The Campaign Builder's Guild

It was a breezy spring morning, 36 Bremvian on the Rionian calendar, and life was aglow. In the lush meadows outside of Azrael's Pass, the alqo flowers were in bloom, their rainbow-colored petals sparkling  in kaleidoscopic patterns that dazzled and soothed all who passed by. The long-bodied Calac fish, their brilliant red bodies shining in the clear meadow spring, were hopping and swimming about, their dancing, wild movements reflecting the throbbing pulse of nature's heart. Two twittering twin-tailed twillerbirds, nestled comfortably in the branches of the spritely pink and yellow ashura tree, were whistling a mating tune that had warmed the hearts of poets for centuries.

   A thin red beam struck one of the pompous birds, causing it to explode with light and turn to ash. An elf in red and black travelling clothes stood on the nearby road, an outstretched finger glowing with scarlet energy. In a foul mood, the elf pointed his finger at the other bird, which squawked with terror as it flew away. 'Finally, some quiet,' the elf said, grabbing a dirty old map from his side.

   With starch white hair and narrow scarlet eyes, this was no ordinary elf. 'Elador Orvead,' as he would proudly introduce himself, 'Third Son of Cascilia and Aladon Orvead, the Eighth Heir of House Mendeliir, and the Heritor of the Legacy of Ioudiniciad.' Fancy elven titles from Delphia that meant very little where he was now '" the predominately human-populated continent of the Tare. Though he had lived here for centuries now, seen the brutes and their rudimentary magic, passable governance, and moderate artistic skill, Elador held no sympathy for the peoples of the Tare. His original migration from his home in Delphia was one of familial necessity, to search for his long-lost cousin Corrin, but it was now Elador who was lost.

   Elador studied the map carefully. He was in Vestin, a nation ruled by democratic process and self-absorbed politicians, an anomaly of political thought in an otherwise hierarchical and traditionalist region. He could go north, to the pious state of Arvia, ruled by a foolish king and his mindless aristocrats, but Elador gagged at the thought of ritual wine and sanctified bread, staples of the Arvian diet. He could go east, to Ketta, where men were unafraid to show their hate, were unabashed of their propensity for war, and were utterly cruel and banal in their pursuit of self. Elador reminded himself that he had been banished from Ketta by the Emperor's grandfather, and wondered in passing if that exile had ever been lifted. He could travel to Azran, with its strange culture and backwards ways, or to the barbaric northern lands, but such menial people bored him more than the supposedly civilized folk of the South. And at last, he could go to Higoth, home of the toiling, maddening dwarves, whose culture perhaps surpassed that of humans in its crudity and lack of sophistication.

   Elador briefly considered returning to Delphia, for he had been searching for centuries for his missing cousin and had turned up little. Of course, his search was often indirect, and perhaps the decade spent entertaining Azrani diplomats or the years spent teaching Incorrans how to properly cast spells were not spent as well as they could have been. It would be with only mild disgrace that he would return, but Elador remembered that life amongst elves was often even duller than life with humans, who would at least stage a bloody war for sport every few years.

   So engrossed was Elador with the map that he did not see the approaching soldiers. Garbed in green chainmail shirts and black leather shoulder pads with golden clockfaces stitched into them, these were members of the Clockwork Army, a militia that protected the Republic of Vestin. One of the soldiers cleared his throat, drawing Elador's attention. Were it not for their drawn sword, Elador would assume it was merely a patrol'" the unsheathed weapons caused him to consider an alternate theory.

   Elador's voice was filled with obvious disdain. 'Is something wrong?'

   The soldier to Elador's left spoke up. 'Do you have a Mage's License?'

   Elador's eyebrow arched. 'A Mage's License? What sort of nonsense'"'

   The soldiers stepped closer. 'Article 3 of the Regulations for Magic Usage Within the Republic of Vestin clearly states'"'

   'What half-witted lawmaker thought to outlaw magic?'

   The soldier to Elador's right now spoke. His voice was squeaky, perhaps intimidated by the angered wizard. 'Ch-chancellor H-Hiru Mentalli.'

   Elador cackled bitterly. 'I taught Hiru Mentalli everything he knows about politics! I was the boy's tutor!'

   The soldiers looked to each other, struggling what to say next. As they took another step closer, a voice called out from behind them.

   Stern, staccato, yet certainly strong, a man in silver armor and a fluttering blue cloak asked, 'Is there a problem?'

   One of the guards answered, 'This elf is being investigated for. . . Well, that really is not your concern. Move along, sir.'

   The blue-garbed man merely smiled at the dismissal.  'You are aware that citizens of Delphia aren't bound by the jurisdictional authority of the Magic Usage Regulatory Committee?'

   The soldiers looked to one another, befuddled. Elador spoke up. 'That means you have no right to arrest me for casting, or allegedly casting magic.'

