A cold wind blew down the stone streets of Varrhaven, carrying with it the freezing chill of a particularly harsh winter. This wind had come a long way, travelling down the slopes of the Majora mountain range, and whisking through the valley towards the small city upon the frozen river. It seeped through the door into a small pub, and ruffled the coat of a women drinking a tepid mug of local beer. Outside the moon illuminated the frost-bitten landscape with it's white glow, and inside one could hardly tell afternoon from midnight. In a pub, gloom was gloom.

Things could be worse for this woman, but they could certainly better. Disgraced and outcast from the prestigious academy of magic- and probably on the Night Guard hitlist. She had hardly more to her name than the clothes on her back and whatever she could beg from her family members in town.

Which did not include, apparently, staying the night. Outcasts were not long for this world, and as much as one could supposedly leave the academy and lead a normal life- that was utterly unheard of. You toed the line... or you dissapeared.

This woman, draped with a warm coat that she had stolen from a cousin, and with a small dagger on the inside of her right pantleg her own protection, could indeed have it worse.

The beer could've been warmer.

Her name was Patrianne, and she was well aware that her name (or a version of it- sounded more like "Patran"), was being spoken by a pair of grisly men in the corner of the room. Night Guard informants, vigilantes- maybe disgruntled students. It didn't matter, she wasn't planning on staying long enough to find out. Her emerald eyes glowed for a slight moment, the light revealing the curvature of her attractive face, as she tugged on the barkeeps shirt with a magical bit of force.

He turned, and shook his head. "For the last time, I don't care /what/ degrees you have, we don't have a tab."

Patrianne sighed exasperately. "Forget it, I just wanted to pay up," she said, and reached in her pocket. Sighing inwardly as she discovered just how deep she was, she pulled out her last coin and palmed it against the table.

Not waiting for the barkeep to realize it was fake- and perhaps he wouldn't care considering how cheap her order had been- she quickly pivoted on the stool and strode towards the door. A glance towards the room revealed that her shadows had vanished, and she reached out two slender arms to pull up her hood.

Pushing the door open, she entered into the bitterly cold night with all the grandeur of a drunkard wandering into a wall. She coughed up some cold air and shivered, shoving her hands into her pockets in an attempt to keep warm as she kept towards the edges of the street. The town chapel- worshipping some god or other- had been her lodging for the last few days, and it would be tonight as well.

Patrianne was entirely aware that two people were following her down the street. Even buzzed on cheap beer she was still able to hear the obvious crunches in the hardened snow behind her, and her right hand quickly shifted from her pocket to inside her pant leg, grasping the handle of the dagger.

In the end it wouldn't need to be used, as a more abstract fight broke out in the street that night. Patrianne felt the telltale sign of energy being collected- something akin to your hair standing on end near a source of static electricity, except in your brain. She quickly spun around and sized up the two men, her own eyes quickly coming to glow even brighter than their own.

It was the folly of the regular man, or untrained mage, to assume that magic was a simple principle of power. That strength, or will, or some sort of direct application of energy is what gave a powerful mage their abilities. This was wrong, utterly wrong, and any trained mage would've known this. These two were not trained, just two vigilantes- maybe students on break- that had kept up with the latest bounties and figured some Academy welp- barely even twenty-five!- would go down easy with some simple shock magic.

They were quick mistaken, and should have gone with a more violent approach. Instead when they released their simply magic it was quickly countered. Not by superior power- but by superior knowledge. Patrianne had studied electricity, and understood how it worked. While they had simply unleashed two psuedo-directional bolts at her, it was an easy matter to assemble water particles in the air to allow all those electrons to flow right back against them.

They were then stuck, as Patrianne poured her own arcing electrical energy into the flow they had started. They fell to the ground, writhing silently in agony as a puddle of melted snow formed around them and secured their doom. Patrianne sighed, and pivoted, quickly darting away before anyone could see. This is exactly what had gotten her where she was- but it was so... easy. They had started it in any case, and she had ended it- permanently.

