HEROIC REALMS

...Artha stood out on the balcony of the large house where he had spent the last several years of his life training to be a mage, under the guidance and tutoring of his mentor, the dwarven mage Alkanahl. In his hands, Artha held the staff those in the stronghold had last seen him with... but now, the staff was broken, shattered over one knee a week before. Until then he had done nothing but research, in order to find any logic or theory that could prove Magic exists without a connection to the Gods. And in the rage at his failure, this first true failure in his study, he shattered his staff and cast it aside.

He had calmed since then, perhaps since throwing away research and magic actually allowed him a chance to get several good nights of sleep. In any case, one of the cats that Alkanahl kept at the house found its way to Artha, and pawed at his leg. Artha reached down and pet the little orange tabby, thinking aloud. "I refuse to be a tool of the gods, I had thought... a tool, a vessel of Arlon through my powers, just a puppet of the gods' will."
He chuckled weakly, sitting down setting the little cat in his lap. He sighed lightly as he looked at the cat, then at his hands."Now... I'm not so sure. But..."

The cat meowed, climbing up on Artha's hands and pawing towards his fluffy hair. Artha looked up at his now-very-VERY-shaggy hair, as he hadn't done much in the way of grooming his hair since leaving the stronghold. But whatever he was thinking was quickly ignored as he saw the clouds. "...but..." He smiled, finally, an expression he hadn't worn in nearly a moon. "...a tool... a puppet can't dream." He held his hand out towards the sky, closing his eyes, and focused as if preparing to cast a spell. He felt the magic around his hand as if a breeze in the mid-day sky, unable to form due to a lack of his magical focus, just the free magical energy.
"A dream... a dream to touch the sky with my own two hands. A dream that I cannot reach by simply questioning faith and logic. I am a scholar." He looked at the fragments of his staff, taking up the long spiraled section in his left hand, and smiling brighter. "A scholar, and a Mage of Arlon. And neither can simply idle here while knowledge lies waiting to be learned."

Artha set the cat down, and climbed up onto the railing, balancing precariously for a moment, then steadying himself. Tears formed at his eyes, and he let out a yell as he held his staff aloft in a manner one would find reminiscent of Arlon's holy symbol.
"PRAISE ARLON!"

((Just thought everyone might want to see this little aside. ^^; ))