Closed Chance Encounter (Miro/Ender)

[Verin Rush]

42nd Day of Winter, 513AV It was a long day, or night, as Verin had only started working at about six bells past noon. Despite the fact that he had only been working for four bells, he was finding the slowly passing time tedious. For some reason, business at the Malt House was slow, and the tavern was almost empty, save a few of the regular patrons that Verin served most days. “Grayson, are you sure you want to keep the tavern open?” The young blond asked as he wiped down the bar counter for the third time in the past bell, “At this rate, we’re going to start losing money, rather than making a profit.” The owner of the tavern, who didn’t always have the best business head on him, looked at his employee incredulously, but Verin held his ground; it wasn’t as if he had grown a second head. “And send these wonderful people away, when they want more drinks? Don’t be foolish boy.” Verin knew that there was no point in arguing with the man once he had gotten an idea into his head, no matter how foolish. He tried a different tact, “At least close the kitchen and send the girls home. They’ve received no orders for the past bell and a half.” A few of the customers sitting at the bar proper started grumbling at the idea of sending the girls home, whom they all liked to look at as they grew closer and closer to their poisoned stupor, and Verin resisted the urge to roll his eyes, praying that Falkes saw reason in his words. Luckily he did see through his folly and nodded shortly before heading out to the back. Quick to avoid the rambunctious complaints from the men at the bar, Verin stalked to the other end and pulled out his own pint, one which he had poured badly earlier, thus becoming his own drink. He took a gulp of it as a patron walked over from his seat and set two flagons onto the table, “Two of the same, if you please, good man.” Verin smiled at perhaps the only sober patron they had this evening as he picked up the old flagons and placed them on the back to be cleaned. “Slow day?” Pulling the first of the flagons of ale, the blond nodded with an exaggerated sigh as his smile turned wry, “You have no idea, I have no idea where everyone is tonight.” Verin glanced down and watched as the second flagon filled with the golden fluid and the head began to brim over the top. He noticed that the ale was coming out slower than it usually did, meaning that he would have to exchange the casket. He hid his grimace; ordinarily, he hated changing the ale barrels around, especially when it was busy and punters would get angry at having to wait for it, leaving him to rush. But on a night like tonight, he would do anything, as long as he didn’t have to lean against the wall and stare into nothingness. Lifting up the second flagon, he placed it on the wooden surface and accepted the man’s money, knowing he didn’t have to tell him the price. “Maybe there’s a discount night at the House of Immortal Pleasures tonight… I know there’s one towards the end of the Season.” He grinned as the man chuckled at his joke before turning and walking back to his table with the two ales. “I’m going to go and change the barrel,” Verin muttered to his employer, who nodded and returned to his conversation. The elder Rush watched him for a minute before turning away and walking out to the back, where cool ale barrels were stored, ready for use. Grabbing the first available, Verin half carried, half rolled, half dragged the keg back up to the bar. Once there, he paused for a chime or two to regain his breath; Verin wasn’t weak, but an entire wooden and metal barrel filled to the brim with liquid was no easy task to move around. Then he returned to the barrel already there, needing to check that it was actually empty; he managed to pour a little more into his own flagon of ale, and then he looked inside. Satisfied, he unlatched it and rolled it aside. Taking a deep breath, he turned to the other and pushed it into place before attaching it up again. He downed about a quarter of his flagon of ale before lowering it to the new keg and opening it up. The ale came out slow, and very frothy at first, but that was to be expected. In a while, it will have settled and would be ready for use.

[Miro]

Miro stood at the fore of his bed and stared out his window at the city below. As Winter carried on without its usual visit from Morwen, the Ice Reaver found himself somewhat upset. This was the time of year that he was usually refreshed by snowy beauty. This was something Rhysol kept from his people, despite the city's location. The only way to find the Goddess of Winter's touch was to take the ferry across the lake. For the most part at least. Yesterday for just a few bells, snow fell in the city of chaos. But today it was gone with no sign of return.

"What a drab city, with seasons so ambiguous, cut off from the natural order of the world." The room seemed empty, and it was as if the wizard talked to himself, however this was not the case. Upon his right wrist was a silver bracelet. This was not just some trinket or keepsake, but instead a sentient being. This was Ender, the Chained One's Familiar. "Yet still not every wisp of Winter's chill can be kept out. I can feel the icy winds pouring in across the lake, the call from snow that blankets the world. Morwen is spreading her grace across Mizahar, and I am trapped in a cage, kept from her frigid embrace."

