A Meeting of Minds [Veldrys]

[Rorugir]

Timestamp: 43rd Fall 511 A.V. The light filtering if through the window was of a weak quality, barely lighting the chamber within. Torches set into the walls did what the light could not, throwing shadows and light across the furnishings of the room. Like the light outside, said furnishings were similarily meager; a table and a couple of chairs were in the center, with little else besides cobwebs. It was a strange dream, that was to be sure. The Chavena is a strange place, where chavi are unrestricted by the laws of space and time. They regularly connected, interwove, with other chavi whom they had no right to touch; the chavi of a isur in Lhavit, for example, could easily cross over to touch the chavi of a symnestra in Denval. The chavi did not bother with the why or how. They simply did. Rorugir stirred in his seat, entering the dream from his natural abode in Lhavit. Of course, as a dreamer, he did not know it was a dream, and, for that matter, did not question how he had come to be in this strange room, especially since it seemed to lack a door. No, instead, he simply got up and inspected the room. His footfalls were heavy on the stone floor, seemingly alone in their pitter patter. Rorugir seemed to be alone...for now. But how long would that last? The isur, apparently finding nothing of interest within the room, sat back down in his chair with a look of dissatisfaction on his face. His eyes were drawn to the window, as if considering it as a way out, though it seemed too small for one of his bulk to fit through. A impatient tongue clacked against the bottom of his mouth. So far, this was a very unsatisfactory dream. Footsteps rang out, similar to those Rorugir had made before, rendered eerie by the fact he was no longer moving. The isur jolted up in his seat, his eyes searching the dark corners of the room. Uncertain words fell from his mouth; "Hello? Who approaches?"

[Veldrys]

Darkness. There was only darkness, deep, all encompassing darkness. At first Veldrys believed that he was back in Kalinor, although he couldn’t figure out why exactly he was back, but the air smelled all wrong. The air in Kalinor smelled different, and the darkness had a different quality to it. Although he could see neither moon nor stars, he came to the conclusion that he probably still had to be above ground. He was not in Denval anymore though, not in his new home, but in a place he had never been to before. He furrowed his brow as he considered his situation, and then he began to get worried. His heart began to beat faster.

Where exactly was he? And why was he here? Was this some kind of prison, some kind of dark prison he would never be released from? Was this his punishment? Punishment for the fact that he belonged to a race of murderers and rapists? Punishment for condoning the Harvest, for not trying harder to find a cure, a way for his people to exist without bloodshed? He deserved to be punished, that was certain, but still, he wished he knew how they had taken him from his bed in Denval and transported him here. He didn’t remember anything!

He extended his hands, carefully made a step and then another one until he could feel a wall. He let his hands run across the wall, much like a blind man would. It seemed to be the only solid thing in this world of darkness. He needed to find out how big this place was and whether there were other places connected to it. He walked slowly. He wasn’t used to moving in complete darkness and afraid that he would stumble and fall. In Kalinor it had never been completely dark. In fact he dimly remembered that he should have been able to see something, that a Symenestra should be able to see in the dark and not be blind.

Panic began to set in. Was he that then? Blind? Had they taken his sight from him? Had his crime been so great?

He shuddered, but he forced himself not to be despair. He would break down later, but for now he needed to find out as much about this place as possible. He walked on. He couldn’t tell how long he walked. Maybe it were only minutes. Maybe he walked for hours. It was hard to tell time when you couldn’t see the sky, when there was no light, nothing to measure the passing of time. Maybe he had already spent years in darkness when he finally reached the end of the corridor he had found himself in.

There was a door. He let his hands run across it and noticed that it was made of simple wood. He pushed it. He didn’t expect it to open – surely the guards of his prison weren’t that careless and risk his escape? – but it did. And then there was suddenly light. He blinked a couple of times. After all the darkness the light hurt his eyes, and they began to water. And then, as he realized that he was not blind after all he breathed a sigh of relief.

He took a look around. The room was small and sparsely furnished, and the window only let very little light through. Still, it was comforting to know that he was in a room with windows, that he was not lost in an endless nightmare. For a moment he wondered how such a seemingly normal room could be connected to his prison.

And then he realized that there was another person in the room besides him, and he decided the answer to why there was such a room here could wait. The Symenestra decided to approach him. Maybe he could give him a few answers. As he came closer, he realized that there was something familiar about the man. „Vanos?“ he asked, saying the name of the only Isur he had ever met. He raised his hands to show that he meant no harm.

