Since the attack on Elbion by Maho 'Jerik' Sparhawk, the Professors had gathered their resources and put all they had into rebuilding the college. James Lanvarok, a former dreadlord apprentice, had arrived in Elbion only a few weeks after the attack, and was both surprised and shocked to see half the college in ruins. Standing on a mound of rubble, he directed workers as they tirelessly patched up limestone and rebuilt the hallway which Sparhawk had destroyed. The sun poured in, affronting James' eyes as he stood on the mound.
"Good, make the entrance strong so it can't be breached so easily," James said to a worker, pointing a hand to the beam making up the entrance to the courtyard.
The worker nodded and continued to restructure the design.
Raising a hand, James scratched his head as he watched the men work. He looked up, and saw Ezra, his dorm mate approaching from the corridor. He sprung up, and jumped off the rubble onto the stone to greet him.
"Hey, how are the wards coming along?" He asked, brushing a lock of dark, ratty hair out of his eyes.
Brow creased, James thought about Alistair Wren, who had known Ezra before the attack. Alistair had been Sparhawk's apprentice, and had fought him during the attack. Alistair hadn't been doing well in the days that followed and had recently gone into self-imposed exile.
James hadn't heard from him since.
A pause followed, and James stopped to comb Ezra's emotions.
Tilting his head to the side, he placed his hands on his hips. "How are you holding up?" He asked, his tone soft and compassionate. There was unease there, James could sense it, but it was hiding behind Ezra's kind demeanor.
As an empath, James had been tasked with siphoning the stress and trauma affecting many of the younger mages following the attack. It had left him less than stable, but it was nothing a good spar with Ezra couldn't fix. Since finding out about the attack, it had left him thinking about the future of the college and what they could do to better defend against Gerra and the Empire. Maybe it was the dreadlord in him thinking, but he knew many of the mages at Elbion weren't trained for combat. Hands on his hips, James turned around and watched the builders work on the limestone and beams.
"They weren't ready." He shook his head. "Not prepared for an offensive or any sort of an attack, and they were burnt alive in their own home," he said, his tone heavy with regret as he thought about Elbion's options.
"If it was up to me, we'd go on the offensive and seek vengeance against Gerra, but I guess that's just the dreadlord in me talking," he chuckled.
"Good, make the entrance strong so it can't be breached so easily," James said to a worker, pointing a hand to the beam making up the entrance to the courtyard.
The worker nodded and continued to restructure the design.
Raising a hand, James scratched his head as he watched the men work. He looked up, and saw Ezra, his dorm mate approaching from the corridor. He sprung up, and jumped off the rubble onto the stone to greet him.
"Hey, how are the wards coming along?" He asked, brushing a lock of dark, ratty hair out of his eyes.
Brow creased, James thought about Alistair Wren, who had known Ezra before the attack. Alistair had been Sparhawk's apprentice, and had fought him during the attack. Alistair hadn't been doing well in the days that followed and had recently gone into self-imposed exile.
James hadn't heard from him since.
A pause followed, and James stopped to comb Ezra's emotions.
Tilting his head to the side, he placed his hands on his hips. "How are you holding up?" He asked, his tone soft and compassionate. There was unease there, James could sense it, but it was hiding behind Ezra's kind demeanor.
As an empath, James had been tasked with siphoning the stress and trauma affecting many of the younger mages following the attack. It had left him less than stable, but it was nothing a good spar with Ezra couldn't fix. Since finding out about the attack, it had left him thinking about the future of the college and what they could do to better defend against Gerra and the Empire. Maybe it was the dreadlord in him thinking, but he knew many of the mages at Elbion weren't trained for combat. Hands on his hips, James turned around and watched the builders work on the limestone and beams.
"They weren't ready." He shook his head. "Not prepared for an offensive or any sort of an attack, and they were burnt alive in their own home," he said, his tone heavy with regret as he thought about Elbion's options.
"If it was up to me, we'd go on the offensive and seek vengeance against Gerra, but I guess that's just the dreadlord in me talking," he chuckled.
