PM to join Tricks of the Trade (Keene)

[Verin Rush]

38th Day of Winter, 514AV

It was through stone corridors, which radiated cold even in these temperate days, that Verin walked. When inside, the temperature mimicked that which he was used to - the gentle climate of Ravok, a gift from the Defiler. Each day the former bartender found himself finding similarities between his home and this strange, new island, or comparing the two places. So much of his time was occupied by this mental exercise that he was beginning to recognise just how home sick he was. He wondered how Venser was fairing, alone in Ravok. Only once before had the brothers been parted: when their father had… ceased to live, and Verin had returned to Syliras, to his father’s family, briefly. He missed his brother then, and he missed his brother now.

Part of the problem was that, since arriving, he had no job to occupy himself with. But that would all change, with any luck, come the fortieth day of this season, a mere two days away. For then, he would take the opportunity to join the elite ranks of the Sahovan Wizards and continue on his mission to become worthy of serving Rhysol and the Black Sun. “No, luck will not help you, Verin,” a mocking voice spoke inside his mind, “planning is the key, and hard work. Effort, you fool.” Verin smiled at the derision in his own mind. Yes, Sahova was the island of arcane learning and research - he had everything he wanted at his fingertips.

He didn’t need use of their laboratories, unless they had poison crafting facilities here, as well as magical ones. No, what he needed was a subject, human or otherwise, someone that the wizards would allow him to practise his magic on. In Ravok, Verin had been relatively controlled in his use of magic on other people. Part of his restraint was due to the results of his inexperienced usage on Venser when they were younger. The results were catastrophic and since then, he was overly careful in his use. And when he did use it, he was tame, only doing things that he knew he would be able to succeed at, and where he could be as sure as possible that there would be no adverse effects. That safe practice, however, would not help him to win the acceptance of the Sahovan Wizards, or to pass his Judgement.

“Can I help you?” Verin spun to the sound of a woman’s voice behind him, and he was met with the image of a woman with impossibly wild, curly hair. He smiled at the woman, embarrassed about being found when he was so clearly lost. The woman seemed pretty harmless, perhaps she was even nice. “No, no, I was just looking for the dungeons. Scouting out an individual to practise on.” Verin kew that he did not have to explain to the woman why he might need a living subject. The specifics didn’t really matter, for many on the island had the same requirements as he, for very different reasons.

The woman frowned, “Well… if you continue looking that way, you aren’t going to be continuing for much longer, if you know what I mean.” Verin didn’t. The woman also smiled, maybe also coming to the realisation that this young blond was very new to the island, “Do you know how to get to the Testing Grounds from here?” The initiate to the Black Sun nodded, “Good, well the Mudpools won’t be too hard to find; they are spread throughout the Testing Ground. The closest is located near the Prairie, just beyond the Citadel. There you should find a young man by the name of Keene Ward. He will assist you.” Taken aback, Verin nodded, “Thank you, Miss…”

“Risbell Timpel,” the woman responded, “Apprentice of Sahova.” Verin inclined his head once more and took his leave, with a final few instructions on how to get to the Prairie. After a long walk (and a few wrong turns), Verin reached the Prairie, and his eyes widened at the large expanse that surrounded him. It would be impossible to find this… Keene Ward.

[Keene Ward]

The moment Keene stepped into the Gug Andjak, he was immediately accosted by the furry ball of excited fury that was Seymour Ward. The animal leaped up, its tongue extended out past its front paws as a small trail of drool flew out behind it. The following bought of snort ridden laughter was quick to clue Keene into how the dog had managed to escape from its customary lab quarters. Pushing it away with a frown and a firm hand, Keene's gaze met with the mischievous grin of Risabel Timpel, her laughter having taken a moment to quiet as she appraised him. "You don't look like such a weak thing anymore, Ward." Offering a wink as Seymour happily bounced around Keene's feet. "Though, I suppose you're still the same little man under everything." Another laugh.

