Abstract Proxy

Decibitus

Interested!

Now to solve the most vital debate of wisps or Wisps or my personal favorite wisPs.

Heavenly Steel // Black Peace

Lady Jia (Wen)

The fine silk cloth felt strange on Wen's skin. She had never been one for unnecessary finery, her salary would not have permitted it, even if she had. The garb of an aristocratic noblewoman, the layers of fine fabric, the tasteful embroidery, and the hastily acquired jewelry that she wore felt like heavy weights bearing down on her lithe body.

Wen had made only modest efforts to hide her strangeness, wrapping a length of silk over in her head and horns in the shape of a hood. Jia Li had been a strange man, all knew this. Few would question his widow being stranger still. Wealth purchased much in the way of acceptance. She heard the whispers, of course, the quickly muffled chuckles and quietly breathed comments about Jia Li's peculiar tastes in women. Even in death, the old merchant would serve the Heavenly Emperor. What remained of his person, his reputation, provided Wen with persona she needed to remain hidden.

These facts did little to change how she felt. The remarks distressed her with their deep distastefulness and it was a credit to her teachers that she maintained the unwavering calm expected of a noblewoman doubtlessly far above acknowledging such base and improper rumors. She knew what she was, but she could not help but feel sullied by the implications, and she was left with a growing desire for a long, cleansing bath in the warmest water she could find so far from any settlements of note.

Guanyo, had been familiar, safe. The walls of the fortress city were a reminder of more than danger to Wen, she saw the long arm of the Imperial Army reaching towards the wilderness, and it comforted her. She was pleased with the caravan master, Chungho Pan. He had shown himself reliable and calm, even when the caravan suffered a most unfortunate casualty.

The matter of the curious wagon, heavily guarded by veteran Imperial soldiers, and accompanied by no less than a witch-artificer had been a source of much discussion in throughout the caravan. Wen feigned polite disinterest and did her best to avoid Imperial soldiers and especially the Imperial magician. She had no wish to be spotted and to be recognized as an Imperial magician, even by her own kind. The thought almost caused her to nervously run a hand over the fine gloves she wore, the Imperial Mark felt as if it was burning beneath the silk gloves that she wore.

She sat within the wooden wagon, mercifully sheltered from the rough weather. Lu Long, the owner of the wagon, sat nearby, slowly breathing sweet smoke from the pipe that never strayed far from his lips. Middle aged, Lu had the wrinkled brow of a merchant steeped in the worries of his trade. He was polite, affording Wen an endlessly respectful distance. Wen could see the growing worry in his eyes, but Lu couched his growing anxiety in gentle pronouncements on the long journey and small talk about the intricacies of trade throughout the Empire. The four young men that accompanied him, his retinue of employees, were busy loudly complaining over the most recent delay. They were eager to arrive in Ssanjuu, more eager to complete their business, and unabashedly hungry to the return to the familiar comforts of the capital city.

Lu nodded at Wen, releasing a heavy cloud of smoke, as a hand ran thoughtfully through his beard,"Lady Jia, I trust that you are comfortable? Do you require anything?"

"Thank you, Master Lu, all is well. I was merely thinking about my poor husband, he often spoke of his journeys to the Northern lands, and the difficulties he encountered, although I recall no mentions of winter storms quite as bad as the one that currently assails us."

"A great man," Lu sagely offered, "He was true servant of the Empire and a gifted merchant. To deal in textiles for so long and with such notable profits, was truly an admirable feat and the mark of a most carefully sharpened mind."

"Indeed," Wen agreed, forcing her mouth into a soft smile.

Mention of the recently passed Lord Jia, sent a shiver of excitement through Lu's workers and they quickly fell into their own hushed banter. Content to let Lu carry the conversation, Wen asked polite questions regarding his recent mercantile ventures. She knew well that he had recently purchased a significant stake in a trading company operating a small fleet of ships from the great port of Haifeng. She could see the spark of pride in Lu's eyes as he explained the particular venture and sensed a deeper reservoir of ambition in the middling merchant than her handlers had assumed.

The easy flow of their conversation was interrupted, by a familiar expression, the twisted word used to invoke those Aspected assuredly cursed by some vengeful deity.

