[Mkguild] Running Wild (part 2 of ?)

[Joshua Coene]

Jael getting settled in at Metamor Keep.  Comments and criticisms are always
appreciated!

Running Wild (Chapter 2)

*Dear Mother,*

* *

*I realize that it has been several months since I have last written.  I
apologize profusely for this lapse, but events conspired against me.  Since
I last wrote, I have been moving from place to place, scarcely with enough
time to lay down my head before I was forced to pick up and move again.  I
have well put to use the skills that Master Ellanon taught me with lute and
harp, and Master Laereth's teachings with the saber have also served me in
good stead.*

* *

*The last caravan that I joined up with was attacked by Lutins in the
northlands.  I was captured by the Lutins, along with those others in the
caravan who didn't have the good fortune to be killed quickly or manage to
run away.  I was able to escape, thankfully, or I would not be writing you
this letter now.  Unfortunately, in the escape, I was wounded, and that
combined with the general maltreatment at the gentle hands of the Lutins, I
was rendered unconscious, near to the point of death.*

* *

*My rescue was thankfully swift enough, and my rescuers killed or drove of
the remainder of the Lutins.  However, this is the bit of news that I regret
to send back to you: my rescuers were the defenders of Metamor Keep, and I
was too sorely wounded to be moved once I was brought back to the Keep for
healing.  I'm not certain why, but I was somehow susceptible to the curse
that surrounds the Keep.  In short, I find my place with the Keepers, now,
and their curse is my own.*

* *

*I say this, not in an attempt to gain your pity, or the pity of my kinsmen,
but merely to convey to those back at home the news of my recent life.  My
place is here now, I suppose, and at the very least I shall help others from
befalling the same fate that I may have suffered at the hands of the Lutins.
It is a noble enough calling, to be sure, and the Keepers are friendly
enough.  I can also tell that my poetry and song will be as well-received
here as possible anyplace else in this land, perhaps even more so than back
home!*

* *

*In closing, Mother, I wish you all the best.  I am as well as could be
expected, and I look forward to your letter in reply.  News of what goes on
around home would be much appreciated as well.  I shall be here, I suppose,
for a while, so you may know where to send your reply.  Yes, my humor and my
spirits are intact, perhaps never better.  Fare you well, and give my
regards to all back home.*

* *

*Ever your son,*

*Jael'anon Kawauso*



Jael sighed softly, placing the pen aside as he looked down at the
parchment, picking it up and blowing on it gently to help the ink dry.  It
had been far too long since he had written, and now he had true news to
convey, so perhaps it was all the more important.  Even so, he felt nervous
to do so.  Even in the best of lights, his news could not be called "good"
by any stretch of the imagination.  It wasn't horrible news, to be certain.
He had been wounded, but was healing.  He lived, and would be healthy again
soon enough.  Still, it was hard to write that he would be staying at
Metamor Keep, probably for the rest of his life$B!D(Bwhich may not be long,
considering that the Keep was the first line of defense against strikes from
the north.  Lutins, giants, and necromancers; he would be part of the
defense against these enemies now.



He folded up the parchment, tying it with a string as the door cracked open,
revealing a familiar red-furred face.  "Alan, it's good to see you again."  He
set his feet on the floor, standing slowly with a soft groan to meet the
fox.  "I was just finishing up a letter home."



"Good to hear that you have strength to lift a pen, and scribble it around
the page, I suppose."  Alan chuckled softly, entering the room eyeing the
man as he gained his footing.  "Since you seem to be able to come to your
feet on your own, do you think that you'd be up for the grand tour of the
Keep?"



"I literally just got back on my feet!"



"Fine, not the grand tour, then, but at least a small one?  No need to go
exploring all about, but I'm sure you'd be glad to know how to get to the
privy."



Jael grunted his assent softly, not able to argue with that in any way.  "I
suppose so."  One hand went to the back of his neck, worrying at the patch
of fur growing there.  It had spread since he had first felt it, spreading
over the majority of the back of his neck, merging with his hair and
beginning to spread down his back as well.  The thin hair on his arms and
legs had thickened, and for the first time in his life it felt like he was
beginning to grow a beard.  "Fine.  A short tour$B!D(Band I definitely would like
to know where the privy is."



"Very well then, let's get underway.  We'll keep it short, as you requested,
as much for my sake as for yours."  The somewhat elderly fox grinned
cheekily, bushy tail swishing from side to side.  "I've got no desire for
you to use me as a crutch."



The half-elf snorted softly in derision as he pulled his shirt on.  Not his
old one, to be certain$B!D(Bthat one probably was on the rag heap, if it hadn't
been burned.  He'd been provided with a new set of clothes as soon as he was
strong enough to be able to pull them on.  While they didn't fit as nicely
as his old ones had, they were still serviceable, and he supposed he
couldn't complain if they were hand-me-downs.  Tugging on his new boots, he
stomped his feet to settle them.  Not too bad a fit.  "All right, ready as
soon as you are."



