Patience is a Virtue, Knowledge is a Gift (Torc)

by **Vala** on March 21st, 2011, 12:57 am

12th of Spring, 511 AV

Almost stumbling, Vala adjusted the heavy pile of tomes precariously balanced in her thin arms. “Excuse me? Thanks!” An avora said as he gingerly placed another book on top of the others Vala carried. Vala growled at him as he walked away, his braided, fire red hair disappearing into the stacks. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the cramping in her right arm, trying not to get mad just because the book cart was broken and because some of the Enclave’s patrons were just so inconsiderate sometimes.

“Priskil, please give me the strength not to chuck these precious books at the next person I see.” Vala grudgingly continued with her duties as an assistant librarian - mainly putting away books. She was quick at it though, it was easy enough ever since she had memorized the cataloguing system; Vala could navigate through the stacks with her eyes closed. “Oh... come on!” Vala exclaimed as she noticed a pile of books some one had jammed in the wrong section. “-who would do that... why?” Her words broken by angry huffing. She scrunched up her face in frustration as she pulled out the books, looking around if there were any other books that needed a proper putting away. Thankfully she didn’t find any more misplaced books, but she did notice who had been unconsciously trying to get Vala to blow a fuse - the avora who had placed the book in her arms just a few chimes ago. It was one thing to disrespect her, a lowly chiet, but another thing to disrespect the Enclave and it’s books and the precious knowledge within them. She smiled wickedly.

There was no way on Miza,Vala was going to let the man get away without a good pranking - or two.

She found a stepping stool, keeping it under her arm as she put away the books. When she was all done, with no more duties for a at least a half a bell or so, Vala set up a little comfy spot for herself in a dark niche a few yards away from the Avora, sitting on her stool, hidden behind a table. She leaned her elbows on her knees and held her chin in her hands; her sharp blue eyes staring intently at the man. Even if she worked in the Enclave, she was still a chiet, she was still lower than him, and she couldn’t confront him face to face: unlike other Inarta she wasn’t one to shy from putting people in their place through cowardly means.

The avora was a nice enough guy, just a little careless and tactless. He had come to the Enclave to study up on djed and personal magic and had reserved an entire table. Books upon books lay sprawled out, scattered haphazardly. Vala never did trust wizards, especially the kooky eccentric ones.

The man sat at the desk, head bent over several tomes and a several leafs of vellum. His worn quill danced excitedly across the pages, filling them with his notes on magic and the like. It took no time at all, before his beakish nose was smudged with ink. Vala gasped angrily when she noticed a few stray droplets of jet blank ink flick onto the nearby tomes - specifically the ones in the Enclave’s keeping. She was angry now, but she would bide her time until the time was right - no one got anywhere rushing into things.

Vala’s eyelids began to droop from boredom, but she still remained vigilant in her stake out. She reached into her pocket and began fiddling around, wondering why she had a small rock in there - Vala had a thoughtless tendency to just put stuff in her pockets sometimes. It didn’t take long for Vala to finally earn her reward. The Avora stood up, stretched a little, and walked off, probably to get more books. It was then Vala sprung from her spot and got to work.

Pranks were nothing new to her, her heart rate barely rose a fraction in her muted excitement - Vala took pranking as more of a duty than a hobby. As she had lain in wait, Vala had been busy thinking of ways for harmless retribution, so when the man was out of sight and she was sure there was no one around she didn’t waste any time. First she started with a classic - she took the man’s katinu off his chair and pulled the sleeves inside out and put it back backwards. Then she looked over his papers, she cringed at his atrocious handwriting; before she continued she made sure all the ink was dry, she was mischievous but she wasn’t that evil, once she was sure moving the papers around wouldn’t get anything smudged she got to work . She made sure the first two pages were untouched but she shuffled everything beneath it, moving pages between piles, even flipping them upside down. Once she was done with all that, she looked around once more to make sure no one would walk in on her and everything looked the same. She put her hand into her pocket and again felt the rock, when another idea popped into her thoughts. She bent down onto all fours, lifted the heavy writing table just a fraction using all her arm strength, and popped the rock under the leg: making the table appear stable but if any weight was leaned against it, it would wobble annoyingly. With her plans going so well, Vala couldn’t help but cackle quietly. Her celebration was cut short when she heard muffled footsteps coming her way. She scrambled, trying to get up, but slipped on a book. She fell flat on her face, and only just manged to roll behind a nearby recliner as the man returned to his table.

The poor man never knew what had hit him. He walked to his table, a new pile of books in his arms. He set them down on the corner, only to have the table tilt and drop them to the floor. “Petch!” He cussed loudly.