"Accursed," one of the assistant merchants said, his voice rising thoughtlessly as his voice rang with unconfined glee. Lu's subordinates had an unfortunate habit of gossiping, Wen knew. They sought out rumors and fresh stories with a relish that she found disquieting. The frown that Lu shot the young men did little to dissuade them and wishing to avoid unnecessary conflict, Wen simply continued her conversation with Lu, inquiring about his daughter, a young woman that Wen knew had been recently married to the scion of a wealthy family of spice traders.

In a brief moment of silence, Wen could not help but overhear the conversation of the assistant merchants.

"Yes, I heard from Madame Song that the old man was distastefully fond of exotic companions, there was even a sordid song composed about his many affairs, You know the one, it began-" the trader continued with a snicker that faded only with the worried looks of his companions. His face turned an ashen white as he caught himself, realizing his mistake, and looking away from the golden eyes that shone towards him with obvious anger.

The silence that followed was painfully awkward as Lu's face twisted with barely contained rage. It was his wagon. It was his subordinates. To offend a guest...to purposefully offend a guest, Wen knew this to be an unthinkable to the merchant.

"Pardon me for a moment, Master Lu, I find myself suddenly in need of some fresh air," Wen said, allowing Lu to save face. Her cheeks burned red with fury and she buried her tightly balled fists, shaking with anger in the sleeves of her gown as she rose from beneath the comfortable warmth of the thick blanket that she had wrapped herself in.

"Of course, you may have my horse," Lu apologetically offered, casting a furious glare at his subordinates who cowered under his ferocious expression.

Wrapping herself in a thick fur robe that trailed past her ankles, Wen stepped out of the wagon, managing to mount Lu's horse just as the caravan started moving again. She could hear yelling from within the wagon and the sudden unmistakable sound of well-shaped leather meeting raw flesh.

Summary

Deciding that her patience is at an end, rather than inflict violence upon a rude soul, Wen elects to brave the weather, and ride next to Lu Long's wagon for a bit.

Heavenly Steel // Black Peace

Actually, probably, finally going to wrap up a first post today, my b for taking so long, this week has been crazy!

---

I can work it, and it'll depend on how good your character will be at keeping secrets, but I'd also like our other accepted players' thoughts on whether they'd like a Northern Elf in keeping in mind that if I do let them in, they'd be privy to some extra background lore that could be relevant later on in the RP.

@Vox

I like Stone as a character (I'm a sucker for characters with chances for personal growth and some mysteries to solve), so probably my slightly biased point of view it is would be fun/interesting.

It seems fairly easy for the character to keep things close to their own chest and simply let people assume they are a Southern Elf. I do always love when there is an element of IC mistrust in the future of information comes to the fore (e.g., Wen is probably wary of elves in general having encountered them in the North and in battle, but she understands Southern Elves can be an asset, if she finds out/realizes Stone is a Northern Elf, that math might change, and it would be an interesting dilemma for her to deal with).

Heavenly Steel // Black Peace

I'll probably wrap up my post anywhere between today and Monday.

Excited to get this rolling!

Heavenly Steel // Black Peace

Not me, I'm innocent.

Heavenly Steel // Black Peace

No worries, I had the same thing happen, but I did get some planning done, lol.

Heavenly Steel // Black Peace

Wonderful!

I'll start thinking about what Wen's been up to tomorrow (happy to collaborate or chat about it with anyone else as well).

