Closed Form Versus Function (Aoren)

[Pulren Marsh]

9th of Summer, AV 514
Eleventh Bell

The sound of Pulren's ragged shoes shuffling in the dirt and his breathing were all that he could hear as he jogged through the streets of the city. Syna was standing tall above him today, as if She watched his progress. Pulren's thoughts were far away, though, as they often were when he exercised. They floated over his current state of affairs since he had taken up the blue of the Wave Guard.

How many times had he cheated Dira? He hoped that he hadn't gone too far that way, as She could find him whenever it was his time to join Her. The many battles of Spring had taught the young man a hard but sure lesson: He was incredibly unprepared for the perils of life. It was up to him to overcome this great obstacle and it would take a great focus to push through and become whatever it was that the Gods had in store for him. The sounds of town began to dwindle as he passed through the University grounds, which were fulfilling the mental and educational aspects of his quest. The Guard had many physical and tactical challenges in store for him, though his awareness of the corruption in Zeltiva often gave him pause and longing for distant shores.

Wherever he ended up, he would need to be so much stronger. Sweat was dripping in his eye, his dirty sleeve wiping it out and compounding the stinging situation. Noise had given way to more natural sounds, his pace slowing enough to take a breather and really attempt to rub the salt out of his vision. His breaths were as strong as his rapid heartbeat. Looking down at himself and blinking a few times, a sneer crossed his usual features as he looked at his clothes in disgust. He still wore the ragged and stained gray clothes he had worn for the year prior to Pal's death. The ends of his breeches were tattered, gnarled fray. His shirt had growing holes. The whole outfit reeked of fish oil. Pulling the upper offending garment free of his body, he threw it aside, determined to purchase new clothes in the coming days.

Of course, that would mean he would have to retrieve it and don it once more, but it could at least dry and air out first. Mirahil Pass was mostly quiet without the odd traveling caravan. It made guard duty at its ends incredibly dull. Picking the tatters up by a sleeve remnant, he tied the sleeves around his waist and continued walking north, hoping when he reached the top of the ridge, Zulrav might bless him with a cooling breeze. Something had to give.

[Aoren]

Aoren sat quietly in meditation on a large boulder along the Mirahil Pass not terribly far from the main path leading to Zeltiva. It was not an overly massive thing just large enough to provide space for quiet reflection or perhaps an enjoyable picnic. His legs were crossed with one over the other. Aoren held his back straight and his head level with his arms relaxed at his sides. The palms of his hands were facing skywards. His eyes were closed as he focused on his breathing. Meditation had become a focal point of his life. It was part of his every day habit. Seldom did he not find time in a day to clear his head by centering himself.

Aoren had reached a point in his meditations that it did not take him long to steady his breathing and clear his mind. With but a few breaths his mind began to filter through the background noise of his surroundings. The chirping of the birds eventually fell silent. The whispering of the winds dulled to nothing more than a gentle caress over the bare skin of his arms. With much more certainty than he had in a long time, Aoren was able to achieve a mental clarity with a concentrated effort. He was still not entirely perfect when it came to maintaining this state. Stray thoughts still meandered across his consciousness.

Isikai lazed on the ground at the foot of the boulder. He seemed content to make himself comfortable in the shade of the large rock after their run to this particular location. It had started early in the morning with a jog around some of Aoren’s usual spots in the city. He had then taken to the Pass and trekked over the hills up the road until they reached the boulder where Aoren decided it would be a good idea to rest. The dog lay next to Aoren’s waterskin, his boots and his shirt. With the heat of the day bearing down on both him and the dog he’d already had to fill the skin three times. It was a good thing too. The last thing Aoren wanted was to collapse of heat exhaustion or dehydration.

The peace of his meditations were disrupted by a new sound that did not blend into the background so smoothly. The crunch of gravel and the shifting of dirt reached Aoren’s ears. Opening his eyes Aoren turned his head to the left gazing down the road. Not far off was a face that took a moment or two for Aoren to recognize. When the name came to him he raised a hand in greeting waving to Pulren.

“Pulren?” He called out over the short distance between the two. Rising from the boulder with a fluid motion Aoren hopped down landing in the grass. He enjoyed the coolness beneath his feet. It certainly helped him feel more comfortable in the light of his recent physical activity. Rolling his shoulders he loosened them before waving to Pulren once more. Reaching down he grabbed his waterskin taking a drink from it as he watched the young Wave Guard make his way along the path.