   The two militiamen spoke in hushed voices before turning to Elador. 'Consider this a warning,' the squeaky-voiced one said. 'And, well, we'll check this'¦ jurisdiction thing out.' The two walked past the man in blue, sticking their tongues out as they passed him. Elador tipped his head in their direction, and the blue-cloaked man turned'" the two sprinted off, causing the dirt road to billow with their dust.

   Elador turned his gaze to the man before him, sizing him up. He was certainly an odd sight: medium-length brown hair, straight and well-groomed, a clean-shaven but still rugged face, glimmering silver armor and an azure cape fastened by a pendant bearing two clashing swords'" this was not an average traveler. 'You are a holy warrior of Sicloran, detached from an Arvian church to serve the cause of Ketta, and you are in Vestin on diplomatic reasons.'

   'And you, good mage, enjoy the opportunity to flaunt your knowledge.'

   Elador shrugged. 'I was correct, was I not?'

   The man smiled and nodded. 'You are certainly wise, Elador Orvead.'

   Elador's eyebrows rose with surprise. 'Perceptive, perhaps. Have we met on an occasion prior? You humans tend to look alike, but I do my best to not confuse you with one another.'

   The man shook his head. 'Not at all. But I had heard rumors that the Housemage of Hastor had been skulking around the wilds of Vestin, and naturally guessed'"'

   ''"that the only elf you've seen for days fit the bill. A reasonable deduction, especially for a human.'

   The man only laughed at the slight, offering his hand. 'I'm Lieutenant Artorius Somonus. It is my honor to meet you.'

   Elador looked to the man's hand and then to him. Audacious, pious, fearless, and odd indeed... 'Lieutenant Somonus,' Elador said as he shook his hand, 'you have just made my journey far more interesting.'

Feel free to comment in this thread. This features the same characters as this thread, but may end up becoming a longer work, if I keep interest in it. Obviously, the destination isn't what's going to be important, as I have no problems telling you where they end up-- it's the journey there that I would focus on. If you're interested in reading more, be sure to post in this thread.

I've enjoyed both snippetts.  
I am getting a bit of a handle on Elador's mindset and personlity. His self absorbtion is the the most sympathetic feature I find so far, which is a bit of a drawback.  
You did a nice job of showing rather than explaining his deductive abilities.

The destruction of the bird was an interesting introduction to many questions, not the least of whish was the callous destruction of life and the wanton use of magic and energy.  
I will read on.

Artorius and Elador had been travelling together for two days, making their way through the rolling hills and open fields of the Vestin countryside. Artorius had taken to listing his ancestors and discussing their deeds, and Elador commented on which ones he had heard of (or met) and how history had been rather kind in the brushstrokes used to paint their portraits. Though Elador's comments were acerbic and cruel, Artorius seemed to take them in stride, unaffected by the harsher truths about his ancestral line. Elador wasn't sure if this was bothersome or impressive, but he decided to direct the conversation elsewhere.

   'So you joined the Kettan military to'¦ prevent the spread of war?'

   Artorius flashed a smile. 'In a sense. My fellow Siclorians and I hoped that we could convince the Kettans to at least temper their war machine toward more productive means, but unfortunately we are now involved in the war against Baltia.'

   Elador's brow furrowed. 'So you fight for Ketta?'

   Artorius shook his head. 'We are a non-combatant unit, stationed in the small Baltian town of Newport, which had surrendered early on and without a struggle. The people there are Siclorians, so we were greeted as brothers in faith.'

   'Some might call that cowardice, to allow others to bloody their blades as you stick to idealism.'

   Artorius laughed. 'I would respond that it takes true bravery to call a man a coward from the safety of a peaceful countryside.'

   Elador couldn't help but smile. 'Your point is taken. But surely you and your soldiers have qualms about taking orders from the Kettan Military?'

   'None, because the Kettans know we won't perform any immoral mission, and that we can resign at any moment.'

   'Then why bother associating with the Kettans at all?'

   'We believe'¦ No, I believe that we can change the way the Kettans view war from inside their ranks. We can provide an example of how a military unit should act, how it should be deployed. We can change the Kettan mindset, slowly but surely.'

   'Surely you cannot be so naïve as to think the Kettans give a damn about your sensibilities?'

   Artorius turned to face Elador, a fierce solemnity burnt into his features. 'I believe there is good in all people. To reveal it, you just have to remind them that it's there.'

   Elador nodded slowly. 'You think the same of me?'

   Artorius's smile returned, and he clapped the elf on the back. 'The hearts of elves and men are one, good mage, and you are no exception!'

   'Perhaps with time,' Elador whispered, 'you will grow out of such boyish delusions.'   

   Artorius arched an eyebrow. 'What was that?'

   'Nothing, Lieutenant. Let us march on to Newport.'