Ok everyone, just so you know, I'm writing this in this post, as in, I didn't write it on a computer and then copy it here. That's because I don't have my own computer, so I have to make do with what I can find. This means that this is a first draft, so please keep that in mind when you criticize. Do criticize by all means. The other thing that I'd like you to remember is that it's late and I'm tired. I say that because I'm worried that this may seem pointless or incoherent. The general idea for writing this was to give you a bit more insight into who Phinehas is. Bear that in mind. It's not meant to be a riveting action story, as my last story was. So again, be gentle with the criticism. There is a bit of action at the end, for those who have the patience to get to it.
Night had descended on Hydlaa. The thick air covered the city like a blanket, muffling the usual sounds of the night. High above, the Azure sun shone dimly, barely lighting the sprawling city. The streets were abnormaly quiet and dark, the only signs of life being a few upper windows lit by the light of fireplaces within, and a few stragglers heading home after a long summer's day.
One of these was moving slower than the others. He was a small Lemur, short and slight. Walking was obviously not easy for him, as he leant heavily on his cane in a vain attempt to make up for his pronounced limp. His purple robes covered his entire body other than his head, which was open despite the cool night air. He moved even slower than usual, obviously distracted by his thoughts.
Pain and exhaustion. These are what fill Phinehas' mind on his nightly trek to the tavern. Things have been hard. Especially since Tybalt left the land. He missed his friend. He missed the one person who understood him, who was willing to make the effort to see through his pain and bitterness, arrogance and sarcasm. His one true friend. It also hurt to have to let Ashes go. Ashes had been good to him. It even hurt to have to explain to Cyl that Ashes would be no more. The young Dermorian didn't like it, and Phinehas didn't like to hurt him, despite the fact that most people believed Phinehas had no feelings. Eventually Cyl accepted the wisdom behind Phinehas' reasoning, but that hadn't made it any easier to bear.
Now he was alone. Oh sure, he had friends, but none that were close. He hadn't a single friend that truly understood him. Of course, he never had, but Tybalt had come close, as had Dyari and Zeus. Now he had none. Cyl, although not much younger than Phinehas, was still a youth in ways that Phinehas had never been.
Pain and exhaustion. These two feelings had been part of his life for as long as he could remember. Part of why he never got along with others. They were the reason behind his inability to tolerate those who wasted his time. They were why he blew up over small things that others didn't even notice. His life was filled with pain and exhaustion. He had once heard that in the Hydlaa Guard training, they taught you to embrace pain. That was an amusing thought. If those instructors had a glimpse of the pain that he dealt with every minute of every day, they would probably wet themselves.
Was life even worth living any more? What did he have to live for? Ah yes, the magic. Curse the magic! And yet, and yet... he couldn't help himself. He loved it. It was his life, for better or worse. He hated it with a passion, hated what it had done to him, what it had made him. But he loved it, too. Loved it's power, loved the way it came naturally to him, loved the possibilities it gave. His curse and his blessing. He was so young, but already he knew so much. He understood so much more than any other arcanist his age. At the same time, however, he knew so little. Progress was painstakingly slow. His vow to never wield power that he didn't understand was ultimately right, but at times it was tempting to give in. To wield the power without understanding the forces behind it. Like the others.
He was a succes and a failure. He was lost in the shadow of mages such as Xordan and the members of the Arcane Order. Doomed to always be one step behind them, due to his need to understand. Draklar had laughed at him for his love of book-learning. Draklar had been mistaken. Phinehas knew what he was doing. Unlike other mages, he understood what took place when he used the arcane forces. He knew that one day this would make him the greatest of the mages. When the others learned to cast all of the spells in their books, they would be stuck. Limited by their lack of understanding, hampered by their inability to let their imagination find new ways of manipulating forces, they would be trapped into casting the old spells over and over again, unable to create their own. Their understanding of magic was limited to which hand motions and words were necessary for a desired effect. He, however, knew that magic was much more than chanted words, or mystical power tied to symbols. He loved magic.
Everything about magic was his to master. Except for the Crystal and Dark Ways. Oh, he studied them. He understood them to a degree, but he was ever wary of using them. He was his own master, not slave to either light or dark. He knew that the usage of these two Ways had a tendency to shape the wielder's character, and he had no desire for that, so he limited himself to the four neutral Ways. He would control the magic, it would not control him.