Rorugir in turn could see a figure step out of the shadows. The man that approached him was tall and pale, with skin as white as snow and silver hair. His eyes were amethyst, two brilliant jewels. His face was quite appealing, but there was something slightly off about him nevertheless. His arms were too long, and they ended in black claws. He was dressed in precious silk, and there was a most peculiar mark on his arm, a deep red chain, the mark of Viratas, the blood god.

[Rorugir]

The man appeared from the darkness like one of Dira's Omens, his figures at first indistinct as he emerged from a seemingly endless darkness contained within the corner of the room. Fearful irrational thoughts of the kind Rorugir had never experienced before ran through his head - had his time come? Was it time for him to pass on? But there was too much to do. Too much to discover. When the man stepped into the lights of the torches, a sharp breath escaped isur lips. This man could not possibly be an Omen...for one thing, he wore no cloak and jackal mask like his mother had said they always had on. And for another thing...he was too pretty. Unsettlingly handsome, to be precise. Ebony-pale and taller than Rorugir (though that was not uncommon), his face would've appealed if not for the strangely colored eyes or the snow-white hair. The black claws on the tips of his fingers weren't exactly reassuring either. That seemed to speak of a distinctly unhuman quality, though Ror couldn't exactly admit that was what exactly disturbed. Not with a dark-grey, enlarged mass of a left arm. Fine silk like that he used to wear in Sultros befitted his character, and a strange mark dotted his arm. He approached Rorugir diffidently, and called him by an isur name - Vanos. Who was this Vanos? Rorugir had no idea, but he was reassured that the man had actually said something. Omens supposedly never said anything... "Vanos? I don't know any of such a name. I am Rorugir Steelrune." As he stood, Rorugir's eyes slitted as he examined the creature who now stood before him. Where had he come from? What was he doing there? And, more importantly, what was Rorugir doing here? Rorugir walked around him, looking to see from whence the man had came. But if this...thing...had seen a door and walked through it here, Rorugir saw no such construct. Only a blank stone wall. "How did you get here?" Rorugir said warily, turning back to his newfound companion. "Where are we?" This was a strange situation the isur found himself in, and if this new person held any information about why he was here, he intended to find them out.

[Veldrys]

As Veldrys waited for the Isur’s answer, he couldn’t help but wonder what the other man was doing here, in his prison. Was he a prisoner as well? Had they trapped them here together? Would they, whoever their captors were, make them fight to the death? Torture them? Or was a prison guard? He seemed much less bothered by their situation. Veldrys couldn’t see a hint of fear on the Isur’s face. Or maybe he was jut not showing it. Maybe he had himself under better control than the follower of Viratas.

Viratas. Why was his god not helping him? Why had all his prayers remained unanswered? Had he comitted a sin against his god? Had the way he had worshipped him been wrong? Maybe not all blood was precious after all. Maybe those people from the surface were supposed to die. Maybe he wasn’t supposed to show kindness. Maybe his own race, the Symenestra were superior. He didn’t like the thought at all because he had never one to enjoy the killing of others, but he had to consider this possibility.

Did his gnosis mark still work here? If he somehow managed to convince the Isur who he assumed to be his acquaintance from Denval to let him drink a bit of his blood, would he be able to find out what had happened?

He thought about that for a while. The Isur’s words only registered slowly in his mind, but as they did, the Symenestra shook his head, disappointed. It would have been easier to be here with somebody he knew and trusted to some extent. „I’m sorry to have confused you for my friend then, Rorugir. You look like him. A bit at least. I am Veldrys“, he introduced himself because it seemed only fair since the Isur had given him his name.

As Rorugir asked him where he had come from, Veldrys turned around and replied, „I came through that ...“

He stopped abruptly and furrowed his brow. „It’s gone. There was a long corridor with a door at the end. I walked through it, but now it seems to have disappeared. Do you know what happened to the door? I don’t know exactly where we are, but to me this seems like some kind of prison, although I’m not sure what my crime is. Or maybe it’s a test. Do you know how we can get out of here? Can you open the window?“

[Rorugir]

