Seeking Tutors - Barrett

[Barrett]

The sheer skill in Asran's subterfuge awed Barrett. To split one's attention with such precision! And then the gracefully choreographed movement without so much as a revealing glance at one's hands! Almost, the young man thought he might have made an error, that he was imagining purpose in a crazy old man's movements.

That doubt evaporated as he perused the register information. The names couldn't possibly be coincidence. For a moment, Barrett's head filled with other possible variants and he was tempted to set the letters to paper right away to check them.
Test per evens... per seven... St. serpent eve... pen test verse... Step never set?
This idea was dismissed for the moment, as likely it would yield little in the way of immediately useful information. So he went on to the other indices.

Styles in Doors? Gatehouses? The woman nextdoor? And, perhaps the scrolls have little to do with anything indicated. After all, if Uncle Jacob could leave me a message, why shouldn't others hide information in the same manner.

Barrett realized that Asran's study was likely none of his business. However, the fact that the elder man was another follower of Aurelius plus the unlikely way in which their paths had crossed twice in the minute amount of time that Barrett had been on the isle added up to almost a compulsion to find out more. So Barrett searched the subjects of doors and gates and entrances out in the index in an attempt to find any more clues. If he could find one or two of the possibly related works, he might be able to piece out some information.

As he set about his task he offered up a quick prayer.
Please, old Thinker, help me to see past the insignificant that I may set my eyes to focus on the true pattern here.
Even as the words faded from his mind he set himself to the task of finding out some answers.

[Finodborn]

Barrett skimmed the register for anything related to doors, entrances, gates. The problem was there were vast quantities of works that mentioned one or more of these subjects.

The fact that he only could select the right entries based on an anagram, made the task even more difficult. Every name beginning with an E, a P, an N, an R, a S, a T and a V was to be checked, resulting in a stupendous stint. Luckily, Barrett was armed with a nimble mind, sharp eyes and good spirit.

Finally, he spotted a book about trap doors, written by one Vern Epestets. It should be in the Engineering section. He had written down that the engineering section was on the first floor. Naturally, it was not sure whether the book hadn't been taken by another user.

[Barrett]

The sheer number of entries was daunting, but Barrett's mind was set on his task. He steeled himself to focus on processing the information rather than worrying about the potential scope of calculations involved. Methodically he made his way through the register narrowing down subjects and names, scanning for possible variations.

Oddly he found the search satisfying rather than frustrating. He made it into a game and that helped keep a sense of freshness to it. Finally he came across the Vern Epestets entry. He briefly considered whether to chase down the book or search for other entries before any more walking.

The index will still be here. The book, however, might be snatched up at any moment - assuming it is still there.

He dismissed the possibility of the book having already been taken as irrelevant: he wouldn't know unless he checked. If it was gone, he could continue his search for more entries. Besides, his legs could use a good stretch after hovering about the register for so long. So he set off for the engineering section as fast as he could without actually seeming to hurry.

[Finodborn]

Be it that luck was smiling on him, or that his little prayer had paid off, but the book was there, alright. On first sight, it seemed to be a book about trap doors, just as the title ("Trap doors...") suggested. The calligraphy was not as inspired as that of "The Pantheion", but it was alright. Several illustrations clarified the applications of trap doors in battle fields, castles etcetera. Closer inspection made the book look less normal. Although there was nothing really wrong with the sentences, their construction was often a bit weird, and so was the choice of words.

Moreover, the book didn't really teach the reader anything about trap doors. Some paragraphs were so vague they didn't really communicate any content, others were filled to the brim with difficult words and complex constructions, so their meaning wasn't clear. Thorough analysis revealed that they didn't even have any meaning. It was as if this writing was designed not to be read with interest. Perhaps it was an advanced form of code language?

Barrett felt a hand on his shoulder, with a very firm grasp. "What do you think you're doing?" hissed a voice. As Barrett turned to see, he saw Asran again, this time in a black robe with a hood hanging down on his back.

[Barrett]

As Barrett read through the book he became convinced that it was some sort of code. The words might not be significant or perhaps only some were and the problem was to discern the pattern in which they made sense. Or it might be the letters... or were there significant numerical groupings... perhaps there was a clue to be found in the illustrations instead. Might the text be mere distraction? Or might the code be deduced from hints in the drawings? Or-

At the interruption Barrett instinctively tried to draw back from the older man's grasp while clutching and attempting to hide the book in the crook of his other arm.

"Err-I am merely seeking information as I have been bid to do."

If he could escape the grasp, he would attempt to put some distance between Asran and himself. Preferably while heading toward a path of escape.

"If it please you, I'll be out of your path and on my way."