Even so, though, he knew that in some ways, he would never be his own master. He would always be driven by his desires and passions. His passion for magic was the driving force of his life. Yet there was one desire that, in its own quiet way, was even stronger than his love for magic. It rarely rose to the surface, but had existed in him for as long as he could remember. The one experience that he had never felt, and desired above all else. The experience of being loved.
He had never felt love. He had had a few friends in his life, but none had ever truly loved him. They respected him, some perhaps even enjoyed his company, but nothing more than that. His brothers had hated him outright, because he was so unlike them. His father hadn't understood him either, frustrated that his youngest son was so different from the rest of his family. Even his mother had never loved him. She had cared for him, but only because it was expected of her and he was, after all, her son. She had never loved him, though. Love was the one thing he wanted above all else. The one thing he would never have.
Phinehas looked up and, to his surprise, realized that he had reached the tavern. Bright light shone from the doorway, and sounds of music and merrymaking spilled out into the street. It looked warm and inviting, however he decided that he was in too melancholy a mood to go in this evening. He had tried that a few times, going in when he wasn't at his best and trying to be sociable for Kada's sake, but that usually ended up in someone else getting hurt. He had no desire to hurt Kada's business by getting into arguments with unsuspecting, ignorant patrons, so he just kept going.
After shuffling his way along a few more streets, trying unsuccessfully to steer his thoughts away from magic for at least a few moments, he thought he heard a muffled scream in a darkened alleyway to his left. He stopped and peered at it, but his eyesight was poor, and he could see nothing. He tried to listen, but his hearing wasn't particularly sharp either, and he heard nothing. Even so, he had the distinct impression that something was happening in the alley. He sighed and closed his eyes, deciding to use his mind to detect what his senses could not.
Slowly, carefully, he began to weave a net of magic, spreading it out in the direction of the alley. After a few moments, he began to detect presences. There were five, four of which gave off strong feelings of confidence, arrogance, and cruelty. The fourth presence was filled with fear.
Phinehas almost turned to move on, thinking it was just another mugging, which was none of his business. But at the last moment, just before he withdrew his consciousness back into his body, he felt another emotion in the four aggressors. Lust. Then he understood. This wasn't robbery, it was rape. Rage immediately began to flow through him, as if someone had lit a fire in his brain. Of the few things that offended him personally, the abuse of weaker beings, especially women, by those who were physcially stronger, was at the top of his list. He would not let another suffer what he had gone through. He would not let this woman, whoever she may be, go through life with pain and agony as he did. He would not let it be.
He lifted his cane, and as he did so, it began to glow brightly, lighting up the entire alleyway, as if it were a torch. There the scene was layed out before him. A short, scruffy-looking dwarf was facing him, obviously meant to guard against anyone who might accidentally stumble into the alleyway and disturb what was going on. He was shading his eyes from the light, trying to see who was holding the torch, hoping, most likely, that it wasn't one of the Guards. Behind him, against the wall of the alley was a stunningly beautiful, young, female Diaboli, fear etched in every feature, held against the wall by two hulking Kran, both of whom were also shading their eyes from the light. Next to them, one hand still in the act of reaching for the young woman, was a Dermorain, tall and powerfully built.
Phinehas smiled at the realization that he had arrived just in time. He lessened the light coming from his cane, so that the four villains could see who he was. The Dermorian, enraged at the intrusion, turned to him and, seeing that he was not only not a Guard, but also rather decrepit looking, smiled cruelly. "You should not have interfered, Old Man. Saving damsels in distress is for the young and the foolish. I am not pleased that you disturbed me from my pleasures." He smiled as he reached out a finger to gently touch the lips of the Diaboli. "However, I am feeling merciful." He turned nodded to the dwarf, "Thair, make it quick."
The dwarf grinned cruelly as he began to walk towards Phinehas with outstretched hands. All of a sudden he stopped and his grin changed to a look of shock as he toppled forward onto his face, like a tree felled by an axe.
The Dermorian looked confused for a second, but that emotion was quickly replaced by anger as he raised his voice to Phinehas, "So, you're a mage, eh? Good. I always hated your kind. You're so arrogant, think you know everything. Well, you may have killed Thair, but let's see how your magic affects Menir and Pir here." With that, he nodded to the two Kran and grabbed the throat of the young lady, pinning her to the wall with one hand.
(To be continued in next post)
