An Uneventful Evening (Open)

by **Kaeson Dakano** on June 17th, 2012, 4:19 am

"Alvadas?" Kaeson murmured, eyes briefly bursting with burnt orange hues. "I know Alvadas," he began, "I spent almost a year there -- constantly losing myself within that maze of a city, never knowing who's who." Kaeson gave a quick smile as his thoughts turned backed to his memories of the ever changing city. He had managed to get an apprenticeship in the city, keeping up with it much longer then any of his previous apprenticeships -- of course, there had been the slight issue with his master reanimating the dead and using the newly animated corpses for less then dignified reasons. And then there had been the issues of the disappearing summoner, but aside those two little blurps, Kaeson had truly grown to like Alvadas.

Kaeson nodded at the mention of the university, quickly mentioning that he would be staying in the dorms for the summer season. Aside from Tock, Nai'shee, and Satevis, Kaeson hadn't met many other students attending the university and was always glad to meet a fellow scholar. "Have you already decided what classes you'll be taking?" Kaeson asked, obviously interested in what the wiry man would study -- slightly hoping it would be magical in nature. Magic was a tricky subject to bring into day to day conversation anywhere in Mizahar, aside Sahova perhaps. One could never know how another party would react; with interest? With disgust? With a burning torch and a pitchfork?

Kaeson frowned briefly at Wrenmæ's spoken opinion on Fortune - Tellers, but was completely shocked by the nuit's quick and obviously offensive retort. Had Anselm really been so offended at what the the story teller had said?

Kaeson offered an awkward and uncomfortable laugh in a pathetic attempt to ease the atmosphere around the small table before speaking his own opinion, "I...I think...that," Kaeson stuttered, clearly struggling with the words in his mouth. Whether or not the other two felt any sort of tension in the air, Kaeson now felt incredibly awkward sitting between the story teller and the fortune teller. "Aren't fortune telling and story telling more or less the same? Yes, one deals with the past and the other the future, or in some cases a more in depth look into the present, but really how different are the disciplines from each other? A story teller is a medium of sorts, allowing the hearer knowledge and I formation to place themselves in a given scenario," Kaeson paused, carefully considering his words before he continued. "A fortune teller is also a medium of sorts, instead conversing with Avalis or glyphed bones, crystal balls, or tarot cards to allow the hearer knowledge and information to live a better future. In both cases, the medium is the holder of the knowledge and could easily tamper with or pretend to know what is true -- which leads it up to the hearer to trust the information that is given."

Kaeson paused, hoping that something he said contributed to their 'argument'

OOCSorry about the delay -- hope you guys like what I wrote!

by **Wrenmae** on June 19th, 2012, 3:36 am

Wrenmae shifted in his seat, unconsciously sitting back farther as Anselm erupted into his defensive tirade. Through it all, Wrenmae remained a thoughtful quiet, balancing his chin off a proffered fist on the mead stained table. Had he offended so seriously as to necessitate this sort of response? Although the dour nature inherent to the speaker seemed to take the edge off his words, it was obviously an answer conceived in offense. The smallest curve of a smile caught the edges of Wrenmae’s mouth, despite his efforts not to. Why was it always the charlatans and frauds that were so quick to decry their opponent? No defense to his own craft at all, merely the momentary dismissal followed by trying to destroy Wrenmae’s own credibility in the realm of storytelling.

Certainly there was logic in his words, even if they were a bit misplaced. He found himself nodding along at certain points, brown eyes glittering with barely concealed mirth. Kaeson intervened shortly after, obviously seeking to marry the disparities between the two. But the gauntlet had been metaphorically thrown. Rather than simply defend his craft, Anselm had chosen to denounce Wrenmae’s. Not that it necessarily boiled him to frothing, but he’d be damned before he let some dusty thief put himself on the same level as a storyteller. Much as he should have simply appreciated Kaeson’s intervention.

This was personal.