[Finodborn]

"I don't think so" commented the priest. At that point, Barrett felt something peering in his mind. He tried to take over! As Barrett instinctively attempted to resist Asran's intrusion, he sensed the enormous willpower this man possessed, eradicating Barrett's mental defence as easy as an elephant would trample a single ant.

"Boy, you have much to learn." He could have sworn Asran had spoken, yet his lips hadn't moved. From then on, Barrett experienced a strange state of mind. his senses worked perfectly, he could see, hear, touch, smell perfectly, but somehow control over his speech and movement was no longer his. He was passively observing his own actions.

Asran removed his hand from Barrett's shoulder, and Barrett handed him the book on trap doors, accepted cordially by Asran. Then, they went back to the entrance floor. Asran gave the grumpy clerk, who had taken place behind the counter again, a warning look as he filled in the register, and then they left the library.

"I'm afraid it is necessary now to cloud your senses for a while." Barrett lost consciousness, and regained it seemingly one flicker later. He was seated in a comfy chair in an otherwise sober room, lit by a profusion of lanterns, as it had no windows. The walls were lined with book cases, and there were two doors in the chamber. To his surprise, he noticed that he controlled the movement of his little finger again. This felt strangely new. Quick experimentation and deduction proved that this was also the case for his other body parts.

Asran was seated in front of him in a similar chair. He looked very weary. "You left me no choice, I'm sorry. No, wait, I'm not sorry." he grinned. His face got serious again. "You little dimwit! If you are confident -or should I say silly- enough to track down the research of somebody who is most likely higher in rank or power than you, you should at least try to do so unnoticed. You could get yourself in huge troubles by these burlesque methods of yours, and more so these days than before! Is the concept of subtlety unknown to you?"

The man sighed. "What am I running on about... You're curious off course, and you should be." He added, rather against his will "And I should have made sure to cover my tracks better. Alas, there's no time for that."

"Question is, however, what to do now with you. In theory, it wouldn't be that difficult to erase your memory about what you've learned. That is, if I get some time to recover from my previous intervention. However, that would be very much in contradiction with the way of our Thinker, especially seen the fact that you are a follower of his too. Thus, I see no other option but to include you in the whole picture, though it might very well mean your end in the long run. You are to promise me absolute secrecy, and a drastic increase in discreteness. In fact, I will not ask you to promise it, I command you, which is necessary seen the precariousness of the situation."

"You might or might not have noticed that darkness is rising in our world. Normally, most followers of Aurelius, including myself, choose not to use our knowledge to intervene in the world, as we are aware of the fact that no fact or judgement can ever pretend to be absolutely true our righteous. However, today, even Aurelius himself is threatened by this darkness. I shall not explain you why and how at this point, for that would lead us to far. Anyway, I feel obliged to do what I can to prevent this evil from doing what it intends to do. It has won many for it's cause, in all classes of society, and in nearly all places of the world, including this very Isle. It is by coincidence that I discovered an association on the Isle that fits in that context. It's members use the resources from their orders and the knowledge they gained here to prepare a ritual that must be prevented at all cost. They plan to open a gate to another plain of existence in order to let in a daemon, more precisely."

"As you've probably noticed, they communicate through library writings. that way, they do not have to meet that often, reducing the chances of being tracked down by the Inquisitors. A futile fear, by the way, as these men and woman are most often too dumb to wipe their rear. It is unclear to me how they get these books and scrolls written so quickly, as both the complex and awe inspiring coding as the actual writing should cost them more time than it is apparently taking them. The fact that the works are accepted in the library registers leads to believe that they have connections amongst the library clerks too. I have been studying an deciphering these writings systematically, and I've tried to come up with an appropriate counter. It is impossible for me to call in the help of others. Not only is it impossible to know whom to trust, as such would also slow matters down fatally, since the summoning is to happen soon for all I know. Hence my clumsy track covering."

"To have a powerful daemon here would be perfect off course; the training grounds of priests, paladins, monks would be razed, hence the defences against a large-scale intrusion weakened tremendously, you see?"

"Before this crisis became clear to me, I was not really grounded in demonology, but I have gained expert status in a short period of time through extensive research. I have not slept the past forty nine nights due to lack of time, so you'll understand why you are a bit of a pain in the ass. So you'll have to make up for the time you made me lose, which has put me behind on schedule. Do you know how to center? You will have to in three days. Here's what I intend to do: I am pretty sure about the moment they have chosen to perform their occult ritual. They will rip the fabric of this plain by means of manipulation by mental and sorcerous energy. However, I intend to watch them closely. I shall try, with my own little manipulation, try to cause but a little, well, shift in this fabric on the moment of their summoning. It will make their gate unstable, and hopefully prevent the demon from entering. unfortunately, it will -whether the daemon enters or not- most probably kill the cultists involved. I do not believe I have a choice however."

