Such Minor Existence

[Ilthenin Yeranthas]

What gods would shine on life so dry
But those who claim to watch over I?
- Ilthenin Yeranthas, Poet Dreading Life

TIMESTAMP
The Month of Cryxatum
The Season of Summer
Era II of the Celestine Mandate
Era XI Post Fractum
The Age of the Darkening
The Mageocracy of Julos the Mad

The poet laughed. 'Dreading Life' - was life really that bad to him? With the way he wrote, anyone would think that he was a tëleris growing up amongst eshies, the type who had no friends because of his quiet tendencies, couldn't see more than a few metres and as a result couldn't copy what he couldn't see happening in arcana classes, or read notes the tutor presented in other instances. The type who was never any good at games, who always got hit by the ball instead of catching it. The type who never managed to chase girls, because he could never quite tell one from another until he got close. The type that jaded authors wrote about when they tired of writing about grand heroes and dragons, angels and demons, emperors and empresses. It wouldn't have surprised Ilthenin to know that someone, somewhere was writing his tale now, committing it to paper even as he committed the ballad of his life to his notepad. With a sigh, the tëleris leaned back against the wall, one hand putting his notebook back on the chest of drawers next to his bed while another drew up the blankets to cover his head.

The soft sheets fell onto his gills, tickling him slightly until he moved them. He couldn't concentrate when they were being touched. Quietly, he reached under his bed, his webbed hands feeling for the soft velvet pouch he kept there. He pulled open the drawstring, fiddling around under the covers for the one he wanted. Frost was always rocky, never the perfectly smooth, elongated capsules that sting was ...and sting was what he desperately needed now. The euphoric high, that feeling that one day he might actually be accepted, that lone thought that actually persuaded him that it might be worth going on. He held it up under the cover, the blue-white sheet casting an eerie glow on the little pill. His only friend.

Almost before he had placed the velvet pouch back where it belonged, Ilthenin started giggling. What if there was someone, somewhere, writing his tale even as he wove his own stories? Where would his tale end? A royal wedding? Maybe someday he would slay the mighty dragon who ruled the land, or fight alongside the Archonic Phalanx? There was little chance of that, seeing as he could barely see to the end of a pike, but one could dream, couldn't they?

But when it came down to it, a dream was all it was. A dream of a fancy, a dream of someone that was not him. Even sting could only alleviate his pains for so long, and that night he would, like so many other nights, fall asleep with his face buried in his pillow hoping that he would manage to suffocate himself overnight. That, or the next day would herald a change for him. At the moment, there was only one hope of that though - his great-uncle's offering of arcane scholarships for the coming era, and the fact that he might be able to finally learn the art of ikos. Then he would show everybody - everybody who believed in him would find luck turning in their favour, while everybody who tormented him simply for being who he was and his mother for believing in love would find that their fortunes would finally turn down the path that they had driven Ilthenin.

And so the young poet drifted to sleep, between dreams of Ikos and nightmares of life.

[Obsidian]

It was only about five minutes until the nightmare that was being Ilthenin passed and the effects of sting took over, sting, what an appropriate name for an appropriate drug, Ilthenin had become dependant on the drug, not physically, because that was impossible, rather psychologically. Because after that five minutes had passed since sting found his way into the body of the half-breed, the only feeling that he felt was euphoric bliss.

The story surrounding Ilthenin was rather tragic, an outcast in a race that barely tolerated their own as equals, Ilthenin had grown up with a genetic flaw that had made him less then everyone around him, that flaw was being a half breed. While, in an adult world, they were not treated any differently, save by a few racists and puritans, the scene when growing up was far different, kids were far more impressionable and they’ll hate anyone who’s different in any way. They just needed to find what it was that was different about a certain individual, unfortunately in Ilthenin’s case that difference was handed to everyone else on an adamantite plate. This led in a downward spirall towards his current condition, preconceptions led to abuse and Ilthenin was convinced that what everyone else was saying was true, conditioning became self-fulfilling prophecy, self-fulfilling prophecy led to sting. Sting led to bliss and that’s all the melancholic poet felt, bliss. Nothing else mattered to him at that moment.

Insomnia was common with depressants, in turn, the negative side effects were nothing compared to the benefits of being able to sleep properly, and happily, rather then turning, heaving and tossing around the bed until his blanket was on the floor, the sheets were messy and his neck and gills extremely sore. What Ilthenin dreamed that night was nothing but euphoric idealism, a world were everyone accepted, respected and catered for his differences. A world where luck went his way for once, rather then against him, as it had been all these years. This was a world where he luck not only worked in his favour, but he controlled it, of course, by the time the half esh’lahier woke up,

“Rossyn is ready!, time to get up!” said one of the maids who tended to house Yeranthas as she made past the rooms, then came Ilthenin’s room, which she would of ignored completely if there wasn’t an urgent matter to attend to. “Get up, Ilthenin, there’s someone here to see you, outside. Something about some scholarship or something.” There was a certain grace missing from her voice, as if she had been human, but she was clearly a full Esh’lahier elf, the only thing that could be deduced is that she had been living with humans. Although her voice did bear some urgency and volume, it had to pierce Ilthenin’s unconsciousness.

