Private Tales The Black Sheep

[James Lanvarok]

Night fell over the college. A breeze, split by the patter of ran, whistled through the stone corridors. Arms folded, a new student named James Lanvarok stormed furiously down a staircase. He had just had his first class of the semester, and his Professor kicked him out for shouting at another student.Throwing his arms up in the air, Lanvarok muttered to himself, trying to organize the chaotic process of rage that was spiraling out of control in his mind.

It wasn't his fault.

The student had been an idiot. They said that fire a pyromancer summoned was granted to the mage from a spirit, which wasn't true, it was just fire. Drawn from oxygen and combusted, it wasn't sentient, it wasn't a spirit. Spirits weren't real. At least that's what he had been taught in Vel Anir, but magic there was far more pragmatic than it was in Elbion. Curling his hands into fists, James grumbled and sputtered as he stormed down the corridor, his new cloak and tunic tight around his neck. A vein bulged from his temple and his head hurt from straining. Digging his nails into his palms, he turned a corner and stormed down the next corridor, to a large door.

James shoved the door open. Inside, was Elbion's vast library. Shelves, laden with books, reached the ceiling, the titles on their spines glistening beneath the light of the candles. The librarian sat behind his desk and snored. Creeping in, James was careful not to wake him and slunk past, his footsteps no less heavy than they had been before.

He walked to the center of the room and slumped his shoulders with a heavy sigh. At least it would be a good placed to stew. Hands still rolled into balls, he clenched his teeth and walked between the shelves, to the back of the room.

James plonked himself down on the floor. He rested his back up against the wall and brought his knees up to his chest. Grumbling, he wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face in them, still muttering all manner of profanities to himself.

"Fucking cunts," he screamed into his knees. "I didn't do anything wrong!" He shouted, his knees muffling his voice.

He felt like a black sheep. It was his first class and already everybody hated him. His empathetic senses surged out of control, overwhelming his resolute with fiery, unhinged rage. He was begenning to think he should have just stayed in Vel Anir, because he certainly didn't fit in in Elbion. He thought about the student he had brought to tears, a young woman, and his blood boiled. She shouldn't have been so sensitive Burying his head far into his knees, he clenched his teeth so hard he tasted blood.

 

[Abjurer]

The Library of Elbion was the heart of the College of Elbion. Also a whole lot of other 'of Elbion' titles, but that was the main and most important one. As institute of magical learning the library's seemingly endless rows of shelves, filled to the brim with texts arcane, were the college's lifeblood and the scores of wizards who debated and studied within were its soul. It was perhaps the closest thing to a holy place for those an academic bent, a sacrosanct temple of candlelight and scholarly quiet.

At least, Ambroz thought as the sound of muffled screaming reached him, it was supposed to be quiet. Was it really too much to ask for, to have the library's quiet respected? Was it? Yes, he supposed it was, what with the rowdy miscreants they were admitting to the College these days. Back in his day students had had gumption and tact. Now it was a good day when they kept everything intact.

With a sigh he gently closed his book and set it back on the shelf it came from. Well regardless of his opinion it was still his obligation as a higher order maester to investigate the disturbance. It was probably for the best anyways; he had too much work to do to get lost in a book now. Papers to grade and students to track down. The latter was particularly annoying. Just because he specialized in defensive magics didn't mean he was instantly qualified to become the new disciplinarian, despite what it would seem some of his fellow maesters felt. They probably just didn't want to deal with it, the layabouts...

Still grumbling inside his head, Ambroz absent-mindedly straightened out his blue-green robes with one hand and readjusted his wizard's hat with the other before setting off in the direction of the noise. Thankfully he didn't have to walk far because no sooner than he had entered the central rotunda did he spot his target: a rather distraught looking youngster slumped against the wall.

Oh. He definitely did not expect that. Pipesmoke, he wasn't good at consoling people! Crap. The student had probably heard him approaching too, so he couldn't just walk off like he'd never seen him. Nothing to do but take the plunge. Here goes.

"Well, I'm going to be honest with you," Ambroz said, coming to stand just before the slumped young man, "I was expectin' to find a pair of students fighting or some other nonsense. Not something I'd normally begrudge them, certainly not, but rules are rules and the library is rather fragile. Odd that so many tomes of power are so fragile, but I guess they aren't made for their constitution..."

Ambroz trailed off, rubbing at his beard. It was in awkwardness, but personally he was hoping it came off as a wise wizard contemplating some deep matter. "I suppose that doesn't really matter at the moment, however. How can I help you, young man? You seem to be in distress. And don't give me some poppycock answer like 'you couldn't help me' or 'I'm fine', that's not going to get us anywhere here."

 

[James Lanvarok]

An elderly voice reached James' ear. Pulling his head from his knees, he looked up to see an older sorcerer standing above him. James immediately panicked. Was he in trouble again? Had he heard him swearing in the library? A myriad of questions clouded his busy mind, before the old man spoke again. Indeed, he had heard his outburst and reminded him that the library was supposed to be quiet.

"I'm sorry," James mumbled. The apology was a false one. He wasn't sorry, he just didn't want to get in trouble. "I didn't think anyone heard me." Crystalline blue eyes staring up at the old man, he shifted to the side, his arms wrapped around his knees.