"Now in a way I am glad you are here. I was frightened my lack of stamina would prevent me from maintaining sufficient focus. However, now we have you, I can delegate: I am going to give you a task, which buys me time for recovery meditation."

He took a thick scroll he had probably written himself. "Learn this by heart within three days. These words will function as a locator for the place they intend to target. I have no time to explain you the theory right now. Prepare to be able to say them as fast as you can. Any centering you have learned by then will help you to prevent damage to your own person, but I am afraid we are obliged to consider that as of secondary importance."

"One more thing. I have been forced to ensure that you cannot betray our cause. If you tell anybody about what I've told you here, a mental mechanism I've installed will kill you. I'm afraid I had no choice. Should you ignore the task I gave you, there will be no need for me to punish you, as nobody will live to tell the tale. However, I think you are smart enough to understand it's importance. I shall now move you back to the library. You shall become unaware of your actions again for a little while, which is a necessary precaution. If any mind crafter would discover the location of my dwellings through you, all would be lost. I shall be in the library every day at the beginning of trade tide, should you need me. Aurelius counts on us, Barrett. Do you have any questions left?"

[Barrett]

Barrett sensed an invasion into his mind. He had a brief instant in which to panic before Asran took complete control. His first reaction was to panic. He tried to cry out and flail his arms. But he was no longer connected to his body in a way that would allow it to respond. Horrified, he witnessed himself handing the book over to Asran in a seemingly voluntary friendly exchange. Barrett panicked. His mind fluttered about like a caged bird flapping at its prison. Then Asran spoke without speaking.

The mindspeech had the effect of centering Barrett somewhat and brought him back to a sense of self. He recognized Asran's power as something more than he was prepared to fight. Fear dissipated and in its place grew a fascination with what the older priest had done to him. Asran had taken over Barrett's body and left his mind intact with little in the way of pain. The only disorientation seemed to be that caused by Barrett's own initial panic. The boy had no knowledge of how such magics worked but suspected the subtlety involved here indicated an amazing degree of control. As his body walked along under Asran's direction, Barrett "felt around" in his mind for any signs of how he was being invaded and controlled. Perhaps he could not fight back effectively but he wanted to at least be able to recognize such influences.
Cannot fight back... YET. Some part of him ventured.
That same part of him argued that such magic- used to remove a person's free will- was to be reviled.

Then came a fog as the elder man clouded Barrett's senses.

As consciousness returned, the young man looked around him with care. His eyes sought out clues as to Asran's identity and intentions. What had he gotten himself into?

Barrett interrupted Asran's whirlwind speech only once.
"Are you chiding me for acting inexperienced? Because if I do so it is simply because I AM. I have barely been a tide on the isle and before that a mere bartender in a populous but still somewhat backwoods town of Dort. Subtlety to me is an unexpected flavor that sneaks into an otherwise boring liqueur. You should have shooed me off instead of performing a magnificent display of agility in front of me. After bumping into me twice. Which only leads me to believe that I was supposed to stumble into this."

To the rest he listened with growing apprehension. Dark rumors and fell times were not an unfamiliar subject, but they always seemed only vague, suspect rumors. The idea that dark forces had managed to gain a foothold on the holy isle was almost crushing to Barrett. Such was stuff for stories told around a winter fire. Demons?

When Asran described the ritual and his proposed means of stopping it, Barrett faltered.
"Probably kill the cultists involved" implied that it would probably kill those who interfered as well.
The scroll seemed awfully weighty to Barrett. Three days? It was longer by far than any written work he had attempted in such a short time. Centering was an idea he grasped by the word's meaning in context. But it was a new concept. One that he was hardly likely to master in three days.

Barrett crinkled his brow at the last part of Asran's speech. He started to raise his voice to scream out. Something along the lines of how he was young and new and shouldn't be expected to deal with anything of this magnitude and didn't wish to leave his parents childless and so forth. But an inner voice calmed him.
No use getting hysterical. It solves nothing and only draws attention to your inadequacies- with which Asran is apparently already familiar. Best to serve your god and your people well than try to run from something the thinker obviously steered you into. Still, no need to proceed blindly. Blind faith is certainly not a desirable trait for a thinker.

"I would hope that your mechanism would kill me before I could tell anybody about this, otherwise you're wasting my life for no gain. Subtlety and all that. You've no need for compulsion if all that you say is true. Besides, how am I to prevent some other priest or mind crafter from mucking about in my mind the way you have all too easily managed?"

