TEN YEARS LATER….

Chapter One

"Reality is an imperfect reflection of an ideal, permanent realm."

-Plato

"It's times like these I wish I were a Warrior," Daven Kinserth mused.

He quickly downed another cup of ale, then smashed it on the table as three scantily clad monks danced past him without so much as a wink. He peered down the broken stem of his cup, then glared blearily at the table of muscular fighters two aisles down. The drunken man slapped a fist to his forehead as a barmaid swept in to clean up the mess.

"Why do all the Warrior Monks get the chicks! Why!" he screamed, grabbing the startled woman by the arm. "I can dance! I fight my battles! Plus I wield a longer stick than they do!" He started dancing, humming "Blue Moon", and was promptly smacked in the face by an Ornate Buckler. Elementalists rose, the Warriors threw their tables aside, and an all-out dance war erupted. Somehow in the confusion, Daven escaped a thrown air guitar and dove out a window, much to the dismay of his fellow Ascalonians. Getting up, he brushed off his elaborate coat and started walking, with blood dripping down his face, towards the heart of the city. "Blue moooooon…. You saw me standing alooooone…."

Shifting through the crowd, he looked around for and spotted a merchant peddling wares to regular players… err, travelers. He quickly waved her down. "Hey, Sanura, what's happening? You free… uh, whenever?"

"Fat chance, -------," commented a nearby Necromancer. Daven just shrugged it off. "Sooo, babe," he crooned, sidling up beside Sanura as she showed an Identification Kit to an elderly couple. "How's business been lately?"

Sanura sighed patiently, then shoved the other couple aside. "You're only sixteen, kid… give it a rest. Maybe when you're twenty…."

Daven's eyes lit up. "really?"

"….or dead. It's just too bad I'm not a practicing Necro." Sanura paused; a thoughtful gleam came to her eyes. "Hmmm… Kasha does owe me a few favors…."

"Eh… see you later, then, San…."

Sanura waved cheerfully as Daven slipped away, cursing. "Gah… another time, another time…." Muttering to himself, he ran straight into the town criers' stand. "Owww!"

"Ah, Daven Kinserth," the town crier said, nodding in satisfaction. "Sir Tydus is looking for you. He said he had some news for you. Handing out 10 gold, too."

"Hmm… I like good news…."

"It involves your drafting into the Ascalonian Army."

"Crap!"

"At any rate," the man continued, "You'd best be off. Even if you are getting drafted… there's still the 10 gold!"

Hmm... maybe it's not that bad, Daven thought. I mean, I'm gonna be drafted anyway. Might as well get some money too. Wait a second… wait just one damned second… you mean you'd give up your freedom and your life as an average boring citizen to the government for some experience and 10 measly bucks! What the HELL do you think you're doing, Daven!

"Do you really think I'm that shallow dammit!" he shouted, throwing his backpack on the ground in a rage.

"Easy, easy!" Sir Tydus looked faintly alarmed. "What's come over you? You were just telling me how you've always wanted to join the military!"

"I was!"

"…yes…."

I really am that shallow! "Dammit!"

Sir Tydus still looked taken aback. "Well… Haversdan is waiting outside the city for you… I said you'd be heading out to learn some basic stuff. The other mage guy is indisposed… Haversdan will have to substitute as your Elementalist teacher."

Captain's Log: Stardate 1072 AE. And that's how I came to be an Elementalist. Dunno how, dunno why. Suffered brief mental hallucinations and short term amnesia. And what the hell does AE stand for!

"Are you quite finished!" Haversdan asked impatiently. Daven came to with a start. "Uhh, Yessir, absolutely… uh, sir!"

"You scatterbrained asshole." Haversdan shook his head. "All they're sending me these days… rejects. Lowlifes. Kids with no-life. Etc etc. Ah, well, at least I'll teach you how to die with style." He suddenly straightened his back, arched his neck, military-style. "Cadet Kinserth!"

Daven came quickly to attention. "Yessir!"

Haversdan bent over to look in his eyes. "I'm going to ask you some rather personal questions, Kinserth. Remember, it's all part of your training." He stood straight again. "Have you ever wanted to be a warrior?"

Lin! Nooo!

Something inside of his head ached, and Daven shook himself to clear it. "Once, sir… but that was a long time ago. If you know what I mean."

"I don't, but that's irrelevant. Question Two!" Haversdan glared down sternly at Daven, and the young "elementalist" flinched visibly. "Have you used a needle, given or taken blood, or lain down with another man lately?"

"Wha-? Uh, no! I mean… I'm kind of having a hard time on the women! And uh… yeah, I just don't…."

"Which brings us to our next question…." Haversdan reached behind his back, and Daven heard the rasping of steel on leather. "…are you married?"

"…..no?" Daven squeaked.

Haversdan gave him a giant grin, and slapped him on the back, breaking two of his ribs. "I thought not! Here, take this weapon." The warrior tossed a small paring knifeat the downed "elementalist". "Get up, son. I'm going to teach you to be a warrior."

Daven got up slowly, bleeding now from a knife wound and having difficulty breathing. "Really?"

"Sure! What you're experiencing now is called Death Penalty. It's what happens when you die."

Daven felt himself all over. "Wow. I thought when you die… you… uh, you… die."

"Well, technically when you die, your spirit is released from your body, and your rotting corpse is usually sucked dry by opposing necromancers. But that doesn't happen here; we have resurrection! However, lingering effects lower your health and energy.

"Now, for the hands on portion. I'll show you how a man does real combat." Haversdan pulled out his massive broadsword. "Take the knife and hold it up."

Daven complied, picking up the paring knife and holding it before him.

"Good, good. Now… run down there and kill the scale queen."

"WHAT! With this thing!"

Haversdan nodded vigorously. "Yeah, no sweat! Just run in, scream bloody murder and stab the bitch. Then run back before the broodcallers fry you!"

Daven stared first at the grinning warrior, then at the paring knife. "Are you… ----ing serious!"

"Dead serious." Haversdan reached over and patted Daven on the back again, breaking another rib. "Give it a shot. We all believe in you."

Daven shook his head. "You have got to be kidding me…."

(A/N it's late at night. And I'm tired. Apologies….)