Almost at the same time Veldrys was thinking of his god, Rorugir was thinking of his; Izurdin, patron god of the isur. Unlike Veldrys, however, Rorugir was not thinking of how he had offended the god. Instead, he was wondering if this had been set up for him by Izurdin. The god was known for working in such indirect ways. Was this a test, then? What would its purpose be, then? Rorugir shook his head slightly. There was no use trying to guess, that would only complicate the situation. Instead, he'd have to wait and see. The man's words were heard and discarded at the same time. "Don't worry, it's nothing, really. Pleasure to meet, Veldrys. " Rorugir said mechanically, the slight of being mistaken for another isur's identity having already been forgotten in his mind. Instead, it was focused on others things: namely, how to get out. "That seems a little suspicious." Rorugir said plainly when Veldrys tried to explain how he had got here. "Though I can hardly accuse you of trickery when I myself do not know how I got here." Rorugir sighed. Looks like his companion was just as clueless to what was going as Ror. "A prison? Such a idea had not occurred to me, although it's not a possibility. There are some flaws with that idea, though; first, where are the guards? And why is that window unbarred? That would be a major error for a jail, especially if one of us was a Morpher." Rorugir had no interest in the magical discipline himself, but it might have been possible for this...Veldrys. Rorugir nodded in approval as, around the same time, Veldrys mentioned the window as well. "I thought about it, but didn't try." Rorugir admitted. "It looks too small for me to get through. You, though..." Rorugir sized up Veldrys, then shook his head. "It doesn't seem like you would be able to get through either, though. Feel free to give it a shot, though." Leaving the man to his own devices for the moment, Rorugir prowled around the room, his own interest in escape aroused by the other's. As hard as he tried, though, he could not find anything useful; no cracks in the walls, missing floorboards or ceiling tiles, nothing. Even the furniture looked bolted to the floor to keep it from being used to smash through a wall. "A test seems like the most likely possibility right is a test of some sort. But for what purpose? And who set it up?" Rorugir glanced askance at the symnestra. "It all seems unfathomable to me."

[Veldrys]

Under normal circumstances Veldrys would have agreed that it was a pleasure to meet the Isur. He always liked meeting new people, especially if they were as foreign as Rorugir. But nothing about their current situation was normal, and thus it remained only an empty phrase. In a way it was pleasant not to be alone – some things were easier to bear if there was somebody else there – but he didn’t know this man at all. What if he was the enemy? He didn’t seem to be malicious – he had been friendly so far – but one could never be sure.

„It’s strange, isn’t it? Doors normally don’t simply disappear.“ He returned to the corner where he had come from and let his hand run across the wall. Maybe the door hadn’t really disappeared. Maybe it was still there, but invisible. But no, it was completely gone.

„Maybe this here has something to do with Ionu“, he murmurred as he returned to Rorugir. „They say strange things happen in Alvadas. Do you think we are somewhere in Alvadas?“ It was a possibility as far as he was concerned. He preferred Alvadas to some kind of strange prison. If they were in Alvadas, they would likely be able to leave again.

„I’ve wondered about the lack of guards as well“, he admitted. „At first I thought you were a guard, but you seem to be as clueless as I am. Maybe they don’t need anybody to guard us because you can’t get out of here.“ He walked over to the window and looked out of it. He didn’t recognize the landscape that surrounded this strange building.

The Isur had mentioned Morphing ....

He looked at the other man abruptly. „Are you a morpher?“ he wanted to know. Almost everywhere he had been people had been at least slightly suspicious of magic – magic had at least in part been responsible for the great catastrophe that had taken place a very centuries prior, and thus he was a little hesitant to reveal that he was a mage. But on the other hand, if it could get them out of here ...

„I have some knowledge of Morphing“, he admitted, carefully watching the Isur for his reaction. „I cannot make any drastic changes to myself, but I could make myself a little more slender, a little shorter.“ He cast another glance at the window. „How small would I have to be to fit through it, do you think?“

„I have no idea“, he replied as Rorigur wondered who had set this up. „Nothing about this here makes any sense to me.“

[Rorugir]