"I suppose that by invading my mind you had access to my memories and realize that I've only arrived here this day and have no idea how to go about centering or shifting energies or whatnot. Yes? And you know also that so far my only instructions have been to seek what knowledge I may and to question authority? Yet you ask me to devote myself to these tasks and be to prepared to sacrifice my life or health based on your forcing me here to listen to a story? The way I see things there are several possibilities here.
First: you might or might not serve Aurelius and this might all be a lie to cover up some scheme that I happened to stumble upon.
Second: the plot of which you speak is true but you are actually a participant and are taking the opportunity to use me to further it.
Third: you are who you say you are and things are as you have said.
Fourth: (and most disturbing) things are as you say, but those plotting to unleash a demon know about you and are using you in some way.
And those are just the first few scenarios this nitwit could come up with."

"You should know better than I that we are not created to just accept whatever is told us. And you've already proven you are quite skilled at deception. I have no way to verify any of what you say. No one whom I trust on the isle. So how can I be reasonably certain that you are not using me to betray my own beliefs?"

If only Barrett could see for himself what Asran had seen. Examine the other's memories as had been done to him. And that was the answer of course.

"Show me."
It was not the petulant demand of a child. Nor was it some weak plea of desperation. It was simply what he needed in order to clear the doubt from his mind and provide the help that Asran requested.

[Finodborn]

It was difficult to understand how this process of control worked; even though it was happening inside your own self. The sensation was perhaps comparable to that of a plaster mask you have just made on your face; as it hardens, it becomes more and more difficult to move the facial muscles. You are still able to "command" them to move, yet an exterior force prevents this signal to have effect. Maybe the paralyzed experience something likewise. As far as the movements he did perform, he was observing them as if he were a third person, not anticipating or expecting them at all.

Barrett did not really know about this subject, but based on what he went through now, he should conclude that this process was much harder to stop once control was lost than to prevent it from happening in the first place. After all, Barrett had resisted -if only for a flicker- initially, but now he wasn't even able to brace himself in order to use force against something. It was very much like pushing a city wall with your feet on a muddy soil.

"If I am chiding you, than it is for the same reasons as a father chides his son who's playing with sharp pointy objects!" The man raised his voice. " If any of the people involved would have spotted you, you would be dead now, in the best of cases. And believe me, they keep a keen eye on their business. It is true that after spotting you at the scroll rack, I set up a test. I wanted to know whether you were shadowing me. I was astounded to find the same little goblin at the very same scroll rack I was performing research in, after I had bumped into you on the stairs earlier. If you were designated to follow me by this order, you would certainly be capable enough to see through my little magic trick with the scrolls, so that was a first selection. The works I had taken there were linked with that anagram -one of the many they employ-. There was only one work left in that series, "Trap Doors", more precisely. So, if you were following me, you would check whether I had taken that one too. I put on my cloak to be a little less eye-catching and I waited for you.

By now, I have been able to determine that your mind has not been touched by this darkness. This is hence nothing but a strange case of fate.
Concerning your mind; yes, the destructive mechanism works in an anticipating way, off course. The way it works is uhm... difficult to explain, and there is no time for that right now." Asran apparently disliked the subject. "I have indeed put up some mental defences in you to make intrusion more difficult, as you clearly haven't learned to defend yourself properly yet. Our best hope is however that nobody will take interest in a novice of Aurelius, and thus you will be left alone. It is a rather shabby shield to hide behind, but as we only have three days to go, I say we should take the risk." He scratched his chin for a while. "Though I might have something that will protect you a bit better."

He disappeared trough one of the doors, revealing the messiest room barrett had ever seen, and returned a few burns later with some sort of bracelet. "It will not really defend you against intrusion, but it will enhance your focus and centering, which will make you a more difficult prey. Perhaps it can save your life during the ritual too. Have it." He handed over a silver bracelet. It was sober of design. There was a little wave engraved in it, going all the way round. Otherwise it was pretty plain. But the silver looked like it had just been polished, which was very unlikely considering the room it came from.

He continued. "The memory works in strange ways, employing associations and images that are only understandable for yourself. Hence such specific information cannot be retracted easily by somebody with my skill. In fact, hypnosis would be more suited. So no, I do not now when you got here, what you know and don't know, etcetera. Frankly, I'm not all that interested either.

By the nature of your questions, I can see the critical spirit is strong in you. It is a skill most valued by Aurelius. I know that the way I'm handling this is hardly consistent with his teachings. I should normally gently lead you to personal insight in the matter by asking you smart questions and all that, but unfortunately, we really don't have time for such frivolities. Sure, all your possible explanations are plausible. That's why I don't ask you to devote yourself, I simply force you to devote yourself. It is sad that I have to act like this, but I myself in turn am forced by the situation at hand.

The last request you mention disappoints me a bit. Starting from the hypothesis that I am able to grant you access to my memory in such a way, and moreover that you are able to understand what you see there. Would it not be a logical presumption that if I had such well-developed skills, I could also give you the impression you were having a guided tour through my mind, while at the same time I was showing you exactly what I wanted you to see? In fact, the latter is not so difficult; a bit of illusionary magic would do the trick just fine. Whereas what you ask is not something I can manage. Let me conclude that such an attempt would be a waist of scarce time and energy. And let us praise the Thinker for that, for I have done many a thing in taverns not suited for young eyes like your own.

