They Can't Teach You Sorcery, It's There In Your Soul

Back at Melarn’s Door, Rya and Safad were winning over the hearts and minds of the college.

As they were preparing for their first demonstration of sorcery in the great hall on the night of their arrival, they heard a student wonder aloud, “Are sorcerers even real magic users—I mean don’t they just have magical blood or something? It’s not like they have to study and practice, right?” 

“Galvin, be polite,” one of the professors tittered. 

Oh, Galvin. 

High Madame Surnal interjected, “If I may,” she looked to the sorcerers before continuing. 

“Galvin raises a popular misconception, particularly common among the more arrogant wizards.” Savage, Selanie!

“Now as you all know, a sorcerer is born, not built on hours of study like a wizard. However, don’t let some who would naysay their art fool you. For have you not ever seen a masterful thespian? My opinion is they can’t teach you acting, it’s there in your soul, but those who do nothing to develop it become nothing. So it is with sorcerers.”

Galvin scoffed loudly. 

Oh, Galvin. 

The blood of ancient entropy swirled through the Chaosborn. Rya blinked and her eyes turned a cold and stormy blue, electricity snaking its way under the surface. 

Oh, Galvin. 

An interesting theory, Safad whispered in Galvin’s ear from across the room. But, incorrect. 

Suddenly, Rya turned on her heel, drawing her cloak around her as she disappeared in a misty cloud. She reappeared twenty feet away next to Gavlin, and reached out delicately with a shocking grasp--just enough to prove her point. 

The students let out a collective gasp.

Safad took a different approach—recalling the contents of Coulain’s journal to craft a Major Image, complete with sound and smell. Suddenly, the great hall was transformed into the Greypeaks in spring, and there was Bedouir Coulain traipsing into a cave, finding a door made of adamantium, and writing in his field notebook. 

A couple students pushed out of their chairs in shock, not trusting their eyes but unable to convince their minds it wasn’t real—they were there, in the Greypeaks! They heard mountain birds singing, felt the cool of a breeze, smelled the hazy pollen of the conifer blossoms, heard the trickle of snowmelt…

Safad carried out the whole of Coulain’s travails in the mountains. Professor Lillidus, Coulain’s adviser of yore, shed a tear. The great hall took to their feet clapping vigorously. 

Somewhere, a halfling lass wet her lips. 

When the applause was over, the students began swarming the sorcerers, trying to get a word in. The halfling called out over the din, “we’re having a party in the dorms later, you should join us.”

“Yeah, we may check it out later if it looks good,” Safad replied casually. 

The professors were nearly as eager, and when they had shooed the students away, the High Madame greeted them warmly. “Most impressive, you two, well done, indeed. It is not often we have travelers of your caliber in our midst. We would be honored to help you in any research while you stay. And perhaps we can come to some arrangement,” she paused before continuing. 

“Perhaps we could schedule a series of guest lectures, to be held in here during our lunch seminar. You see, it was a delight to watch the students learn something firsthand about the world, something we are unable to teach. And in that vein, I propose three topics. First, a lecture on Artificing: Safad, the Archivist tells me you are also an Artificer. This is fascinating to us, as our understanding is that it is a lost art. 

“Second, Rya, a lecture on sorcery—what it feels like to summon magic the way you do and in particular the ability to modify, extend, and shape, spells as you cast them. As wizards, playing with our spells in that way is not possible.

“Third, it would be a privilege to hear what it was like growing up with sorcery. We’ve heard it can be a challenge and quite dangerous when one first stumbles upon the gift. Now with wizarding there are certainly accidents but they are intentional in a way—they must be deliberate and often one is surprised to find something magical happened as a result, but it’s nothing like what we’ve heard about with sorcery. We would love to hear your stories, how you handled it, and how you eventually learned to master your craft.” 

The sorcerers agreed. 

Dagnar had invited them to Becky's so they took off to the tavern with the dwarf. An older woman greeted them from behind the bar and gruffly--also, sweetly--asked what they were drinking. A round of peatsmokes on Dagnar. A tribes-trad band was turning up on the stage in the corner, and Dagnar had brought his fiddle. He explained he has been trying to make better connections with the locals, and had gotten to know some Mist Crow and Night Wing pretty well. Of course the wizards were more reluctant, leave it to the groundskeeper to yuck it up with the locals, right? 

Dagnar winked at them. At this point they had consumed a couple more rounds. "I should tell you, yous also not being wizards. I aint what I seem but it's tip top secret. Matter-of-fact, I want you to imagine for a minute just what a janitor, yardsmen like myself might need to do here at the College. What with all the students conjuring things they shan't, blasting buildings, and each other accidentally...just imagine how much dispelling needs to happen," he beamed. "I'm a Warlock! Shh shhh Shh, damn powerful one at that, don't mind saying. Just don't want you to look down at me is all, so I'm telling you."

"We wouldn't look down at you, we have been enjoying your company before knowing any of this!" Rya proclaimed. "So, what--how did you become a warlock, what is your story?"

"Well, time was, I was living up North near Citadel Abdar. My family lived there, it's where I grew up. We were stubborn. Orcs had been raidin down from the Spine of the World for months, and many of the other families had left. Still, we stayed to work the forge. Well, we overstayed, turned out, and one day our time came. The orcs swarmed our dwelling in the mountain and we were done for. But then suddenly, there in the fire of the forge I saw something. And time seemed to stop and I kept looking and that's when I met my patron, one of the Great Old Ones. Speaking to me. It gifted me with this power, and I used to to help my family escape. We fled down here." 

"Dagnar, come on up here we need the fiddle!" A swarthy Night Wing called out. 

"That's my cue--nice talking to you." Dagnar had a helper show them to their quarters. 

Rya and Safad dropped their bags, and looked at each other. The Dorms? The Dorms. 

They followed the sound of loud voices and made it to the Dorms where students were drinking and laughing together in the hallways. The halfling woman introduced herself as Alicia and took Safad by the hand to a circle of her friends who welcomed him. Rya was only abandoned for a minute before the men began to swarm. Galvin, Yanni, and a dragonborn named Undoos all tried their luck over the course of the night, but Rya was steadfast. 

Alicia taught them the MD Initiation, which was to empty your pockets of any rations, foodstuffs, etc., and to cast Heward's Speed Fermentation, making an alcoholic beverage of the contents, and then--drink it! Safad found some seeds he liked to collect for Rook in his pocket, and used them to make some strange malty-nutty and thick beer. Not bad actually. Rya had some heather and gorse that she liked to twist as she walked on the Moor and that turned into a flavorful herbal amaro. They drank. 

At one point, a beautiful, full-bodied, dark-haired, but dour woman crossed through the hallway on her way to the outhouse. The students explained that was Davna, she was upset because her partner was meant to arrive. 

Oh, shit. Davna. Good thing she doesn't read these things. 

Rya chased after her and caught up. She introduced herself and explained that she had been traveling with Heathalya before she was separated from her companions during a thunderstorm. They should be coming along any day now. They were--er--very trustworthy people, who never did anything too exciting or off the beaten path. They should be there soon. Davna perked up and began talking excitedly. She said she had an old Mist Crow woman who was living there to attend to the birth -- and she would tell the midwife to get ready! Oh, such good news! 

Rya rejoined the party, to rebuff more advances. 

Alicia asked Safad if he wanted her to teach him Heward's--she could show him in her chambers and they could work on it over the course of the night. She smiled wickedly. Safad agreed. As the party wound down Safad bid farewell to an appraising Rya, and followed Alicia to her bedroom. 

Rya didn't see Safad until the next morning in the library, when they began their research.