It was not as if the monologue was meant for the Irylid bound to the undead. Instead Miro only wished to have an audience to fuel his narcissistic need to be heard. He dramatically placed his hand upon the window and gazed long to the horizon of the lake with sullen eyes. "I have been away from my Goddess for too long already, and she calls me to commune with her. I have decided that I am leaving the city and Rhysol's grasp to be taken into the fields of snow and ice. I shall lose myself in meditation and prayer to grow closer to the Ice Queen." The wizard loosed a soft sigh and began to disrobe. He stripped himself down to his tan breeches and moved to retrieve his cloak.

Despite the fact of the Irylid only being spoken to out of vanity, the subject was one of interest. Morwen was the one deity that the Familiar approved of his master worshiping. Indeed the plan to be surrounded by the snow and grow closer to Morwen was one that interested him. "Excellent master, that is a wonderful idea. I am very eager to spend the day in communion. I too long for such an experience. Nothing could be more peaceful." However Ender quickly began to worry. He sensed the immediate disapproval of his master, and knew what came next. It was all too easy to forget his partner's personality flaws.

Miro scowled at the bracelet on his wrist. "No Ender, I am leaving the city not only to get away from Rhysol's influence, but yours as well. I shall venture deep enough into the wilderness that our telepathic connection is severed. Do ensure that in this time you do not do anything to disturb my worship. I need to be alone with Morwen, offer my own praise. You may offer yours as well, but within the city, or outside of it on another day." The tone used as the undead spoke aloud was not the usual derisive voice used in telepathy. It held an added harsh rasp to the already sarcastic tone. "It is apparent that the snowfall within the city was a divine message intended for me. I must answer the summons, and I alone."

The wizard began to shake his wrist frantically. "Now, get off, I must leave." The Familiar did as it was told and returned to his natural form. But he could not accept things without a strong sense of disappointment. Something he knew would be met with annoyance. "The sooner I am free of our connection, the sooner I will be at peace." Miro flung put on his cloak and hood and made for the door. "If you are considering telling me something before I am out of range, do not bother. From this point on I want to forget the existence of everything except Morwen's domain. Whatever comes up, deal with it yourself. I am sure you are capable of surviving a day without my guidance."

Ender remained silent for quite some time, still slightly upset, the way only his master could make him. He mused on how emotional he had become since his arrival on Mizahar. Things seemed so much more straightforward on Fyrden. There was only ever one real goal, to survive and hope to leave. But when finally one can leave, at last they’re able to see truth. There is more to life than to earn freedom. Once one is granted freedom they are met with their greatest challenge yet. One must find something greater to devote themselves to. For most on this planet, the people chose gods. He expected most Familiars were devoted to their wizards, to dominate or support them. But was Ender even free to choose?

The Irylid looked around the room with distaste. The door and window were shut, and he was without hands. He was bound to a dictator at all times, subject to constant rule and order. Truly he was anything but free, on most days at least. Today his master forgot their bond, so the Familiar would too. Bells had passed, and by now their connection severed. He let all negative influences go, hesitation included, and assumed his replicant form. The technique would allow him to assume human form, leave the domicile, and as well to indulge in something he so greatly craved. He was free to interact with the people of the city and commune with them. Though the technique used Djed, today he would pretend the resource was not shared with his master.

Ender began to expand and take humanoid form. His metallic surface first formed limbs and clothes, then began to morph color and detail. He took the form of young adult Human with some Symenestran traits. He was somewhat tall, nearly six feet, with black hair and a slim build. He bore slight fangs and claws, had silver eyes, but otherwise appeared a normal Human. The process was quite rapid, over in several ticks, though always somewhat uncomfortable. It took time to adjust to being in a form that moved with so many independent parts. The worst was always having vision limited to his eyes. The lack of situational awareness made him paranoid.

Though unacknowledged, being without his master’s protection was the Irylid's greatest fear. He hesitated to open the door and made an attempt to gather some courage. Again he mused on how much he had changed, once so independent and self-assured. It was something he hoped to regain now. He didn't need Miro. If anything he was better off alone. Ender turned the knob and opened the door, immediately met with a sense of relief. The only question now was how to meet a willing companion. Social interactions were not a strong suit of his, but from what he could tell a bar was best location to force one. Often enough the residents were chatty, in high spirits, and often quite easy to persuade. Alcohol seemed to have that effect.