Even with her cheek pressed against the floor, Vala still managed to hiss out a practiced and instinctual “Shhhhhh!” The man looked around, flustered, wondering where the sound had come from. He shook his head, trying to convince himself it was all in his head. He bent down to pick up all the fallen books and placed them more in the middle, wondering why his desk was wobbly all of a sudden. He sat down, trying to recollect himself. Vala had to put both hands to her mouth to stifle her peals of laughter when the man’s face turned a bright tomato red as he struggled to find a note. The man turned his head, ears pricking up at the sound. He stood up.

This was Vala’s cue to disappear. Crawling on all fours Vala made her way to a room few people bothered to look for troublemakers - the Storyteller’s well.

She sat down at a bench in the far back, eyes darting around to make sure she was unnoticed. It only took a few seconds before Vala’s attention was fully captured by the dominating, gravely voice of the outsider below her. His cropped, blue black hair; his one green, one brown eye, and heavily tanned skin made Vala drop her jaw in wonder. He looked like a giant to her, he was a giant compared to her. His loose, long sleeve shirt just almost hid the entirety of his more than human arm. Vala wondered what it was made of; she wanted to touch it, her curiosity overpowering her fear of contact. He continued to tell his story to the eager handful of Yasi sitting close to him; Vala was sad she had missed the beginning.

She wanted to talk to him, she wanted to meet him, whoever he was.

OOC :

by **Torc Ironwood** on March 23rd, 2011, 8:17 pm

It was one of those magickal days when Torc had finished the majority of his work early and decided that the rest could hold off till tomorrow. He had been going about his business when a group of Yasi had happened upon him. Laughing as the pulled at his hands and ran about him, asking him to play with them, Torc finally said that he would tell them a story. So with a patience smile on his face, he was lead to the Enclave surrounded by children. He sat down and made sure that before he began every child was quiet and fidgeting with excitement. Softly, he bowed his head and opened with a prayer.

“Today, we sit here with excitement in our hearts and open minds, dear Gods and Goddesses. The children before me have done their work and listened to their teachers.” Torc peeked briefly and saw that a few of the children had guilty looks on their faces. “So for their reward, I will tell a story. Rhaus, I asked you to lend a silver tongue to me to tell my tale. Cheva, I thank you for the love I feel for the family before me. Eyris, we ask that we learn from the tale, so that we may not repeat the mistakes of players in it. Thank ye Gods and Goddesses, for the strength to be here and to help our family. Ahem.” All the children said Ahem under their breaths and then with a look of wild excitement their faces turned towards Torc. A boy quickly spoke up, “I want to hear a tale about the ocean!” and with that simple request a flood gate of requests release from the children. “No I want to hear a tale about eagles!” “I want to hear a tale about a beautiful maiden!” “Yuck! I want to hear about fighting and blood.”

Torc clapped his hands to quiet the children. The thunderous clap quickly brought heads up from their books, but also stopped the children from yelling out request. He gathered up the young girl in his arms, with red hair that was frizzly along with freckles that went everywhere, and sat her in his lap. “I will tell the tale of Sobar. Sobar had lived in Zeltiva before the Valterrain. His father had been a simple porter, or a man that move things about the city. As a child Sobar, had gone along with his father to help move things in their cart. He saw the great library and university in the city. He saw the dock and the grand boatyards, and all that time he looked at his father and wanted more for his life.”

“It was the night of his fourteenth birthday and Sobar looked upon into the night sky. That night the dark blanket of Akahia covered the sky and Leth could not be found. Quiet arose from the city, as if Sobar was the only person alive in a hundred miles. As he stood looking out the window upon the city, he smelt the salt air and felt that the world waiting for him to speak. So Sobar stood in his bedclothes and spoke out against the night, “I am Sobar! No darkness will keep me quiet, nor will my fate be decided by my father! Hear me, for tomorrow I will seek treasure and women like no man before me!”

Some of the older boys nodded their heads at such bold statements, but it was the little girl in his lap that gasped. Torc smiled and bowed his head, “That’s right sweetheart, Sobar declared his destiny to the Gods and Goddesses, without care or thought. He only saw Akajia’s darkness and quiet, he forgot to see Zintila’s brightness or smell Laviku’s presence. So Sobar screamed against the night all his fears and greed. So that when he went to sleep Nysel brought him dreams sent from Laat and Nikali, so that when he awoke he knew that he must leave his father’s home and seek his fortune on the open sea.”

“So Sobar packed that next morning, telling his father that he was sick and wouldn’t be coming out to work with him. After his father left, Sobar quickly packed up his belongs and made way to the docks. Sobar stood outside of the ships asking for work as a deckhand or cabin boy. Many of the ships had plenty of crew and wouldn’t hire an unexperienced boy, so it wasn’t till midday before Sobar found someone ship that would take him. The crew brought him aboard and began to teach him some of the needed skills to survive life on board a ship, while the captain sought cargo and passagers to fill ship.”