Despite months lived on end dealing daily the wild and ferocious dangers of the Unforgiving, which was an apt name as far as Rorugir was concerned, he did not immediately suspect the man of anything. To him, he simply posed another enigma waiting to be examined, another piece of the puzzle. Granted, at the moment it was a puzzle he couldn't make the shape out just yet, but he knew it would all come together in the end. With Izurdin, it always did. In any case, Rorugir was predisposed to think well of the man, strange as he was. In any other case, this might not have been the case; the isur was as cynical as he was unflappable, but as it seemed that this man - or whatever Veldrys was - was lumped into this situation together, teamwork seemed almost required. He needed to get onto the man's good side, as it were. "Not under normal circumstances they don't," The isur murmured, in agreement with Veldrys' statement. The next statement his companion uttered made Rorugir raise his head, which had previously been lowered to the ground, looking for cracks, weak spots to exploit. "Ionu? That's the god of...illusions, right?" Rorugir wasn't too familiar with the gods beyond Izurdin. That was all he needed to know, as far as he was concerned. Well, except in situations like these... "It might be him. If it is, it seems a very...convenient solution to what's going on." Rorugir admitted. "Given the nature of our very - well, prison seems the closest word - that seems a bit suspicious. But, as my mother used to say, we should 'take the simplest solution' I guess, but...Well, I just don't know. This might be Alvadas, might not. I'd rather look and find out." Rorugir paused as he heard the man's question. It was abrupt, out-of-the-blue, and Veldrys seemed a bit strange when he heard magic. He'd heard of parts of Mizahar in which magic was not the norm...not accepted. The strange looks on the caravans when he mentioned magic had given him this impression. It seemed unbelievable to the one-time inhabitant of the Pitrius citadel, who specialized in such endeavors, but it was possible all the same. Could it be that this was the case with Veldrys? "Well, no..." Rorugir said cautiously. "I'm not a morpher, and I'm sorry if I-" The man's sudden confession brought relief to the isur, as well as allowing him to, gratefully, halt his apology. It also seemed too to back up his theory - magic wasn't traditionally wherever this man was from, and so was cautious in telling others he was a mage. That was rational. "Are you? I can't say I'm familiar with the craft, but I do know reimancy." This last part came out a bit rushed; Rorugir wasn't sure how Veldrys would respond to the fact he himself knew magic. "But if you know morphing," Rorugir went on, "Then we can see about fitting you through that window. Yes, from what it seems, a few slight adjustments might get you through. But..." The word died on his lips, but he knew Veldrys would know what he would say; if Veldrys left that way, Rorugir would still be unable to leave. "I'd say the size of a teenager, or so." Rorugir said quietly.

[Veldrys]

„Yes, Ionu is the god of illusions“, Veldrys confirmed, but then he furrowed his brow. „Or is it a goddess? I’m not quite sure. Sometimes they call Ionu a woman, and then they suddenly refer to Ionu as a man. Don’t you find that strange? I don’t think Ionu’s gender or the lack thereof has any effect on our current predicament though.“ He glanced at the place where the door had been again. If this was an illusion and he concentrated hard enough, shouldn’t he able to see through the illusion? He tried, but nothing happened. Of course not. That would have been too easy.

He looked at Rorugir abruptly. If this was Ionu’s work, if this was an illusion, was it possible that the Isur was an illusion as well? Maybe the man was just a product of his overactive imagination, born from his desire not to be trapped in this prison alone. Maybe he wasn’t real. On the other hand, could illusions talk? Could illusions be so reasonable? If he touched the Isur, would his hand go right through him? He was almost tempted to try it, but then he decided not to. If the Isur was real, he might consider that impolite, and even in this strange nightmare being polite was of utmost importance to the Symenestra.

„Let’s take the simplest solution for now“, he agreed. „And consider all those other, more problematic solutions later. I don’t really want to think about prisons and about what despicable crime I have committed in their opinion at the moment. Let’s just assume that we are in Alvadas.“ Even as he said this he began to have doubts. Alvadas was preferrable to all the possible alternatives, but he had never been that lucky.

As Rorugir admitted to being a reimancer, the Symenestra narrowed his eyes a little. Reimancy was not exactly his favourite kind of magic. He tended to associate it with fire and neglect all its other aspects. Fire belonged to Ivak, and Ivak had almost destroyed the world. On the other hand Isur prayed to Izurdin and not Ivak, and thus Rorugir was probably comparatively harmless as far as Reimancers were concerned.

Rorugir seemed to be worried that Veldrys would just leave him here if he managed to climb through the window. For a moment the Symenestra actually considered doing it, but what if it was dangerous out there? What if the two of them were alone? Wouldn’t it be better to have somebody there besides him, somebody who could help, even if he might not be real?