"Ms. Timpel." His tone was arid. While Risabel had proved to be a valuable asset, she was not nearly as bearable as his preferred contact, who's disappearance had begun to truly worry him. "Do you need something?" It was rare for her to be out of her lab; the chances of coincidence mandating they meet in such a way were so low, Keene could hardly see the bottom of the proverbial pit.

She rolled her eyes, letting out a sharp huff of indignation. "Why do you always assume I'm trying to get something out of you, Ward? Can't we just be friends?" Keene's impassive stare met her jest, and she was quick to drop her sweetish tone. "Fine. I do happen to need something, but it's not like I always need something. Got that? You don't know me." The last bit was muttered more to herself than anyone else.

"What is it?" There was a fleck of curiosity in his voice. Risabel was not the most charming or lovable of companions in his opinion - in fact, very few were - but her requests were often a small break from his usual duties. Though his duties, as of late, had been a bit more arduous than the season before, and from the way she grinned in apprehension after his inquiry, Keene felt a small pebble of regret drop into his stomach.

"Oh, I may - or may not, mind you - have sent an attractive, young Pulsar man to the mudpools."

"I don't-"

Risabel held up a hand, offering a few "tut"s to keep him quiet while she continued. "Rude. I wasn't finished." Taking a breath as Keene held his tongue, Risbel started again. Seymour, at this point, hand stretched out over Keene's boots, the heat of the furry animal warming his toes and the added weight a bit of a strange sensation. "Now, you and I both know the Testing Grounds aren't the safest place for... Well, for anyone, really." Keene nodded. "And I'm wanting to work on a personal project, but I'm lacking the funds and..." She shrugged. "Wizard bones are incredibly useful and not the cheapest to come by."

Keene blinked a few times before he managed a curt, "Are you asking me to kill him?" He didn't have a problem with following orders from those who had the right to give them, but he held Risabel in no such position.

She let out a sharp, "Oh!" before drawing a hand to slap him across the face. There were a few others in the hall who turned their heads with brows raised in interest, but the gesture had been merely that: a gesture. There had been only enough force to lend believability and a firm smack of hand to cheek. Unimpressed, Keene waited for the inevitable - though equally duplicitous - reparation. "What I'm asking is for you to go check up on him! Gods, Ward." She rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and ignoring the little growl that came from Keene's feet. "I'm not some... Some assassin queen handing out marks to my subordinates." She shook her head, but paused, muttering in a soft, furtive tone, "Though if he does happen to be dead, I'd appreciate the bones."

Keene shifted his feet, displacing the dog and nudging it towards Risabel, which only served to give the creature the idea that it was time to play. Sighing, Keene allowed Seymour to chew on his boot with a playful snarl as he redirected his attention back to the bushy headed legate. "If he's dead, I'm not dragging the body back."

"Well, of course not." She squinted her eyes in secrecy. "I only need the bones."

Keene gave her an unimpressed frown. "If he's dead, he'll be a body. Not bones."

"Yes but-" Risabel threw up her hands in frustration. "Gods, I forget how literal you are with everything." She shook her head. "Fine. If he's dead, will you bring me back his head at least?" Keene had arrived at the citadel for the day to deliver a note as well as to gather some more supplies Atziri had decided they needed recently. He wasn't expected back until the next day, and he found Risabel's request reasonable enough once the burden she wanted him to carry was adjusted to just that of a head. Nodding, Keene affirmed he would do as she requested. "Excellent!" Risabel clapped her hands together before ushering a sharp whistle that send the dog back into the lab. "Great then, see you soon!" And promptly shut the door. Keene let out a small sigh as he turned towards the stairwell. His day had gotten a bit more exciting, but the task of delivering the letter still required his attention.

__

The path to the Testing Grounds was familiar enough to him that traversing it was a simple task. From the vantage of height, Keene was able to make out several different figures in the distance, some partially hidden behinds small swells of earth, others stark against the swaying grasses. Risabel had hardly given him a description worth adhering to, so instead of approaching any of the others in the grounds, Keene made his way towards the Prairie's mudpool. It was a lengthy walk, and he kept his mind busy by scanning the landscape before him to keep himself from thinking of anything else. He had had rough days, and while he had found addressing them to be helpful, the extent to which he wanted to get involved with his personal issues was not nearly enough to interest him into another session of exploring his "feelings".