It was a shame he could not be sure which bar was best, if there was such a thing. Every place had a reputation, but understanding it was difficult. If there was one thing the Summon had learned by now it was the Ravosalamen knew. It seemed to be part of the job, as if it included intelligence gathering. The Irylid cared not to muse on it any further and proceeded down to the dock with haste. It would not be wise at all to waste time in this form. He needed to make things quick. The first boat he spotted was waved down frantically. To actually interact was a new experience however. He stepped onto the boat and hesitated nervously, though his face remained still.

"Where to kid?" The man asked somewhat impatiently. The man grimaced at Ender's inhuman features, obviously with mistrust. However the source of such a dirty look remained unknown to the Irylid as he worked the nerve to speak. He suspected the look of disapproval meant he had been discovered already. "Take me to a bar." The look of disgust on the man's face grew. "I hope you're not out looking for trouble. You might be a bit young to be hanging around a bar. Do you at least have any place in mind?" It was news to the Summon that he looked so young and out of place. He hadn't put any thought into what race he had become.

There was no time to waste however, he needed to get somewhere quick. "The Malt House, quickly please. If you hurry there is an extra tip in it for you." The location was one he heard mentioned at some point, and was the first to come to mind. The part about the tip was something he had picked up from his master. He need only toss a few coins at the man for him to become subservient. "Sure thing kid," the Ravosalaman said plainly as he pushed them from the dock. Ender reached down to pat his breeches, then startled at a realization. He hadn't any money on him. He hadn't thought to take any.

For the rest of the trip he worried and plotted a way out. There was nothing he could do in compensation, at least none he knew of, and finally came to a hard decision. He would simply flee, but realized the man would know his destination. The only way he could elude the man would be to lead him elsewhere. What a foolish mistake to make. It was apparent that he would need to use magic. To try and use Hypnotism to get out of things was too risky. Instead it would just be used to sell the redirect. The man turned his head to speak, "I see it, right up here." It was now or never. He was afraid that things would end badly, and as much as he hated the idea, he loved it.

Ender began to smirk and move a bit closer to the Ravosalaman. He began to prepare a spell in mind and focused his will. He assured himself, felt powerful, boastful, and just his very presence would put emphasis on these feelings. He began to channel these emotional responses as he came up close to the man and put his hand on his shoulder. He could feel his Djed pour his influence over the man. The Familiar began to speak, still without change in tone, but with powerful assurance. "Oh I see it, but you didn't." The Ravosalaman was confused for a moment, but it quickly turned to fear.

The Irylid gripped the man's shoulder and began to channel an emotion of fear. He spoke again, but cast a spell, a suggestion. His words would cause the man to think, "He tricked me." The words came out with a tinge of malice. "I wasn't aiming to go to the Malt House, just a free ride." He focused his Djed on his pathways, just as he had learned, and issued a redirection. Strength began to flow out of his right arm and into the left arm that grasped the man. The Ravosalaman grasped for the arm that held him angrily, but could not remove it in time. Another redirection was issued from his front leg to his back and pulled with all of his weight.

Ender mostly toppled over, as did the boat, and the Ravosalaman went overboard. Though the man went head first, he did not land with any grace. The boat nearly capsized, and luckily did not dump its remaining passenger. Though still wet from the experience, the Familiar was unharmed. He quickly made his way out of the boat and into an alley before the man surfaced to witness him. The Malt House was just around the corner, and if he ran he could get in undetected. The Summon began to sprint and turned the corner as quickly as he could. He would not go undetected for long however.

Out of the alley, across the bridge, and in the door. With barely enough room to slow, Ender hastily made his way into the bar. His black shirt and breeches were soaked, as was his messy hair. He began to look over the new setting. Quite frantically in fact. His eyes scanned the room and he turned his head from side to side. It took only a few moments before he had taken everything in and settled. He walked off to the side of the room to observe the habits of those in the room. So far things had gone pretty well, but this would be his true test. There were not many people in the place, and only a slight murmur of conversation. The people only drank, stared and talked.

