Role

Chapter 2

He would never forget the next memory of that accursed puddle, or the
hideously marred face staring back at him from its broken, mirrored surface.
Thank the gods his hair and eyes were left, but his face, oh did he remember
the pain of seeing its oozing, dappled scarring.

He didn't even remember how he got to the puddle, though he did have a vague
memory of snapping at a man who'd taunted him - in a tavern? He remembered
seeing the cowled wizard regarding him thoughtfully, and hating the feeling.
He thought the man was a wizard, at least. Who else wore cowls? The more he
thought of it, the angrier he became. What else could take his memory and
leave him with such an unhealing wound but Magic?

Hazy again. Next he remembered the young couple canoodling in the forested
shadows near the old Rhegma temple. He remembered all too clearly their
attempted kindness and offer to find a healer, but he was overwhelmed by
jealousy. At their happiness, at the young mans beauty. A beauty he could
never have for himself, could scarcely hope to find in another lover.

No, love was lost to him. He was bitter. If his dream of love could not be
his, he could at least have his dream of being a warrior. And why stop at
joining a guild? There was a tribe of the finest warriors in the land, more
story than anything in recent years. Yet he remembered hearing not only of
their unmatched prowess, but of their undying quest to end magic.

That appealed to him. He wanted to channel his bitterness and scorn into
something real. He wanted to beat the abstract mage, to invalidate their
right to exist just as his past and beauty had been invalidated. And he
wanted to be good at it. He wanted to Win. So he moved to the dusty frontier
town of Tir-Talath to be far from his past and to embrace his future.

He didn't have a grand plan, but he had ideas. Embrace his warrior training.
Find the Battleragers and prove his worth. As he set out toward the academy
and his future, he couldnt help remembering the jagged surface of that
puddle, the vision staring back at him very much as one he would see in a
Broken Looking Glass.