“Sobar quickly learned the knife play and knots needed to work as a sailor. He worked hard and by the time they set sail, Sobar knew that a life at sea was his destiny. Sobar laughed and worked alongside his crewmates as they made their way down the coast. Yet the captain had failed to make several offerings to Laviku before setting out, along with Sobar’s boast, Laviku sent great waves against them. Sobar was tossed about the ship like a leaf caught in the wind. Water threatened to take him over the ship and cast him away into the endless ocean. He held on for dear life to a rope tied about the mast and a great wave crested high above the ship. Sobar saw now that Laviku was there showing his displeasure in the ships captain and the boy. Sobar cried out against the storm, “Laviku, I beg forgiveness for not hearing you sooner. I have been foolish not to offer up prayers to you. Laviku, we all have water in us, but mine is made from the sea, and so are many of the men aboard. Please spare us from your wrath.””

“Laviku took pity on the boy, knowing that young men often make mistakes, and so as the wave crashed down upon the ship, Laviku broke the ship to pieces but he made sure to give those men that had prayed to him flotsam. For two days Sobar and twelve men floated on wood planks from their once beautiful ship. Sobar gave thanks to Laviku for letting him and his crewmates live as the drifted on the sea. Upon the third day a large island uncharted by any man appeared to the survivours. Exhausted, the remaining crew used the last of the energy to make it ashore. Many of the crew, including Sobar, were happy to have made it to shore alive. They hunted and captured a pig as they made big fire on the shore. The men began to relax and gradually fall asleep, since their journey there had been so exhausting. Sobar was one of the last men to fall asleep and he thanked the Gods and Goddesses for their fortune. “

“Sobar awoke the next morning to hear the cries of men. Waking he saw three ghostly forms throwing lighting from their hands striking Sobar’s crewmates. Yet for each bolt that they casted at Sobar and the crew, they casted two at each other. Sobar quickly stood up and before any of them could react he spoke out aloud. “Good sirs, we mean you know harm, our ship went down in a storm and we have drifted here. Please take pity on us!””

“The old men laughed and finally one spoke, “Fool don’t pretend, you aren’t here because my brother Grem wishes to break free the maiden and have her for himself.” Grem looked at his brother, “Do not lie Grelad! You brought these men here to free the maiden and murder us in our sleep. Only Gard told me of your deceit.” “That’s right Grem” Gard said, “We know that you control the northern beach and these men are on it!” Sobar quickly realized that each man was related to the other and that all of them were suspicious of each other. For candle marks the three brothers accused each other of trying to steal the maiden, and Sobar soon realized that each man love her beyond words. Listening to them talk, he was able to understand their story. The three wizards had been brothers, each had studied different aspects of magic and had become very powerful in their own right. However, they choose to work together giving each other help and power. Slowly the wizards rose the island from the sea and brought people from the mainland to it, to help them build a city of unimaginable beauty and strength. However, there was a young maiden in the group of people they had brought, each brother had fallen in love with her. At first they had tried winning her over with gifts and tricks, but soon after they began to fight with one another. Their battles nearly tore the island in three, while it killed most of the original people they brought with them. Deciding that they wouldn’t destroy the island they created, they built a tower in the middle of the island. Each brother used his most powerful magics to craft a trap for the other two and place it around the tower. Trapping their love in the tower they made sure to keep the peace between them.”

“After hearing the tale Sobar spoke, “Did any of you ask her who she wanted to be with?” The three brothers seemed amazed by the question and looked at each other in wonderment. Yet it didn’t last long as each brother spoke with complete confidence that they were the one true love of the maiden. Sobar, finally couldn’t take any more bickering and asked that if he was allowed to talk with the maiden and ask the question, would the brothers be kind enough to make them a ship. The brothers laughed, but said that if the maiden made a decision they would create a ship that could sail around the continent in a half the time. However, in order to make sure that Sobar was honest each brother would take four of his crewmates and hold them.”