The only hint the Irylid got came from a man he watched approach the bar and request a drink. He followed suit and walked to the bar but the server had left. Nerves began to surface again. How to properly initiate conversation was beyond him. Ender stared awkwardly at the man and fussed with his hair, but did not speak a word. He was met with a glare for it. Dripping wet and not of the right race, things would be more difficult than he thought. To use Djed for something so trivial was not advisable either. The man at the bar would be ignored. Instead the Familiar would try his luck with the server when he returned.

[Verin Rush]

“No, I'm afraid not, Sir. The Malt House has no rooms available. As I said earlier, we are not a tavern in the same sense of others in the city. We can only offer you ale, a good meal, and then send you on your way.” Verin had lost count of the amount ofttimes he had had to decline the offer of money in exchange for a room at the Malt House, simply because the rooms did not exist. Yet people insisted that they must stay here. The man he was trying to turn away asked about what was kept above the tavern then, “Those are the rooms of the tavern's owner, Sir. Grayson lives there. If you ask him nicely he may allow you to share his bed, though I suggest you try to find a room at the Silver Sliver Tavern instead... or at the House of Immortal Pleasures.” The last part was muttered under his breath, and the man, luckily, did not catch it, but he didn't miss the sarcasm in Verin's voice as he rattled off suggestions, and his face deepened until it was almost the same shade of beet root. Verin idly wondered if that was what one looked like when they were ticks away from exploding. He smiled politely and, having nothing further to assist the man with, turned to the next patron, waiting just a little further down the bar. The tight lipped smile barely became more welcoming as her sighed and forced out a request for the new customer's order. “What'll it be, Sir?” He spoke without even looking at the man, as he rested his right hand on the pulley for the ale and his left on the bar top. Verin's body sagged slightly, and one leg supported his weight whilst the other slid back behind him. His shoulders were hunched; his job was hardly the most stressful, and he knew that it would likely be a lot worse once he was accepted into the Black Sun, but working in customer service was not easy. When people weren't happy, they usually took it out on the workers available. And customers who were drinking? Well they were the worst, Verin had quickly learned. Sighing, he looked up expectantly at his next punter, and his previously weary eyes widened - he had seen this man before. It took Verin a moment to remember when and where, to place the man in his memories, but he did quickly; it was hard to forget the face of the adolescent who had manipulated an icy bridge out of nowhere for him to cross. The long, ebony hair was at complete contrast to his pale skin, a look of someone who wasn't completely human, which made it easier for Verin to recognise the man. He stared. “You.” The boy couldn't have been older than about eighteen years or so - not much younger than Verin... it wasn't as common to find young patrons, but thus one had a look that suggested he had never seen the inside of a tavern, and had no idea what to do now that he was here. "Lost. That's how he looks." he didn't like serving first time drinkers - they couldn't hold their liquor, even though nothing they served was particularly strong. Despite this, Verin needed to know more. He had seen the boy use a magic that had piqued Verin's curiosity... a useful magic, just like Hypnotism. And the boy had helped him and the Nuit in the chase for the assailant from the Rising a Dawn Execution. It followed that the man might be willing to help, or teach, or... something, Verin about the magic. “What'll it be?” He asked again, stupidly.

[Miro]

Ender sat nervously and waited for any chance to make conversation. When finally the bartender returned, the Irylid noticed something odd about him. He knew this man from somewhere. It took a moment, but then he placed it. This was the man from that time at the execution. And it seemed that the man recognized the Familiar in this form as well. At least the expression on his face would certainly hint at such. It definitely seemed like a good chance to find a friend.

There was not all that much that Ender really got to know from their meeting, but it hardly mattered. That would just mean there was more to learn through conversation. The man asked him what it would be, and the Irylid remembered where he was, at a bar. This time he would not forget that he did not have money, but did not know if he would be removed from the establishment were he to refuse to spend any money. Worse yet he didn't know if he would be scolded for distracting the bartender from his job, which his hesitation was doing.

The replicant form only lasted so long. The Irylid needed to succeed here or return to his room before he wasted any more Djed. He had observed people long enough to figure out how to communicate effectively. He was sure of it, observation was all he did. The key to understanding how a person felt was their face, always with expressions that changed with their emotions. The way they gestured, moved, the way their faces and voices shifted, it made reading them all too easy.

