Stecker

A Casual Greeting

The raw, obvious power of the gemstone called out to the sorcerer the like sirens of lore and he found himself unable to resist its pull. He spent several minutes, maybe even half an hour staring up at the gem, wishing he could move himself closer by sheer force of will. Alas, it was not to be. He eventually shook himself free of its pull and looked around. His companions had abandoned him. All that remained was the unconscious elf… and the cloak on the floor.

Dacheus walked over and knelt beside the cloak, then picked it up and looked it over. It was, by all accounts, entirely ordinary. But, stuck up in the mountains as he was, a heavy fur cloak would come in handy. He slung it lightly around his shoulders and looked back up at the statue. The gem still called out to him, though he could at least resist and control the urge to drool over it.

Well, I’d better at least get a good look at it, even if I have to do it without that useless oaf. He quickly mounted the stairs, climbed onto the railing, and looped his new cloak around the top of the statue. Then he carefully shimmied down it, deftly holding both ends of the cloak in one hand and inspecting the statue with the other until he reached the gem. This thing… gods below, the power just rolling out of it… I should… I should take this thing with me.

That, of course, wasn’t happening. His bare hands were not enough to dislodge the gem, nor did a telekinesis spell have any more luck. In his frustration, he began simply yelling at the statue and trying to shake it over. “God damned stubborn insufferable idiotic ugly hunk of stone! No one even likes you, you should have fallen over of the damned sculptor who made you!”

And then his arms had had enough, his strength failed, and the sorcerer fell. At least he wasn’t high up; he flailed a bit and twisted in the air and landed, mostly catching himself with his hands. “Oof! God dammit. Where’s that oaf of a warrior when I need something to land on? Bah! He’d have just stepped aside and let me fall on my face again!”

Another minute of screaming and pounding his fists against the unyielding, unconcerned statue left him tired and frustrated. “Alright, there’s gotta be… there’s gotta be…” he looked around for a loose rock to throw at it. He looked some more. And more. And after a couple of minutes concluded that there were, in fact, no loose rocks of appropriate size for him to launch at this damnable statue.

“Fine! Fine fine fine! Who needs rocks? I have FIRE!” Dacheus focused inwardly, summoning the fire which burned within his veins, creating a devastatingly powerful bolt of arcane flame, and launching it straight at the statue. It roared across the room, hit the waist of the statue, and vanished without leaving so much as a scorch mark.

“Oh for pity’s sake! That’s fucking cheating!” he shouted at the statue, stomping his feet. Then something caught his attention. The elf, still lying by the base of the statue. Had the stone not simply absorbed his spell, the blast likely would have been the end of her. The sorcerer felt the slightest hint of remorse and knelt down next to her to see if she was alive.

She was, still breathing in fact. Her pulse seemed to quicken as he touch her, and yet she could not be roused. “Well, maybe this statue will keep watching over you,” he muttered. “But for those of us still trying to survive… I think I’m gonna need this.” He took her pack from around her shoulders and rifled through it; some rope, some animal hides, some silver. Better than nothing. There were scraps of cloth on the edge of a doorway; his companions must have left that way. He put the fur cloak about his shoulders again, slung the elf’s pack over that, and set off.

At first, the cold hit him, and he laughed. “Bring it!” he declared, pushing on into the frigid wind, sheer force of will and the fire in his veins easily holding off the freezing chill. A half out late, he’d changed his tune; it was cold, the frosty chill starting to seep into his bones; the fur cloak helped but it wasn’t enough. He found a couple corpses, a pair of goblins and a peasant girl, and continued trudging on indifferently. He could see a town in the valley below and pushed on even as he started to lose feeling in his fingers and toes. If he had to summon some fire to hold off frostbite, he would, but he didn’t think it’d be necessary; the town gates weren’t far now.

He eventually made it, approaching the wooden wall of the town, when a gruff voice called out: “Oi! Halt and state yer business here, or I'll have the chuckers make you into a pincussion!”

Dacheus looked up at the wall and sighed. "I am cold and I am hungry!" he yelled back. "And I wish to remedy both of those things! I am also looking for my companions who left me up in the mountains, but those little shits probably got eaten by goblins!"