Heavenly Steel // Black Peace

Wen

________________________________________ Qian Wen Female | Imperial Army Magician | Aspected _______________________________________________ // PERSONALITY P E R S O N A L I T Y Controlled Steeped in the arcane practices of the Imperial Army, Wen believes that mastery of her self is her most important service to the Beinan Empire. Uncontrolled thoughts are a danger. Uncontrolled words are a danger. Uncontrolled actions are a danger. And uncontrolled magic, the greatest danger of all, would threaten the realm itself. No matter the cost to herself, Wen refuses to willingly allow herself to lose control and she has carefully bound her innermost self with heavy chains of compartmentalization. Intrepid Although Wen is by no means impulsive, she is brave and will fight to the end if required, certain that her cause is just, and that her actions serve the greater good. Level-Headed Bitter experience and the careful tutelage of her instructors has afforded Wen with a deep reservoir of self-restraint and ability to contain unwelcome emotions. In times of trouble, her thoughts turn inward, and she no longer finds it difficult to separate herself from the situations that surround her. Pessimistic Slow to warm and slower to trust, Wen is a young woman forced by cruel necessity to accept her place in Beinan. Hatred can linger in any heart. Crime can lie concealed in any form. And kindness is seldom reserved for the doubtlessly accursed Aspected. There is no futile resistance left in Wen, no roaring torrent of despair, and no defiant pride. She expects little and hopes for less. She knows how others see her. She hears how others speak about her. And she remembers the abuses forced upon her. She is the reed that bends, rather than the mighty oak that breaks beneath unending hostility. Cold Conversationalist Distrust, grown heavy with repeated experience has imbued Wen with a coldness of being, a simmering, usually faint bitterness, that on occasion can leave others convinced that she is perhaps less than agreeable. Reserved Wen views others warily, seeing hidden blades and betrayal in every word and every action. She is hesitant to reveal much about herself, slow to share, and unless compelled to do otherwise, she prefers to remain safely obfuscated beneath the vestments of her profession. High-Principled Finding solace in her duties, Wen possesses the steady, unflinching integrity that only the almost fanatically devoted possesses. Over the years, her principles have been carefully forged into sharp blades of conscience that permit Wen to act with strict regard for what is necessary for the Empire. Cog in the Machine Wen is a dutiful servant of the well-oiled, if overextended, Imperial Army created by the Heavenly Emperor. Unfailingly convinced that the alternatives to the Heavenly Emperor’s Black Peace are far worse, Wen delivers Imperial justice with little hesitation, burying any guilt beneath mantras espousing unavoidable necessity. Melancholy Scattered across her being, deliberately guarded and contained, is an unmistakable sadness in Wen's demeanor. Joy does not travel far, nor last for very long, and Wen is generally unsuited to the task of sparking cheerfulness. Channeling her emotions into her work and perceived purpose, Wen nonetheless has moments, long nights of doubt, when she finds it difficult to see past her perceived fate. // SKILLSET S K I L L S E T Magician Gifted in the arcane arts, Wen is a product of the notoriously difficult Imperial Circle of Magi located at the center of the inhospitable mountain ranges of Huishan. Taught to be self-reliant by her military instructors, Wen is a deeply pragmatic and creative magician. She approaches problems with an open mind, utilizing judicious applications of unexpected magic to overcome her foes rather than the brutish displays of arcane prowess favored by many of her colleagues. Imperial Soldier Every magician in the Imperial Army is still a soldier and Wen is no exception. Wen has trained. Wen has marched. Wen has fought. When has shivered in the cold. Wen has sweated beneath the scorching sun. Wen has been wounded. Wen has starved. Wen has seen first hand the horrors perpetuated by the Northern Elves. Other soldiers may be stronger. Other soldiers may be faster. Other soldiers may wield martial weapons with greater skill. However, it would be a deadly mistake to underestimate Wen even when it comes to physical combat. Investigator Guided by her beliefs Wen seeks to protect the Black Peace by enforcing the laws established by the Heavenly Emperor and discovering any subversive threats that may still remain hidden in the lands. Uncompromising in her pursuit of those who commit offenses against the Imperial law, Wen often chooses to make little distinction between particular transgressions based on scale and scope. Crime is crime, rebellion is rebellion, and to threaten Black Peace is unforgivable. Seeing herself as an instrument of Imperial justice, Wen is known to stubbornly hunt down the most elusive clues and unhesitatingly reveal what others in Beinan would prefer to keep hidden. Educated Beyond her magical training, like all magicians, Wen has received the generous formal education afforded to all magicians trained by the Beinan government. Although no true scholar, free to pursue her own academic whims, Wen nonetheless commands a respectable amount of knowledge concerning applied mathematics, the great philosophical works of the many learned masters of the lands, key moments in the long history of Beinan, the famed artistic works popularized by the Heavenly Emperor, and a selection of the languages spoken across Beinan.

