The Old Mage

This youth seemed as bright as any of the stars around them; not only in wit, which he'd only barely begun to discover, but in spirit. In his travels the mage would often show many spells and tricks to the masses, and children would oft approach and ask how he did things. They'd talk of wanting to see more, to learn how to perform them themselves, maybe even share how they wanted to be a mage when they grew up! El would always wish that they would be better people than he ever was. "I yield, I yield," he said as he waved a hand at them, "I suppose that is indeed 'working out'. The body needs honing just as much as the mind! In fact, think of magic as a tool: it helps me accomplish things that I cannot hope to do myself." The old man slowly sunk to a knee, a bit more at height with Ismael now. "Yet from what you say, your mind and body are almost never at rest, always doing more things. My opinion, dear girl, is that if you keep yourself occupied on the things that matter to you, and keep those you care about in your heart, then you may very well outshine me with *all* of my spells."

Elminster bowed his head deeply, as if an acknowledgement to magic was a compliment to El himself. How powerful had this man been, to take such a compliment in that way? He stood back up and let his old eyes rest on the piercing stare from the stranger. "A common practice. While those with magical abilities passed through towns and cities with as little or as much grandeur as they deserved, there were of course exceptions- some schools were created to better foster the learners, and there was a... powerful mage. A terrible mage. One who created a tower that seemed to go deeper than the world itself. I have always sought to use my power for good, but it was not always so." He sighed, shaking his head. "But you'll have no such treatment from me- I wish to learn about others and join them in the adventure of life, yourself included."

Had he asked a the wizard hundreds of years ago, there is no doubt the man would have gotten that emotion that he wanted! Instead, he only got a shake of the head as El brought his arms in and contemplated. "A cruel name for a cruel person. To say his name here would be to give him power redoubled- and in keeping it silent, I claim his victory from him." El sighed, returning his eyes to the other. "Even still, there are no shortage of stories to tell- when you live for over a thousand years, you find no shortage of stories to share. I shall start with the most simple sharing: my name. Elminster Aumar, at your service."

One would usually expect someone old and bubbly to laugh at the matter, to accept immediately if only to encourage the youth. However, Even though Elminster smiled warmly, he couldn't help but think of his great-grandchildren, Amarune and Simon. They had lived their lives without El's influence for so long, burdened by Elminster's influence and tales. He was known to all, yet his kin often paid for this knowledge. Yet here was this young man, asking so freely. It made him feel grateful to be valued. And terrified of endangering someone else with selfish promises. "Many would find my name atop their family tree, and even more would falsely claim to be of my blood. Strangers... strangers are my family. As it stands, you are likely one of the few that would I would know, and are delighted to know. I ask nothing of you, my boy- your wit and perspective are more valuable that a king's ransom." Still, he was sure Cecil could find more gifts here to give than Elminster could! After all, he'd only now begun to learn how to use phones, and that was like a tool and a gift all wrapped in one!

El lets out a thoughtful hum- people like Elminster seem to be able to be completely fluent in humming, as the tone of his belays just how worrying the concept is of losing time in this place. To be offered nearly everything that they need but for it to come at the cost of freedom? "How very... grim. A reminder that it is easy to lose ourselves to the vibrantly static realm we now inhabit. We must never drop our guard, but take heart in the company of those we hold dear to us." "Fiddlesticks! Short of finding a way for us all to leave this accursed realm, what better call is there for the experienced to assist those who need it?" His body may have appeared frail and fragile, but his spirit outshined those much more powerful. "I have spent many lives trying to do the right thing- if you seek your allies, then I shall endeavor to aid you. However I can." A powerful promise!

El stroked his beard, looking off wistfully at some unknown memory. Was it of others, or himself? "Oh, there are those who try. They are few and far between, and even fewer are those who succeed. Why even here I have met an old ally who created something out of nothing and was so beloved that his people make statues of him and sing his praises!" El chuckled thoughtfully before sighing. "Still, he is a man just like myself- well, perhaps younger- and all have their faults." He snapped his attention back to the Crier, smiling and putting away thoughts of other things. He took a bow (as deep as it could be given his older bones) and held onto his cap. "Then it is an honor, Albus Batlin. Elminster Aumar, or simply El if it pleases you." He placed his hands on the wooden sword/crutch and hummed with thoughtfulness. "You know, I wouldn't say no to that service! For a fee, of course- I would never ask you to go without. Where are you staying at, if I might ask? Ah, or even-" He shook his cloak sleeve. Out came a piece of chalk, half of a sandwich (all wrapped up and preserved) and a small pamphlet, until eventually he caught his phone. "I am told these are the way to best communicate with one another- perhaps we might share the contact information?"