He was rewarded with laughter from behind the wall, and soon a head popped out from between the wooden chunks. The grizzled old man gave the sorcerer a sneering look: ”Alright, ye can come in. Don't be causin trouble now, or we'll chuck ye right out with a few extra holes!”
The large wooden gates swung open to reveal visage of the village at dusk. There was a long street ahead with various clay houses on either side and a large field at the end of the road. As Dacheus walked inside, he saw a man walk down towards him from the small parapets along the wall. It was the same grizzled man from a moment before.
“I'm the mayor here, so if I see you doing anything that's bad for us, we'll have you hanged by dawn! The inn's down the street if you have gold to spend! Off with ye!”

Dacheus nodded and set off. He had no desire to remain outdoors any longer than needed. The inn was little more than a large hovel, but very homely inside. The barkeep, a huge woman, towered over him. “Oh, another customer? Are you one of those BREAD fanatics too or do you like some proper goblin stew?”

"Gimme the goblin stew," he answered. It didn't sound great, but he didn't want to argue.

Overjoyed at not having to deal with another picky customer, she slapped his back. He sat down at a nearby table and and she handed him a bowl of murky green-ish liquid with some bits floating in it, then handed him a wooden spoon. 'That'll be five silvers!'

He had hardly that much to begin with, but after the hike down from the mountains he lacked the strength to argue. "Any chance that comes with a stiff drink?" he asked, clearly joking as he fished the coins from his pocket. "This is delicious, but I think it'd go well with something stout."

“Aye, we have some distilled Goblin ale! Only ten silvers!”

He sighed and shook his head. "I'd love to try it, but I don't have that kind of coin on me, gorgeous. Maybe after I rob the silly bread-eaters." The stew was....horrendous, but Dacheus was a bit too hungry to care. Properly treated it would probably make a fine poison.

“Aye, ye should! They've been nothing but trouble!”

A few minutes later, he finished eating and stood. 'How was the stew?' The tall barkeep was incredibly curious as to his reaction, as were the other patrons of the inn.

It would go better with some bread, the sorcerer thought but didn’t say. “Excellent!” he answered. “I’ve never had anything like it!” At least the last part wasn’t a lie.

“Great!” the barkeep replied. “You’re alright, not like those damn bread fanatics. If you’re here to exorcise them, they’re in room 4. Here, grab some ale and teach them how to properly enjoy drinks!” She handed him two mugs of what appeared to be ale with a strange greenish color.

Dacheus thanked her and made his way up the stairs, a mug of ale in each hand. He found door number four and knocked firmly. “I hear there’s a pair of bread-eating saps in here! Best open the door, ya hear?” he yell, grinning like an idiot.

A Casual Greeting

Dacheus returned his book to its satchel. “Yeah, that should work.” It wasn’t ideal, but it should work, right? Raikon was clearly strong enough to support him. With some help, he clambered up onto the soldier’s shoulders and turned to look at the stone. Clearly magical, clearly powerful, clearly related to their teleportation…

“Ooh… oh, my…” Without thinking, he leaned forward to get a better look. Time seemed to slow as the large gem suddenly occupied all of his attention, a superhuman focus that shut out everything else to devote its efforts to the wonder in front of him. “Closer!” he called out. “Move closer, yes, like tha--”

Slowly, the fact that he was no longer quite upright dawned on him. Raikon was not moving closer; the mage was simply leaning forward. Too far forward, in fact. “Ack!” His arms pinwheeled, trying to keep his balance, but the satchel with his spellbook swung forward, throwing off what little balance he might have had. He managed to raise his hands as he pitched forward and tried to grab hold of the statue to no avail.

His hands served some purpose, slowing his fall so that his face didn’t hit the statue quite as hard. It all seemed to be happening in the background, though, as he twisted his neck to continue looking at the gem even as he fell. “No, no! Come back!” he cried out as he reached toward the receding ruby with one hand while he slid down toward the floor.