Physical Description Followed by fearful stares and chased by cruel whispers, Wen is an Aspected woman left with no hope of hiding the cursed blood that flows through her veins. Golden eyes, baleful orbs of solid color, unflinchingly meet the gaze of strangers. Two large horns grow atop her head and curve to the sides of her face, reaching a point just above her eyes. Long black hair that cascades past her horns, is kept in a tight bun with an ornate set of silver hair pins. Skin the color of cool sapphire bears the many scars expected of a magician serving in the Imperial Army and on the back of her right hand is the Imperial Mark given to all magicians that have passed the Imperial Magic Exam. Beneath layers of hemp and sometimes silk, Wen hides the build of a soldier well-used long days of travel. The source of unwelcome shame, Wen has a thick tail, almost always kept coiled around her waist to avoid causing unnecessary offense. Largely accustomed to the poor view many of the citizens of Beinan have of the Aspected, particularly those that appear distinctly inhuman, Wen still stands tall and straight, appearing taller than the average woman in Beinan. When performing her duties as an magician in the Imperial Army, Wen wears the familiar military uniform worn by soldiers across Beinan, bearing only the distinct signs of rank and specialization expected of an Imperial Magician in good standing. In her personal life or when discretion is called for, Wen dresses in a conservative fashion. Sensitive to her already provocative appearance, she adheres unfailingly to the gendered and hierarchical dress code still popular in Beinan. She wears waist length hemp jackets, covered by long skirts cut in the same cloth and dyed in colors appropriate to the season. A commoner by birth, Wen wears little in the way of decorations and only the silk sash worn over her waist is decorated with a delicate pattern. In a sign of modesty, she also wears a thick shawl over her head, doing her best to hide her horns in public. Motivation Memories Wen remembers her parents. She remembers her father, thick hands steeped in dirt, and a warm smile. She remembers her mother, bent over the loop, a whirl of soft fabric. She remembers her brother, her closet friend. She remembers a small farm, nestled below a foggy mountain. She wakes up some mornings and still remembers the smell of the white pines. She remembers the stories her parents told her. She remembers her fate. She remembers the curse. She remembers the crimes of a distant ancestor. She remembers little of her patron. She remembers only strange words, cold eyes, and a cheerful promise. She remembers the village, older than the Empire. She remembers the words the villagers called her. She remembers the fear in their eyes. She remembers their hatred. She remembers the rocks they would throw at her. She remembers the tears that burned at the edge of her eyes. She remembers the first spell she cast, no more than a simple cantrip, a fiery bolt of arcane energy that set a bale of hay alight. She remembers how they ran from her. She remembers the soldiers that came soon after. She remembers saying goodbye to her parents. She remembers the crying. She remembers the screaming, her own voice. She remembers being taken from the village. She remembers the Circle of Magi. The buildings carved into the desolate mountains with magic. She remembers the other students. She remembers the way they looked at her. She remembers the disgust of the high born nobles. She remembers the loneliness. She remembers the old wizard. She remembers his words. She remembers his lessons. She remembers his books. She remembers his threats. She remembers his beatings. And she remembers his kindness. She remembers when she learned to stop fighting. She remembers complex diagrams. She remembers ancient schematics. She remembers the writings of an ancient scholar, dead untold centuries before. She remembers accepting her place. And she remembers her fate no longer pained her. She remembers when they forgot. She remembers when they forgot to hate her. She remembers when they began to respect her. She remembers when her magic convinced them. She remembers the reluctant smiles. She remembers the muted praise. She remembers their shared suffering. She remembers the long nights. She remembers the purpose that bound them together. She remembers their private oaths. She remembers the Imperial Magic Examination. She remembers embers, embers of pride as they marked her with the Imperial Mark. She remembers the Northern Province. She remembers the cold. She remembers the hunger. She remembers the elves. She remembers the raids. She remembers strange magic. She remembers being afraid. She remembers war. She remembers a brash officer, a young noble. She remembers a pitched battle. She remembers the elven blade that drew red lines across her skin. She remembers the wounded. She remembers the dying. She remembers the dead. She remembers the soldiers that saved her. She remembers the fighting retreat that followed. She remembers stumbling into the fort days later. She remembers the weariness etched into her bones. She remembers huddling around a fading camp fire, sharing food, drinking with the other survivors, happy to see the sun once again. She remembers a letter. She remembers arriving in Bei Taiyang. She remembers an interview with a junior minister and a judge of the lower courts. She remembers a mention of her talents. She remembers explanations of her worth to the Imperial Army. She remembers the polite insults woven between the minister's gentle words. She remembers how the judge, the district magistrate, looked at her. She remembers no hatred, no fear, nothing save purpose, nothing save a demand for the truth. She remembers the slow seasons that followed. She remembers many roads. She remembers many places. She remembers many people. She remembers enforcing the Imperial Law. She remembers protecting the Black Peace. She remembers new purpose, new meaning that unfolded with the shifting winds of progress. Commanded by her immediate superiors in the Imperial Army, Wen has been dispatched to the northern provinces with orders to assist in the relief effort and cryptic instructions to keep her eyes open for any malevolent forces, other than the murderous elves, that might be operating in Ssanjuu. Uncertain of the meaning of these strange directives, Wen has disguised herself as the young widow of a recently deceased silk merchant, the elderly Jia Li, remembered by many in Bei Taiyang as an exceedingly eccentric, but proud, Beinan patriot. As the grieving Lady Jia, Wen has come to an agreement with one of the merchants heading north, trading a portion of her expected profits in exchange for transportation of her person and her wares to Ssanjuu. Other Information Definitely not a tiefling...