[Ilthenin Yeranthas]

Even the thought of the scholarship was not quite enough to wake Ilthenin fully. In his drowsiness, the young half tëleris reached for his velvet pouch, before some semblance of consciousness woke inside of him and decided against it. Drowsily, Ilthenin pulled himself up from his bed, his hand reaching for his shirt. Luckily, his vision was good enough for him to navigate around his room, although from his bed the door seemed slightly blurry. That was partly one of the reasons he stayed indoors so much - in his room lay safety, and the dangers of the unknown were alien unless he was to try and look out his window or similar.

He took his time in dressing. Whoever it was that was waiting for him, they were probably being paid to wait. He had flunked all his arcanomechanics classes all through grammaticus, without exception. He would always be sent to the back of the class without fail, for some trivial reason like the esh'lahier student behind him couldn't see past his broad shoulders and tëleris build. From that vantage point, he could never see the tutor's castings and explanations. He could hear, and those words he had memorised off by heart. He knew the spheres, he knew their capabilities. Some of them, he had even felt - one of the students in his class, Melandir Imbrethewen, was lucky enough to have a uncle who had master Sorcery who visited on occasion. Melandir had been unbound early, and his force bolts were a constant torment to Ilthenin, as were pencils and schoolbooks that constantly levitated themselves out of the tëleris' view. All through growing up, Ilthenin knew that he would get one of Yeranthas' prized arcane scholarships, and for no reason better than the fact that his mother's father was youngest brother to the ruling Lord of Yeranthas.

What sphere he would be assigned to was a different matter completely.

He wanted Ikos. Ikos was heresy. But, from what he had heard in class, a mage could not be tethered to a Plane that they did not accept ... which meant he could stand in front of his new tutor all day until they gave in, and it would work. He had nothing better to do with his time, after all, now that he has graduated from the schola and his life consisted of waiting for acceptance into a Universitas.

A smile touched his face at the thought of his plan. Ingenious, and foolproof, he figured. He opened the door in a good mood, although the smile was intimidating to any esh'lahier within his field of view. Ilthenin had never been a small man, taking after his tëleris father in almost every way in the manner of all half-breeds. He was broad, just short of seven feet tall and muscled like he was ready to take on the depths of the ocean. An elven whale, some people said when they saw the curiousity that was the half-breed esh'laier. His skin was a curious, pale blue-green that was often regarded as ugly by everyone that saw it including Ilthenin himself. His hair was a dull platinum blonde, never well maintained and more often than not clinging to his frame with water whenever Ilthenin found somewhere to wet his face and gills. His eyes were a dull silvery black, his iris pale enough to seem almost one with his dark whites. His gills were prominent, a little too forward facing even by thëlyri standards - useful considering the amount of times Ilthenin had to use his massive tree-trunk like arms to fend off blows to the vital organ. His barrel chest was only barely covered by specially tailored clothes - one of the benefits of nobility, he found.

Today, that was a loose cotton shirt in an off-white to complement his eyes, and navy blue trousers. As always, two flasks of water hung at one hip, and a small pocket knife at the other. His velvet pouch was carried in one of his pockets, so that the maids would not find it when he was not in his room. The knife was useful - small as it was, it had meant bullies no longer physically abused the tëleris. Not without weapons anyway - a mixed blessing in the eyes of some, but anything which stopped the beatings was a bonus. Besides, he was genetically able to take blows. It was the laughter and torment that he couldn't take, and those with weapons didn't laugh and torment. They waited for submission.

Wordlessly, Ilthenin stumbled forward, trying to move into visual range of whoever had summoned him regarding the scholarship. It hopefully wouldn't be too difficult, given he could still see within three or four metres and the hallway was narrow. Sometimes, though, even some adults insisted on making him painfully aware of his shortcomings.

[Obsidian]

Unfortunately, it was sometimes night on impossible to see the splendour of the pink veined marble triangular estate of house Yeranthas, Ilthenin made his way down the corridor, experience and history had taught him how to navigate the house with ease, although it was true that even if the house was alien to him, he still wouldn’t of had any more difficulty then most other people, granted, that was most likely because Ilthenin was used to his extreme near sightedness, and it was only his negative depressions that made him feel bad about it.

Standing at the door was Oriel Yeranthas with two other people that Ilthenin had never seen before. Oriel was a tall middle aged woman who was probably one of the most unattractive Esh’lahier around. Her face was too thin and her body slightly disproportionate had a very slight hunch and had a face that looked very human, long nose, tall forehead and hair that was too thin to be healthy. While by Esh’lahier standards she was quite ugly, the lowlife humans would probably think otherwise, after all, humans would breed with orcs. The entire notion was nothing but something an Esh’lahier would vomit at. Her voice was quite medium pitched, although being this early in the morning, her voice dropped an octave, she was here, and it seemed to hand out scholarships. “Serale, Ilthenin, as you are aware, you have been selected for a arcane scholarship, fully funded by our glorious house, here, I need you to take this form and fill it out, send it off no later then tonight. I need to know what sphere you want to learn, I have many to give out today.”