[Barrett]

Barrett was disappointed to learn that his uncovering the trap door book had been what Asran had intended. But the exercise had been fun, and it was better than ending up dead.

"I suppose my lack of specific knowledge will be a sore point with me for some time yet. And yes I had considered the possibility of such an illusion being substituted for the real thing. My hope was that such an elaborate deception would have sufficient opportunity for error in its crafting that I might notice- or at least find out something useful. "
Barrett frowned. Asran might still be hedging and there was no sure way to tell. Clearly he would have to trust this man solely out of compulsion and necessity. It displeased him because he suspected doubts might betray his ability to help, but there was nothing else to be done. Still, his spirit was not entirely downcast. There came a slight twinkle to his eye.
"I've seen a fair bit in taverns myself, not all of it suitable for repetition."

The facts that Asran was able to admit misconduct, had not tried to harm (or even kill) Barrett as he was clearly capable, and was an unorthodox fellow convinced Barrett to trust the older man. The last was something Barrett had learned to value in a person simply to keep life interesting.
Hopefully it won't mean the end of me in this instance.

Barrett eyed the bracelet dubiously. It seemed good work and had survived the dinginess of the cluttered room. Such adornment was highly out of character for Barrett, but no one on the isle would know that.
"This isn't likely to be recognized is it? It might seem be seen as strange that a novice should come by such a thing on his first day here. I can hardly claim it as a gift from you if questioned, can I?"

"Also, would you recommend a text or tutor for centering or should I just jump right in on my own? Should I try to learn something about these manipulations of which you speak?"

Once the older man had addressed his remaining questions Barrett would be, he supposed, ready to go back and start work on the challenges before him.

He let out a sigh.
"This seems all a bit much, but I shall do my best. The scroll will be primary. If I have questions regarding rhythm or pronunciation I will seek you out. I will learn what centering I may so that I may not be totally useless and still have a chance to survive... if such is truly an option."

"I suppose I should leave you to your recovery and study. Mind, just don't go walking me through any ponds or such: Friar Allard would not likely forgive me for tracking up the halls."

[Finodborn]

"Lack of knowledge is a permanent sore point for those wise enough to realise, boy. The more one knows, the more one becomes aware of the fact that there's much more he doesn't know."

He chuckled. "Please don't think the bracelet is an ancient heirloom of incredible magical potency. Though a jeweler will value it highly because of the fine quality of the silver, the enchantment isn't truly powerful. Not that I could weave it, by the way, but objects of this genre are very common. Many orders lend out similar focus enhancers to their new acolytes to help them through the initial phase of their training. Therefore, it should not draw attention to you normally."

"I must say the fact that you have no knowledge at all in the field of centering worries me. It is very unlikely that you'll make any effective progress in three days. In fact, I shouldn't advise you to read this or that, in the spirit of our order. Though that last word often seems almost ironic in our case," he added. "Should we still be here in four days, I recommend Meditational Methods and Techniques by the hand of Brahmati Vashnahiptu nonetheless. Very unconventional, so immensely interesting too. I'm afraid you will need your time however, and I urge you to give absolutely priority to the scroll."

"As every flicker counts, I am afraid I have to stop this conversation now. There is so much yet to be done, and I do not like our prospects at all. The fact that we are not presented with any choices, brings me frustration of the purest kind. Too much depends on our actions."

"I shall now bring you back to the library." This time, the sensation was different. It was as if Barret merely blinked. When he opened up his eyes, he saw the great library in front of him.

[Barrett]

Finding himself back in the library, Barrett decided to look up a few texts. On the off chance he was being watched, he wanted to give no sign of his true concerns. He selected a dictionary of Elvish and a slim book of Elvish verse- as if he had decided to make languages his priority.

Both at the index and walking through the library, Barrett was much more conscious of the movements of those around him. He tried to pay more attention to his own steps, making as little noise as possible while keeping his movements inconspicuous. Here and there he paused to peruse a random sampling from the nearby shelves to see if anything looked interesting- and to see if anyone looked to be following him.

Once he tracked down his Elvish texts he headed back to the dormitory.

He intended to stow the new texts in his room and take a walk to relax for a few burns before setting his attention to his assigned tasks. Perhaps the dormitory courtyard would be a nice place. He decided that neither the scroll nor his writing kit would leave his side for the time being. Just in case.

