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 Posted: Mon Nov 09, 2009 10:21 am
The Island of the Mages. Founded upon the floating islands of seshi crystals, suspended by a levitation magic the Mages learned to harness. Not many plants grow upon the islands, but they are a rich source of energy, the Mages finding simple commerce to be of more benefit than farming, trading skills for goods. A rich shipping trade has sprung up around the area, the Isle itself only a relatively short distance from another Island community. The Mages are peaceful as far as anyone knows, but mysterious. The orpheus islands are rich in seshi mineral deposits, and it is also the second reason why this island is highly guarded. The first reason being that Drakenscale Academy, home to Arius's young potent mages.
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Posted: Mon Nov 23, 2009 9:45 am
Orpheus Island. Island of the Academy.
Myles Million had absolutely no idea where the Academy was. And he didn't care. He wasn't there for the Academy in itself, just the students. Especially the older students who frequent the local tavern in the community supporting the school.
It was rare for the traveling entertainer to settle in one place for so long, but he was reluctant to leave such a comfortable situation. The town was friendly, though secretive and roundabout as they mages they lived with. Being above the clouds, the weather was almost always pleasant. But most importantly, many of the elder students of the Academy made frequent use of the tavern to relax from the pressures of academic life, and would grant generous donations to a talented entertainer.
And so it was that he came to be sitting with a cheerful (and pleasantly inebriated) crowd, playing his guitar and singing.
Many a truest word
has been spoken by the Jester
Standing 'gainst the tide
Is the noblest of gestures
It's the little pearls of wisdom
That tumble from the light
That makes us laugh until we cry
'Cause we know that they are right
Within the strangest people
Truth can find the strangest home
So meet me in the village
Where all we idiots go
Bring on the Clowns
The Jokers and Buffoons
I've had the Time of my Life
And the Life of my Times
In the Company of Fools
I'm wading through the quicksand
In the gardens of the gentry
Blooming vacuity
Leaves mind and pockets empty
In the Social Order
I accept the bottom rung
Until the wine is pouring
And the Lord commands a song
Meet me at the staff door
When the posers all go home
We'll gather with the other Fools
And put on a proper show
So here's to the Poorest Poet
Who always pens the truth
Players Writers and Gypsies
The Minstrels and their tunes
I'd rather live an honest lifetime
With those with nothing to lose
Than waste a night
Knee deep in shite
That's polished slick
To look just right
I'd rather live a lifetime in the
Company of Fools
Within the strangest people
Truth can find the strangest home
So meet me in the village
Where all we idiots go!
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Posted: Tue Nov 24, 2009 2:22 pm
Some time later, the performer makes his way out into the crisp air of approaching evening. Looking around at the small town, he again feels mild amusement that it appears to occupy the entire island, with no room for an Academy to hide, not even a large empty space where it could be.
As he walks the street with a laugh in his step toward his usual spot for watching the sunset, he ponders the enigma. Is there some invisible extension of the island's edge that the Academy sits upon? It couldn't be that simple, as one could guess the location by watching the students go to that one location. And the students, when they leave for the night, never all go in the same direction. The few times he'd asked the townsfolk about it they invariably answered in riddles.
Ah well, he thinks. Were I to know such secrets, I would be a mage, not a minstrel. And I wouldn't want to change my life for the world.
~ exit Myles ~
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Posted: Thu Nov 26, 2009 8:09 am
~ Myles' Room at the Inn on Orpheus ~
The climb back through the cave was tedious, but not harrowing. Having flagged down another sky gondolier who knew of his habits and expected him after the sunset at the Grove for an evening fare, he returned to the local inn to examine the object he risked life and limb for where there was enough light to do so.
Now he enters his room and goes straight to the thaumatescent lamp on the small side table and taps it to wake it. One good thing about an island of mages is that magical expedients usually associated with the wealthy and upper class are plentiful here. He draws out the rod and looks it over in the light.
It is a rod of cast iron, about a foot in length. It is hollow, like a pipe, and its outer surface is covered in raised-relief decorations. Wings, limbs, claws, and serpents in a dizzying tangle without discernible pattern cover it entirely. And in several places where the decorations part slightly, there is a hole in the gap.
He examines it for several long moments, and sighs. He puts the rod on the end table and the magic lamp flickers unsteadily. "Oh. Yes. Cold iron." He then picks it back up and puts it in his pack before touching the lamp to darken it and preparing himself for sleep.
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Posted: Thu Nov 26, 2009 7:24 pm
~ the next day ~
In the morning, Myles sits by a fountain in the square of the town, examining the rod closer. It is not quite prime entertaining hours in this academic town, so he has ample time.
Turning it over in his hands, he puzzles over the decoration. The holes in the surface where the decoration leaves gaps at first seemed randomly placed, but looking at it now in the sunlight there's something about them that seems like a pattern...
And then he grins, realizing what the holes mean. He raises one end of the tube to his lips and blows gently across the opening, pulling a clear, soft note from what he now realizes is a flute.
After taking a moment to play his hands over the holes and get used to the unconventional fingering of this instrument, he explores the notes, finds the scale, and spends the morning in practice.
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Posted: Tue Dec 01, 2009 7:25 am
And now having found the range and voice of the flute, he begins playing a song. ( http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NE6-gdPQUVY ) The sound the rod evokes is clear and confident, full of hope and beauty. As a crowd begins to gather, Myles tips his hat quickly to the ground before him to catch coins. What kind of bard would he be if he was not prepared to accept donations at any moment? But as he plays he begins to realize that his fingers are no longer moving under his direction. Ever the professional, he keeps even a flicker of anxiety from crossing his face. He attempts to ever so subtly alter the melody of the song ad lib, but no matter how he tries he can't seem to bend his own fingers to his will. And the iron beneath his fingertips is no longer cold, but warm like a living body. Making a choice, he surrenders to the song. The world seems to melt away, leaving nothing but the music. Not the crowd nor his fingers nor his own body seem to exist to him, his entire being lives only in the music as it rises to a triumphant finale. When he finally comes to, some of the crowd has begun to move on, and a few are dabbing at the tears brought out by the music. His hat is lined with a generous amount of coin, and he nods modestly do the crowd in thanks. A little girl runs out of the crowd, kisses his cheek, and runs off. This shocks him out of his daze and he looks down at the iron flute in his hands. With some curiosity he notes that the rod is cold once again, and suddenly it is devoid of any surface decoration at all. The irregularly-placed finger holes are now lined up like a rank of soldiers.
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Posted: Tue Dec 01, 2009 5:59 pm
Some time later, Myles Million stands at the edge of the island, gazing down at the land below.
The strange compulsion that has been guiding him since the day before now brings him here. He knows what it wants, and what frightens him is that he wants it too. The empty air before him beckons him.
This is the ultimatum, he realizes. The final question. Do I trust this?
Many uncanny things have happened in the past day. But not once has he felt threatened by it at all.
He looks at the rod again, so familiar even though recently found and even more recently changed. And as he examines the surface, an etched inscription appears.
"Let Joy And Innocence Prevail."
Suddenly he realizes the significance of the disappearing design. What was in this rod is now in him. He already made his choice at the fountain. If he did not trust whatever this was, it would be far too late to protest now.
He takes a handful of paces away from the edge.
He turns.
He runs toward it and pushes himself off into freedom and open air.
And then all is black.
~ exit Myles ~
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