After a couple seconds of absurdity, he finally reached the floor, planting his hands on it to keep from landing on his face. It was only a minor distraction, as he kept trying to turn his head and look up at the magic gem. “It’s so… I need to get… Dammit, put my feet down already!” he spat, though he at least had the good sense not to try and kick himself away from Raikon. He needed to get back up to the gem, and clearly the soldier wasn’t going to be of any help.

A Casual Greeting

Dacheus moved his hands through the barrier several more times, watching them and the subtle ripples in the air around them. “Oh, that’s… huh. I wonder…” He continued muttering to himself as he pulled his spellbook from its pouch and started reading, comparing what he had written with what he was seeing. “Oooh, that’s interesting. But it’s… no, wait.”

He continued his myopic inspection of the windows until someone interrupted him. He turned and looked over the shoulder as if annoyed. Oh wait. Other people. Probably gotta deal with them, they don’t know why we’re here either. He turned back to his book and took a breath. They’re not enemies yet. They’re lost too. We should try to work together. Then he tucked his book under his arm and turned back toward the larger man standing by the statue. “Oh, yes! I should have a look at that, shouldn’t I?” he answered, walking quickly -- almost skipping -- across the room. There was simply so much to see and to try to understand, even if he was stranded in a strange place with no idea how he’d gotten there or how to leave, he was still visibly excited.

He came to a stop at the base of the statue and looked up at the stone. “Well, it’s big and red. Gems don’t usually get that big though, so it’s probably magical,” he said, thinking aloud. He opened the tome he carried once more and flipped through it, glancing between the book and the stone, back and forth several times. “Yeah, magical… and I think I’ve seen that… yes!” The book stopped on a page with a teleportation spell. He stared at the stone and then at the page, twirling his fingers in the air in some sort of pattern. “Yes, that it’s. Teleportation of some kind, has to be. Probably what brought us here, although I can’t say that for certain.” He shut the book again and smiled in satisfaction as he looked up at it. “I’ll need a closer look to be sure…”

After a few seconds he stopped and turned to the green-eyed man next to him. “What’s your name, by the way? I’m Dacheus. I’m a mage,” he said, glancing down at the spellbook in his hand. “But I guess that’s obvious.”

A Casual Greeting

At a minimum, the other people there appeared equally confused and did not appear openly hostile. That was a good sign. They’d also come from far away, which meant that Dacheus was probably not at fault for bringing them here. Probably.

Then how did we get here?

With the immediate “Am I going to get stabbed?” concerns dealt with, the mage turned his attention to his surroundings once more. Figuring out where he was would be a good start. Dacheus turned and walked toward one of the windows without taking the time to introduce himself. Outside were mountains, covered in snow and ice.

Wait, what the hell?

He looked around the room, held out his hand to the air. No wind, warm, greenery, running water. He looked outside again. Freezing cold. Was it merely an illusion? He walked up to a large, open window and hopped into it, leaning outside. The wind whipped around his head, stinging his cheeks. He quickly retreated and touched his face; the snow in his beard was quite real.

Then is this room the false one? No, no. I checked. He rubbed the spot on his head and confirmed that he had indeed hit himself with a rock. And the snow and ice outside… that’s real too. Which means…

There were a few possible explanations. They might not be in the mountains at all, but every window was a portal to a frozen realm. Unlikely, but possible. More likely, they were in the mountains, but there was some sort of barrier keeping the cold out and the warmth in. He began an arcane inspection of the windows, watching the way the magic seemed to ripple as he moved his hand out into the cold and pulled it back. “What a fascinating little barrier…” he mused. It somehow allowed him to move through it while minimizing airflow, preventing the freezing wind from blasting through the great hall. He stepped back and dashed to the next window, looking for the same thing. “This is so neat! Put one of these in the door of your house and never deal with winter drafts again! Why, this could revolutionize the principles of construction even in temperate realms, let alone cold ones!” He dashed to the next window. “But how on earth does it work…”

A Casual Greeting

Slowly the voices nearby pierced the consciousness of the fair-skinned man in the robe and he began to stir. He picked up his head and glanced around. This was clearly not the valley outside of Kyranholm where he was pretty sure he’d last been. He sat up straighter, rubbed his eyes, and looked around yet again. The greenery, the running water, all that felt right. Right? No, no it’s quite wrong. He looked at it again. That is not the same creek, those are not the same trees. And these are not the mercenaries I was with before.