[Pulren Marsh]

As Pulren topped the hill, there was no breeze to greet him, only more stale heat. A familiar voice and face greeted him, however, giving him pause. Raising a hand as his pace slowed to a walk, Pulren called out. "Hey Aoren!" It was good to see a friendly face that wasn't part of the Wave Guard. He was happy to serve with them for the most part, but seeing nothing but patrollers all day outside of the populace got old.

Eyeing the waterskin, Pulren watched with enthusiasm as the healer hopped off of the boulder like it was a bench on the University grounds. For one whose arts were passive, Aoren's physicality would never give away his true sense of justice. Of course, the shifting mark of Rak'keli did that already. Once in proximity, he put his hand out in friendship and if shaken, smiled and nodded. "I didn't think to bring a skin of my own. Mind if I have a drink?" He suspected it would be granted, but one could never tell.

Looking at Aoren's constant companion, Pulren would kneel and place his hand out, palm up, to see if the dog would approach. "What is your dog's name? Must be nice to always have a friend in your corner."

[Aoren]

Aoren accepted Pulren’s hand giving it a friendly shake. He offered up his waterskin without hesitation happy to share it with the young man.

“Help yourself. It’s certainly warmer out here than normal. I’d say I don’t know what heat like this is like but growing up in Syliras it can get fairly stuffy.” The stone walls of Syliras were good at both holding onto heat in the summer and radiating intense cold in the winter season. He had experienced the extremes of both kinds of weather and the pleasantness of its milder forms. When the waterskin was returned to him Aoren watched Pulren kneel and extend a hand to his dog. Isikai remained in the shade for a few moments as his reddish brown eyes considered the junior Wave Guard curiously. Aoren spoke a word in Pavi.

“Come.” He nodded his head in Pulren’s direction. The dog rose up from where he sat padding over to where Pulren knelt. The other man hardly needed to. At his shoulder Isikai was easily thirty inches in height. His fur was darker than midnight which no doubt felt terrible in the heat but the dog didn’t seem to mind too much. He panted lightly. Aoren made sure to keep him well fed and watered to the best of his ability.

“Isikai is his name. It is the Ancient Tongue. The word means “to trust in”. Among other things. It is a name that has served him well.” Isikai sniffed Pulren’s outstretched hand a few times. There was intelligence in his eyes as he regarded the Guardsman. The dog leaned forward allowing Pulren to run his fingers through the fur atop his head. It would seem that Isikai was not much into licking. Aoren had to admit that the canine had calmed down a bit compared to when they’d first arrived in the city. He still had his streaks but they were fewer in number. For the most part, Isikai’s habits seemed to have balanced out.

“He is a blessing I am thankful for. I do not go many places without him and he doesn’t seem to enjoy being far from my side for very long.” Aoren spoke of and too the dog as if he were a full-fledged companion. There was quite obviously a bond there between the two. Turning away from Pulren and his dog Aoren returned to the boulder where he grabbed his boots. He leaned against the rock and began tugging them on.

“So, what brings you out into the harsh wilderness away from Zeltiva? The, uh, the last time I saw you was at Ricky’s departure.” A look of concern touched Aoren’s face for a moment.

“How are you feeling by the way?” Pulren had certainly been through a lot in the past season as far as Aoren knew. He hadn’t spent much time around the young man but the first time he’d met him he’d suffered at the hands of a Leecher. Not long after that Aoren had learned that there had been a breakout in the Scholar’s Asylum earlier in the season. As a Wave Guard Aoren assumed Pulren had been part of the effort to quell the panic in the city and contain the escapees. With the news Ricky had delivered and the time after it had been a while since Aoren had visited him.

Note :

This color means Aoren is speaking in Pavi.

[Pulren Marsh]

The water was cool, satisfying and much appreciated. Pulren smacked his lips a bit as he surveyed the large dog. His ears perked when he heard the strange word that summoned the beast, assuming it a command of sorts. "It can get hotter than most would think. The bay holds the heat and without a stiff breeze, it can get sticky, for sure." Petting the dog, he looked into its eyes, wild but knowing. A true companion, indeed.