She was quite urgent about all this, as she would have had many to give out, magic in ethgan’tor was a large and intricate part of it’s culture, derived mostly from being elvish and more so because the entire city was immersed by it, protected by it and to an extent, made from it. There was industry here, moreso then any of the other major elven cities, but the Esh’lahier held on to their proud history like a mother holds on to a child, a grasp that never lets go.

When Ilthenin opened the form that was enclosed in a large envelope, he would find the words House Yernathas, embossed in a metallic paper like sleeve, opening up, he would find:

Ithenin Yeranthas, you have been selected along with other boys that are soon to be coming of age to start their arcana training, so they can be better ready to join the citizen levy once they come of age. As most of you would have learnt in your arcanomechanics classes at school, arcana has been weaved in and out of our history as much as the gods have, we are the Esh’lahier Elves! And the only race known to us that has surpassed us in our magical affinity are the Ancient Allerians, and we all know how many of them are left, this is your opportunity to seize your destiny.

We do offer many spheres in the holy cities and if there is a special request, perhaps we can work something out, but our mainstream courses are Thaumaturgy, Elementalism, Sorcery and Song. Mysticism and Ikos are available per special request and further testing.

By signing this form, you pledge your total and undivided allegence to Ethgan’tor and you sign that you will dedicate your self entirely to the pursuit of a single arcane sphere, the works of arcana are intricate and powerful, power which is not to be given out to everyone.


Full Name:
Parents:
Sphere:
Why do you want to pick this sphere?:


Sign:

It was mostly the same dribble and pride that they always show and put down peoples throats, but luckily for Ilthenin, he had indeed been given a scholarship, despite failing all his arcana classes, which was quite strange…

[Ilthenin Yeranthas]

Ithenin Yeranthas, you have been selected along with other boys that are soon to be coming of age to start their arcana training, so they can be better ready to join the citizen levy once they come of age. As most of you would have learnt in your arcanomechanics classes at school, arcana has been weaved in and out of our history as much as the gods have, we are the Esh’lahier Elves! And the only race known to us that has surpassed us in our magical affinity are the Ancient Allerians, and we all know how many of them are left, this is your opportunity to seize your destiny.

We do offer many spheres in the holy cities and if there is a special request, perhaps we can work something out, but our mainstream courses are Thaumaturgy, Elementalism, Sorcery and Song. Mysticism and Ikos are available per special request and further testing.

By signing this form, you pledge your total and undivided allegence to Ethgan’tor and you sign that you will dedicate your self entirely to the pursuit of a single arcane sphere, the works of arcana are intricate and powerful, power which is not to be given out to everyone.


Full Name: Ilthenin Yeranthas
Parents: Ilthenin Marellion, Aren'tien Yeranthas
Sphere: Ikos
Why do you want to pick this sphere?: Ikos offers many opportunities to those who know how to take them, especially for those who prefer not to take a direct hand in fate. I believe the sphere is Ikos is relatively unexplored compared to other spheres, but it is a sphere that could ultimately strengthen the wards to our most holy city. I would like to explore this new sphere, that Ethgan'tor may benefit from a more profound knowledge of its powers and limitations.


Sign:Ilthenin Yeranthas

Ilthenin smiled politely as he handed the form back to the impossibly ugly Esh'lahier, although his eyes did not linger for too long. He had found a quiet humility to be the best approach to the Esh'lahier - after all, they were a superior race to his, with their better vision and everything. He felt dirty though, writing what he had. He had wanted to give the impression that his Ikos would be learnt purely for the benefit of the city of Ethgan'tor, but that could not be further from the truth. As soon as he finished his study, he planned to leave the city of his captors and seek greener pastures elsewhere in the Empire. Stepping back, Ilthenin asked, "Is there anything else you might require me for, madam?".

[Obsidian]

Oriel seemed somewhat surprised. “That was quick, we were going to come back five candlemarks later to pick them up, no matter, it will just mean that you’ll be assigned to your teacher quicker. Until then, Vendui.” The day was still extremely young, but Oriel seemed to be one of those typical people who had the efficiency alien to almost all else in the empire. Although, similar things could be said about the city. One could try to burn it down for that, but the city would just put the fire out with the same bland cold efficiency that it seemed to do everything with.

Oriel parted, without saying another word, she wasn’t lying when she said she needed to move along, she had been waiting for an unreasonable time though, but further investigation would prove that she was around to give a few of house Yeranthas scholarships.

Larala, was the maids name, the one with the sort of Lauryllian human accent. She was a good maid, well maid wasn’t really the best way to describe her, she was almost a part of the family, to her, cooking and cleaning wasn’t a chore, it was a hobby. Which to some elves, seemed rather odd, but no one ever complained. She was punctual, honest and hard working. “Rossyn is ready, Ilthenin, Valarwin, come!” She screamed, from almost the other side of the estate.