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Do'Roelin

As the master of Erzelemmentes development entered the temple, five young men and women rushed up to meet him. Their faces were eager despite the calm appearance of the structures wrapped in vines about them. Stone pillars rose from the ground upwards through each of the three levels of floors above ground, the circular region surrounding the fountain which had given the landmark it's name. The stones seemed aged from the eyes of the normal citizen of the new world, but to those who had properly mastered their dengen it was a spectacular craft seeming to be of a deity.

"Master Do'Roelin, we've come to test our skills to determine our worth as masters." A young man with dark eyes spoke up, apparently representing the other four who had accompanied him. These young ones were known as Casters, students of the dengen masters and assistants to their study, though they were more often than not given tasks of little importance.

"Genrou...since you were bold as a master should be by stepping forth with this proposal...you shall be examined this day." The dengen master managed, though in truth he was in quite the rush. "What do you see there?" He asked, thrusting his arm outwards to indicate a stone wall some distance away.

"A....a scar of battle, long since past...." The brown haired boy hesitated. The reasoning behind his apparent pause was clear as day to the students, as well as to Master Do'Roelin. They had been asked the same question for every attempt at the test thus far, and Do'Roelin had not once been surprised with a good answer. As Genrou stared at his master hopefully, the master's gaze finally met that of the boy's.

"Sorry...wrong answer. Perhaps another time." Do'Roelin patted the boy on the shoulder as the group bowed their heads with disappointment. The young adults saw the wall as having a large crack in it, where one could see clear through to the other side. This however was an illusion, one maintained to keep looters at bay while the men and women of the temple worked away. Until the day that the Casters could see through the illusion, they would not be ready. With that, the dark skinned man rushed past the young assistants, making way towards Master Dou's Study.

***

The room was quite silent, a solitary place for the master of combat spells to create his craft. Writing formula after formula, and testing his designs in minature, the elder man worked diligently through the hours to create high end combat skills for his fellow dengen masters. Suddenly however, the wooden doorway to his study burst open.

"Ah...just the Mer-Aquas I was looking for." Do'Roelin smirked, commenting upon the species of the master before him. Master Dou was in fact a Mer-Aquas type of mer-people, the form of a fish man where the entire body resembled a human, however the skin, gills and assorted fins resembled a fish. There were numerous tentacles upon the back of the man's head, much to he as hair was to the humans. These were bought back and wrapped up by numerous bands to keep the from falling in his sight when he leaned forth over his study.

"Do'Roelin, my Azirian friend....what is it that you desire this day. Perhaps you finally wish to take a breather, and accompany me to the Gallows Sea...to Khenshou City?" He asked, his turquoise skin seeming to ripple a bit as he leaned forwards. Suddenly a burst of water rushed over the man, flowing over his skin to hydrate the master as he worked.

"A spell to keep you moist....I suppose that must be Errin's work." The white haired fellow replied, smiling at it's creativity.

"Yes, Errin assisted me in it's creation, but what is it that you desire? I know you seem to never stop hunting your Erzelemmentes..." Dou eyed him questioningly.

"I need one of your techniques...something I can learn quickly to increase my skills of battle." Do'Roelin admitted, the haste of his mission returning to his mind as the distraction of the intriguing water technique faded away.

"Certainly....I'll give you a pair of runes for speed and power." The fish chuckled, laughing at the simplicity of the request. "It is no feat to do so on your own, you know this well." Dou continued, as a spark erupted into action upon one of his claws.

"No, I cannot settle for speed and power....these things my foe already has. I need something more unique, more unpredictable...." Speaking with his hands, which appeared to fly about him as he described what he desired in strength, the Master attempted to somehow place the amount of importance the subject held into his voice. Even with the excessive dramatic fluctuation in his voice however, Do'Roelin felt as if he'd not yet communicated his needs properly. The mer-aquas tapped his finger upon the gills of his throat....pausing in thought as if to sift through the memories of his past creations.

A moment later, the spark that had ignited upon the master's finger leaped onto Do'Roelin's arm, searing new symbols into the limb before the master could even flinch.

"Try those....I'm certain you'll like them." Dou smiled.

Gallion Hearterra

As the trotting of horses came to a halt, the crumbling ruins of an old town standing before them, Gallion recalled the day that he had first laid eyes upon the magnificent sight. The walls which appeared so eroded and fading shown brilliantly to the eyes of one embedded with the gift of dengen. Before the eyes of those capable of becoming a master, the fallen columns would rise to become dazzling pillars, the dust would be swept away by the breeze of an eye's gaze, dirt became tiles, and weed became wooden planks.

"What a brilliant sight indeed." He thought aloud, gathering the eyes of confused adolescent participants...for they still saw only shattered stone and falling bricks.

Soon however, the noble knight's thoughts were interrupted by the words of an elder woman, who spoke of the trials which the young queen would need face ahead...alone. As Menna made her way over to give Gallion her thanks and farewell, he placed a gentle yet heavy hand upon her shoulder, leaning in slowly to meet her gaze.

"I believe I'll visit with my old master, Master Dou. If you ever need anything during your time there... simply flare your dengen for exactly five seconds...this will tell me that something is wrong." The Elite Silver Knight explained, brushing a small portion of hair from his eyes. "Good luck..." he offered finally, before taking his own leave through the dry grass towards the fountain.

Menna's training outfit was perhaps the strangest thing she'd ever worn and reminded her uncomfortably of Rokan. It was all black leather and tight-fitting. What confused her most was the top. Rather than one piece, it was a sleeveless shirt with a cropped jacket that could overlap for weather purposes. When asked, Gavric only replied with a gruff "You'll see.".