As he made his way over the grasses, sweat just barely sheening off of his face, he saw a figure ahead that seemed much more out of place than the rest. The man was clad in dark clothing with blonde hair that was tinted to stand stark against the rusted grasses of the prairie. There was also the distinct appearance of something that almost none of the nuit ever employed: confusion. It wasn't blatant to the point where the man could be confused with a simple minded fool lost in the expanse of the grasses, but rather a lack of the supremacy that most of the island employed. The act to prove the individual beneath was something that was practiced, if not devoutly upheld by the Sahovans. If it were the man he was to meet, Keene found not having to remove the head of a corpse and bring it back to the legate was something more appealing than not. Raising a hand to grab the man's attention, Keene offered a short greeting. "Ms. Timpel sent me." He was close enough to speak in a normal tone to get his voice across. "Keene Ward." He extended his hand, thankful that the numbness of his right arm made physical contact not nearly as unbearable as it had been of late. He raised a brow. "You're not dead."

.

[Verin Rush]

The walk was long. Longer, perhaps, because the Ravokian - who had spent the majority of his life (save the appearance of a Fish Monster in the waters of Lake Ravok) free from any form of danger or strife. Within Ravok a citizen was practically guaranteed their safety as they traversed the city. the island of Sahova was a different matter; he had been warned of the beasts which had been created through wizarding experiments, only to be set loose and left, hunting down those with no means of protection. As it was, Verin had no means of protection. He had the taco daggers, sure. But the blades were little more than two and a half inches long and he was sorely out of practice… not that he had had much to begin with.

His gaze shifted from the large expanse of prairie before him, to sharing at his own feet. the path was not flat and safe, though his boots protected him from the majority of jagged stones that stood in his way. It wasn’t until he had been walking for a quarter of a bell outside the citadel that his pace slowed, and he paused to think. “You fool, Verin!” He wondered why he had followed the direction of the woman. Why had he been so foolish? What momentary loss of sanity had driven him to think that the wizards in Sahova would be benign? He had been raised in Ravok, and those raised in Ravok (at least those with a smidgen of intelligence) knew not to trust any, especially those who offered to assist. For it was often those people who were clever enough to manipulate, or to have ulterior motives. They would ask for something in return, and that something was not always easy to give away.

Verin wondered if the same thing was happening here. In the distance, he saw what he imagined to be one of the Mudpools, where the woman had sent him to look for this man. He wasn’t sure, having never seen a mud pool before, on Sahova or anywhere else, but his pace had now slowed to a stop. Was it worth it? Probably not. The woman was most likely lying about the existence of this Keene anyway. Turning on his heel, his pace resumed its original speed as he decided to return back to the relative safety Citadel. It wasn’t that he was a coward, more that he had the sense to know that he was out of his depth.

A chime or so into walking back, he looked in front to see a man approaching him, and Verin’s pace slowed once again. The man spoke from that distance, allaying the the ex-bartender’s fears. The look on the man’s face suggested to Verin that he must have looked a sight - lost and clearly out of place on the island, let alone near the Mudpools. Raising himself up, Verin brushed off some of the gathering dust from the cuffs of his shirt. “Keene Ward… yes.” Verin smiled as he grasped the hand of the other firmly and shook it. “Verin Rush. A pleasure.” The blond’s smile faltered for a tick when Keene voiced his surprise at his status of animacy, but he quickly recovered. “I hope that is not too much of a disappointment for you, Mister Ward?”

OOCSorry for the short post.. I'm not good at the whole wandering aimlessly posts, and I ran out of internal monologuing to do! Also I'm sorry for the terribleness of the post - my internal monologuing is very... its like fifteen-year-old me wrote this post D: but try as I might, I couldn't make it any better...

Also sorry for the lateness >.> too many things to do and soooo very very little time. Promise I will improve!

