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Dolus walked among the bookshelves of the library, carefully scrutinizing the title of each time for the one which he sought with an eye strengthened by the practice of his craft. An Illusionist by trade and by affinity, he frequently visited the library, the tranquility and solace of which provided an excellent setting for study, both to learn and to discover. Soon enough, he found what he needed; a tome with a blank cover but for a narrow line of silver runes along the spine-the language used to describe mind-related magics, known as Inlusio. Translating in his mind, Dolus recognized the tome as a catalogue of the different types of mental prowess and resistance a human could possess, from the barely organized, easily manipulated mind of a simpleton to the disciplined, nearly impenetrable brain of a learned sorceror. Dolus plucked the tome from the shelf, tucked it under his arm, then walked out of the row of bookshelves and to a nearby table, where he placed the tome down, opened to the first page, and sat at the chair, too engrossed by the text to notice the other man sitting at a table several feet away, similarly captivated by a collection of books of his own.

Dolus looked up in mild surprise, spotting the library's other patron for the first time. Being accustomed to there being no one in the library beside himself, he hadn't expected the other man's presence. Dolus was able to identify the man's rank and affiliation by his clothing and reading material as a high-ranking Mage of the Conclave, an organization which, Dolus recalled, banned the practice of mind-related magics such as the ones which Dolus himself practiced. That would probably explain why the Mage had found interest in Dolus in the first place.

"I could ask the same of you, sir," he said, his voice calm and strangely melodic, "as I frequent this library more than most other individuals. Nevertheless, we have indeed not met, and permit me to introduce myself as Dolus, a traveling Illusionist-a practicer of crafts which the Conclave casts a disapproving eye on, am I correct?"

Dolus smiled, and clasped his hands behind his back, standing up from his chair to turn and face the Mage. He could certainly just explain why the school of Illusionary magic was what he had chosen to practice, but why settle for a mere verbal explanation, when he could instead truly show why he had chosen it?

"Why," he said, in his calm, lilting voice, "Because I can do this..."

Dolus' eyes suddenly flashed totally blue, and his body shimmered and wavered before turning a bright, hot shade of orange. Then the orange color burst into active, roaring flame all around the Illusionist's body, engulfing him in a swirling pillar of flame, obscuring his face and body but for the general outline of his form within its folds. Then the firey mass which had been Dolus combusted, showering a fiery pulse everywhere around the library but miraculously missing the Mage who stood watching. Assaulted by flame and sparks, the library and the trees embracing it caught fire immediately, blackening, burning down, and reducing to ash under the overwhelming force of the fire, the knowledge and beauty contained within the building reduced to nothing.

"Oh, but that's not all I can do, Mage of the Conclave." Dolus' voice came out of the air as the elaborate illusion faded away, restoring the library to its normal, tranquil state. Dolus had not believed that the Mage would legitimately fall for the illusion-the book he had been reading earlier, and common sense besides, told him that such a mind would know better-but it still showed the Mage why the magic of Illusion so appealed to Dolus. Not that he was done showing what he could do.

In front of the Mage, Dolus reappeared, melting out of the air before forming into a solid form, hovering a few feet off the ground with his hands placed on his hips. Then, however, more figures began to appear in a similar fashion out of the air, some floating, some sitting and standing in different places around the Mage, forming a multitude of totally different figures; a beautiful noblewoman, slouching stylishly on a chair, an emaciated beggar wrapped in a filthy cloak, sitting huddled against a bookshelf, an armored guard, standing with his hand on the pommel of his sword next to Dolus, a common merchant, floating with his legs crossed and a satchel of wares slung over his shoulder-a collection of individuals as unique and dissimilar as could be.

Then, simultaneously, in a single voice made up of countless different ones, the figures, Dolus himself included, spoke;

"So tell us, Mage, which one of us is Dolus?"

The noblewoman smiled, and gave a barely perceptible nod. The other forms of Dolus disappeared into the air, leaving only the noblewoman left, whose form shimmered and faded to reveal Dolus, sitting as the woman had been.
"Good guess, Mage," he said, smiling, "I suppose male desire worked in your favor there. Although, that could easily be used against you. Food for thought, I suppose."

Dolus' trick had not been a particularly serious test of the Mage, but for fear of causing the other man pain or serious anger and provoking retaliation, the Illusionist has settled with a more orthodox, less intensive show. It was not a duel, and in any case Dolus was pleased with the response his show had garnered.

Dolus adjusted his position on the chair to a more casual one, then said, "But I don't believe I know your name yet, Mage. I believe it is your turn for the introductions."

Dolus shook his head, a small, idle smile still on his face. "Unfortunately, not everything I do is fraught with complex illusions. One has to learn before one can impress. This," he said, levitating the book up with a flick of his hand, " Is simply a catalogue detailing the different types of mental traits and resistances found in humans. Basically, it teaches me exactly what to expect when going up against people of varying levels of intelligence." Dolus brought the book back down, opened to the page it had been on prior to the conversation.

"I hope, Mage of Ages," he said after a moment, using Sic's nickname, "that my little bout of gender impersonation-whether I seem the type to do so or not-and illusory arson there did not cause your colleagues at the Conclave to come running to see what caused such a large amount of supposed forbidden magic?"