Heavenly Steel // Black Peace

Wrote some stuff, hopefully it mostly makes sense!

Wen

Wen

________________________________________ Qian Wen Female | Imperial Army Magician | Aspected _______________________________________________ // PERSONALITY P E R S O N A L I T Y Controlled Steeped in the arcane practices of the Imperial Army, Wen believes that mastery of her self is her most important service to the Beinan Empire. Uncontrolled thoughts are a danger. Uncontrolled words are a danger. Uncontrolled actions are a danger. And uncontrolled magic, the greatest danger of all, would threaten the realm itself. No matter the cost to herself, Wen refuses to willingly allow herself to lose control and she has carefully bound her innermost self with heavy chains of compartmentalization. Intrepid Although Wen is by no means impulsive, she is brave and will fight to the end if required, certain that her cause is just, and that her actions serve the greater good. Level-Headed Bitter experience and the careful tutelage of her instructors has afforded Wen with a deep reservoir of self-restraint and ability to contain unwelcome emotions. In times of trouble, her thoughts turn inward, and she no longer finds it difficult to separate herself from the situations that surround her. Pessimistic Slow to warm and slower to trust, Wen is a young woman forced by cruel necessity to accept her place in Beinan. Hatred can linger in any heart. Crime can lie concealed in any form. And kindness is seldom reserved for the doubtlessly accursed Aspected. There is no futile resistance left in Wen, no roaring torrent of despair, and no defiant pride. She expects little and hopes for less. She knows how others see her. She hears how others speak about her. And she remembers the abuses forced upon her. She is the reed that bends, rather than the mighty oak that breaks beneath unending hostility. Cold Conversationalist Distrust, grown heavy with repeated experience has imbued Wen with a coldness of being, a simmering, usually faint bitterness, that on occasion can leave others convinced that she is perhaps less than agreeable. Reserved Wen views others warily, seeing hidden blades and betrayal in every word and every action. She is hesitant to reveal much about herself, slow to share, and unless compelled to do otherwise, she prefers to remain safely obfuscated beneath the vestments of her profession. High-Principled Finding solace in her duties, Wen possesses the steady, unflinching integrity that only the almost fanatically devoted possesses. Over the years, her principles have been carefully forged into sharp blades of conscience that permit Wen to act with strict regard for what is necessary for the Empire. Cog in the Machine Wen is a dutiful servant of the well-oiled, if overextended, Imperial Army created by the Heavenly Emperor. Unfailingly convinced that the alternatives to the Heavenly Emperor’s Black Peace are far worse, Wen delivers Imperial justice with little hesitation, burying any guilt beneath mantras espousing unavoidable necessity. Melancholy Scattered across her being, deliberately guarded and contained, is an unmistakable sadness in Wen's demeanor. Joy does not travel far, nor last for very long, and Wen is generally unsuited to the task of sparking cheerfulness. Channeling her emotions into her work and perceived purpose, Wen nonetheless has moments, long nights of doubt, when she finds it difficult to see past her perceived fate. // SKILLSET S K I L L S E T Magician Gifted in the arcane arts, Wen is a product of the notoriously difficult Imperial Circle of Magi located at the center of the inhospitable mountain ranges of Huishan. Taught to be self-reliant by her military instructors, Wen is a deeply pragmatic and creative magician. She approaches problems with an open mind, utilizing judicious applications of unexpected magic to overcome her foes rather than the brutish displays of arcane prowess favored by many of her colleagues. Imperial Soldier Every magician in the Imperial Army is still a soldier and Wen is no exception. Wen has trained. Wen has marched. Wen has fought. When has shivered in the cold. Wen has sweated beneath the scorching sun. Wen has been wounded. Wen has starved. Wen has seen first hand the horrors perpetuated by the Northern Elves. Other soldiers may be stronger. Other soldiers may be faster. Other soldiers may wield martial weapons with greater skill. However, it would be a deadly mistake to underestimate Wen even when it comes to physical combat. Investigator Guided by her beliefs Wen seeks to protect the Black Peace by enforcing the laws established by the Heavenly Emperor and discovering any subversive threats that may still remain hidden in the lands. Uncompromising in her pursuit of those who commit offenses against the Imperial law, Wen often chooses to make little distinction between particular transgressions based on scale and scope. Crime is crime, rebellion is rebellion, and to threaten Black Peace is unforgivable. Seeing herself as an instrument of Imperial justice, Wen is known to stubbornly hunt down the most elusive clues and unhesitatingly reveal what others in Beinan would prefer to keep hidden. Educated Beyond her magical training, like all magicians, Wen has received the generous formal education afforded to all magicians trained by the Beinan government. Although no true scholar, free to pursue her own academic whims, Wen nonetheless commands a respectable amount of knowledge concerning applied mathematics, the great philosophical works of the many learned masters of the lands, key moments in the long history of Beinan, the famed artistic works popularized by the Heavenly Emperor, and a selection of the languages spoken across Beinan.

