Several days earlier... ---- Shara looked back as the town of Tiena vanished into the distance, a pang of sadness striking her. [i]Will I ever be welcome back there?[/i] she wondered. In the short years spent there, the University had become as much a home as the family manor on the island of Tenesia. The road seemed all the more lonely, dwelling on what she'd left behind. She wished she had talked Tresden or Geralt into coming with her, at least part of the way. Some company would have been nice. But when they learned of her true nature, would any of her old friends welcome her back? ”Why did I listen to that damned voice anyways? Why couldn't I just stay in Tiena, stay where it's safe and just go on with my life as if nothing happened? Fool." Her horse snorted in response to her brief tirade, and Shara sighed. She knew why she'd answered the call. Shara didn't care so much for seeing mages safe across the lands, she knew of the horrors magic could create, the destruction it could bring. What truly called her was that it was an opportunity to learn about what she could do. To find out how to do more than conjure heatless flames, or create little figures out of thin air. For all she knew, she was just mad, and seeing things no one else could. But this would be a chance to find out. Shara smiled to herself, and conjured a small flame in front of her. The roads she took to the Black forest were devoid of intelligent life. If she was going to join these other mages, she should try and learn a bit more about what she could do. She tried conjuring some company, a life size replica of Geralt. [i]At least I can create some company,[/i] she thought, but was disappointed when merely a dark, vaguely human shape formed, only to collapse moments later. She sighed and tried again, only this time smaller, slowly working her way towards the Black Forest. ---- In the Mage Fortress ---- Shara did not like the way events were unfolding. First and foremost, she did not know where she was, and that bothered her. They had appeared at the fortress through a magical gateway, and were now...somewhere. All her life, Shara had been able to tell where she was relative to things that mattered. The manor, the university, but now she was cut free and floating. She did not like that they were already fighting each other, that other poor mage had been nearly killed by this man, this [i]Terror of the South[/i]. She had read about him, he was one of the strongest cases for keeping the paladins in power, though the destroyed villages had been pinned on him, not the paladins as the flaming mage had claimed. For now, Shara was more inclined to believe the story she had been taught her whole life, and the Terror's actions did little to change her mind. The area cleared soon after the Terror finished his speech. The...violence...of the room scared her. Shara was not here for a bloody revolution, but simply to learn more of what she could do. "What have I gotten myself into." She muttered to herself. Then, pointedly ignoring the blood on the ground, she let her curiosity get the better of her, and began wandering the fortresses corridors, exploring it's rooms, trying to place a date to the old stones. There were intricate carvings along many surfaces, often some sort of serpent motif. Walking the grounds, it was obvious that the fortress was not some remnant of the Annexation or the conflicts that had followed. Nature had had its unimpaired way with the stones for too long. The construction, or what was left of it, hinted at a mix of Aolean and Futan designs, yet lacked the series of temples that would mark it as Aolean, and the thickness of the walls, and the open field in the center eliminated this as any Futan stronghold. It was odd, how well preserved it was. A visit to the former armory merely confirmed her suspicions that this place was old. A few mages were greedily pouring over weapons and armor, some using magic to restore old blades. She thought she caught an insignia engraved on one of the plates a mage was cleaning, she tried to move in closer to inspect it, but was surprised when the cleaner's large hand swatted her away. "What're you think you're doing? This is no for you, I'd hardly think you could lift it. Oi Stephson, can you imagine this lil thing trying to wear [i]plate![/i]" One of the other's in the armory turned towards her, and they both burst out laughing, as Shara turned bright red. "I only wanted to inspe-" Before she could finish, the big man stood up with a clank of metal. "So many mages have come in here recently, [i]demanding[/i] they be granted the 'finest this estate has to offer.' Been trying to work us to death in 'ere, fixing this old stuff up. Come wit me, I've got just the stuff for you." Shara didn't mention that most of the armory was still full, though she could see Stephson, the other worker in the armory, smirking at the obvious exaggeration. The man continued talking as he led her past racks of rusted equiptment. "It's not that I mind the work, anyhow. Most of this stuff is in surprisingly good condition, at least, nothing a lil magic canno' fix. Ah! Here we are!" The man stopped and grabbed what appeared to Shara as a pile of rust. Shara tried to use the interlude to ask about the insignia - she really had no need, nor want, for armor - but the man man shushed her, giving a conspiratorial grin. He shook the rust pile, and was suddenly holding a gleaming mail shirt. The sighed, a look of bliss on his face. "It is won'erful to use magic freely." Shara chatted with the man, Moir, who had worked as a blacksmith before being called here. She learned that the insignia was one of his own engraving, and that he believed the buildings to be at least a century abandoned, based off the state of the armory. After showing her the basics of how to care for and wear the armor, he sent her back out, muttering with a smile about how she had caused him such a backlog. Still, the company had been nice after so many lonely days of travel. Smiling, she returned to wandering the fortress, her arm alight with illusory fire, in imitation of the man she had seen earlier today, thinking of how ridiculous she must look. A young woman, a former student and noble, wearing a mail shirt, covered in fire-that-was-not-fire.