Standing, he wiped some sweat from his brow and looked back to Aoren. "The Ancient Tongue? Never heard of it. I guess it would be smart to guess the oldest language?" Pulren knew that he didn't know everything. Sometimes he wondered if he knew anything at all. Looking at the animal, he grinned. "Isakai." He would enjoy companionship sometimes. Loveless provided a service, but the interest and conversation ended with the money. A dog, though, would always be interested in what Pulren had to say. Maybe.

Aoren's words of concern were as appreciated as the water. "Yeah, I hope that Rick turns out alright. But as he has gone to Syliras, the apparent pinnacle of Sylira. If anyone can heal him, I am sure they can." His sentiment was real, though it was slightly tainted by the outburst in his Geography class. The great Knights and their people. While hearing the question about his welfare, his mind already started to drift like flotsam toward the memories of the past season. Standing and watching the other, Pulren did his own neck rolling and looked out toward Syna before answering.

"Summer has been a bitch. There's no denying that. With the riots and my run in on East Street, which you are very aware of..." His vision trailed down to the dirt as he remembered how close to Dira he had come, how close her breath on his face, or lack thereof. "I don't remember if I ever thanked you properly for saving my life that night. I owe you a debt and it will be repaid, friend." He looked into the kind eyes of the healer and nodded, sure in his conviction. "And we can't forget the Maiden's Voyage. His thumb traced along the deep scar on his chest which traced the length of his collarbones before crossing the smaller, lighter scar on his shoulder. "Surviving that run in with Overgiven Reimancers definitely helped put the world into perspective for me." A moment of silence came over Pulren as he looked down again, though no thoughts particularly traced through his head.

Snapping out of it, he blinked and grinned. "I'm still here, though. Apparently, I want to be alive."

[Aoren]

Aoren watched Isikai interact with Pulren for a moment. The dog seemed amicable enough to the attention he was receiving from the young guardsman. After a few pats Isikai nudged Pulren’s hand one final time before padding back over to the shade. As he passed Aoren ran his fingers through the dog’s fur for which he received a nudge on his leg.

“He’s normally a little more active but I think it’s just the heat.” The Drykas man nodded to Pulren’s question regarding the ancient tongue.

“I don’t know much about it but the Ancient Tongue is supposedly the first spoken language of the world. What little I know is just what others have told me.” Aoren considered the journey that Ricky faced on his way to Syliras. The Kabrin Road was fairly well traveled but even then there were dangers to be had. Like Pulren, Aoren was certain that if there was help to be found it would be in Syliras. The Healer’s eyebrows raised slightly at Pulren’s exclamation on his summer.

“Has it been that bad?” Apparently it had. He listened to the other man bemoan the trials he had faced over the course of the season. Aoren couldn’t deny that things had definitely been difficult for the young Wave Guard. As he recounted the event involving the Leecher Aoren’s brow came down in a slight frown. He disliked Leeching. In his mind it was an abominable art that was better off left in obscurity than as a practiced discipline of magic. Nevertheless it was a very real force in the world and one that he was wary of to say the least. He was pulled from those thoughts as Pulren gave thanks for being saved. It was always something that took Aoren slightly by surprise. He neither expected nor sought praise for the work he did as a Healer. It was his life. It was his duty. His oath to the Goddess simply was and he couldn’t imagine it any other way.

So it sometimes took moments like the one before him for him to remember that not every corner of the world was fortunate enough to receive Rak’keli’s gifts so readily. Not quite knowing what to say in response to the gratitude Aoren simply gave a nod before rubbing at the back of his head awkwardly.

“Overgiven reimancers?” He had not heard of the events that transpired around the Maiden’s Voyage. Shortly after he enrolled at the University he’d heard that the Scholar’s Asylum had suffered a breakout. The moment Pulren put his scars on display however Aoren blinked at him.

“Pulren, were you…” The Drykas man considered his words for a moment. It hadn’t been something he’d really thought to be possible before. “Were you exposed to the reimancer’s magic?”

Uncertain as to whether or not the young man knew what he’d be referring to if he called Res by its proper name, Aoren grasped for the right wording. He rubbed his chin thinking before making a vague gesture with his hands.

“Were you exposed to the gas that reimancers sometimes conjure to use their magic?" That seemed like the simplest way to get the message across. Given the appearance of the scars and the fact that reimancers had been involved it made Aoren wonder. The last thing anyone wanted was an untrained initiate walking around with no idea of the power that had been awakened inside of him.

