Searching for Gold. [Open]

[Graffius]

25th of Spring, 512

The docks of Sunberth were alive with the ceaseless shouting of sailors intermingled with oceanic whispers and the sounds of cargo being hauled to and fro. Seagulls cawed above, soaring with wings of white as pelicans dove to catch fish in their bowled beaks, it was beautiful in a rustic sort of way, the diamond shimmer of the coast-line, the scintillating glow of the sun and a myriad of old ships that lined the harbor. And as Graffius stepped downward to the ship ramp, he never felt more out of place. “Why you’re tall man aren’t cha?” As the spindly Ethaefal stepped from the ramp and onto the docks, a prostitute spoke to him; he thought of commenting on her nature of work, the filth of her dress and the possible filth beneath it but instead, opted to remain silent and carry forward wordlessly. It wasn’t favorable to standout in Sunberth. He kept his head low and a hood over his head for good measure. He doubted he’d be recognized anyways, and if he was, nobody would most likely care. Deaths in Sunberth were a daily occurrence and he figured his previous murder (almost) of that young boy, Darian, would be lost amongst the countless other deaths that had passed during his departure. Atleast he hoped. “Excuse me…Sir. What would be an inn you’d recommend to a stranger?” He had made his way passed the docks now and onto the main stretch of city; stopping to ask a local shopkeeper his opinion on the matter. A butcher wearing worm eaten rags and whom responded with yellow teeth. The man would slam his knife down into the edge of his table and cock his head upwards in thought. “Well. Go up the street towards the main marketplace, there’s an inn there.” He spit on the ground and pulled his knife out of the wooden shop table. “There are all sorts of them really. Take your pick. Now if yer done botherin’ me, I gots to gets back to work.” Graffius offered a thankful nod, his tall, gaunt frame towering over the citizens of Sunberth as he made his way fluidly through them, aimed towards the center of town, looking for a place to stay. He figured he’d have to find a way to make some gold while in town as well, he had none on him and necessities couldn’t be bought with anything else. And yes, he had necessities. He turned on his feet towards the butcher one last time. “Oh and sir, know a place where one such as me could make a few gold?” The butcher frowned. “Just go to the Inn, there’s more people there who will be able to help you rather than an old, busy butcher. A busy one, you understand?” And so, to the Inn, Graffius walked.

[Wrenmae]

"Before men knew the names of gods, before the Isur built their city or the Valterian roared across the world, man could walk as easily among the clouds as he could beneath the water. In that time, Sky, water, and earth were in communion and harmony." Wrenmae was outside the inn, his wide brimmed hat overturned on the ground and glittering with a few copper and silver miza, tossed in to encourage his performance. He wore a cape around him, and some of his best clothes. Performing was really his passion, to weave tales no one had heard before, to entertain them with ideas of the incredible, the unreachable...the fantastic. "In those days earth and water were lovers, and he held her watery hand in the clutches of his mountainous form." He smiled, pulling the cape close to him, whispering almost conspiratorily, "But the sky could not bare this separation, and he loved the sea so much that he kissed her every evening when the sun could not tell his body from hers and when Earth was shrouded in sleep." Chuckling he nodded, winking up at the sky, "So full of capricious winds and mischievous storms, one can well imagine it wasn't in the way of Sky to follow Earth's firm sense of chivalry." Shaking his head, he continued, "Now in those days, humans easily could commune with the spirits of the world, and they could see poor Earth was being deceived. His lady love was loyal to another, but in the day pretended to be his. Mankind, who lived on the back of the firm earth for support, whispered to the ground the secrets of the affair, hoping to bring honesty back to their existence, never planning on bloodshed." His eyes darkened, and he drove a fist harshly into the side of the in with a dull thud. "Earth was furious. He roared and arched his back, the spines of the Kalea mountin reaching toward the sky. For a time, all was chaos." He shook his head, frowning, "Sky and Sea were furious, banning mankind from traversing them so easily again...only earth rewarded mans loyalty, keeping them on firm ground to grow and build their homes." An eth approached the inn as another man dropped a gold rimmed miza into his hat. Wrenmae gave him a bow, grinning, "So if you want to cry blame whenever the urge takes you to fly or swim beneath the waves, look no farther than yourself...for man then is not like man now. Have we learned to keep a secret? Only you can say...but how true it is that the very face of creation changes when honesty comes into play." Finished, he gave another short bow and picked up the hat, shaking the loose coin within them. As the Eth approached, he gave him a wink, sliding the coins into his coinpurse before replacing the hat on his head. "You look lost, friend!" he exclaimed, taking a step forward and putting his hand out, "Let me be the rare sight of welcome in this forlorn city. Wrenmae, Wrenmae...well...I've a host of surnames, so Wrenmae alone will do." Laughing, he shook his head, the hat shadowing his features in gloom before he raised his eyes again. "If you need a pointer on where to go for a warm bed or some work, I'll be more than happy to point you the right direction."