"This place can make kings of beggars and beggars of kings." Elminster looked down at his cloak, as if remembering some long-ago story when he wore it last. "Comfortability is offered here on a silver-platter, yet to obtain it we all had to lose our homes. It is an interesting experiment- if our captors were interested in such an experiment in the first place." "Hm. You remind me of myself in my youth." An odd line, one that sounded less like a thoughtful old man and a genuine connection between two different people. "I wish I could say I spent my many years selflessly and righteously, but... in the anger of a slighted youth, it is hard to place the betterment of others before the self. In the end, you cannot live by anyone else's expectations and standards but your own- there is nothing worse than failing those criteria." El chuckled, leaning his cloaked hand on the table. "Indulge I shall, for I see no reason to not. You are refreshing company in a land where company is already most refreshing. It is I who thank *you* for listening to a dithering old man go on about, what was it, food and fish and beliefs?"

Elminster bowed his head deeply, as if an acknowledgement to magic was a compliment to El himself. How powerful had this man been, to take such a compliment in that way? He stood back up and let his old eyes rest on the piercing stare from the stranger. "A common practice. While those with magical abilities passed through towns and cities with as little or as much grandeur as they deserved, there were of course exceptions- some schools were created to better foster the learners, and there was a... powerful mage. A terrible mage. One who created a tower that seemed to go deeper than the world itself. I have always sought to use my power for good, but it was not always so." He sighed, shaking his head. "But you'll have no such treatment from me- I wish to learn about others and join them in the adventure of life, yourself included."

Elminster chuckled deeply- that sort of wise laugh that only someone in their silver years could manage and have it still sound warm. "It is indeed important to keep oneself as sharp and malleable as any blade. Youth gives the furnace a fire that burns brighter than any flame! My days of running are quite over; Well, running my legs that is, I find that I can still run my mouth better than most!" He sighed, taking the second to look up at the bizarre starry sky above. "Ah, my professions are many, but most will know me in history as a scholar and mage. The realm of Magic was my craft, and I was a *fine* craftsman. And what about you, my dear girl? What do we commit ourselves to when we are not exercising?"

Elminster chuckled, having likely stopped to listen to the man grandstand. He didn't have the the same passion for this place that his horned talking companion did, but that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy the clear show of interest. In all honesty, while this place was rather extreme, it did have a polish that was to be admired. "And once again you prove my point about speaking- were I a prospective introductee to this wild place, I would be filled with wonder at the prospect of learning more here." He chuckled, leaning against his wooden sword as a makeshift cane. "Ah, but to know that there are others glad to be here, perhaps that speaks leagues about how this place is not malevolent. Indeed, perhaps the people, or things, that bring us here have no feelings about our insignificant lives at all." El bowed his head, gently patting the other on the back. "You never need look for a more studious man than Elminster Aumar, my boy!"

"A flatterer, eh? Why, you know how to make a man a thousand years old feel like he's only eight-hundred!" El chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, my days of dodging are long gone- while it is possible that I can flee from the attack or even attempt a parry, it would not be my strongest weapon in my arsenal." El showed off the wooden sword going through his belt- no doubt he once held a much more majestic sword of importance, but this place being what it is, his options are understandably limited. "An igniter?" He stroked his beard, pondering as the two moved about. "The only igniters I know of are fire-starters! Of course, not all magic can be done with simply word of mouth or a few points with a staff or wand- many more powerful magics require the use of items- from the most expensive diamond to a humble marble ball, enterprising wizards are trained to keep all that they need to cast spells in their component pouch."

"Never let anyone tell you that quick wit and a sharp tongue can never get you out of a situation, stranger!" Elminster had been enjoying the walk alone, but as he'd struck up conversation with this person, he didn't seem keen to leave them to walk away either- such was the fate of talking to a reminiscent old man... "Oh please, call me Elminster, my friend, or El if you so wish. Ah, the stories I could tell you of my dance with magic, the powers that I could cast that would amaze and terrify!... Alas, all but a footnote in a story. This place has taken much of my abilities, squeezed the magic of the Weave out of me like water from a rag. Yet I do not despair, for every day I feel it returning to me. For now, I possess the ability to shield myself from harm- a simple enough spell to learn, but a useful one all the same."