“That’s not wholly true though, is it?” He said with a good-spirited chuckle, sliding his mug of ale between his two hands, “You’re combining two professions in your…rant, so to be sure we’re on the same page, let me define.” He held up a hand to Kaeson, expecting him to interrupt, and continued, pushing over the table to stare at Anselm, “Historians and storytellers may do similar things, but they’re different in practice and renown. Historians maintain their stories are truth, some imagining of the past from whatever perspective was dominant at the time. Sure, I suppose you can make the argument that no past event can be truthfully told, even by the witnesses. But I’m not a historian, I’m a storyteller. I tell stories to illustrate lessons or entertain. I charge no one to hear my tales, only accept the generosity of those who were amused enough to lend a coin or two to my well-being. I, unlike you, do not prey on the fears and insecurities of the nervous masses to turn a profit.” The sliding between his hands was faster now, the mug glimmering in the lantern light as it passed over the top of the table, “You speak well, an expected attribute of any fortune teller in Alvadas. Why defend your craft when you can destroy the credibility of your accuser instead? Your kind are the same, as far as I’m concerned, well trained observers and speakers who use the random shapes of tea leaves, bones, or cards to pretend you have an insight into the future with fortunes vague enough to be considered truth in some small part. You charge a little coin, send your victim on their way, and if even the smallest part of your prediction comes to pass…they return for more.” He caught the mug on the next pass and slid it to the end of the table, clasping his fingers together and sitting back. “I won’t have you slander my profession just because I won’t be taken as a fool by yours.”

Before the nuit could respond, Wrenmae wheeled on Kaeson with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that, rude of me to ignore you. You’ve been to Alvadas then?” He seemed interested, “Not many I’ve met made a journey out that far, and you’ve spent a year? Ha! You’d know the twists and turns then, certainly. As for my classes at the University…” He trailed off, frowning, “I…well, I thought I’d study the history and philosophy behind Alchemy,” he shrugged off what he assumed might be a suspicious glare. There were always plenty, “A friend of mine in Alvadas was a practitioner. I never really understood the process and now I’m afforded a rare opportunity to finally take steps toward a more complete knowledge of the…magic.” He stumbled over himself, “Erm, well, I mean, you’d understand best, Alvadas is a bit more…well, they have less of a fear of magic than some other places in Mizahar and so…” He threw up his hands, “I’ve an interest in Animation and Alchemy, nothing too destructive or frightening, right?”

by **Anselm** on June 21st, 2012, 2:52 am

Kaeson was correct, of course. Anselm had let the strange young man needle him into rash words. His mind traveled to another place in another time.

Water above, a pitfall. Lake below, joyous.
Being capable of joy in danger,
Warding off danger by joyfulness,
It is therefore called discipline.

“Tell me Anselm,” said Master Ahn. “What is the discipline of which this oracle speaks?”

Anselm reflected on the ancient words. Warding off danger by joyfulness. … Warding off … Not striking out against danger, not defeating danger, not even facing down danger … Warding off danger, deflecting danger, turning danger aside.

“Avoiding a fight is hard work,” he answered. Master Ahn threw his head back and laughed, leaving Anselm puzzled since he had not intended to say anything funny.

“Your counsel is wise,” he said to Kaeson. Then he turned to Wrenmae.

“If you will humor a foolish old man,” he said. “I will venture out of my area of expertise and into yours for just a moment.” He paused as if to collect his thoughts. “Consider this: A story well told conveys truth quite apart from whether it is based in actual events. Indeed, those may be the best stories of all. But how is it that a story with no basis in actual events can convey truth? It must be because the story resonates in the mind and heart of the hearer and tells them something important about themselves and their place in the world.” He paused again and then waved his hand dismissively. “As such it is a powerful thing indeed, like a magic mirror in which the hearer sees himself.

“Now consider this: An oracle, such as I might speak to a patron, is composed of ancient words carefully crafted to create resonances in the mind and heart of the hearer, telling them something important about themselves and their place in the world. As such it is a powerful thing indeed, like a magic mirror in which the hearer sees himself.

He held up his hand to forestall a possible objection.

"Wherein lies truth? Is it in the words of the story? Is it in the words of the oracle? Is it in the mind of the hearer? Does it matter?

“Perhaps our two professions are not so dissimilar after all. I propose an experiment of a sorts to test this hypothesis. But it will require Kaeson's participation as the subject of our experiment. If he is amendable, you will tell a story about him and then I will speak an oracle for him, and he will tell us if one or the other speaks truth to him, or both, or neither.”

He turned to Kaeson, “What do you say, Kaeson Dakano? May we practice our little experiment on you?”