Dacheus Zaraphiston buried his face in his hands and tried to focus, to think. How did he get here? It made no sense. Had he done something wrong? He retraced his steps as best he could. He had been in the valley, right? And he was testing out a new spell, a combination of teleportation with misdirection. Rather than just creating an illusory duplicate of himself while turning invisible, he was actually going to teleport out of harm’s way at the same time. It should have worked. He had mastered both spells, mashing them together shouldn’t have been a problem, right?

Apparently it had.

Ok, think. Valley. Mercenaries. Spell. Soo… what went wrong? He straightened up and looked around again. This is sooo not the valley. Where in the nine hells am I? Did something go wrong? Is this one of my illusions? He looked at a rock next to him and tried to see through it. It remained where it was, refusing to yield. He rapped his knuckles against it. Still it remained solid. He picked it up and inspected it closely. Sure looks real. For good measure, he bonked it against his forehead. Ouch. Ok, that was stupid. It’s real.

Dacheus set the rock down and stood up. Is this my fault? No, it can’t be, I’m not bleeding. But how else… no. Just no. Not my fault. He surveyed the room once more. Right?

With the initial shock wearing off, he tried to get his bearings. He was indoors, it was reasonably warm, there were trees and water and other people and none of it made sense. He looked down at himself. Everything was still where it belonged. Wizard’s robe, spellbook in its bag on his back. Arcane tools and trinkets in the pockets of his robe. Still fully dressed, unlike his first teleportation mishap that had left him naked in the city square. Thank the gods for invisibility.

And then there was the matter of the other people. Two men, already up, and an unconscious half-elven woman, by the looks of it. Well, could be a man, hard to tell with the elves. Regardless, they weren’t the marauding band he’d been working with over the last month. He wouldn’t really miss them, but it was nice to be appreciated.

He turned and looked at the two men. “Gentlemen. Do you know where we are?” he asked calmly, bronze eyes flicking between the two. One was large and confident. The other was small and terrified. Dacheus would fit somewhere in between, in both senses.

A Casual Greeting

General Information

Name: Dacheus Zaraphiston
Age: Late 30’s
Class: Mage, specialization in illusion and destruction
Gender: Male
Length(in meters): 1.7
Race: Human

Character Perk: Studious. Dacheus has spent decades in focused study, devoting himself to the arcane arts. If something holds his interest, he has a nigh-supernatural ability to focus and study and retain almost everything he reads.

Character Flaw: Ooh, Shiny! The myopic focus required to learn such advanced techniques comes with a downside. Dacheus is powerfully distractible, not by traditionally shiny things like jewels and coin, but by arcane oddities. Outside of urgent situations like combat, he may need to be physically dragged away from things which capture his attention.

Appearance: Dacheus is a man with a medium, ordinary build. Jet black hair with a streak of white along one side. Rich brown eyes that seem to turn bronze in the right light. Rather than a pale skin characteristic of his profession, he has a mild tan, studying and working outside when he can. Various scars, resulting from arcane mishaps of one kind or another, have been covered and disguised with intricate tattoos.
Looks (and sings) kinda like:

My Hider

Alignment: The Fools, I’ll Show Them All! (Neutral)

Stats

STR(Strength): 10
DEX(Dexterity): 12
CON(Constitution): 12
INT(Intelligence): 18
WIS(Wisdom): 10
CHR(Charisma): 16

Skills:
[WIP]

Spellcraft [50]
Concentration [40]
Disguise [40] - limited to illusions.
Search [30] - Dammit, where did I leave it this time?
Decypher Script [50]
Language: Eldritch [30]
Performance: Dancing [20]
Performance: Singing [50]

Abilities:
[WIP]

Dumb Luck: Most magical progress is made through careful study and practice. Most of the time, Dacheus follows this principle. Once in awhile, he gets an idea and decides to try it out before studying its consequences. Sometimes it works, and he discovers that he can make the illusory dragon breathe fire. Sometimes it doesn’t, and he gets a fresh scar to cover up.