This man here, his name had escaped the Irylid from their past encounter, but Ender knew him. He was useful, despite his inability to climb atop buildings. He seemed brave, quick to jump at an opportunity. At the time he looked determined and excited, but now there was none of that. Instead he seemed despondent, frustrated, like he was not happy to be here. And it only seemed to get worse when he dealt with customers. The only time that ever changed was when the replicant form caused a reaction of shock.

After again being posed the question a second time, Ender decided on an acceptable answer. "I would like only to borrow a glass. I wouldn't mind a bit of friendly company either." The Fyrdense attempted a friendly gesture he had learned, the smile. He revealed his sharp fangs and gums in a wide grin. He wondered after if perhaps he had overcompensated compared to his actual satisfaction. Either way, it was only the attempt for what would come next. So many times he had seen it done, and now he had his own chance to perform.

Ender reduced the grin down to a sly smirk and began to focus his presence and movements. He loaded his normally still body language and voice with hypnotic Djed. Emotional responses of companionship, curiosity and happiness were met with suggestions carried across subtle words. "Let me see that glass. I will show you a trick. In return all I ask is that you entertain me for a short while." The subconscious message submitted, "I like him, this is a pleasant surprise, I'll do ask he asks."

The Familiar spotted a glass a patron had left behind near him and grabbed it. "This will do well enough." He turned out its contents on the ground and thought nothing of the act. He then placed his palm atop the glass and focused his Djed into his hand. His mind flashed with the thought of flowing water at a nearly freezing cold temperature, and at the same time of freshly fallen snow. It was a difficult task to focus on such a level, but such a challenge made the act thrilling.

The Irylid focused on his ability to transmute Res from his palm and the ability to transmute Res to the elements at once. The act synchronized into the elements seemingly pour from the Reimancer's hand. The glass which he cast into quickly filled with a slush of snow that floated atop water. The entire display was something only experienced through his master's many memories of Alvadas. A place where magic was used for entertainment. Those wizards had a certain name. "I am Ender, a magician. Pleased to meet you. What might your name be?"

[Verin Rush]

Verin watched the cogs whirring in strange man's head at the question asked of him in the silence that followed. From the execution and subsequent chase, Verin had inferred that the creature was a Familiar of some form, and therefore not likely from this world. Though it looked human now, if a little weedy and pale, Verin knew that the creature's natural form was a silvery-blue sphere of ice. He had to admit that this form was much easier to converse with.

Knowing so little about Familiars, other than the fact that they existed and acted as companions for wizards he did not know where the strange little being that could morph from ice into a human form came from, nor even what it was. As he waited for an answer, Verin wondered how long the Familiar had been on this world - if it belonged to the slow man who had ran with him - who Verin assumed was a Nuit - that time could be stretching hundreds of years. Yet the familiar and the supposed Nuit never interacted, and for some reason, Verin doubted he was this Familiar's Master. Maybe the Ephyarian, who had scaled the wall... yet the way the familiar had spoken to the Ephyarian suggested this was also not the case. Another, clearly, one whom Verin had not met. Curious that a Familiar would venture out and assist a party to which he did not belong. Yet the three all seemed to know each other??? his Master master have been near. "Clearly something else happened that day..."

The Familiar asked for just a glass and, in obvious surprise at the response, Verin opened his mouth to ask whether or not he wanted any liquid in the vessel. "The Familiar must be new to the world, then," was the only conclusion he could reach, if it had entered a tavern and asked for just a glass. Clearly the creature did not yet understand the social normities of the world of Mizahar. Yet, the creature's next words stopped him from speaking, and, as he stared into the other's eyes, he felt an overwhelming desire to watch what the Familiar might do with the glass that had not liquid in it.

The blond bartender nodded dumbly as the other reached over to grab a used glass still sitting on the counter, and then it occurred to him what the creature had done. He was dumbfounded; he knew that Familiars were imbued with magic, but it did not occur to him that the magic was the same as those found on Mizahar, that they could learn the same that Verin himself was capable of learning, and even did learn, in this case. Still the pull of the Hypnotism pulled on him, and he allowed it; it was not often that Verin would be offered a parlour trick by a punter as a way of entertainment, and he was desperate to know more about this bizarre little creature.

He nodded and smiled, deciding that he liked the attitude of the Familiar, “I challenge you to surprise me, friend,” he said softly, “and I will offer you a drink of your choice on the house if you do.” It was quite possibly the strangest business transaction he had ever made to another, but then it occurred to him that this was likely the strangest creature with which he had ever made a business transaction.