They began with what the master termed "the basics", that being the ability to heal yourself. Menna had done it once, but apparently she couldn't do it nearly fast enough. That part of the training was excruciating, as the only way to practice healing was having something to heal. The breaking of bone began to feel almost commonplace. The exercises consisted of things like having to run a mile as fast as possible, but beginning with a broken leg. Climbing a rock face in the same way and beginning with a broken arm. For several days she never was long without an injury. But she didn't dare complain. However, she was happy when Gavric gave her a nod of affirmation.

Unfortunately, the next part still contained a lot of injury, this time flesh wounds. However these were easier to accomplish than bone, although the blood loss made it hard to keep at it for any length of time. So while Menna was resting, letting her body adjust to the abuse, Gavric would speak about this or that. Military strategy mostly. He was surprisingly knowledgeable about it for a hermit and Menna listened closely. And when he was speaking, he was demanding that Menna do so. She told him about her childhood in Dokoro, the marriage and the plan to keep Oban as the heir. She watched for any sign of a reaction in his face, but he gave nothing away.

"And do you plan to be leading the army, princess?" He asked during one of these talks. Menna was taken aback. The thought had never occured to her. "Why would I? Oban is much better at that than I am. And besides, it's not my job." The answer must have pleased him, because the next few injuries were less. Afterward they moved on to something even stranger. Gavric would injured himself, with Menna healing. It was a strange feeling, watching her teacher hurt himself. But whenever she was hesitant, he would get angry. "Only a fool thinks to use his gifts for pain alone. A true master knows to better his world through his presence." It sounded like he was speaking of someone specific, but Menna knew better than to ask. Still, she refrained from hesitating again.

It wasn't till later she discovered these moves had names. "Rejuvenation" and "Reformation"...the words would have sounded much more intriguing and mysterious if she wasn't keenly aware of just how much pain went into them. But the pain kept her from thinking about what was going on in the outside world. Indeed, it wasn't until late at night when she was about to fall asleep that she thought of Garanoff and everything that had happened. She couldn't allow herself to think about it often, the monstrous task in front of her was too big to allow for coherent thinking.

If Menna had thought the revelation would make training easier, she was very wrong. It wasn't long before she realized Gavric had only kept her at a slower pace because he was unsure of her intentions. Once it became clear where her loyalties lie, the training became twice as hard. Every day consisted of learning new small techniques and practicing older ones to perfection. Fortunately her healing skills were highly developed, because broken bones had become a part of her daily routine. But the pain was familiar and more easily ignored than she would have believed.

While her body was taking the most brutal beating of any woman in her social stature, the training was a blissful break from thinking. Every new technique took such concentration it shoved out all other thoughts. And she was so exhausted every night she fell asleep immediately with no dreams to speak of.

Gavric seemed keen on making her learn so many new techniques that she felt like she knew everything, but could no act on it. She asked multiple times for more practice on one technique only to be hurried on to the next. Finally she put her foot down and demanded to know why she was being rushed in such a way.

"We're leaving." He said simply. She was shocked at first, thinking she was being thrown out after all her progress. But then she realized he'd included himself in the statement. "I thought you were a hermit." She asked, confused. "Aye, but ye ain't gonna be spendin' yer time fighting hermits, are ye?" He replied gruffly. "Where are we going?" She asked, both excited and frightened at the prospect. "Dragon's Breath." He replied simply. Her eyes widened. But before she could say anything, he waved his hand cut her off. "Ye ain't goin' to be with that husband. It's best for sparring under the worst conditions with the seediest of men." He gave her a pointed look. "Which means it ain't a place for a pretty little princess to be hangin' around." Menna frowned, but nodded.

Later on that day she went into town for the first time in days. Many people were confused at her appearance. It took her a moment to remember they never would have seen her before as she looked like Nanette when she first walked through. When she explained she was Gavric's student, many were wide-eyed with surprise. But she managed to convince a young gosling to pass a message to Gallion for her. Gavric was adamant that the knight stay behind, although Menna wished there was time to tell him herself. But there were other preparations to make.

The next part was something she hated. As per Gavric's demand, she was to go to the small infirmary and pick out her next appearance. As the Fountain of Mastery was filled with healers, those left in the infirmary were beyond help. "Ye can't look like someone else if they're still lumberin' 'round." Gavric said. He also insisted that it be male, as females had a hard time in Dragon's Breath. And so she searched through the dying, trying to hold herself together.

There was a young man about her age, groaning on his deathbed. He'd grown up in a small village to a small family. He'd had a bit of dengen that had quickly turned sour when he'd turned to the Kurai Arts. Menna wondered if the healers would have tried a bit more hard to save him if he hadn't used his gifts for ill. But it wouldn't do to think about it. He was bigger than her, but not by much, and his form seemed easy enough to recreate. She committed his face and form to memory before rushing out.

After one last stop in town for clothing, Menna headed back to the cave to finish preparations. She shifted into the form and dressed. The clothes fit well enough, but the form still felt strange. She hadn't had a man's form since the battle with the elemental and that was only a short time. Gavric brushed aside her worries, saying she'd grow used to it in time. Before they left, he made her walk around the cave, doing various exercises. The training had undone quite a lot of her etiquette lessons, so it was not quite as awkward to walk with wider strides and hold a more aggressive stance. Still, Gavric insisted that would need practice as well. But it was well enough for them to leave.

To anyone at the Fountain paying attention, it would look odd that the hermit was leaving. And with a strapping young man that more than one had sworn they'd seen in the infirmary. But they boarded easily enough with the other caravan passengers and took off.