OOC :

by **Kaeson Dakano** on June 23rd, 2012, 4:56 am

Kaeson chuckled nervously as Wrenmae began to speak. Kaeson had hoped, rather naively, that his speech had been enough to diffuse any tension between the story teller and the fortune teller. The night had started pleasant enough, intruiging even, but Kaeson began to feel increasingly more awkward between the two men since Anselm had verbally assaulted the story telling profession.

Kaeson eyed the door of the World's End Grotto, only half listening to the story teller's retort. He wasn't so far from the exit, and really, would it be so bad if he just got up and left? Kaeson doubted very much the Anselm would care if he left -- he hadn't exactly been the easiest to talk to and considering had just meet Wrenmae, he hardly expected the man would be offended. Of course, Kaeson would be lying if he said he hadn't found the argument interesting; if he left now, he would never see which side won the other - the story teller or the fortune teller?

"Alchemy?" Kaeson whispered to the wiry man, taking care to keep his voice low enough to not rise any suspicion from the tables closet to their own. While he felt more then safe talking magic with Anselm, his being undead and all, it didn't mean he wanted to attract attention from those around them. Zeltiva was one of the safer places to discuss magic, it was still a subject that got a lot of attention -- negative or otherwise.

"I...I'll be studying Alchemy this coming season as well. I've never met an alchemist, but I've always had a...special interest in the more wordly branches of the arcane." Kaeson paused, considering telling the storyteller about his own experiences with animation. "I've dabbled in animation," Kaeson said, careful with his words. He wanted to be friends with Wrenmae, close, even -- but that didn't mean he would be willing to teach the storyteller anything. Kaeson had worked for that knowledge. HE had gone to every wizard in Syliras asking for an apprenticeship, only to be turned down. HE had taught himself animation. It wasn't knowledge he would part with so easily.

Kaeson smiled at the Nuit, at least someone had appreciated his attempts. Carefully, he listened to the undead man, interested by the proposition.

"Sure," the young animator said.

by **Wrenmae** on July 11th, 2012, 12:36 am

Quick as he was to defend himself, Wrenmae forced himself to hold back a biting retort when Anselm started speaking. After several moments, he was glad he had. Despite their brief altercation, the fortune teller interested him. A lot of what he said, the logic he employed, the careful way he went about speaking drew the storyteller in. It was a remarkable skill, one that must have served the fellow well in the past. One moment insulting, the next apologetic and engaging. Wrenmae was only briefly distracted as Kaeson revealed his interest in alchemy as well, and his ability in Animation. A mage then, not exactly a rare find in Zeltiva but still something to raise an eyebrow at. It took a certain kind of person to pursue a magical discipline…but world magic didn’t carry with it the same radical risk of overgiving as the personal magics. In a small way, Wrenmae envied the young mage for his choice. How easy would it have been to simply avoid this curse altogether by either forsaking magic or learning from the world branch. What would he have been then? Unfortunately, as with all consequences, they were only felt strongly after application, and usually too late to be mitigated.

Anselm’s suggestion was an interesting challenge, but not one Wrenmae had much experience in. Storytelling a past was easy when the truth wasn’t so close at hand. In fact, stories were often most interesting when embellished or completely false. Obviously a past event would not do, too specific for a man he’d just met. His tale would have to be more…convoluted, maybe even allegorical. Resting his face on his fist, he stared at Kaeson, squinted his eyes, frowned. “You choose difficult challenges, old man,” he laughed, “Telling someone a tale that resonates truth is more attuned to fortune telling than storytelling don’t you think? I’ll try my best, but I’ve never been put to this sort of task before.” He thought a moment and shrugged, “I apologize if my skill is…not up to par.”

"Ya know," His familiar quipped from within him, "You didn't do all that bad that one time...you know, when the girl clocked you in the face?"

Wrenmae ignored him.

Sitting back, he stared at Kaeson, frowning as if examining some obscure piece of art. What did he know of the man? Well, he was young, certainly, and there was an interest of magic within him. He also set himself to studying world magics so it meant he was ambitious, perhaps frustrated with the limitations of merely physical endeavors. No, no, more likely was he simply curious, drawn by a skein of the fantastic. Apart from that he seemed friendly, and eager to intervene between two strangers arguing. His nature was well dispositioned, but there was a listlessness there, as though his mind were somewhere else. He did not completely fit this space, and only pushed at the boundaries of this social engagement.