Seeking refuge in the warmth of the chapel, she quickly shut the stone door behind her as soon as she was inside, and slid to the floor against it. She was tired. Tired, hungry, and probably hopeless. Her little encounter in the street would certainly get the attention of the Night Guard if she didn't have it already. Church or not, they would storm the place if need be to get her. The Night Guard /always/ won.

There was however, perhaps one way out. She smiled at the idea to herself, remembering an early lecture years ago- a more innocent time. It was perhaps foolish, stupid even- and maybe even utterly impossible. Then again- her back was against the wall.

What if... the Night Guard wasn't around to win?

--------

It was early in the morning when an old woman, opening her shop for the day, had noticed the smell. In these long winter nights it was too dark to make anything out in the gloom- especially to her old eyes- so she had investigated.

The scream she released upon finding two charred corpses, partially eaten by feral animals, frozen to the street was heard for nearly a half-mile around. First had come the guard, a dashing young one that was smarter than he looked- and he quickly took the woman home and left a simple message for his commander once he she was safe with her husband.

"Night Guard, 10th block and Seven."

The machine of government was, in many cases, a slow and ponderous one to move. In a world like this however, certain parts were well kept and lubricated so much they nearly dripped. The Night Guard was one such organization, and it had responded swiftly. Their commanders needed only to know that two had been killed by a use of magic, and an agent was dispatched. Upon his arrival at the scene less than an hour later, he folded his wings and leaned down as he shined an eletric torch at the two unfortunate vigilantes.

An older man, wearing a jacket that would seem impossibly thin in the terrible weather of an early morning in Varrhaven. Enchantments made that jacket worth more than it's weight in gold, and it kept him exactly as warm as he needed to be, and well protected. His face as he looked closely at the corpses was steely and calculating, with a fashionable amount of facial hair. He placed the torch beside him to illuminate the scene as he opened his notebook and wrote. This mans name was [p]Vizeger, and he was eager to solve his first case.

Magical backfire, he wrote, as evidenced by a thin stream of ice leading away. They had engaged someone, and had been broiled alive in their own discharge as they quickly learned how electric conductivity worked. Whoever did was pumping energy /in/, this wasn't an act of self defense- this was a murder. Perhaps they had been arranging a kidnapping, perhaps not- but it was no cause to end both their lives in such a grisly matter. He put the pencil to his chin as he pondered the specifics, trying to ensure he didn't leave anything out.

It was too bad they had been burned so thoroughly- he couldn't even ID these two easily. They would have to be shipped off to the Academy, as soon as they were peeled from the pavement, and identified magically.

Vizeger pocketed his notebook and marked the area off, spraying a light purple paint that signalled to any citizens a simple message- keep away. He would send for a collection team later for now...

The flashlight had illuminated, thanks to it's angle, faint footprints in the snow. Following these Vizeger was led through the town and towards the centre, quickly finding himself up against a locked stone door set into an imposing monolith that stood over the town. He tried the door again and again, and then raised his hand to knock- before he noticed the inscription.

"Only She May Enter."

Vizeger sighed and went limp. Empress worshippers- naturally- and the door was bored to anyone with the audacity to be born a man. He certainly had the authority to just break down the door and storm the place- but on his first outing? It was foolish, and he stepped back, considering his options. He was stuck for now, and was about due to report back anyway.

So, with one last pause to utter a foal curse against that unhearing door, he pivoted and swept open his wings, and snow swirled around him as they flapped against the air to raise him into the sky. The sun was just cresting the horizon now, and it's rays cast a beautiful pink light across the valley.

It was times like these he felt truly blessed to have the gift of flight, as he was able to enjoy the long shadows cast by the sun across the snow-covered down and country surrounding it. The flight to the nearest patrol house took hours, but it was time that went quickly as he enjoyed the beautiful vista below him.

The patrol house itself was an ancient building, covered with deep layers of snow and nestled against a softly rolling hill. A waterwheel stood beside it, frozen to the river that powered it in warmer months, and a grey smoke rose from the chimmney.