He was glad that it was the early afternoon - a time when the Malt House was generally quite quiet, and today was no exception. It meant that Verin would not be too busy, and he could spare the time to talk to the Familiar. A quick glance up the rest of the bar told him that Grayson was serving the only punter waiting at the bar proper and, comfortable that he would not be disturbed for some time, he turned back to the Familiar and gave him his fullest attention happily.

And he was very glad that he had done so, as he watched an impressive display of magic performed in front of him. Verin had also watched the Familiar create a bridge made of ice, so he couldn't necessarily say that he was surprised, but he was pleased to be entertained for a moment. “A drink on the House it is, Ender. I'm Verin,” He allowed a natural grin to slide onto his face as he stared at the creature he was sure knew Hypnosism and Reimancy, at the very least. “Verin Rush.”

[Miro]

Ender was happy to have made such a good impression on somebody. He had for long believed that any, no matter the circumstance. Even when they applauded, in their hearts were fear and jealousy. But there were those wise enough to hold a artifice of innocence over their abilities. To now show the darker side, only tricks, as if it was nothing. To pretend they were merely gifted with the tools to provide for those around them. The creature knew deep down though, all wizards held the ability to harm as much as help. He was no exception, for he had taken lives with his magic. Even reveled in the act.

But why was it then that he wished to break from this part of himself? Was it because that it was a behavior learned from his master? It was true, Miro had corrupted him, and he was to obey the his master. But maybe this wasn't because of the wizard to which he was bound for once. Maybe the Irylid had come to realize something, through not only his master's actions, but through the world around him. Each person of sentience was not bound to some master, despite their souls connection, or even fate. There was always a choice, even when one's hand was forced.

Sometimes not much could be done in the present, and nothing could change the past, but at the very least he could do better in the future. Ender, with an absolute passion, hated the gods worshiped by Miro. Undeath, pain, murder, lies, betrayal, evil, these were the domains served by the Chained One. Perhaps his master was inclined to follow his cravings, even forced, but he could fight against it, dedicate himself to freedom. Instead he gave in to the darkness, spread it to consume all of those around him. But his Familiar would not make the same mistake. He craved the light, to counter the darkness in his master.

Magic could do great things for the world, as Miro had shown him. There had to be some god, some magic, some force in the world that could bring light to the world around him. Even if the Chained One was beyond saving, the Irylid would work to counter his spread of darkness. To teach magic to a pupil, it was not a matter of if they were valuable, but worthy. What would they do with the power mattered more than what could they do for you with it. With how he managed to reveal himself only affirmed his faith. But was he to work in secrecy of his master? To reveal his intentions would result in a command to stop, something he could not deny.

Ender gave a pleased nod at the mention of his new friends name. Verin Rush, a lovely name, if he did say so himself. It seemed exciting, if names could seem so. Due the the wager given, and apparently won, he had earned a drink. He was not accustomed to ordering such things, but had heard this one before. He knew a common enough response. At least he hoped he was understanding this correctly. "A pleasure to meet you Verin Rush. For my drink, well, I'll have..." Nerves at at him and caused him to pause and respond nervously. "I'll have whatever is on tap."

The Fyrdenese hoped he had used that right, for if not he might have made a fool of himself. He did not do so well with rejection these days. It brought him back to a hard time, a time where he was a slave to dominant cravings. Where he was forced into submission and denied any worth. He quickly followed up the comment with a forced bit of small talk. "You look familiar to me. I have seen you somewhere." He knew exactly where, and wondered what the man knew of him. Was it possible that Verin understood that this customer was a Familiar. "You know, Verin, there is a lot more I could show you. Maybe I can trust you to see."

[Verin Rush]

*
Again, a few ticks passed before Verin received an answer for the request for an order from the Familiar, not as long as he had previously taken, but Verin still noticed the time it took, which was longer than the average punter took. Upon receiving the answer, Verin nodded and bent down to grab a small flagon from the shelves below the bar. Ordinarily, he would have pulled out a larger flagon as the winnings for such a wager – he wasn’t like Grayson, where he would try to save ever copper he could. Verin was happy to give rewards where they were deserved, and here was definitely the case. Yet, from the hesitation from the man, Verin assumed that the humanoid creature had most likely never bought an alcoholic beverage before, so he inferred that the alcohol, though not particularly strong, might affect him faster.

