User blog:Leea/The Tale of Voronwe, Chapter 70

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4th Era 171, 7th of Second Seed, Pyandonea
The Vipers had one sample of the two ingredients, while they promised to make a run in the late morning to the shipping lanes to see if they could perhaps "find" the other one, or more of the first sample to stock up for future use.

* * *

As he locked the vault - to keep the rare ingredient safe - he mused on his life so far.

The history books and tomes sometimes mistook his name for that of his King, Orgnum. He supposed that it was the similar spelling of their respective names - the difference being only one letter, and the same placement, as well - and that they also shared a similar build, though not height: Orgnum was still a head taller than everyone else. They also shared the same hair color.

For his part, he was perfectly happy being Headmaster of the Hydromancers for the rest of his life. After all, he had been in Orgnum's association since the beginning, when His Majesty was still the wealthy merchant on Aldmeris. Now, while he didn't exactly show his true age, he also didn't look anywhere near the flawless youth of Orgnum. By contrast, he appeared like a human in their mid-thirties. He didn't feel even close to his true five thousand years old, though. Magic had a fantastic way of "preserving" one who knew how to manipulate those energies into youth-giving qualities, not just a tornado here and a bolt of lightning there. Orgnum approached the issue of aging and mortality from another angle, however. Orghum shrugged to himself. To each his own. His Great Majesty preferred his method, while he preferred his own...which didn't require the "participation" of another person. Orghum shrugged again. It is what it is, and despite this blasted uprising (which had gone on for far too long), Orgnum could always count on his loyalty. It had nothing to do with mind-altering spells, either. The choice was his own, as it had always been.

Turning, he faced the stairs that led out of the basement of the Guild's headquarters and up to the higher floors, the ones above sea-level.

It had been a long time since he'd conjured powerfull "war storms" as they were called: storms that held the potential to make or break a battlefield victory, or, just as importantly, squelch an army's morale, sending them back where they came from in relatively short order. He hoped he wasn't rusty with the skill needed to summon the tempest properly. He'd helped summon the storms requested by Orgnum twenty years ago, but wasn't the one directly casting the spells; those were the graduates of the guild. The resulting storms were also quite small, yet potent, though nowhere near the size of the storm requested by Orgnum now. The long-lived Headmaster hoped that the Sea Vipers and/or Merchant's Guild would find that missing ingredient soon; he was eager to get started; to flex his abilities in the field once again. He smiled in the gloom as he climbed the stairs, his robes brushing the floor with the softest of sounds.