Flashback Scorched

A young Devi and her mentor Versin come across Clyde, a boy requiring treatment for burns.

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This shining population center is considered the jewel of The Sylira Region. Home of the vast majority of Mizahar's population, Syliras is nestled in a quiet, sprawling valley on the shores of the Suvan Sea. [Lore]

Scorched

Postby Devi on November 7th, 2015, 11:53 pm

Spring 3rd, 504AV - Syliras, Maiden District

Devi bit her lip as she listened at the doorway to her father’s bedroom. His snores were loud, the kind of volume he only tended to achieve when he’d come home smuggling bottles in his jackets. It was the particular kind of unconsciousness that usually allowed her to sneak past him to access her mother’s old chest. She pushed open the door until it was only just wide enough to allow her entry – any more than that and she knew it would let loose an almighty creak. With light steps she hopped from one silent floorboard to another, a watchful eye on her father’s sleeping form.

She opened the lid of the chest at an achingly slow pace, slipped a hand in, pulled her prize from its depths and in short order she had hopped back across the quiet floorboards and back into the main room of their apartment. She huddled close to the hearth and opened the pages of her mother’s journal, flicking to the page she had been on last.

With a smile on her face Devi traced the lines of the sketch in front of her with a clean, skinny finger. The page was entitled ‘Thorn Apple’, though underneath that was the plant’s more commonly known name of ‘Devil’s Snare’. It was the exotic name which had enticed her about this page. She re-read her mother’s word slowly, trying her best to absorb the knowledge that her mother was trying to impart about this particularly virulent, poisonous plant.

Member of the Nightshade family... Can cause delirium (important to note this is different from hallucinations), hyperthermia, tachycardia and occasionally amnesia.

A sudden harsh knock at the door made her jump. Instinctively she snapped the journal shut and frantically hid it under the blanket on her bed. She hurried across the room to pull open the front door before whoever it was could sound another almighty boom on their fragile wooden door.

A man in his fifties stood beyond the threshold, chin held high and arms grasped behind his back. His hair was brown and cut short but it was peppered with white hairs, turning the brown into a muted shade of grey. He was tall, perhaps approaching six feet in height, well dressed (or as well dressed as anyone tended to be in the Maiden District) and wore an expression on his face that seemed to perfectly portray his never ending sense of impatience.

He raised an eyebrow at her in that way that made her think he was reading her mind. She scowled at him and the corner of his lips quirked up into a half-smile.

“You were reading it again weren’t you?”

Her frown deepened and she used both of her hands to push him out of the way of the door.

“Quiet Versin, wait outside.”

He allowed himself to be pushed and she quietly closed the door in his face. She skipped back to bed and pulled some shoes out from beneath it, all the while directing mutinous thoughts towards the front door. Her fingers quickened on the laces as she heard noises from the bedroom. She pulled on her coat, ran to the front door and made a silent exit from her apartment. Her mentor, Versin, was leaning against the wall, a hint of amusement lingering in his otherwise unconcerned face. He said nothing more, just gestured with his head and began walking. Devi rushed to pick up his bag and slung it across her shoulder, feet moving quickly to catch up with him as they began their morning rounds.
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Scorched

Postby Clyde Sullins on January 25th, 2016, 10:10 pm

Image
3 Spring 504


Clyde was 10, nearly 11 years old. He'd been a mage since he was 5. His practicing of course by neccessity was away from the city. He couldn't practice in Syliras, and he couldn't practice where others might see. It was forbidden in the city, and he didn't doubt that if the knights didn't already know, then there learning of his magic would only cause more problems.

He'd been out early that morning when he'd been practicing. He'd slipped away before light, and managed to get far enough away that he felt safe, before he began to practice his djed work. Reimancy. His element was fire, and he had a particular knack for it.

He dreamed of what he might do with it some day. Giant blazes, enough to sweep away an army of enemies in one go. Fire so hot it melted metal and stone alike.

He wasn't specific on the particulars, wasn't sure what enemies he might be facing, wasn't sure what he might do with it, but he loved it all the same. He loved his magic, loved his special-ness of what he could do.

He didn't care that he didn't make friends with the other kids his age romping about. They were but children, and he was a mage. He would do great things. Greatness was in his future. Anyone who couldn't see that was a fool, and not worth befriending.

He'd been practicing that morning when he'd lost his focus, and had miscast a spell. Fire had swerved when he'd wanted it to flow, and he'd got some burns on his arms.

Nothing bad, and nothing deep. He'd rolled in the dirt and put them out quickly, but the harsh redness of them still stung. If treated properly they probably wouldn't scar, but he was no healer.