As he held the mug under the nozzle and pulled the lever above, the golden nectar of ale poured out into the mug. The blond bartender’s recent work with Nolan Parnell had sprung to his mind as his train of thought continued. Idly, he wondered whether those from other worlds were even affected by substances found and created on Mizahar, or if they were most affected because of their origins. Not that he planned to use this creature for experimentation, he did consider that it would be interesting to ask this… Ender to ingest alcohols, poisons and medicines so that Verin might study the results.

The elder of the Rush twins quickly shook that thought from his mind, however, when the white head of froth sitting above the ale began just overflow in the mug. Ender spoke, asking a question to which Verin was sure he already knew the answer, and he smirked to himself as he released the lever and lifted the cup and, placing it upon the bar counter, pushed it across to the waiting winner of the wager. “You know exactly where you recall me from, friend.” he said as he picked up the old glass, the one which the Familiar had earlier used to win his wager and placed it on an empty tray on the back shelf, ready to be collected by one of the maids and taken to the back rooms to be cleaned.

“The Execution of those few members of the Rising Dawn, at the beginning of the Season…” His eyes narrowed at this point as he trailed off, and he wondered what he should say, as he wasn’t really sure how to broach the topic, to confirm whether or not Ender actually was a Familiar and, if so, who he was bonded to. “You assisted us across one of the wider canals…” something similar also saved his life about a quarter of a bell later, but he had only seen a slivery reflective orb, which he could not actually associate with anything, other than make assumptions. So he said none of these thoughts to Ender.

Verin raised a brow when Ender offered to share more things with the bartender – other than the “magic trick ” that had won the mug of ale sitting in front of the punter. “I know of some things you have already shown me.” If Ender was remembering back to the beginning of the Season, it was not a lie that Verin was surprised when he had witnessed the ice bridge form out of nowhere. Yet, whilst he was not familiar with a number of forms of magics, he was not amazed by the concept that such things existed. He had to admit that he was particularly curious with whatever it was that Ender had used to create the bridge. But he was already aware of the art of Hypnotism, and he thought that maybe Ender, with a magician for a bondmate, could be quite capable in the art. Ender seemed to be offering assistance to Verin, and the Rush twin was more than happy to capitalize on that.

[Miro]

Ender was happy to win the wager, but was not as pleased with the idea of consuming something. He had only ever fed on raw Djed. This was a drink that made people act foolishly. He did not even know if it would effect him in the same way. It made the Irylid nervous to try it. But he did not want to be rude to his new friend. Verin was nice, truly nice. Like Lessomm, but not because of money, or servitude, just for the sake of interaction. There was one way to be sure of the quality of this man, and it was through magic.

"Yes, right, I do remember you from the execution. I created the way across the canal, I even saved you from falling to your death. And though I have appeared to you in this form, well, I do not always." Again the Fyrdenese looked about to see nobody was within hearing distance. He leaned in and spoke softly to the bartender. "I am an Irylid, of Fyrden, a distant world. I am bound to my master through a special bond. To hide my true nature, I assume this form. My natural form is that of an orb composed of metal and ice."

Ender picked up the flagon and took a small sip, but found the taste quite unpleasant. He wanted Verin to be his friend, desperately he did. The Familiar saw how his master drew people in. Despite being an undead, a wizard, a horrible creature, Miro drew people in with his magic and power. Somehow to win them over with charm and charisma to manipulate them into following his plans. The Irylid hadn't nearly such foul intentions, but was not above manipulation. He was a magician, and he would use his magical tricks.

A magician was not one to so openly reveal the source of his magic however. But to flaunt what he was capable of was a must. For once Ender actually started to feel confident away from his master. "I am capable of a great many feats. A master of the impossible, if you would believe it. Able to see things the eye can not and trick minds with a wave of my hand. I am capable of feats of strength that you would not believe, but need only lay a single finger on a man to bring him to his knees. Greatest of all, I am the master of ice."

The Familiar was sure he had Verin's attention now. He even formed a genuine smirk with the confidence he had built. "I like you Verin, and I see potential in you." He pushed the flagon toward the bartender. "I don't want your drink." Truly he did not, for it tasted awful. "Instead I only want you to see if you are one worthy of learning from me. I could teach you things that would make it so you never had to work here again. Give you the means to help the people around you. I could make you powerful, but only if you are worthy of receiving my gifts."