An awkward pause followed, filled by a draft as it blew through the corridor. James sniffed, brushed a lock of wavy, dark hair out of his face and scratched his nose. He was a large young man, but looked rather vulnerable huddled up against the wall.

The maester asked if he could help him, and James wanted to refuse, to tell him to piss off and mind his own business, before he spoke again.

He already told him that he didn't want to hear that he was fine, or that he couldn't help him, because it was far from true. True, James would rather just sit by himself and stew, but he also felt that he wanted a kind, older ear to listen to him. None of his lecturers had given him that. Uncurling his legs, he released a hefty groan and rested his hands in his lap, his dark, ratty hair falling in front of his eyes.

"I guess so," he shrugged insolently.

There was a pause.

"I lost my shit in class today, hit another student, so the teacher had to kick me out," James mumbled, avoiding the older man's gaze the whole time. He hung his head and looked at the ground in shame, never once making eye contact with him.

"I'm an empath," James sighed, his features screwed up with disdain for his condition. "I draw negative emotions like rage to me, and it just makes me really angry," he sighed, slumping his head against the wall.

"I know nobody likes empaths, and the mages here really go out of there way to let me know that, but I can't help it." His tone was strained, exhausted with desperation. Brow creased, he shrugged and shook his head, not knowing what to do.

 

[Abjurer]

Okay. Depressed teenager with special powers. Bit more than he had been expecting, if he was being honest. Bullying? Love troubles? Totally within the realm of what he had been expecting. Even academic troubles or a personal revenge quest would've been within the boundaries. But empathy? That was something. But not necessarily a bad something. He had scant personal experience with empathy but he had read enough to form a solid idea about how potent it could be when properly harnessed. Obviously the still as-of-yet-unnamed student didn't consider it a good a thing, but that could be rectified. Okay. This was something Ambroz could work with.

But what kind of approach to take? There were a couple options that he could go with here, on what role he wanted to play. By approaching and asking if the boy needed help he had cast himself in a kindly role, but there was some leeway left in determining how he'd manifest that kindliness. A gruff, but ultimately kind mentor? A caring grandfather type? An eccentric wizard with a heart of gold?

Ambroz had to resist the urge to snort. By the stars, he thought, he'd seem pretty self-important if someone could read his thoughts. Incidentally, it was good that empaths could only sense emotions and not thoughts according to what he had read. He wasn't puffing himself up in his own mind, serious! He was just casting himself in a narrative role. The old wizard had long ago noticed that social dynamics seemed to obey various tropes and archetypes and who was he to dismiss something that seemed to work?

Eccentric wizard, but with a slow burn at the beginning. That's what he would run with. Best not to irritate the young man with any extreme antics until he was calmed down, but he had a feeling the boy could use some lightheartedness in his life.

"Raise your head young man," Ambroz said not unkindly, extending a hand towards the student, "And for that matter lets get you off the floor. I don't know who's been fillin' your head with that nonsense about empaths being unwelcome but they've orcs for brains. And not those smart bastards out in Molthal either, if you catch my drift. Kind of an odd saying, that, when you think about it. How do you even go about catching a drift?

Ah, actually, that's a question for another time, we'll worry about that later. First things first, raise your head and stand and maybe tell me your name so I can stop calling you 'young man' and then we can get to work harnessing your empathy. You've been done a grave disservice, it seems, in not being taught a wick about your talent."

Ambroz stopped at this point, hand still extended, waiting. The orc was back in the boy's courtyard.

 

[James Lanvarok]

Slowly, James pulled his head from his knees and looked at the old man. The man waffled on, about how whoever had told James that empaths were unwelcome had Orcs for brains, which made him smirk. He was clearly an eccentric old wizard, a stark contrast to the cruel teachers James had known in Vel Anir. At the Maester's joke about catching a drift, James laughed, the ends of his mouth turning upward into an uncharacteristic smile.

"Nobody's actually told me that empaths are unwelcome, but I can tell that's what they're thinking." He looked to the side and shrugged. Whenever James spoke to anybody, their true feelings radiated off them, which was incensing when their emotions contradicted with what they were saying. "When somebody says something that's different to they're feeling, I can sense it, and it pisses me off," James grumbled, yanking at his hair.

Shifting on the stone, he took the man's hand and pulled himself to his feet, brushing down his cloak and trousers as he did so. He rearranged the collar of his cloak and swept locks of matted, wavy hair of his eyes, then stood at his full height and faced the man.

"James Lanvarok," James said with nod, "what about you?" He asked, looking the man down. He was older, at least by the standards of a young man in his early twenties, so James guessed that he was a Professor.

"Are you a Professor?" He asked, avoiding the man's gaze.

The man said they would get to work harnessing James' empathy, which immediately caused his features to brighten. Since empathy was a rare school that wasn't taught anymore, he hadn't found any teacher who was willing to help him control it. Most of the Professors dismissed him or told them it wasn't within their capabilities, leaving him to be brushed aside. When the man said James had been done a disservice, all the young empath could do was lower his head and smile.

"Well thank you," he mumbled, his words barely audible. "I really want to learn how to control it, but not a lot of mages here practice or teach it." A shrug, and he rubbed his shoulder awkwardly.