[Pulren Marsh]

Pulren listened easily, a pleasant smile on his face. The Ancient Tongue was the first language ever spoken. He had to really chew over that a few times. Where did it come from? He would have to check stuff like this out at the University when he had a chance, if he ever did. He found Aoren's humility in the face of saving a life equally impressive. He couldn't imagine it just being an everyday occurrence to literally save people from Dira's embrace.

Then the subject of his trials had passed and he found himself retelling it, which was much more pleasant than the thought of reliving it. "Yeah, there was a trio of Reimancers. They were led by a Master Gaius Sivet. The other two were Thurman and Addison. His henchmen are dead, but Gaius escaped. I've never seen so many dead people in one place, their bodies twisted by the elements.It was really horrible." He could hear in his voice that he was merely mimicking the words of the story with little emotion. The whole scene seemed very far away, as if someone else had merely told Pulren the story. Of course, he had the scars to refute that kind of assumption.

As he showed off his scars, he noticed the concern in Aoren's face. His initial question seemed redundant. Of course he had been exposed to the energies that the Reimancers held, winds and fires were everywhere! Before he could open his mouth to retort, however, Aoren's second question seemed to stop the words from escaping Marsh's throat. His look of haughty knowledge turned into a sour expression of concern of his own. "Well, when you put it that way, there was a moment like that, for sure. I had tackled Addison, the one with the flaming hair. When I got her to the ground, I stabbed her with my trident, surely enough to pin her body to the deck. She didn't die outright, but began firing rock needles at me and then...." His voice trailed off as Pulren walked in a small circle, scratching idly at his hair as the memories engulfed him, just as the green smoke had.

"I thought it was smoke, some kind of last gasp. I remember being consumed by a cloud of green gas, yes. I choked on it and could feel it burning my scars. It took me some time to try to recuperate from that." He approached the boulder on which Aoren sat and placed his palms against the heat of the midday rock. Looking up, he asked the important question. "Did they do something to me, Aoren?"

[Aoren]

With but a few words Pulren confirmed exactly what Aoren had suspected. He sighed reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. He rubbed at his eyes before fixing Pulren with a dubious stare. Pushing himself off the boulder he stepped closer to Pulren examining the exposed scar. There was nothing outward that could tell him the young man had been forcefully initiated into reimancy but Aoren was almost certain of it.

Reaching deep within himself Aoren pulled his djed to the forefront of his vision. He furrowed his brow concentrating as he worked on synchronizing his own aura with Pulren’s. Auristics was still a magic that he was getting used to working with. He directed the flow of his djed to nudge his aura to line up with the young Wave Guard’s so that he could draw a clearer picture of what he might be dealing with.

As Aoren’s aura fell into line with Pulren’s several things rippled across the stream of information that came. Aoren could feel confusion. He could sense small traces of fear. Most prominently however Aoren could feel an inherent wrongness in Pulren’s aura. As his djed enhanced vision focused on the outer most layer of the young man’s spirit Aoren could see…well…he couldn’t quite describe it. The aura simply looked and felt as if it had a lingering sickness in it. It was small and only occasionally flittered across his vision but it was there. After no less than a full chime of concentrated silence Aoren released his hold on the magic allowing his vision to return to normal. He rubbed at his chin pensively.

“I apologize. I was thinking. I know a thing or two about magic and from what it sounds like you very well may have found yourself as a newly initiated reimancer. What you endured is almost exactly like what new practitioners go through. It is an initiation that is out of the ordinary but the fundamentals are there.” Aoren shrugged his shoulders. He reached down fastening his waterskin to his hip then picked up his shirt throwing it over his shoulder. He knelt down running his fingers through Isikai’s fur to which he received an affectionate nuzzle.

“Go. Play. No wander far.” Aoren spoke softly in Pavi having found that Isikai responded quite well to the language. He was still testing that idea but so far it had proved true. Isikai quirked his head however and gave a short bark before standing up. The dog nudged Aoren before padding off to go exploring though he remained in Aoren’s line of sight. Rising to his full height Aoren stretched his muscles before dropping his arms swinging them back and forth. He jerked his head in the direction of the road.