Illusory Casting: One such successful experiment taught him how to cast evocation spells (fire, etc) from his more powerful illusions. If he has a Major Illusion cast, he can cast weakened evocation spells which originate from within the illusion. The illusion and the target of the spell must be within the spell's normal range of Dacheus and each other.

Spells:
[WIP]

Lightning Bolt [50] - A simple blast of lightning leaving his hands and traveling in a straight line. For when a single thing (and whatever’s standing behind it) needs to suffer.
Fireball [50] - A small ball of flame leaves his hand, flies to a given spot, and detonates. Capable of filling an ordinary room with flames. (20' radius, 8d6)
Firebolt [60] - A more powerful ball of fire which strikes a much smaller area with much greater force. Capable of hitting a single target and people adjacent to it. (10' radius, 12d6)
Telekinesis [40] - Allows the caster to move objects with his mind.
Disguise Self [40] - A simple illusion to change his appearance.
Minor Illusion [20] - Small sounds and images.
Major Illusion [60] - Not-so-small sounds and images. Depending on the time he has to dedicate to crafting the illusion, this might be as simple as a person or animal appearing or as complex as a pair of armies doing battle, though larger illusions will be less believable and easier to see through.
Mirror Image [20] - Several duplicates of the caster appear around him.
Mislead [50] - An image of the caster appears in his place while he turns invisible.

Items
[WIP] (there’s a pattern here)

Armour: Very little. Working in his lab/library, he wears an ornate leather jerkin and matching bracers, enchanted to protect him from his own mishaps. Over that, he wears a jacket with at least a dozen pockets. Simple shirt, pants and shoes, usually black and grey.
Weapons: A knife, but it’s a tool more than a weapon.
Items: Enchanted knife, writing tools (parchments, quills), spellbook.
Gold: Left it at home.
Miscellaneous:

Biography

Dacheus Zaraphiston liked to tell people he was a wizard. After all, his father had been, and his grandfather, and several others throughout the family tree. And when he’d first started to manifest arcane talent, that’s how he’d been treated. Taught to read, to study, to learn from books and rituals and theory.

And it hardly worked. The young mage drove himself to the point of madness, trying to learn to be like his father. He forced himself to sit and read a tome from cover to cover, absorbing everything it contained and yet unable to turn that knowledge into more than slight arcane progress. Months went by like this, even years, before a family visitor finally noticed the problem: Dacheus wasn’t a wizard in the first place. He was a sorcerer, and under proper instruction (again, from outside the family, to his father’s chagrin), his abilities grew in leaps and bounds.

They weren’t royalty, but a family line with a history of wizardry was going to be well off. They may have been the lower part of the aristocracy, but aristocracy they were. Dacheus was accustomed to fine food, fine clothes, and minimal consequences as a young man. When he wasn’t studying the arcane arts, he was learning to sing and dance like a proper young man, wooing young women and otherwise getting into trouble.

As a young man, Dacheus had focused primarily on illusions, the sort that could be used to entertain others or to disguise himself. Simple evocations, summoning fire or electricity, augmented this.

The first of his scars came as a result of a mishap shortly before his twentieth birthday, one which burned down much of his family’s home and saw him exiled from his home city of Aasleagh. Exactly what he was trying to accomplish, no one ever quite determined. Either way, it saw him turned loose upon the world, making a living by selling his skills, usually as an entertainer, occasionally as a spellslinger. He put more effort into learning his evocations; a surprising number of problems could be solved with the judicious application of fire and lightning.

Over the next nearly twenty years, he traveled around the countries of Tiltha and Ambrogio. He somehow avoided building a reputation by putting on a different illusory mask every time he pulled up stakes. Any time he visited a major city, he would find a library, read for three days straight, and then head back out into the wilderness to experiment with his new knowledge. These days, after discovering a way to cast an evocation spell with an illusion as its origin, he is now working on mastering teleportation as an escape tool while leaving an illusory copy of himself behind.