Physical Description Followed by fearful stares and chased by cruel whispers, Wen is an Aspected woman left with no hope of hiding the cursed blood that flows through her veins. Golden eyes, baleful orbs of solid color, unflinchingly meet the gaze of strangers. Two large horns grow atop her head and curve to the sides of her face, reaching a point just above her eyes. Long black hair that cascades past her horns, is kept in a tight bun with an ornate set of silver hair pins. Skin the color of cool sapphire bears the many scars expected of a magician serving in the Imperial Army and on the back of her right hand is the Imperial Mark given to all magicians that have passed the Imperial Magic Exam. Beneath layers of hemp and sometimes silk, Wen hides the build of a soldier well-used long days of travel. The source of unwelcome shame, Wen has a thick tail, almost always kept coiled around her waist to avoid causing unnecessary offense. Largely accustomed to the poor view many of the citizens of Beinan have of the Aspected, particularly those that appear distinctly inhuman, Wen still stands tall and straight, appearing taller than the average woman in Beinan. When performing her duties as an magician in the Imperial Army, Wen wears the familiar military uniform worn by soldiers across Beinan, bearing only the distinct signs of rank and specialization expected of an Imperial Magician in good standing. In her personal life or when discretion is called for, Wen dresses in a conservative fashion. Sensitive to her already provocative appearance, she adheres unfailingly to the gendered and hierarchical dress code still popular in Beinan. She wears waist length hemp jackets, covered by long skirts cut in the same cloth and dyed in colors appropriate to the season. A commoner by birth, Wen wears little in the way of decorations and only the silk sash worn over her waist is decorated with a delicate pattern. In a sign of modesty, she also wears a thick shawl over her head, doing her best to hide her horns in public. Motivation Memories Wen remembers her parents. She remembers her father, thick hands steeped in dirt, and a warm smile. She remembers her mother, bent over the loop, a whirl of soft fabric. She remembers her brother, her closet friend. She remembers a small farm, nestled below a foggy mountain. She wakes up some mornings and still remembers the smell of the white pines. She remembers the stories her parents told her. She remembers her fate. She remembers the curse. She remembers the crimes of a distant ancestor. She remembers little of her patron. She remembers only strange words, cold eyes, and a cheerful promise. She remembers the village, older than the Empire. She remembers the words the villagers called her. She remembers the fear in their eyes. She remembers their hatred. She remembers the rocks they would throw at her. She remembers the tears that burned at the edge of her eyes. She remembers the first spell she cast, no more than a simple cantrip, a fiery bolt of arcane energy that set a bale of hay alight. She remembers how they ran from her. She remembers the soldiers that came soon after. She remembers saying goodbye to her parents. She remembers the crying. She remembers the screaming, her own voice. She remembers being taken from the village. She remembers the Circle of Magi. The buildings carved into the desolate mountains with magic. She remembers the other students. She remembers the way they looked at her. She remembers the disgust of the high