[Graffius]

Graffius would quirk an eyebrow, his head tilted downwards towards the storyteller. Often it wasn’t a habit of his to stop and listen to the tales of men but somehow he felt drawn to the crowd that had circled around this peculiar person. Perhaps it was boredom or maybe he was truly interested, but regardless, this man seemed to know how to collect Mizas; it was a useful talent to have. Graffius would pause for a moment, his eyes tittering towards the storytellers hand and then finally, he’d extend his own and shaked it slowly. “Well done Wrenmae that was quite a story.” He released his grip on his hand. “I am Graffius. A pleasure to meet you.” The Eth would do the best he could and muster a false smile on his pallid face, nodding his Wrenmae’s direction. “A warm bed I can do without, however I find myself in need of some gold and silver.” Graffius turned his head left and right as if surveying the people that walked the cityscape of Sunberth. “I’m sure though that everyone here is.” A faint smile crossed his lips before a soft chuckle of satisfaction. “So Mr. Wrenmae, if one was looking for work, where exactly would you point them? I seem to have a lack of acquaintances in this area, perhaps a few enemies and not a coin in my pocket.” A stray gust of wind caressed his locks of silver-radiant hair. “I have skills, some. So, where would you point me?” The fabric of his dark overcoat creaked, rubbing together as he crossed his arms over his chest, boding over his predicament silently. He figured he’d state what he needed openly. It wasn’t his usual nature, nor a habit of his to be revealing to strangers, however he had no choice. “I need to procure roughly 100 gold Mizas for safe travel, supplies and a few other trinkets, less of course I be trapped in Sunberth my entire life.”

[Wrenmae]

Grinning, Wrenmae waved Graffius into the inn, retiring to a table far from the strained ears of other tavern goers. Some watched him with measured discomfort, and Wrenmae was painfully aware his other 'selves' may have been here before. Knitting his fingers together, over and under, over and under, he listened to the Eth with measured patience, finally putting both hands on the table and jerking his head up, so the hat tilted on the back of his head. "It depends entirely upon your skills," he answered honestly, shrugging, "Most make their way here at the expense of others. Mercenaries, theives, assassins, beggers...Sunberth isn't renowned for its thriving economy." Catching his eyes, Wrenmae flexed the muscle of Djed inside him, pooling his will through his gaze and lancing it out into the Eth's own. It wasn't a painful intrusion, more a link of subtlety, fostering feelings of trust and peace, a calmness to stir within the individual before him, loosen his tongue, open the gates of possibility. "Where are you from?" He asked, sitting back, one arm hooked over the back of the chair, "What do you do best?"