$B`\(B



The tour was mercifully brief.  The unfortunate thing about being bedridden
for several weeks was how weak one was at the end of such a period, and Jael
was grateful when it was over.  He was even more grateful that the tour
found its end at a pub.  Walking through the doors and into the interior of
the place felt simply wonderful, almost a kind of homecoming.  Since leaving
home, he had found his place in taverns like these often, playing music or
singing.



What made the place different than anywhere else that he had ever been was
the clientele.  As he had seen in the rest of the Keep, children were in the
place of adults (such as drinking at the bar), statuesque men and women were
spread throughout the room, as were hybrids between various animals and
humans.  Other than that, there actually didn't seem to be too much
difference between the Deaf Mule and any other tavern that Jael had visited.



Alan headed straight for the bar, where he picked up a couple of mugs of ale
from the rather taciturn barkeep then guided Jael back to a nearby table.  As
the half-elf drank, the fox spoke.  "Now, if you're going to stay here,
you're going to need to serve some purpose.  Not that we're going to chuck
you out on your tail, if you grow one, but we can't have any freeloaders
around here.  It's a keep, after all, a defensive location.  If you can't
fight as a defender, then you certainly will serve on the staff of the
keep."  Alan snorted softly, taking a good swallow of his ale before
continuing, "So unless you want to scrub pots and floors, clean out the
latrines, and all those wonderful, essential duties, it would serve you in
good stead to have a skill or two that you could perform."



Jael snorted softly, finishing his own mouthful of ale before speaking.  "I
do have some skill with the sword, and considerably more with magic."  He
allowed himself a small smile before continuing.  "Also, I made my living
before I came here with song and poetry.  A hat out on the floor, a lute in
my hand, and a song on my lips paid for many a meal and bed."



Alan grinned.  "You'll fit in here just fine with that background, though
you'll still have to serve with the defenders if you have the other skills
that you claim.  You'd probably be better served speaking with the mages and
defenders themselves when it comes to your exact role, and they'll have
tests for you as well.  I'm getting a bit old for the defending, myself."  He
simply chuckled.  "Oh, they'll certainly have the tests for you, believe you
me$B!D(B"



$B`\(B



A few days later, Jael found himself across a small arena from a bullman,
holding a maul in his muscular hands.  The tests, as it turned out, were a
series of what amounted to duels.  He had been allowed his choice of
weaponry, and had chosen a saber and parrying dagger.  Larger weapons had
been out of the picture, as he simply didn't have the musculature to
properly employ them.  At least he wasn't as slight as most of the true
elves, where he would have been limited basically to daggers, rapiers, and
other very light weapons.  As it was, the saber was heavier than the one
he'd wielded in the practices of his youth, but that couldn't be helped$B!D(B



$B`\(B



"Get that saber up, boy!  Let it droop and you're going to give your
opponent an opening!"  The flat of the rapier slipping through his guard and
laying a stinging slap on his right cheek emphasized Master Lareth's words.



The young half-elf stumbled away with his hand rising to favor his cheek,
still holding the saber in its practice sheath.  Spitting a curse under his
breath, he came back in, saber flickering out like a snake's tongue, only to
be deflected once more by the older half-elf's dagger, drawing another slap
on the opposite cheek.  "And use your left hand!  You've got a parrying
dagger there for a reason, parry with it!"



The practice went on for another hour and a half, mostly in that same vein.
The master was relentless, but what made it even more frustrating was that
Jael just couldn't keep his mind on the practice.  He'd get into a flow of
strokes, then his mind would wander$B!D(Band he'd wind up nursing some new
bruise.  Mercifully, Master Lareth called the practice off early, nearly as
frustrated as the boy.



"Listen, I know you're not happy with your father leaving.  Nobody would be.
But it's been nearly a month since, and as much as it tears you up, you need
to get over it.  You need to be able to function, lad.  The real world isn't
going to be nearly as friendly as these practices are, and if you get caught
up in that without the proper training, you're not going to be coming away
with bruises."  The older man sheathed his sword, then his rapier.  "You're
going to have to learn to deal with these kinds of things, and deal with
them quickly, or you're going to wind up dead."



$B`\(B



Shaking off the specter of the past, Jael refocused on the bull across from
him.  The maul that the bull held had a padded head of cloth and leather,
and the saber and parrying dagger that Jael held were both in practice
sheathes, but that meant nothing to the seriousness of the duel at
hand.  Truthfully,
if the bull hit him hard enough with that maul, Jael could be nursing a
series of broken ribs or other similar injuries.  Besides, it was meant to
be an accurate test of his abilities, and that meant that he had to go all
out.