“Walk with me.” Bring up his hands to lace his fingers behind his head Aoren pondered on how to go about handling the situation in front of him. An untrained reimancer, even a newly initiated one, posed a greater threat to both themselves and those around them than the greatest of masters. That was strictly in Aoren’s opinion but he believed there was some truth to it. Ignorance, especially when it came to magic, was a volatile and dangerous thing.

“How much do you know about me, Pulren?” It was an honest question. As he thought on it, Aoren realized the two hadn’t really spent any real amount of time together. The few meetings they’d had were brief with one of them being while Pulren had been entirely unconscious. He couldn’t really remember if during those times they had done anything to get to know each other.

Note :

This color means that Aoren is speaking in Pavi.

[Pulren Marsh]

Pulren was taken aback by Aoren's initial response. It wasn't verbal, but it was very odd to him. He hopped off of the boulder and started staring at Pulren's scar. The long and obvious perusal of his wounds made the Guard feel a little vulnerable. However, he had asked the healer for his opinion, so maybe he was just examining the wound since he was used to examining wounds? Maintaining respect, Pulren waited for the answer.

Aoren's words did not surprise him. It was clear that most people in Zeltiva were either secretly or not so secretly versed in the ways of magic. It had never occurred to Pulren that the healer could be marked by a Goddess and still use magic, which only showed his naivete in the subject. Listening, he nodded where appropriate, agreeing that if it was possible that he could have been initiated into Reimancy, this man would know. Watching him speak the strange tongue to Isikai again, he found that the animal was very smart and loyal. Aoren started to walk and talk, Pulren following as requested.

As they walked, Pulren seemed to chew over the course of their meetings in his mind. It was a short chew, as they had not mingled often. "Well, let's see. The first time I met you was when Rick met you, me and Portraits to tell us of his illness. After that, I don't think I ever saw you again until you saved my life. Well, and today, of course. So, I suppose I don't know you that well." Nodding and thinking on his words, he looked over and added with a grin, "I do trust you, though. You didn't have to save me and a friend of Sarge is a friend of mine."

[Aoren]

“Trust is not a thing that you should so idly give, Pulren. Even to me.” Aoren clasped his hands behind his back considering where he would take the course of their conversation.

“Magic is an art that I am familiar with because I am a mage myself. It is part of the reason I came to Zeltiva. I came to increase my knowledge on the subject among other things. What I can tell you though is that I am almost certain that you have been initiated into reimancy. If you would like I can help you unlock this power. It is your choice though.” As they walked further down the road leading away from the city gates Aoren considered how he might go about helping Pulren to unlock his potential. Reimancy, at least to start with, was a path of magic that required a fair amount of discipline to practice in his mind. Without it there was simply too high of a risk to lose control of not just the elements one commanded but it would be easy to slip into the belief that with said powers, one was invincible. That couldn’t have been further from the truth.

While formidable, Aoren knew of several ways that reimancy could be countered. He was in possession of two of the forms of magic that could be applied to lessening the destructive power of the magic of the elements. Beyond that though Aoren had both seen and experienced what happened when one used magic just a little too much. While he had yet to suffer anything beyond a few physical symptoms he often wondered if he would notice if some of the mental ones took hold.

“The first thing that you should know about magic, reimancy in specific, is that without discipline you can’t hope to control it. Some achieve this through meditation. There are those who recite incantations that help them focus. I personally use a combination of physical gestures honed through conditioning and mental exercises.” There had been several occasions where Aoren had incorporated some of his hand-to-hand techniques in executing a spell in reimancy. It was a physical aspect that he was familiar with. He did not often make use of verbal incantations when using the magic. They were too disconnected to the feel of reimancy for him but he understood that there were those wizards who relied upon them somewhat exclusively.

“How you achieve this focus is up to you. When it comes to this kind of magic a lot of what you do with it is based largely on your personal experiences.” He cast a glance to Pulren observing the other man from the side. Aoren still recalled the first lessons he’d received with magic. They had been centered around instinct to a very large degree. To use it Aoren had to embrace what he felt. It was still a principle that he followed but as he’d grown his understanding of how to embrace that method had grown with him.

A bark caught Aoren’s attention. Isikai darted ahead chasing after what looked to be a small rodent. The sight made Aoren smile. He brought a hand up scratching at his scalp.

“So? What say you?”