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Message: <blockquote data-quote="seasong" data-source="post: 853584" data-attributes="member: 5137">Vignette: ApprenticeOne Year AgoMilanos of Southbottom was about as excitable as the phastini get, which is impressive - they earned their reputation as temperamental craftsfolk. But today, he could barely contain himself.He'd always planned to be a wine maker, a patient art that his father (a proper human merchant) hoped would help quell his emotional, impulsive nature. Not that he was looking forward to it, as he wasn't, but that was the planned future. And it was said that phastini found themselves the best when they were immersed in the depths of a craft. But wine, to Milanos, seemed to consist primarily of sitting around and waiting for it to do its thing.Not that he complained. Phastini births were rare, and his father dearly wanted a famous son, and it looked like Milanos was "it". Well, perhaps he pouted. And sighed, his dark eyes staring into the blue sky above instead of at the grapes held loosely in his hands, where he was supposed to be examining them for ripeness and readiness for crushing and fermenting.Which brought his thoughts back to today. A Captain of the Theralis militia (Milanos was not quite old enough to have served) had passed through this morning, and administered some strange, and surprisingly easy, tests. She'd then spoken with Milanos' father, and he'd told Milanos to go out to the fields.That was usually a bad sign - it meant Father Having Important Discussions, which usually led to Father Being in a Foul Mood. But... Milanos had heard rumors about the testing. Southbottom didn't get a lot of news, but Milanos had heard that Rykios, an elderly gentleman living near the Canyon Pass to the rest of Theralis, had been tested and sent to the city to train as an esper. If the captain was speaking to his father, and his father had sent him to the fields...He might not be making wine when he grew up.Nine Months AgoMilanos was beside himself again. He'd been assigned to Greppa of Tartwater, an ellini master arcanist who'd already had a bunch of tales spread about him. Milanos had first heard about him a year or two ago, when Kyriotes' servants had been gossiping with Milanos' father's servants. Apparently, Merideth of Southbottom was their daughter, and she and Greppa were close friends, and both of them were friends with Athan of Little Lake, the Giant Killer.It was a big world, and Southbottom servants weren't accustomed to being part of it.Milanos had listened in - he'd heard of Athan, and sort of knew of Merideth (who in the region didn't? it was like not knowing about Kyriotes!), and he liked a good story, so.... Fine, so he leaned into the wall, a bit hidden, and listened to gossip.But what had caught his interest best was the tale of Greppa of Tartwater, the tiny, dark-skinned ellini who rained havoc upon the enemy with a twitch of his fingers, and turned orcs into corpses at an alarming rate. Greppa was said to be the primary motivator behind the rescue of the Heroes of Eastpass, and the youngest master arcanist in over a hundred years.That Milanos had been assigned to learn from him... he had to fight not to laugh and cry. And when he met Greppa, he couldn't stop smiling like an idiot. Greppa was as delicate as a girl, with loose red hair and gracile features. His manner spoke of power, and he was as self-assured as any person Milanos had seen. He moved gracefully, and Milanos could almost swear he saw earth moving behind the tiny man's eyes.And then the eyes swept past him, and over the dozen others Greppa was also going to teach.Three Months Ago; Summer's StartMilanos lazed in the shade next to a soldier's tent with a few other apprentices. He'd just finished his watch, fanning a master arcanist and making runs for wine, and he was just glad it was over.He'd hoped to be assigned to help Greppa, who still managed to awe Milanos. He'd watched carefully, so many times, as Greppa casually, almost lazily, wiggled his fingers in a faint circle and sigil and mighty magics, magics Milanos couldn't even cast yet, came into being. He just couldn't do it - Greppa seemed almost to be made of magic, the way he tossed it off.Instead, he was assigned to Kyriotes. Everyone said the man was more powerful, and he was sure that in some esoteric sense that might be true, but in practice... Milanos had heard some stories about Greppa single-handedly driving off an orc army up north somewhere, and it seemed all Kyriotes did was summon monsters to kill a few orcs for him at a time.Milanos might have pouted a bit, at that, but he managed to keep it under wraps. Kyriotes was politically powerful, if nothing else, and it was supposedly an honor to fetch wine for the man while his apprentices stood by and practiced summoning.But he was off duty now, and decided it was time for some fun. "Who's up for a game of conjuring?"The other apprentices grinned. Like Milanos, they never got tired of conjuring miniscule forces and flinging the tiny armies at each other. Sometimes they would pretend they were generals, and play at Orcs and Soldiers, but most of the time they just played the Game. And if Milanos was unusually talented at the game, it didn't hurt anyone's enjoyment. Losing to Milanos usually meant beating three other people later on.Milanos found himself torn over whether the orcs should come or not. If they did, he'd see Greppa in action; if they didn't, he could continue to live like this.It was tough, you know?</blockquote>

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