[Graffius]

Graffius followed along tardily, taking a moment or two as he observed the structure of the inn and the people which dwelled within it; drunks, thieves, cutthroats, the usual type one would expect where alcohol is dealt in Sunberth. Calmly he took a seat, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. It seemed an appropriate time to order a drink, perhaps some Ale or Wine. “Hm, well I suppose I have my mind. It seems simple enough, but it is something that also seems to be lacking these days.” His sullen eyes fixated themselves on the table below. “I have a small amount of magical knowledge...” His head swam for a moment and his eyes closed briefly in response as he rubbed his forehead with the tip of his fingers. “Forgive me; I believe my long travel has affected me a bit.” He felt at ease, which was peculiar in itself given the state of his situation and where he currently was, however, it went unnoticed, trusting someone is questioned only if you don’t trust them and he couldn’t feel the pulse of Djed emanating from this man, seeping into his own mind. It was as if being drunk, the sensation that crept up his spine, tingling, pulsing under his skin, a warm feeling of trust and security. “Where am I from…” He repeated the question to himself beneath his breath, his eyes glazed over in thought as he tried to recall his exact point of origin, something that was more difficult than one would think, atleast for an Eth. After a moment, he looked up, brushed his silver hair behind his ears and answered. “I’m from Eyktol. But that was many years ago, I can’t feel the sun, the warmth, nor the dryness of that place anymore. I guess I can see it, in the eye of my mind, but it’s distant, alien and foreign to me now.” He paused and traced his fingertips over the oaken cracks in the table. “Yes, many years ago…” His voice trailed onwards a bit. “As for what I can do, that can only be explained in what I do, do. I’m a scholar. I value knowledge more than coin and I value coin only to attain knowledge.” All the while Graffius’ eyes never left the table as if he was reading from a pamphlet, or attempting to recount old fragments of history and whisk them away from his memory. “I used to be…More knowledgeable, this I remember. My fingers would beckon fire. I… I could contact creatures from the void, change myself. I was useful, back then.” “And then… And then I forget, Synna welcomed me with open arms, but even that too came to an end. So what do I get? No Heaven, no God and once again I am a mortal walking the Earth and half the being I used to be. All I knew, gone and it is only now I have began to claw my way back.” His eyes drifted back up towards Wrenmae, boldly. “It is a slow and tedious process. I am not as skilled as I was, nor as I wish or even wished to be. So yes, the only thing I have I suppose is my mind.” Graffius turned his head and spat on the ground. “The only thing they left me, yet perhaps, the most valuable thing. What I do best, is I learn, and I persevere.”

[Wrenmae]

Wrenmae listened raptly, his eyes wide and interested. Each piece of information was stored away into another place, a dark corner of his mind where they began to grow. Ekytol, the desert region...Syna, magic, what he was before...words of magic and adventure that fogged with the passage of time and circumstance. The storyteller wished he understood, but had only the last twenty years of experience to fill the gaps of his limited life. Here was the well traveled form of a dust-choked walker, a walking tale, a tapestry of sorts. "I'd be wary of magic," he answered quietly, glancing furtively around the bar, "After the Djed storms, people have been stringing mages up by their necks, dancing the gallows jig." Holding out his hand, he pooled Res into it, holding it out toward Graffius and twisting the palms around, focused on his chest. Go, he thought, become wind. And it did. It was small enough not to alert the others, but even so, Wrenmae shoved his hands down at his side and sunk into the chair, glancing around for anyone, anything, that might have seen him. "I work with a mercenary organization," he said at last, quieter now, unsure, "The Crimson Edge, and if you need coin we might have use for a scholar...maybe, and you can make the coin you need before you set out again." He smiled, both hands now flat on the tabletop. "Who is Syna?"

[Archelon]

Thread Award "..." And the Results!!!!: Wrenmae : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Storytelling 1 Persuasion 1 Lores: Nagging questions: What or Who is Syna? Graffius : SkillName 1-5 How/why? Persuasion 1 Lores: Wrenmae(partial) Would you like some extra turtle sauce ? : Interesting thread Any questions,comments,or concerns please feel free to send me a nice pm.