Novice's Trial

Vereor Magus stood before Sedridor, the Arch Wizard of the Wizards’ Tower in the Trials room. Here is where hopefuls attempted to pass the trial and join the Wizards’ Tower. Then, someday, they may come back and pass the next trial, and be given their blue, green, or even red robes. Now, though, Vereor stood to attempt his entry trial.

The room was plain, a small square with only one table, only one chair. Sedridor occupied the single chair, staring at Vereor with old, blue eyes. A blue wizard’s hat sat on Sedridor’s head over his long curtains of white hair. Sedridor wore the plain blue robe of the Wizards’ Tower, with a Legends Cape on his back and a Saradomin Symbol on a chain around his neck, barely visible through his beard.

Sedridor cleared his throat loudly, Vereor realized he had been staring at Sedridor’s magnificent Saradomin Staff, imagining himself wielding a similar weapon, gaining the respect of those who spurned him. Instead of his pathetic wooden staff that even now pushed splinters into his fingers. Sedridor looked at him sternly, and Vereor returned his glare with a glare of his own.

“Okay, by this paper you are sixteen, you name is Vereor Magus, and you have had no prior training, besides self-teaching?” Sedridor asked, his eyebrows knitting together in disapproval. Those who were “self taught” rarely managed to pass the trial, as easy as the trial was.

Vereor nodded. Although he was forced to be standing, it allowed him to look down at Sedridor, allowed him to give himself some amount of self importance.

Sedridor nodded then, “Very well. First task.” Sedridor took a moment, going through his deep pockets searching for something. After a few minutes of searching through his very, very large pockets, he came up with a crossbow bolt, set in the top with an Opal.

Sedridor also fished out an Astral and two Air runes, laying them on the table next to the Opal Bolt. Sedridor sat back in his chair, robes swishing, and proclaimed, “Enchant it!”

Vereor nodded, walking forward. His eyes stared at the bolt as he picked up the runes. They easily fit in the palm of his hand, each glowing with its inner magic.

He concentrated completely on the bolt, all of his being focused on the bolt. Enchanting Opal Bolts was a low spell, but one that Vereor had never yet attempted.

Then, he raised the runes, and the bolt began to glow. The glow subsided in moments, and the runes in Vereor’s hand disappeared completely.

Sedridor leaned back forward, surprised that Vereor had managed to enchant the bolt. “Very good. Now we shall see if you managed to enchant the bolt, of it you only got halfway there.” At those words, Vereor’s nose crinkled up, insulted.

Sedridor summoned forth a Spirit Wolf with the throw of a pouch, the Wolf was a majestic creature, even though it was the lowest of all of the summons. Sedridor then unceremoniously threw the bolt into the creature.

The creature jumped back in surprise, not really hurt by a thrown bolt, but surprised its master had attacked it. While it thought about what it should do, a lighting bolt suddenly flew from the ceiling and smote the poor animal. All that remained was ashes.

“Very, very good!” Sedridor congratulated as he sat back in his chair. Vereor breathed a sigh of relief. Two more tests to go.

Sedridor then put a new pile of runes on the table, an assortment of most of the beginner, as thought of by greater mages, runes. “This trial is perhaps the easiest, but perhaps the hardest. I want you to sort out the runes into seven Wind Stikes, three Confuses, a Water Strike, and two Earth Strikes. You have one minute.”

Vereor’s red eyes widened, but he knew the spells that Sedridor had just called out, he quickly sorted out the runes, first placing them into piles of the individual runes, Air, Water, Earth, Mind and Body. Then he quickly sorted them out into the specified number of the specified spells. There was still a pile of Air, Mind, and Earth runes left over.

“Time’s up,” Sedridor called out, already looking over the runes. It was done perfectly, seven Wind Strikes, three Confuses, a Water Strike, and two Earth Strikes. With the perfect number of runes left over. More than one hopeful had saw the left over runes and thought they had done something wrong. Thus they made the mistake of adding them to other spells.

Vereor stared down at Sedridor as he once again moved through his pockets. Finally, he came up with what he wanted, a small pouch with an Goblin designed on it. Vereor started, to his knowledge, which was very good thanks to his close proximity to Varrock Palace Library, there were none of them in existence.

Sedridor then leaned forward in his chair again, causing his beard to dragon the floor, and stared into Vereor’s eyes.

“The other two trials tested your skill and your knowledge. Now I will test you fighting ability. Take up the Wind Strikes you have just sorted, and prepare to face your enemy!” Sedridor ordered as he threw down the pouch. A Goblin jumped forth, jeering and bearing a crude wooden spear. Sedridor pointed at Vereor, and the goblin nodded. The goblin then rushed at Vereor, giving him very little time in which to react.

Vereor, without even thinking, swung his staff at the goblin, knocking him back against the stone wall. The goblin fell for a moment, dazed, and then jumped back to its feet and rushed once more. Vereor’s staff did little damage, the goblin was wearing goblin mail and a crudely made medium helmet.

Vereor quickly grabbed up the runes for a Wind Strike, and quickly cast the spell, knocking the goblin back against the wall once again. This time he did damage, dirty red goblin blood seeped through the goblin mail; spells were only amplified by heavy armor.

But the goblin only snorted, and got back to its feet. Vereor launched off another Wind Strike, wasting no time. This spell caught the goblin in the face, and it fell backwards, dead. It disappeared completely the next second as the summon ended.

Sedridor got to his feet, “You have passed the trial. Report to the Library for your first lessons.”

Seridor sat in his room on the underground floor of the Wizards’ Tower. His face was concentrating, for he was in the middle of a spell.

“He is indeed talented… But he seems to have the make of a Zamorakian Mage,” Sedridor said through the spell, his words being transferred through the Contact spell to Aubrey in Varrock.

Aubrey replied after a few moments of silence, “That is the truth. But I think you and the other mages can change him.”

Sedridor nodded to himself. “We will try.”