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The pain still wakes him up at night. Most of the day now, the constant background burning sensation is mostly tolerable; what still brings a grimace to his face are the occasional flares that sear through his left hand.
Mulner is no stranger to pain, of course. His strict parents have raised him the way most ambitious Thayans would. Combined with his own self-imposed rule for perfection, Mulner has experienced countless episodes of pain, both physically and mentally. But this was different. The intense magical burn that the High Arcanist Pyras had imprinted onto Mulner’s left hand was unlike anything he had experienced before.
He gets up out of his bed, and heads to the window. Rubbing his left hand absent-mindedly, Mulner stares out into the rainy Sundren night in thought.
What did you expect, really? A High Arcanist to simply hand you a set of red robes with a smile?
He winced suddenly, as another flash of pain lanced up his arm. The burn mark is still clearly evident on the dorsum of his left hand - the swelling making even the most simple cantrip a major effort.
At the very least, he thought, the door of opportunity is open. Being his apprentice will not be pleasant, but ...
A loud creak echoes from the stairs down the hall of his second storey inn room. Mulner listens intently, following the path of the light footsteps on the cracked floorboards. Shaking his hand loose, he begins to slowly mouth a well-practiced spell, one that would transmute his body into ...
The footsteps stop halfway down the hall, before a door slams shut, indicating that it was nothing more than another patron returning to his room. Mulner relaxes slightly, before heading back to his own bed. For tomorrow will be a big day; the task given to him by his Master will be a great challenge to any young wizard...
Mulner is no stranger to pain, of course. His strict parents have raised him the way most ambitious Thayans would. Combined with his own self-imposed rule for perfection, Mulner has experienced countless episodes of pain, both physically and mentally. But this was different. The intense magical burn that the High Arcanist Pyras had imprinted onto Mulner’s left hand was unlike anything he had experienced before.
He gets up out of his bed, and heads to the window. Rubbing his left hand absent-mindedly, Mulner stares out into the rainy Sundren night in thought.
What did you expect, really? A High Arcanist to simply hand you a set of red robes with a smile?
He winced suddenly, as another flash of pain lanced up his arm. The burn mark is still clearly evident on the dorsum of his left hand - the swelling making even the most simple cantrip a major effort.
At the very least, he thought, the door of opportunity is open. Being his apprentice will not be pleasant, but ...
A loud creak echoes from the stairs down the hall of his second storey inn room. Mulner listens intently, following the path of the light footsteps on the cracked floorboards. Shaking his hand loose, he begins to slowly mouth a well-practiced spell, one that would transmute his body into ...
The footsteps stop halfway down the hall, before a door slams shut, indicating that it was nothing more than another patron returning to his room. Mulner relaxes slightly, before heading back to his own bed. For tomorrow will be a big day; the task given to him by his Master will be a great challenge to any young wizard...