When he'd come in that morning his father had seen it, though he'd tried to hide them. He knew burns himself, working as a metalworker, and said they had to be treated.

He explained them away as best he could, saying he'd fell into a campfire, but he wasn't sure if his father believed him.

There had been yelling, but in the end he'd sent for someone to come look at him, and he waited at the door to their room in the castle, pacing about while Clyde sat holding his arms away from himself gingerly.

He was 10, nearly 11. He could handle the pain. He fought to not show his pain, forcing a smile onto his lips, and fighting back the few tears that were forming in his eyes. Clyde distracted himself, focusing on images of lakes and ponds, of water cool and refreshing.
Clydes Stuff

I am actually in RL a super intelligent hamster from Rhode Island, with a 7 year plan to take over the world.

Update 6/2/18- 1:10AM EST: His 7 year plan a success, and several weeks ahead of schedule, Clyde leaves to oversee the world he has taken over.

No new threads after end of Spring 518-Will still be checking for PM's occasionally, but focusing on a new character.

Graders note: :
Please be aware Clyde is a master Magecrafter. He therefore should not be gaining full xp(or possibly shouldn't gain any at all) for simple tasks related to this magic, such as low level MC items, particularly for repetitions of creations he has done before. Feel free to contact me if unsure of a instance of his magic use compared to his skill level.
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Scorched

Postby Devi on March 20th, 2016, 3:05 pm


Devi packed away the delicate containers of medicine with a barely supressed smile quirking her lips. She had been apprenticing to Versin for a whole year now and the hawk-eyed, no-nonsense taskmaster of a doctor had not allowed her to do anything more than observe, wash out wounds and clean up the mess his doctoring left behind him. It was only possible to tell when she was doing well by the absence of the most stinging of remarks and it was only her insatiable interest in the medicinal arts that kept her by his side each day.

Still, that morning, without any warning, he’d instructed her to apply a poultice to the wound he had been tending. Devi had stared at him blankly for a few long seconds before he pinched her behind the ear and snapped the instruction out again. She had been so startled by her sudden change in responsibility that she forgot half the things she had observed Versin doing when applying the same mixture and half of it had ended up on the floor. Still, once he finished his tirade about wasting medicines and dim-witted apprentices he did not take any time to correct the wound dressing she had applied. Regardless of its delivery, Devi took that as a distinctly good sign.

As she hauled the large doctoring kit over her shoulder she schooled her expression away from smug and back towards what she hoped was indignant, determined to keep her promotion to poultice-applier intact. Versin was stood by the door, talking with another, younger man. His dark grey eyes barely flickered towards her, recognising her presence before he began striding away with the man. She quickened her shorter legs, struggling to keep up with the two of them and wincing as the large kit she was carrying thudded against her legs with every jostled step.

The younger man directed Versin through the narrow corridors of the district to another apartment and then left him there. She arrived a few steps behind, puffing with the exertion but nonetheless grateful that her legs would be left in peace for a while. As she slowed her breathing she took the opportunity to look around, wondering what had called them in here. Her interest sparkled when she realised that Versin was talking about a burn. He was instructing the man to collect fresh water and a few other items, his eyes seeking out their young patient. Devi followed his gaze and spotted a boy about the same age as her sitting rigidly, holding out two very pink arms before him. She hauled the doctor’s kit over to where the boy was sitting and peered at him.

Devi hadn’t seen many burns before. The last one she’d only seen flashes of between Versin’s sharp orders for her to collect endless buckets of water and fresh cloths. That man had been screaming though, she remembered that. Curious as she had been then she felt a little relieved that she didn’t have to get too close to whatever was causing him to make those kinds of noises.

This boy wasn’t screaming though. In fact he was being very quiet, sitting with his eyes closed. Devi frowned at him, tilting her head at the expression somewhere between a smile and a grimace on his face. She wondered if he was just exceptionally brave or if the man she had helped with before had simply been exceptionally loud.

Versin set down a large bucket and a deep bowl beside her suddenly enough to make her jump. His gaze caught hers and she knew she had been caught staring when she should have been paying attention. To what she didn’t quite know but she was smart enough not to question it now the moment was passed. He raised a single eyebrow at her, clasping his hands behind his back. She looked again at the items he had set down beside her and then, after a moment’s deliberation, began decanting some of the cold water into the bowl, leaving most of it in the bucket.

The bucket was deep enough for the boy to put his arms into and the water certainly cold enough to cool his skin down. Versin was relentless about the importance of cleanliness and so she could only assume that the water in the bowl would be reserved for that endeavour. She shifted her gaze to him once to read his expression. He wasn’t snapping corrections at her so she concluded that test number two of the day had been passed.

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