[Keene Ward]

The man, Verin, was stately in the strangest sense. His voice was refined, his eloquence practiced and precise. It wasn't what he had been expecting, and while he flinched slightly at the man's touch, Keene returned the man's firm grip with a more gentle wrap of his own fingers before he withdrew his hand. While the sensations were dulled, he still did not like to linger in the touch of others. As he relaxed his stance, listening to Verin's introduction and question, he shook his head, face impassive. "I'm not one for removing heads." Lingering on the subject only long enough to flick his eyes to the man's throat and entertain a brief calculation of how quickly his razor winds would have been able to slice through the lifeless tissue, Keene turned his attention to the Prairie around him. He imagined Verin had come to the ground for their purpose: testing. What exactly he was testing, Keene wasn't sure.

When their hands had separated, Keene's eyes had flicked to Verin's palm and spotted no scars. It wasn't that a reimancer had to have the ceremonial cuts, but it was as good an indication as anything else. It was possible Verin was, what Thomas had referred to as, a "world mage", testing magic of a more constructive nature. The man seemed to have no equipment with him, however, which made it unlikely he was a practitioner of those arts, or at least not at the moment. Taking note of what he'd noticed, Keene gave a man a small frown. "Ms. Timpel sent you here?" She had told him that was the case, but he was curious to know why the man had obliged. Keene did what she asked as it was, in a round about way, a part of his duties as a warden. Though he had done so when he'd first met her as well, with the intent of trading bones for information, which she had upheld. Whatever bargain Verin had made with her, Keene was interested to know. There was little he knew about Risabel, though what he did didn't paint in the most honorable of lights.

As he stared, he realized Verin had been one of the wizards who had answered the call during the citadel's lock down. He didn't say anything on the matter, though his eyes did glint with a small revelation that was quickly swallowed by Keene's blank, appraising stare as he waited for Verin's reply. He had not been paired with the man, and had little idea was he was capable of, but Verin seemed relatively in one piece, meaning he had been able to handle himself well enough. Whatever is area of expertise, he was not to be taken lightly. The Testing Grounds were dangerous enough without having to worry if the one beside you was going to kill you as well. He doubted the man would attack him, but it was good to keep it in the back of his mind, just in case. Trust was not something that did one well on the island.

oocOh no problem! My first post was crazy long for a set-up. Conversations usually get a little short with Keene since he only really ever asks one or two questions at a time, haha. Please take your time!

.

[Verin Rush]

Though he continued to make an effort to school his facial expression and stance into one of control and calm, Verin was probably failing. He was on edge - the island was not somewhere that he thought he would ever grow used to. At least in Ravok he understood the machinations of the citizens. He was a servant of Rhysol, after all, or he wanted to be… betrayal should be second nature for him. The conversation was not comforting, and the other man’s lingering gaze did nothing to quell Verin’s concern. “My time on this island has shown me that the removal of heads should be of least concern,” he replied in a forced mild voice.

The two fell silent, and Verin watched this Keene look at him, and he wondered jut what Keene was trying to discover from his observations. He remembered the brief discussion that he had shared with his younger twin brother about the magic of Auristics. Died being channelled into the eyes in order to see more than the mundane. Was this Keene’s arcane art? Or one of many? Truth be known, Verin was an ill-suited for the island, with very little knowledge of what magics were actually available within the world.

“Well… she did send me down here, in search of you. I personally don’t believe I have any need of the Testing Grounds… or of this… Mudpool. ” He gestured at the land around him. He was fast deciding not to trust that woman again, or anyone else here, for that matter. What help could Keene Ward offer him, if he was based out here? Was he expected, barely competent in Hypnotism, to use the craft on one of the hulking beasts that roamed about these grounds? “I think I might return to the Citadel, clearly your friend misunderstood when I said I was in need of practice.”

“But she can’t have… I specifically said that I was in need of the dungeons for a test subject…” Reaching up, Verin pulled his fine cloak tighter around his shoulders, the best barber he could find against the chill that had suddenly torn through his body. “I have Judgement in mere days, and wished to find someone to practise on. To ensure that my presentation will be well received.” He would not let The Defiler down.