However, working against him was that he was unused to his body.  Every day
he woke up and found himself changed more and more$B!D(Bso when the bull took the
initiative, swinging the maul at Jael's chest, his reflexes were slow, a
grunt of pain escaping him as the padded maul grazed his chest.  He was
frustrated as the bull was awarded the point for the match, considering that
had the blow been real, the elf would have found himself on the ground with
a caved-in ribcage.



The previous match had gone well enough, Jael's opponent having been a
ferret armed with rapier and parrying dagger.  Even with his changing body,
Jael had been quick enough to get a solid blow through the musteline's
guard.  It was simply frustrating that he had been unable to dodge the
bull's strike with the maul and get inside his guard to get the "death
blow."  It only made it more frustrating that he had been tripped up by the
same thing that Master Lareth had berated him for that day.



Not much longer later, he found himself in yet another arena.  Since he had
professed some ability with magery, they'd decided to test him on that as
well.  He questioned the decision of sending him down to test his magic
skills less than an hour after physical trials, but then he had to figure
that they would want to know his abilities under adverse conditions as well.
He could hardly expect to be casting magic in ideal conditions all the time,
well rested, in a quiet room, no distractions$B!D(B



$B`\(B



As the spell fizzled into nothingness, the young half-elf sighed.  He'd
exhibited ability with magic a few years after his father had left, which
meant further training on top of the sword.  At least it seemed to come to
him more naturally than the poses, postures, and parries with the saber.  Well,
some aspects at least.



"Jael, you seem to demonstrate equal ability in all five elements.  Fire,
water, earth, air, and spirit you have no problems with, though your talents
seem to tend toward each one's more subtle aspect than the overt.  Your
control is excellent and your raw power is certainly impressive, but your
concentration wavers.  You could be phenomenal if you'd just buckle down
and$B!D(BGods damn it all, if you'd just pay attention, you whelp!"



Master Traska was furious.  He had a notoriously short temper that seemed to
only get worse with his age, and he was as volatile as the fire that was his
own chosen elemental expertise.  Some said that it was because of his
personality that he had the easiest time with fire, others claimed that the
use of fire itself had shaped his personality$B!D(Bbut who knew, when it came to
magic?  Each seemed as likely as the other, though it was probably a mix of
the two.  It seemed that the current focus of his temper was Jael's failure
to live up to his apparent potential.



"You're always sitting around with your head in the clouds.  Stop
daydreaming.  Stop writing ridiculous poetry in the margins of your notes,
and concentrate on the notes themselves.  You're barely passing this class,
when you could be doing so much more, Jael!  You could be one of the great
mages if you'd just apply yourself!"



$B`\(B



That had been years ago$B!D(Bnearly a decade had passed, and he hadn't used magic
since leaving Quenardya.  It tended to attract too much attention in the
human lands, attention that a traveling half-elf could ill afford.  If he
had been exposed as a half elf, he was sure that any number of things could
have happened.   Though now he supposed he was getting the perfect disguise
for his half-elf nature, the downside was that he'd still get burned at the
stake if he revealed what he was in any human village.



Regardless, his first opponent in the magical arena was simple enough to
defeat.  Seemingly a novice mage, a few illusions cast from water were
enough to distort his impressions enough to allow Jael a relatively easy
victory.  The second opponent was more difficult, with counterspells for
Jael's illusions, and a few fireballs to follow up.  A shield of air went
only so far against those$B!D(Bbut Jael's command of fire and spirit was enough
to turn those away, and send them back to their caster.  A water spell put
out the age-regressed keeper's clothes and hair.  Jael's next opponent was a
somewhat-aged tiger man$B!D(Bwho proceeded to roundly thrash the magically-rusty
half-elf.  Several weak bolts of lightning slipped through Jael's
hastily-constructed shields and made his hair (and what fur he had) stand on
end, without doing any real damage.  It had been a sucker-punch, really$B!D(Bthe
trial had scarcely begun before the lightning bolts had been sent zigzagging
toward the exhausted half-elf.



$B`\(B



Frustrated and tired, he left the arena$B!D(Bonly to find himself face-to-face
with a familiar, grinning fox.  "Trials go well?"



Jael snorted softly, still smoothing his hair and fur down.  "That depends
entirely on your definition of the word 'well.'"  He chuckled softly,
rubbing aching muscles.  "Do they usually have the magic trials right after
the physical, or was I a special case?"



"That's usually what they do.  After all, it's combat casting.  You can't
expect$B!D(B"



"I can't expect that I'm going to be doing it under ideal conditions, I
know."  Jael cut off the fox with another sigh.



Alan chuckled softly.  "Well, then, now that it's over, let's get you back
to your room, and get you into a nice, hot bath?"



"Good gods, Alan, that's the best plan I've heard all day$B!D(B"
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