The End (or is it?)

[Hjolnai]

The foul monstrosities of Science continue to roll forward over the red, bloodstained ground. All our warriors are already dead, and the enemy sends the last of their noisy steel carts towards our exhausted mages. Next to me, yet another friend falls to the ground, blasted by the Science-fireball which his wavering shields could not stop. The last mage standing beside me throws the last of his life force into a Lightning Bolt spell, and takes the "Tank" with him. It is then that I realise - the battlefield is empty. I am the last living being on this desolate red plain.

 

I remember what has brought me to this; when first I came to learn magic, I was seen as a skilled student; soon, my talent was well-recognised. I went from talented to brilliant, brilliant to prodigy. I was the youngest ever to leave the school of thaumaturgy, even considering the recent rush caused by the war. I left taking every single award of the year with me. Then I joined the war-force to stop the unintended destruction caused by the followers of Science. It occurs to me that this is where I went wrong. I could have saved countless lives by healing or shielding, but instead I chose destruction, my greatest skill... and my greatest evil. I see now that the war has caused more devastation already than the followers of Science would in a century. This dead place of Hell is the embodiment of that stupidity. I have wrought such devastation, destroyed hundreds of machines, killed thousands with my might, blasts so strong they shook the Earth... but I achieved nothing save evil, death and suffering. Now is the time for change. In recompense for the evil I wrought in my pride, I will use my talent now to stop this senseless war. I will change the world, as they always said I would. The time has come to reclaim my shattered soul, and end the mindless destruction!

 

I return, a year later, to this scrap of parchment, and in reading what I wrote, I feel pride at what I have now done. The war has ended, and no one suffers that evil. The Mages have returned to their libraries, the Inventors their laboratories, and now the knowledge all seek is shared. The Science-followers now respect this world, and find alternatives for their poisoning of the world. Dark spells and forbidden technology are both a thing of the past. As for me, my role now is to keep the politics stable, and to work on the merging of both arts.

 

 

(Oh, and by the way, I don't intend to use this character all the time. His story rather seems to have been told already)

Edited May 24, 2008 by Hjolnai

[Wyvern]

Hjolnai grumbles and leans back in his applicant easychair, glancing up at the Office's Rolodex clock and noting its lack of magical capacity. He blinks twice and does a double-take as he notices the positions of the hour and minute hands on the clock, wondering if the Elder of Initiates really is as late as the hands seem to indicate or if it's a clever illusion of some sort. The applicant steps out of his seat to examine the time closer, only to pause as the Office window suddenly slams open. Hjolnai raises a hand to his face defensively as a gust of wind creates a blizzard out of the mess of paperwork that litters the Office floor, sending prior apps and discarded schemes flying past him at an unsettling velocity. Once the wind has passed and the paper storm has settled, Hjolnai lowers his guard and raises a brow at the figure that stands before him. The dark brown hood draped over the figure's head does little to hide his jutting horns, and the scaly tail that drags from his rear has a familiar-looking stinger at its tip.

 

“Greetingssss Hjolnai.” The hooded figure extends an almost dragonic claw and shakes the applicant’s hand. “I’ve been… expecting you.”

 

“Wyvern?”

 

Wyvern pauses, then sighs and pulls the hood off of his scaly head before raising a claw to his snout and glaring at Hjolnai with a pair of beady eyes.

 

“Shshshshsssshhhhh! Not ssso loud, you’ll blow my cover.” Wyvern snorts and glances in both directions, then lifts a claw to his snout and whispers. “I heard there’re some Akashans sssnoopin’ around who wanna use my scaly hide for Library cushionsss or something, so I'm trying to lay low for a bit. Jussst refer to me as El Wyverno for the rest of the Report, capiche?"

 

Wyvern doesn't wait for an affirmation as he pulls the brown hood back over his head, hobbling over to his Recruiter's desk and snatching Hjolnai's application from the towering pile of papers to attend to. The sheet disappears into Wyvern's hood, and he mutters to himself as he reads over the story in the safety of his disguise.

 

"Hrmm, so a ssspecialist in the art of merging dark spells and forbidden technology are ya? Well, it jussst so happens I have a product design or two that I'd be willing to sell ya for a discount price." Wyvern kicks his head back in an attempt to unveil his hood, but gets it caught on his horns again and curses. The reptilian Elder tugs at the top of his hood with his claws as he continues. "For example *grunt*, take a look at this beauty."

 

Wyvern reaches into a pocket of his cloak and pulls out what appears to be a splinter of wood with a shape that's vaguely reminiscent of a toothpick. He hands the item to Hjolnai with a toothy grin that's visible even through the darkness of his hood. Hjolnai stares at the tiny piece of wood in his palm and frowns.

 

"What is this?"

 

"Why, it'sss an Almost Dragonic Brand Cursssed Imp Dagger™, a combination of a splinter of wood left over from one of Woody the Office door's sobbing spells and magic that makes the wood look a darker shade of brown. Or at leassst I'm told that it'sss magic, and not Almost Dragonic Brand Ash Snot Darkening Powder™... I mean, that'sss the rumor anyway."

 

Hjolnai rolls his eyes as he turns the splinter of wood in his hands, then coughs and hands it back to the hooded lizard.

 

"Listen, Wy-"

 

"El Wyverno."

 

"... El Wyverno. I'm afraid have no interest in your tiny product. Now, perhaps you could enlighten me about the state of my application?"

 

"Yer application?" Wyvern scratches one his horns under his hood, then snaps a claw. "Oh that! Yessss, your application. Well, since yer not interesssted in the Cursed Imp Dagger, I guess that your application is reje-"

 

Wyvern freezes up as the Office door suddenly opens by itself and slams shut again in a deliberately loud manner.

 

"Accepted." Wyvern squeaks, stamping Hjolnai's story ACCEPTED. "Eheheheh. Welcome."

 

;-)

 

OOC: An ACCEPTED application story, Hjolnai. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! I'm happy to see you actively writing here, and hope that you find Pen a friendly and welcoming community to share your writing with. I'm looking forward to reading more of your posts, as well as to roleplaying with you more in collaborative events. Once again, welcome!