Closed Welcome All Ye Dead [Dmitri]

[Pandaemus]

Continued from 6th of Fall, The Harbor

6th of Fall, 513 A.V.

An odd feeling of surprise came over Pandaemus as he found the other Nuit to be entirely unlike his perceived notion. He was outgoing and polite, not the silent sinister corpse Pan had expected. He grasped the other’s hand firmly in his own cold fingers. An ugly veil of shame fell over his heart. He was glad for his deadened features, for he would be blushing were he alive. He had been no better than the humans aboard the ship behind them! He had judged this undead, this kinsman, before knowing him. He had a long way to go before he would get used to this.

“Ah yes. I had heard it was a place of work and belonging for… us.” He managed not to stutter over his words. Here was a real nuit, perhaps a man who had watched the world sunder five hundred thirteen years ago? Perhaps he had been a part of the history Pan had studied with his master? Pan saw him as an entirely different creature than himself. He was adolescent boy in a corpse. This nuit was an archaic witness to history.

Someday, that could be me. The thought came unbidden into his mind. It was a small, unforeseen ambition. But as he thought of it, it expanded in his mind. Was this the grand perk of undeath. To be a timeless witness to the greatness of Mizahar? Pandaemus became subtly excited for the first time since catching a fleeting glimpse of the island through the thick fog the night before. He would learn from sages here.

“I confess, I really don’t know how the process goes. I have an ambition of apprenticeship, but know not where to start.” The words came easily. He did not want to seem weak in front of a stranger, but he would have been a fool to pass up the opportunity to learn a little more about the island and the process of becoming a wizard.

As they talked the crew maintained their raucous manner of labor, irritating Pan. Could they not see he was desperate for guidance here! Well probably not. He hitched his small pack of possessions over his shoulder and set his staff against the dirt of Sahova. “Shall we move off? These men are quite loud.”

[Dmitri Seyral]

"My thoughts exactly, let's venture out and explore as much as we can, I'd say. But I'm getting ahead of myself and digressing already; You'll have to excuse me, I haven't been excited for anything even remotely close as what I'm experiencing now. This place...And what it represents...It's so unreal."

Perhaps, or even likely, odd for a Nuit; He used broad handgestures and sweeps of the arm to convey his feelings alongside the verbal message conveyed. Granted, he was only a century old and still had 'human' in him, in all honesty. Eventhough Dmitri tries his best to lift himself above the mortal humans traditions and behaviour, he still had a long way to go before he would have accomplished that. Usually he would not be hesitant to be the way he was, but now that he was about to be surrounded by beings such as himself...But most likely much much more wise and enlightened, he suddenly felt a known human emotion creep over his mind. Embarrassment.

"Apologies. I must have come off as childish right now. Anyway, as you suggested; Let's carry on."

After gathering his sparse belongings from the docks, where they were crudely piled on, he carried them back towards the fellow Nuit and walked alongside of him towards the citadel of Sahova.

"My name is Dmitri, Dmitri Seyral. It's a pleasure to meet you, friend."

He let the last word out with a slight pauze, but with genuinity in the tone of voice. Dmitri was far from an evil or malevolent being, no matter the rumors spread throughout the world concerning the Nuits. It showed in his way of speech, his behaviour and his open-mindedness towards strangers. He was of the persuasion that he'd rather give them the chance to become a friend, rather than place doubt upon them before they even did anything to deserve so. Even if it meant getting stabbed in the back from time to time, the friendships he made and maintained throughout the years...Were more than worth the few rotten apples in the basket.

"And as far the protocol and procedures upheld in Sahova are concerned; I'm afraid I'm clueless. However, I did come across a tome with informational lore concerning Sahovan Nuits...What I understood was that genuine Sahovan Nuits are created by one and only one arcanist, obviously with immensive power; This means that they are truly ancient and hold wisdom incomparable to my own. I did not find out why this mage created them, all I know is that they all unified here and are lead by a Council of Five and an Archwizard, who holds absolute and unquestionable power."

He spoke while traversing the beautifully stone building through the cobbleheaded streets guiding them to the Citadel. As he spoke, his eyes scanned the area and absorbed all they could.

" So, tell me about yourself. I'm genuinely interested, it has been far too long since I spoke to a kindred soul!"

[Pandaemus]

Pan was perhaps unobservant, or uneducated, but he detected nothing childish about the animated and seemingly deeply passionate Nuit. To his young eyes, this man was a refreshing change from the dull and hostile crew of the ship. He was friendly and exciting where they were judgmental and boring. He had not had much exposure to many of his own kind, but he far preferred the more lively nuit before him to the ancient cadaveric master who used to own him.

Pan watched the Nuit gather his things and upon his return the undead gave him a proper introduction. ”My name is Dmitri, Dmitri Seyral. It’s a pleasure to meet you, friend.” Pandaemus opened his mouth to give his name, eager to make a good first impression. But as he did so, Dmitri was apparently not finished. The unworldly nuit listened intently to the travelled undead as he gave answer to his admittance of ignorance. By his words it seemed that the inner workings of Sahova were as mysterious and ominous as it’s outer shell, even to a Nuit such as Dmitri. Perhaps they would learn these secrets together?

As he listened to the lich’s words, Pan could not help but to become enthralled with the land around them. The whole atmosphere seemed somehow secluded, deafened. The wild mundane chaos of Mizahar seemed to be kept at bay by the infamous danger of hundreds of years of perfected magics. It was quieter, darker. The very land seemed to carry it’s purpose with a majesty that had him in awe. Though he was undead, a member of the disreputable race of souls that shift from corpse to corpse. He was not a Sahovan Nuit, as Dmitri had said. He felt the same sort of legendary respect he heard trickle form the other nuit’s words when referring to them.

The leather soles of his boots molded to the smooth cobbles of the road as he trekked towards the citadel with Dmitri. How many other would be Wizards had made this same trek? How many anguished failures had gone the other way? He almost missed an inquiry as to his name and his past, clouded with foreboding as he was. Immediately Pan felt boring and unremarkable. For the first time in his current state, he felt embarrassed about his recent humanity rather than his recent shift to undeath.

“Ah, well my name is Pandaemus. Given to me by my former master, a Nuit from as far back as before the Valterrain. He bought me when I was very young and took me with him in his travels. He taught me about his work, mostly in the animation of… things.” Pan’s memory pulled him back to a rainy night in Sylira where he had been forced to sew a corpse’s arm back onto it’s body while his master yelled angrily at him about working faster. He remembered fumbling the needle, and being more worried about that than what the family would think when they found their father dug up from his grave. “But some voiding and even a bit of summoning as well.”

He went through a bout of emotional chaos for a moment. “That’s actually how… how it happened.” Pan forced the words from his cold, purple lips. “He was attempting a summoning, and I was assisting.” Pan was careful not to look at the other nuit. Hopefully he could not tell how much the memory bother him. “The truth is, I’m rather new to this… deathlessness.”

[Ink]

Let me see what you have done with your ink. Pandaemus Skills Observation 1 Socialization 1 Lores First Steps On Sahova The Young and the Lifeless Between Black and White If there are any concerns or problems with my grading please feel free to toss me a PM. I am more than happy to explain my reasons or reevaluate them if you feel I've been unfair. Also please remember to edit your grade request as graded or delete it if possible. Thank you, Ink