if he could get any clues as to his disposition. He wondered if he would feel the water or hear its gurgling first? What did the void feel like? It occurred to him that he had no idea. The thought of water gave him one, though. He thought of the whirlpool in his mind and grew an image of himself in it. He didn't need to be floating, just IN the water. He let the water carry him around and around, the water's surface becoming smoother and smoother until he was lying ON it, not IN it, and it was like glass.

His avatar stood up, took a deep breath and walked towards his eyeview perspective, saying to itself, and by extension, himself, that he was content. He would not be rushed. As he got close, he saw his own reflection in his avatar's eyes and allowed it to overlay his angle until he truly felt as though he was looking through his avatar's eyes at himself, instead of through his own eyes.

He turned and looked at the water, still as glass. he turned back and the other image of himself was gone. He was now experiencing the perspective his avatar, calm and content. Not rushed. He had used this sort of self-hypnosis style of meditation many times, for a variety of benefits. Now he turned back to the water and closed his eyes. He let go the image of the water and opened his eyes.

He was still blind, but he was now calm and knew there was no rush, he would wait, patiently. All would be well.

After some time, he became aware of a sound. A hiss. A Burner! He also became aware of a growing fatigue in his arm. There was sinew returning to form! it was growing tired of the weight! These developments continued and he eventually began to detect a change in the darkness. It was barely perceptible. He tried to talk, but only managed a very muffled hum.

A voice! "You SEE? I told you he was coming back! Kuvarakh my boy, again, your luck in the face of catastrophe!" There was a roar of laughter and he felt a strange tugging on his arms. Was the old man dancing with him? He started to laugh too. He laughed! He actually was laughing along with his old master.

Eventually he came fully out of the petrification effect and the two of them nearly cried with joy. There was a third person who seemed uncertain how he should feel, even though he smiled at the infectious atmosphere. Kuvarakh learned that he had spent over a year in the form of that statue, though it had only seemed moments between the kids by the wall and his first blink. This other person was his master's new apprentice.

Aaah, now he understood the boy's uncertainty. Now that Kuvarakh was back, fresh from what his master referred to as 'the most unprecedented display of rampant alchemical recklessness he had ever heard of', the boy did not know where he stood.

"It was fortunate for the mage he died only a death by asphyxiation, otherwise he'd have been voided for certain." his master crowed, "He had items stolen from damn near every high crafter in town. You managed to set off pretty much everything and most of it was destroyed, but it was pretty much a unanimous verdict that he was trying to destroy the evidence and got caught in his own purge. Fact is, I am the only one that got all his belongings back, and I have you to thank for it, my boy."

"You're welcome, sir" Kuvarakh grinned, genuinely pleased with himself, "But...uh...what now?" He could see the look of defeat growing on the face of the new boy and felt bad for him.

His master grew serious, he was thinking the same thing. "Well, I can't keep you around now, I'm afraid," Kuvarakh was relived to hear it, despite its confirmation of newfound unemployment. "But, I want you to get that infernal robe out of here. I'm not sure what all you imbued it with, but it seemed to have been a "leeching" robe to begin with and you put some sort of reflect and morph elemental properties on it, I think that's why the stone spike spell turned you into stone rather then stabbing you. I had to put two and two together and figure out what became of you. That robe never did turn to stone like the rest of your clothes. Found you at the bottom of the canal, I did." he started to laugh again. Kuvarakh AND the new boy both joined in this time.

So it was that Kuvarakh left Ravok in the early fall of 434, gold in his bag, a pair of jewels in the lining of his robe, references in his book, and the assurance in his heart that no matter what befalls, he will prevail.