"Now this is peculiar indeed!" He once again tried to make himself comfortable on the ground- El didn't seem to mind if people had to walk around him or if he looked peculiar. Many mages care for posterity and appearances, but at Elminster's age, the search for knowledge trumped all else. "Until today I have only met other wayward souls who search for a way out or an understanding of the place that they are in, but you claim to have been here before! Not of your own volition, I'm sure, but a 'return customer' all the same..." El stroked his beard, twiddling away at the long wispy hairs while deep in thought; he appeared like the kind of man who had these contemplations often. "Well! It is decided then! You must find your fellow compatriots, and I shall assist you!" With a struggle he began to push up to his feet, complaining and grumbling the entire way. "Cursed feet, and bones! N-not to worry, my good friend, such questions cannot go unanswered!"

"All actions lead to death." There was no sense in trying to deny it: even El himself, who had lived longer than many bloodlines and dynasties, would one day die. He did not shirk away from this, only accepted the fact. "Hah! By the Weave," the old man said with a chuckle and a wave of his bony hand, "If I am the guide for today, then we shall both be out and lost like sheep without a shepherd! But, I must admit, my wanderings have given me the grace of learning a few things here, so I will not deny the request." El beckoned for Guernica to follow. He used a simple wooden sword, like that of a child's toy, to keep him steady on the walk. It was clearly *barely* effective. "Now, a friend of mine showed me somewhere to go when your stomach can no longer deny the need for sustenance- many things in this realm cost currency, but at least the malevolent gods that brought us here have the sense enough to keep people fed! Hmph!"

Elminster, contrary to the younger mage, almost *never* held to a routine. This land was a strange one, a new one, full of people and places that astounded and confused! Sure, he'd need to take many breaks to relieve his weary bones, but what was life if not constantly taking in the new and the unnatural? Speaking of unnatural, his emotions were anything but natural when he laid eyes on Gale of Waterdeep. Of course he was always pleased to see someone from his home realm, and even more delighted when that person was someone else so tethered to Mystra and her Weave. Yet, he needed to be practical- Mystra had not asked Elminster to materialize and speak to Gale only to regale stories and share bread, but to alleviate him of the stress of the catastrophic bomb buried within him... and now he was here. "My boy," El said as he wandered over, "You're looking fit as a fiddle in this orchestra of madness!" He no longer had a weathered staff to keep him boosted up with, but rather a simple cane, likely purchased from one of the many storefronts around. "I will temper your questions now, many as you have, and attempt to put the pieces of our situation together. The person you see before you is none other than the Sage of Shadowdale himself- no machinations are at play." "Now, it appears that even here, out in this land of endless stars and mystery, you have forgotten the lessons of conversation that we so plainly established with your earlier party! While I see that you have gifted the pavement with your drink, I am personally rather peckish- perhaps I can share what I know over a nice slice of bread with a bit of jam over it- I recently read the most interesting recipe concerning peanut butter, and a 'marshed mallow'..."

There was no hiding that disappointment from Balduran's face. It was the same disappointment that had filled the faces of every person from Faerûn. What was he here but an old man with stories? But he kept resolute- doubt was the enemy of progress, and he would not allow it purchase outside of his own thoughts. An illness? For someone like Ansur to be concerned, then something must have been truly wrong. True, Ansur and Balduran were not the same race, but surely a cold wasn't the sickness his companion had been worried about... "You can be honest with me, dear boy- do not let this place cloud your judgement. Truth is the illuminating light on the path to discovery. Neither of us live conventional lives. Why try to hide it?" He smiled as he tried to comfort Balduran, but the question took a bit of the smile out of his face. He sighed, using his wooden sword as a makeshift staff. "Moonrise Towers only harbors darkness now, Balduran. Long gone are the days where Selûne filled the land with light. Shar's people were allowed to grow until they brought blight to the land, and even with Harpers and druids alike coming to defeat them, a terrible curse now lives there that is ever consuming. Balduran, speak plainly with this old man- what do you seek in such a place?"