[Barrett]

Barrett took a short walk through the garden allowing the fresh air and simple surroundings to ease away the remnants of his earlier excitement. Agitation would not aid him in the tasks ahead. Once his head was cleared a bit, he found a comfortable spot and contemplated the concept of centering. Most references he was familiar with used the word meditation and were mainly short story passages that offered little insight into the actual process. He chose not to worry about his lack of knowledge.
One has to start somewhere. Clear away worrisome thoughts. Concentrate on a slow steady breathing pattern...

Barrett tried to clear his head. Some concerns refused to be easily banished. These he accepted one at a time. His worry for his family, fear of deception, his lack of experience. He faced each item, accepted it and set it aside. Several burns into the process, he felt sufficiently balanced to begin. His breathing had slowed. He took deep, rhythmic breaths and traced the path of the air into his body and back out on the exhale.

Centering. He let his senses seek out the energy that was within him, that distinguished him from the surrounding energies. All of creation was shot through with energy. Energy forms that corresponded to the physical presence of things. This was a new perspective, a new way for him to attempt to view the world and himself. Energy, inside and overlaying everything. Barrett imagined it as a pattern like the flecks of light on water or the flickering lights of the stars in the sky. The trick was to see the flecks, the particles, and to distinguish which ones belonged to which patterns. He started close, with his own body, trying to see the little bits that made up the energy he held within himself. The pattern that defined his personal energy.

[Finodborn]

OOC:I'm going to presume you're not wearing the bracelet Asran has given you, 'k?

Calming down the worries that were burning inside was apparently a beneficent thing, regardless whether he was really "meditating" now or not. He noticed he was really very tired under that thin layer of excitement. As his breathing slowed down however, energy seemed to be gradually flowing back into his mind and body.

When he started peering for energies, things got more difficult. As he was looking around, trying to chase a particular sensation, he was losing ground, as he felt his peace of mind ebbing away. This way of working was to frustrating, and produced new stress.

"You're not going to succeed that way" said a voice. It sounded very loud, but the sunlight looks so much brighter when you just wake up. Barrett recognized it as the voice of friar Allard.

"It is not such an easy thing to learn without any structure. Not impossible either, but not easy. The rick is to get very much rooted in your own energy. To accomplish that, you need to focus on a constant, something that will remain stable. See it as a... life line you can hold on to while wading through the water that is your spirit, looking for that tone, color, sensation that represents yourself to you. Then tie it firmly to your line, and hey! you're ready to go looking in the outside world already. That's why most order teach meditation in fist instance by learning their novices to focus on a internal or external sound, a mantra, sometimes even a smell. Only those who are more advanced in meditation can do without this constant inner focus."

How the friar diagnosed what was not working with Barrett, was a mystery. He sounded as if he'd done it before. "I have not seen you at dinner today? Let me guess... "Eat only when you have to?" Only one day, and you've already found one of his teachings. Most of your order advance slower."

"What I really wanted to talk you about. You mentioned you are willing to do chores in order to pay for your stay here? Well, we're a bit in distress. The laundry is piling up. But more importantly, we have a meeting with some of the representants of the orders three days from now. Which means our halls need to be sweeped, furniture has to be cleansed of dust etcetera. I'd be very grateful if you'd help a hand. It will be very busy here, but after the meeting, we can let our filth pile up again." He winked. "So I can count on you?"

[Barrett]

"You're not going to succeed that way"
At first he thought it was his internal voice. But no, it was Friar Allard.
Barrett left off the frustrating task for a bit and focused on the friar's words.
"A smell? Really? One remembered or present? And does that- "
He broke off, embarrassed to be all but interrogating the man who had been so generous as to offer what advice he had already given.
"Do pardon my single-minded battering away at the issue, Friar Allard. I take it you've seen a beginner go through such dismal failure at centering before."
A rueful little smile tugged at Barrett's mouth.

"Dinner... oh! Well there just seemed things of greater importance. One hunger does cancel out the other and is much harder to satisfy. Most of my order? So there are many of us? I've only encountered one so far, although our reputation with the library's clerks led me to believe there might be a legion of us swooping in upon them like locusts."

Barrett listened to all Friar Allard had to say.
Three days? Surely not a coincidence that. And of course it would be poor form to beg out of duty with such an outlandish excuse as 'I'm sorry, I have to learn how to save the isle in three days.' But perhaps chores will help: physical activity is a good way to drill oneself on memorized passages.

"Of course I will help with the cleaning. I have some rather imperative duties to attend, but the physical work will be a good way to break up the more thought-oriented labors I suspect."

[Finodborn]

"Excellent" commented the skinny friar in light blue. "You can get to the laundry as soon as you see fit. There will be others there too, don't worry, you're not on your own. Now, if you excuse me, I have other businesses that require my attention, as always. Don't forget to enjoy the garden in between training and work!" Allard stood up and left.