born nobles. She remembers the loneliness. She remembers the old wizard. She remembers his words. She remembers his lessons. She remembers his books. She remembers his threats. She remembers his beatings. And she remembers his kindness. She remembers when she learned to stop fighting. She remembers complex diagrams. She remembers ancient schematics. She remembers the writings of an ancient scholar, dead untold centuries before. She remembers accepting her place. And she remembers her fate no longer pained her. She remembers when they forgot. She remembers when they forgot to hate her. She remembers when they began to respect her. She remembers when her magic convinced them. She remembers the reluctant smiles. She remembers the muted praise. She remembers their shared suffering. She remembers the long nights. She remembers the purpose that bound them together. She remembers their private oaths. She remembers the Imperial Magic Examination. She remembers embers, embers of pride as they marked her with the Imperial Mark. She remembers the Northern Province. She remembers the cold. She remembers the hunger. She remembers the elves. She remembers the raids. She remembers strange magic. She remembers being afraid. She remembers war. She remembers a brash officer, a young noble. She remembers a pitched battle. She remembers the elven blade that drew red lines across her skin. She remembers the wounded. She remembers the dying. She remembers the dead. She remembers the soldiers that saved her. She remembers the fighting retreat that followed. She remembers stumbling into the fort days later. She remembers the weariness etched into her bones. She remembers huddling around a fading camp fire, sharing food, drinking with the other survivors, happy to see the sun once again. She remembers a letter. She remembers arriving in Bei Taiyang. She remembers an interview with a junior minister and a judge of the lower courts. She remembers a mention of her talents. She remembers explanations of her worth to the Imperial Army. She remembers the polite insults woven between the minister's gentle words. She remembers how the judge, the district magistrate, looked at her. She remembers no hatred, no fear, nothing save purpose, nothing save a demand for the truth. She remembers the slow seasons that followed. She remembers many roads. She remembers many places. She remembers many people. She remembers enforcing the Imperial Law. She remembers protecting the Black Peace. She remembers new purpose, new meaning that unfolded with the shifting winds of progress. Commanded by her immediate superiors in the Imperial Army, Wen has been dispatched to the northern provinces with orders to assist in the relief effort and cryptic instructions to keep her eyes open for any malevolent forces, other than the murderous elves, that might be operating in Ssanjuu. Uncertain of the meaning of these strange directives, Wen has disguised herself as the young widow of a recently deceased silk merchant, the elderly Jia Li, remembered by many in Bei Taiyang as an exceedingly eccentric, but proud, Beinan patriot. As the grieving Lady Jia, Wen has come to an agreement with one of the merchants heading north, trading a portion of her expected profits in exchange for transportation of her person and her wares to Ssanjuu. Other Information Definitely not a tiefling...

Heavenly Steel // Black Peace

Perfect, I'm mostly done with an Aspected Magician (totally not a tielfing), so will drop that within a day or two.