[Verin Rush]

The bartender flexed his left hand as the mention of the swirl of ice that had formed around the assailant of the execution, as well as - unfortunately - Verin himself. Whilst it hadn't been particularly painful, the sensation had been remarkably uncomfortable. And, after a while, it had become painful, the sub-zero ice against his bare skin. He was, of course, incredibly grateful to the being that had saved him from the long fall, and almost certain death. Now that he knew for certain that it was Ender, his smile grew in thanks. A clap on his back alerted Verin to Grayson's presence behind him. He turned his head to hear, "The place is pretty quiet tonight, Verin, and I have Adaem coming in in half a bell, so head off in ten chimes or so, lad." The blond murmured his acknowledgement and turned back to continue listening to his customer.

Nodding as he listened to Ender's take on the events after the execution, any surprise did not appear on his face for the other to notice. His initial suspicions had been confirmed; this pale man, this... Ender, was a Familiar. He remembered the strange, silvery sphere that the most had seemed to emit from. More, Ender was sharing more information about what he was, and Verin wondered whether or not this new world, Fyrden, had different races and species, just like found on Mizahar, and he wondered if those species were all sentient.

He watched Ender's face as he tried the ale and it was clear to see that the unusual palate was not appreciated by the Familiar. The bartender worked hard to try to maintain a neutral expression; laughing with patrons was very different to laughing at them, and Verin had always been keen not to appear to be mocking of the customers coming into the Malt House, or in Ravok in general. Yet this time, he did not succeed in maintaining a straight face as he accepted the mug off of the man and took a draught of the golden liquid for himself, as it was just going to go to waste otherwise. He placed the drink back down on the bar front and frowned at the Irylid's speech on gifts and teaching and worthiness.

He had no idea how to prove any worthiness to anyone - he was struggling enough with making the Ebonstryfe or, especially, the Black Sun notice him, so that he could prove his worthiness to them. And, despite his rather radical upbringing from his widowed father, Verin couldn't shake the innate Ravokian racism that had developed. He believed all creatures on Mizahar were not equal to humans, and a voice in the back of his mind told him that a creature not of this world slotted in rather low on his personal hierarchy. It baffled him that he should ever had to show his worthiness to such a creature, much less a Familiar with a master. Yet the Fyrdenese had saved his life. And he also knew magic, and was offering to teach, apparently: that was enough for Verin. “How am I, a human if Mizahar, supposed to impress an Irylid of Fyrden?” He asked, his tone slightly disparaging as he reached for a cloth.

[Miro]

Ender saw the man come by and inform Verin that he could leave soon. Only about ten chimes or so. But honestly there was some concern of sustaining the replicant form. He had used it for longer in the past, but only in situations that called for it. Whatever Miro was doing outside of the city, there was a good chance he might need to cast at some point. There was a good chance the Familiar would cast as well. Conservation of Djed was important.

Verin seemed nice, but there was something about him. He seemed observant enough, cold at times, perhaps even a bit racist, but nice as well. At least enough to see past the Irylid's identity as a Familiar. Well, maybe not, but close enough. "I, an Irylid of Fyrden, have no answer to give you. You are a Human, sure, but you are the one to win my favor. If you haven't any talents, then prove you are true of character."

It had to be that they were going to get somewhere. The Familiar was going to need some proof of character here, but he was getting anxious to make his new friend already. Verin was a good guy, right? It didn't take much, just a bit of evidence he intended to use magic for noble purposes. "Look, I don't need to you impress me, just prove yourself. When you get done here, let's return to my apartment. I have a ritual that will prove your worth."

It was a simple thing, as he had it planned. Ender would wait until Verin got done with his shift and guide him back home. Hopefully not by the same Ravosala. When finally they got there the Irylid would arrange some sort of instruction, but in the end it would come down to something simple. He planned simply to sit Verin down and stare into his eyes. With the use of Auristics he would see the truth of his new friend's character.

Auristics was not a specialty of Ender's but he was learning. It just took time and focus. Maybe a bit Djed and insight too. The hardest part of the magic seemed to be to sorting out the information, knowing the truth of it. Such a thing took complete concentration. "When you are off your shift I'll call over a Ravosala and take you to my place. But only if you are interested in seeing this through. We can talk about the details once we are in private."