“Once, some time ago, there was a sparrow born.” Scratching the bottom of his chin, Wrenmae continued, “His father was a sparrow before him, and his father’s father on down the line till the first of sparrows at time’s beginning. Like his siblings, he had the feathers of a sparrow, the wings of a sparrow, the beak of a sparrow, and the warble of their voice. But unlike his siblings, this sparrow sought something more.” Drumming his fingers against each other, Wrenmae leaned back in his chair, never taking his eyes of Kaeson. “This sparrow yearned to learn that which was not natural to him, ancient secrets hard to come by and harder to master. Let’s say this sparrow cared to learn the secret of transition, to supersede his fate and cut his own path.” Another pause, a frown.

“That sparrow was spurned by his family, perhaps cast out, but such was the price for knowing what one wanted. So this little bird took flight to places of like minds, other nests and tree limbs where other birds sought mysteries beyond their natural abilities. This little bird sought family here, the kind that would understand him. Perhaps he still searches. But no one can say the sparrow is a coward. For, to deny ones roots and embrace an uncertain destiny takes courage. Perhaps this sparrow will change his fate one day, but for now he remains a sparrow with a little knowledge…a shard of destiny diverted. And that is how his story really begins.”

Settling back down, Wrenmae shrugged and laughed, scratching his head. “A bit outside my abilities maybe, probably pretty far off the mark, yes?”

by **Anselm** on July 11th, 2012, 12:44 am

The Nuit had to grudgingly allow that he was impressed, but he said nothing, instead looking toward Kaeson to see how he would respond.

by **Kaeson Dakano** on July 26th, 2012, 6:20 pm

"No," Kaeson replied, "Not as far off as you'd think."

The sparrow's story wasn't unfamiliar to Kaeson, nor to any who practiced magic. Kaeson had wished for more then the simple life of a healer, the trade he was supposedly meant for, or at least that was his grandmother's wish. Like the sparrow, Kaeson wanted more in life. He longed for knowledge that would grant him strength and power. Unlike the sparrow, Kaeson's family hadn't cast him out; his grandmother had loved him, but could only manage to tolerate his admiration for animation.

Like the sparrow, Kaeson knowledge was limited and he had much to gain if he ever hoped to become a legend. Should he ever hope to surpass the master Zarik Mashaen and his supervisor, Dranira, he would need more.

He would always need more.

"I liked your story, Wrenmae," Kaeson paused, his eyes slowly shifiting from a calm blue to a doleful green. While the story's sparrow remained ever relatable to the young animator, it only served as a reminder he could never be accepted in true society. At least openly. As a Mage, there would always be mistrust. There would always be those who hated him, who despised him for what he was able to do. There would always be jealously. Wrenmae's story had painted a very pretty picture of an ideal ending for Kaeson, finding a home where he would find others like him. Other animators, other mages.

But mages never truly got along.

"I think I should be going, exams tomorrow," Kaeson lied, wishing to excuse himself from the bar. The young man took a lasting swig from what remained in the wine glass, and he left.

OOCA million apologies for how incredibly late I posted, I'm so sorry! If we do end up doing a summer quest I promise I won't ever take this long in posting again.

by **Wrenmae** on July 30th, 2012, 4:59 am

"And that will be the evening for me as well," Wrenmae said as the boy exited the bar, "Too many tales muddy the mind...and you never got a chance to read him his fortune."

Smiling, humorously, the storyteller nodded at the nuit and started for the door, laying coin for his drink on the table. He paused, turning around and striding back, placing both hands flat before the nuit and glaring at the old man.

"Take care how you manipulate, old man, lest someone do you the same unkindness. The boy enjoyed himself, so I'll let it stand, but I have no faith in your charlatan tricks and manipulative hunting."

"You...showed him?" Zan asked as Wren turned back toward the door, "Could have hit the guy."

"He wasn't worth the effort," Wrenmae spat, pushing out the main door and into the street, "But if he's the nosy sort, we'll have a chance to re-evaluate again sometime."

"I do love brawls," the familiar commented quietly, "Let's just hope he doesn't pack unexpected surprises."

by **Paragon** on August 20th, 2012, 7:44 am

Adventurer's Loot

Anselm's Loot :

Kaeson's Loot :

Wrenmae's Loot :

Fun thread! I especially enjoyed Anselm's retort towards Wrenmae, the response was positively crackling! - if you have ANY questions or concerns about this grading, don't hesitate to PM me.