The garden was indeed a place that emitted beauty and peace. It had the same scarce and rather unvaried fauna as the rest of the Isle, but the flora made up for it. There were flowers and spiceries of all kinds, in every color Barrett had ever seen -and many more-.

The great condition of the plants and the soft green grass indicated that this garden was the result of hours of extensive labour. But the result was incredible: the careful composition of different shades and tints made it look like a Grandmaster's painting, and the smells were better than even that of the kitchen of Barrett's mum.

[Barrett]

Laundry, not my favorite chore but if it needs be done...

Barrett decided to try again. This time he determined to be less cerebral about the process. Taking the friar's advice, he focused his attention on the smells of the garden. he picked an herb, something strong and vaguely familiar- perhaps tarragon or bee balm. Focus... relaxed breathing. The scent was a constant to connect him to the here and now. When he felt that there was a stable constant connection, Barrett turned his senses inward.

[Finodborn]

He managed quite well for a beginner, and every now and then he got an idea of what this centered state was. The herbal smell he'd chosen worked well for him, as it was a very specific focal point, very recognizable yet not to strong, so it didn't distract him.

However, the sense of smell is one that is most easily tired, and within burns he was sniffing to much to keep his concentration. He was making quick progress, in any case, and he didn't even have to use the little aid Asran had given him.

In the mean while, the sun was giving it's last burns of sunlight, and darkness would come soon now.

[Barrett]

Not quite having achieved the level of understanding he would have liked, Barrett decided to be pleased that he had managed to make any progress. At least it was something to build upon. Perhaps he would attempt using a sound next time, as relying on the sense of smell seemed to limit the length of time he could spend in meditation. Noting that dusk was upon him, Barrett returned to his room, lit a candle at the desk and set about his real task.

He unrolled the scroll and set it out on his desk. His hands caressed the work respectfully. The texture of the material, the quality of the ink and the care in the scribing were all things he admired. Was it an old scroll or something Asran had created specifically for the current task? Had someone else done the writing? What did it tell him about that person?

After a few burns spent appraising the scroll, the young man set about reading through it in its entirety. He wanted to make sure that he could read the characters and pronounce the words clearly and correctly. Any ambiguous characters or spellings or any words he could not pronounce with certainty would need to be noted and later looked up.

Then he began the process of memorization. He always found it easy to consider the whole of the work so that each bit that he memorized would make sense in its context.

Start with but a phrase. Once that is certain, carry the sentence to completion. Then the next few until there comes a logical transition. Then make certain what has been read is still with you before moving on.

At each new section or thought, he stopped and repeated the whole of what he had read from memory, making certain that he had mastered the old before adding anything new. Examining the scroll for any ambiguous words or meanings which should be clarified on the morrow.
After a few marks, when he was satisfied that he had a workable portion memorized, he carefully re-rolled the scroll and stepped out of his room. He made his way quietly through the hall and outside.

If there was enough light to walk by, Barrett intended to walk and review what he had learned of the scroll thus far. The rhythm and physical activity always helped solidify what he had memorized and the task of directing his body about also insured that he learned well enough not to be easily distracted.

[Finodborn]

OOC:Owkelidokeli, if you agree, I'd like to make a time jump now Barrett. If you're unfamiliar with the concept: it means you describe in general what you do for a set period of time (I'd propose two days...) Then, I tell you where you arrive. That way, we can avoid some boring days. Off course, if you'd rather play it out because you have spectacular plans, we can do that too.

[Barrett]

Barrett spent the next couple of days in a rather regular pattern of work. Work on the scroll each night. Work on laundry and cleaning chores each morning. Work on his centering in the early evenings. He used each task to reinforce the others. The scroll work usually left him exhausted at night. The physical labor in the mornings forced him to wake his body and exercise physically while the rhythm of the chore work served to bolster his memory of the scroll's words. Each tradetide brought a brief visit to the library to research any unclear information and "casually bump into" Asran if necessary. Then centering practice, sometimes in the garden, sometimes in his room. For this Barrett tried various locations and levels of physical activity to see how they affected his ability to meditate. After the first day or so, he was comfortable enough with his own hard work to try on the bracelet and see what difference it made in his efforts.

He was rather more self-contained during this time than was usual. It was required by the amount of internal concentration and discipline for both the centering and the scroll work. Still, he tried to make sure he exchanged friendly greetings and learned the names of any fellow residents and workers at the dormitory whom he might encounter. He took one or two of the common meals, but soon hit upon the idea of storing fruit and bread in his room for consumption as the need came.

And each night, for just a moment, he allowed himself a brief walk in the garden and glimpse up at the stars to ponder the mysterious pattern they held. And a quick silent prayer that the Thinker help him to find his center and not waver at whatever hard tasks might come to him in the day ahead.

OOC: I am certain that, between the two of us, playing it out would be fascinating if low-key. However, it seems a good place for a time jump to me. Is this post sufficient?