OOCEven shorter and even longer time! D:
gah. Sorry.

[Keene Ward]

At Verin's passing comment, Keene frowned, face darkening only slightly. "It shouldn't be discounted." He agreed that beheading wasn't necessarily the top of the list for things that ended the lives of Pulsers and the Nuit alike, but it certainly wasn't so uncommon as to place it too far down the hierarchy of unfortunate occurrences. The least of the man's worries, in no particular order as Keene saw it, was bathing, finding supplementary food beyond the daily rations, and idle socialization. Everything else was, more or less, on relatively even footing when it came to being both dangerous and prevalent. Whether Verin was being serious or not, Keene was not one to support foolishness of any kind. Losing one's head both literally and figuratively were very real and possible outcomes to an end one might meet, with more than enough ways for it to occur to make it difficult to plan for and avoid.

Keene frowned at the man's reply, his eyes moving from their investigation of Verin's face to a more neutral, overarching gaze. There was the distinct feeling that Risabel's mischievous and manipulative nature had bested him for what seemed like the hundredth time. He imagined that Risabel's plan, had it gone optimally, was for the young man before him to have been slain by the time Keene was able to find him, and use the bones Keene retrieved in her malediction. The woman, however, wasn't quite so short sighted. There were ulterior motives to her ulterior motives, and while Keene wasn't quite able to grasp all of them, he imagined a secondary or tertiary outcome of her paired requests was to get the two of them to meet for whatever reason. Verin seemed to be of a similar mind, as he was quick to realize there was little for him in the mudpools, or at least, not at first glance.

At the mention of practice, however, Keene's interest sparked, his eyes, just for a moment, had a slight flash as they re-affixed on Venser's visage, his mind postulating what sort magic the man had. He was almost certain it was magic, as there was little other need to find others to practice on if it were not. The potential for it being a world magic was low, Thomas Cosa had given the impression that practitioners of such arts were often better suited with labs and study rather than the more seemingly direct "sparring" scenario. A personal magic, then, but there were several Keene was able to quickly remove from his thought process. Both morphing and reimancy were unlikely, as neither required another person to hone the skills needed - though, he knew little of the prior, he imagined the alteration of one's body was more of an introspective, meditative art than an extroverted one. Auristics was a potential, something that Thomas Cosa himself had employed during their first meeting. The Flux, voiding, and whatever mysterious magic Lorelei employed were all also potential candidates, all of which were relatively dangerous.

The statement of his purpose for practice brought Keene's attentions back to the conversation at hand. Judgment, the point at which one integrated into the island's "community" or was cast out to try again when the season passed. The desire for valuable time spent in preparation was suddenly much more understandable, and Keene began to piece together one of the several scenarios he was sure Risabel had intended. Having no reason to swim against the tide of her meticulously placed deluge of circumstances, Keene let his brow rise slightly. "I would not count Ms. Timpel among my 'friends', however she may have proven more perceptive than you might think." Keene didn't wait long to explain, only taking a small breath before he continued. "I would assist you on the condition this 'practice' is explained to me afterwards and that no lasting nor life-threatening harm come to me." The manner in which he spoke was factual, similar to how one might exchange words with a particularly stoic salesmen.

He wanted to learn about magic, and one of the best ways to do so was to experience it first hand. To be subjected to the arcane, to experience the manner in which it affected those it was directed at, was a valuable, visceral lesson. Of course, if Verin's magic was indeed the creation of a portal into the infinite blackness of some unknown realm, Keene was fully prepared to defend himself. He'd seen what could emerge from within the folds of darkness. If it was a new magic, however, something he had yet to experience, Keene was much more inclined to play the part of the test subject. Magic was not a force to be trifled with, that was true, but there were things to be learned from being subjected to it that he imagined were not learned otherwise. With a distantly expectant gaze, Keene awaited the man's reply, no indication as to whether he had been serious in his offer or playing the jest.

.