„If I manage to leave, I will find a way to get you“, he promised the Isur. „I think I can make myself the size of a teenager. I was one not too long ago after all.“

If he had thought about it a little more, he would have found it strange how easy Morphing was here. He was only a novice, and Morphing had always taken a bit of effort before, but now it took him a mere minute to change himself. Rorugir could watch him grow shorter and shorter. The Symenestra’s features softened a little as well. Veldrys didn’t just want to turn himself into a vertically changed adult. He didn’t want to become a short man. He preferred changing the rest of him as well.

„Morphing is strange, isn’t it?“ he asked and looked at his clothes that didn’t fit quite as well anymore. His voice was still almost the same. „I’ve done this for a while now, but I’ve never gotten completely used to it.“

He walked over to the window.

[Rorugir]

Rorugir nodded, only half-listening to what the man said. The waffle about Ionu...that didn't concern him. At least, not until he traveled to Alvadas. Right now, he was focused on the situation at hand. The next thing he said concerned him, however. The isur looked once again at his newfound companion, his dark eyes silently assessing him. Despicable crime? He sounded like he wasn't sure which one he was being jailed for. As in, he'd committed more than one. Ror wasn't any upstanding citizen - you couldn't, if you wanted to come out of the Unforgiving alive - but this concerned him. Maybe this place was really a prison, and the inmate was standing across from him?... Could he really trust this man? Not that he really trusted him, in the first place. Isur never did. "True. Hopefully, this is but an illusion." Rorugir said, choosing his words carefully. "We'll see what happens...once you get through that window." Anxiety rippled through him as he spoke. Fear of abandonment, reinforced by his new fears about Veldrys, echoed within him. What if Veldrys left him behind, to die in this small, suffocating room? The promise the man made refuting this very thought seemed weak, or at least to the isur's suspicious mind. "...Thanks." Ror said, each syllable falling obtusely. The man seemed ready to being Morphing, but a sudden spur of anxiety forced Ror to speak once more. "What race are you?" Rorugir blurted out. "I'm sorry, I just had to know before you...left." and might not come back, was what was left unsaid. As much as Rorugir was getting anxious about the man's leaving, he couldn't help but be intrigued by the Morphing he did. He grew short, and his features changed, until the man looked younger. Not in age lines or anything, but as if he had actually regressed a couple years. "I'll agree to that," Rorugir said, smiling grimly. He accompanying the man over to the window, and helped push him through. It was a tight squeeze, but the isur had guessed correctly; Veldrys could make it through the window. And then, he would fall. Fall for what seemed an eternity. But when he would finally land, it would hardly even hurt, lending even more of an unnatural feel to the place. Getting up would provide the man with a view of another room; dark and forbidding, with doors stretching off in all four directions. "What do you see?" the isur's antsy voice echoed down to Veldrys from above, the window a mere pocket of light at the top of the chamber.

[Veldrys]

As Rorugir asked him which race he was, Veldrys looked directly at him, and then he furrowed his brow as if he needed to think about it, as if he wasn’t quite sure about it himself. Finally he replied, „I’m a Symenestra.“ He watched the Isur’s reaction closely. Had he heard of his people? Did Symenestra ever abduct Isurian women? He had never seen an Isurian surrogate when he had worked as a healer at the Purging, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t exist. Most Symenestra were willing to abduct pretty much any woman that would give them a Symenestra child.

Whatever the Isur said to his revelation, he took a look at the window. It still looked small, and for a moment he wondered if he should have made himself even shorter, but with Rorugir’s help he actually managed to climb through it. He’d probably get a few bruises here and there though ...

... and then, before he had time to think about it, before he knew what exactly was happening, he began to fall. He seemed to fall for minutes, hours, for an eternity. For the second time in short consequence he was afraid. He didn’t understand why he was falling. When he had looked through the window, he had seen a landscape outside, not some kind of hole. It didn’t make any sense to him. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer to his god to protect him. Whatever crime he supposedly had committed, he wasn’t ready to die!

He didn’t even notice that he had landed at first. He had thought that he would break all his bones, but it hardly hurt. He just sat there for a moment and took a deep breath, and then he got up and inspected his surroundings. He was in another room. He shook his head and rubbed his eyes – he wasn’t sure if they worked correctly – but the view that presented itself to him was still the same. What kind of strange place was this?

As he heard Rorugir’s voice from somewhere high above him, he raised his head. „There’s another room!“ he called out to him. „It’s fairly dark here, but I think I see a few doors. Do you think I should try to find out what’s behind them?“ He narrowed his eyes and took a closer look. There was something dark and foreboding about this new room.