[Finodborn]

The following days were a sequence of adversity. The scroll was written in some strange language Barrett couldn't associate with anything he knew. Yet at the same time, the sounds had something familiar, they seemed to relate to something deep down his subconsciousness. The words meant nothing to him however, and there was no interpunction or whatsoever, so it was hard to discern any structure or meaning. The writing itself was also strange, as each letter was absolutely regular, though they all looked hand-written. This was a disadvantage, because it gave the scroll a homogenous, uniform look that made concentration even more difficult.

Though Barrett had a splendid memory and a wonderful brain, the task was daunting, and after two full days, he had perhaps memorized a fourth of the scroll, without knowing how to pronounce the words nor knowing whether the tempo he mastered was sufficient.

Friar Allard and his rotten jobs played a part in this too, however. Barrett did great, as he was used to hard work -unlike many of the other acolytes, often frail children of nobility and clergy. Because of that, Allard didn't miss an opportunity to praise him with his work, promising him an even better cell in the future, but giving him more work and responsibilities too.

To make things even more problematic, Asran didn't show up at the library, so Barrett was left alone with his questions, and could only worry about the absence of the priest.

The one thing that did work out, was the centering. It was a good thing Barrett had started training without the magical charm, for it made very clear how and why it helped when he did employ it. it produced a very clear focal point, without any sensory qualities, that made focusing infinitely much easier, much like a lighthouse makes it easy for a ship to navigate. it became easy for Barrett to find his center, and the few experiments he'd done with exploring the external world hade even been slightly successful, as he'd become aware every now and then of the strands of energy between things.

Time was running out in the mean while, and as the third and last day before the summoning began, Barrett had nothing but bad prospects. Apparently, his prayer to Aurelius had not been very successful. desperation drew near.

OOC: If you wish, you can give a general reaction to what has happened here. If you don't, you can start a post with waking up at the beginning of Morning tide of your last day.

[Barrett]

Barrett woke on the morning of his third day with a general sense of gloom. His efforts with the scroll were far from satisfactory. But any progress there would be useless if he could not find Asran to complete the work. The elder priest had been mysteriously absent. Was he afraid that conferring with Barrett would expose him? Had he been beset, captured or killed by those against whom he plotted? Or had the entire scroll and story task been merely a prevarication? More and more it seemed likely that the whole story was some elaborate trick. Perhaps it was time to seek out some help. The library had been of no use in unraveling the scroll's mystery. Asran was both absent and of questionable intentions.

Thinker, I suspect I am failing to see something here. My work with the scroll is fruitless. I am no closer to knowing if Asran is trustworthy than I was before. My work for Allard is productive, but if devastation comes before the morrow it will have been for naught. And that is the crux of my problem. If the danger is real, then there is no time to seek out more answers. Of course, since I've not managed the memory task and am no closer to interpreting the scroll, perhaps it will not matter if I use what time is left to me to hunt for some answers.

Uncle Jacob's message came to mind. Perhaps it was time to find this Hattark Öçal.

So early that morning, Barrett went to Friar Allard and explained that he might be unavailable for a bit as he had been instructed by one of his order to seek out another master, one Hattark Öçal. Despite his intention to show no alarm, lines of worry were plain on his face.

[Finodborn]

In the past few days, Barrett had learned to find his way through the dormitory complex, and he also knew where the office of Allard was. Though the friar spent most of his time in the chair in the hall, he was often to be found in his office too, taking care of all kinds of correspondence and administration. Barrett didn't really know what the man's line of work was apart from organizing day to day life in the dormitory, but he had other things on his mind now.

"Enter, my dear support and aid in these busy days," greeted the friar," and have a seat. How can I help you?" As Barrett started about needing some time off, the man showed signs of disappointment. When he mentioned the name of Hattark Öçal, Allard's face cleared up a bit. "Oh yes, I can imagine that they send a novice of Aurelius to master Öçal. He is a bit of an extravagant character, but you can learn a great deal from him. The few conversations I've had with him were outspokenly strange but they taught me a lot. I presume you know where to find him?"

[Barrett]

Barrett was somewhat relieved to find the friar was not too displeased with him. He was actually quite touched at Allard's attitude.

"Actually, Friar Allard, I am not certain where to seek him out. I would be grateful for your assistance in that matter. Hopefully the problem I am set will not take much time to unravel and the sooner I find him, the sooner I hope to return and catch up with the work here."

[Finodborn]

"Oh, I shall draw you a little map then, shall I? He lives in this outrageous house that really doesn't fit in with the rest of the Isle, right... here. You'll recognize it, believe me." He marked a location just outside the village.

"Then I hope he lets you go soon, so I can use your young muscles for my goals again." He smiled. "Is that all?"