“Now Sobar knew that no matter the answer he gave, he would be condemning eight of his shipmates to death. However, he had no choice but to agree to the terms, because without them the wizards wouldn’t tell him the secret to their traps. So Sobar sent off to the middle of the island, worrying that eight of his friends would die because a maiden had to choose one man. He came to the first of the traps, Grem had been a master of shielding and said that he had casted a shield so powerful and so great that only a man could past through it on the seventh candle mark every two days, unless he had a Grem’s cloak. So Sobar put on Grem’s cloak and walked through the shield. Grelad had told Sobar that he was a master of animation and had made a golem that could use his blade hands to kill anything that crossed it path. Its only weakness was that it needed to rest on the fourth candle mark every day. Otherwise you needed to wear the ring of Grelad, so as the great golem approached with blades spinning faster than anything Sobar had ever seen, he placed Grelad’s ring on and the Golem retreated back to its rounds. Finally, Sobar reached the final trap, a wall of fire. For Gard was a powerful reimancer and magecrafter. He had placed a giant ring around the tower that burst forth flames for five marks and then was down for one mark, unless someone wear his boots. Only then could they pass the flames without injury. So as Sober came near the flames he place the boot on and the flames lowered. Finally, he made it to the tower and to his surprise, thirteen young maidens came rushing out of the tower towards him. They giggled and whispered, for none of them had ever seen a man before. As Sobar was reeling from seeing so many beautiful maidens, a wizen old crone came out of the tower down towards Sobar. She said that she had been the beautiful maiden the wizards had fought over, and that the maids that he saw were her daughters. For the crafty old wizards had learned how to best each other’s traps and that they had been seeing her on different nights for the last forty years. Sobar stood shocked as the crone told him her story. She had never really loved any of the brothers, but had put up with their attentions because they had been powerful. Now all she wanted was to find husbands for her daughters, and would trade anything for it.”

“Slowly Sobar came up with a cunning plan, he soon realized that for one candle mark every three hundred and thirty days, all of the traps would be down. Checking the traps he realized that that day was coming up shortly. So he told the crone that if she drafted a letter to each wizard saying that she loved him, but couldn’t bring herself to hurting the other two brothers, Sobar would free her daughters. The old crone agreed and gave Sobar three letters. Quickly, he went through the traps and gave each wizard their letter. Knowing that the maiden had chosen them, they worked together to craft a boat so fast and beautiful that they named it Elle after the maiden they had fallen in love with. Sobar, asked for the wizards to grant them some time before they set sail to gather supplies. The wizards agreed and thought nothing of the request. For days Sobar had his crewmates gather supplies, while he waited for the magical candle mark in which all the traps would be down. Then one night it happened, each trap turned itself off and Sobar ran through the forest to the tower. He saw that all of the maiden were ready to leave, and quickly he asked them to follow him. They ran through the ring, past the sleeping golem, and just as the last maiden crossed the shield, it arose with a sparkle and crack of energy. Quickly, Sobar ran down to the ship with the maidens, and as he arrived, the crew gave a mighty cheer. They set sail for the mainland, over the passing weeks the maidens fell in love with the crew men and Sobar was made Captain of the Elle. When they reached the port of Zeltiva, the crew disembarked with wifes and Sobar had the fastest ship in the world. So ends the first voyage of Sobar, but not to worry for he set sail again on the Elle to find his fortune.”

Torc looked up from his seat, the little red head girl had fallen asleep in his arms, and the rest of the boys and girls seemed to have enjoy the tale. Slowly he nodded to an elder girl and she came over to pick up the sleeping child. Softly Torc spoke, “Now, if you seek me out before bed time, perhaps I will tell the tale of the second voyage of Sobar.” Torc smiled as many of the yasi grinned and nodded their heads.

ooc :

by **Vala** on March 28th, 2011, 12:15 am

While Reimancy was almost a common sight in Wind Reach, with prominent figures like Chef Davin using it near daily, Magic was still a fearful subject. Vala’s heart raced as she listened intently to Sobar’s story, trying not to remember the Reimancer of her nightmares. She tried to focus on Sobar’s sneaky shenanigans instead, wondering if she would ever be able to be that crafty. The one other thing that made Vala cringe, and almost unable to enjoy Torc’s amazing story, was Sobar’s blatant disrespect for the gods – Vala would never laud a hero so boorish. Vala was placated a little when Sobar begged for forgiveness – even though it was only from desperation. Prayers, to save one’s hide without a proper regard to the god, were false and didn’t deserve a god’s time.

The Yasi loved him – who wouldn’t? Vala felt a pang of jealousy at his success with the Yasi… she had only started telling stories to the Yasi last season and still found herself stumbling over words and even forgetting bits of the story. Maybe she could ask him for some pointers after she became his friend…. If she became his friend.

The crowd of Yasi was beginning to disperse. Vala gathered up her courage, preparing to introduce herself.

First she needed to make herself presentable, it wouldn’t do to look like she had been crawling through niches and causing mischief. Vala ran her fingers through her hair, getting painfully caught on a few knots, she even adjusted her vinati and byrda, till she looked picture perfect.

She walked down the steps of the Storyteller’s well, weaving through the Yasi. She got down in time to hear Torc announce that he would be back before bedtime, and with the second voyage of Sobar. She waited at the foot of the room, waiting for the others to shuffle out; one of the older yasi carried out a younger one dozing in her arms. When they were all gone Vala cleared her throat. She had to look up to meet his gaze, her face about his chest height; he had seemed taller when she was sitting in the back and he was surrounded by Yasi, but he was still definitely much larger than Vala. She opened her mouth, closing it after a few seconds of awkward silence.

The kooky red head had been so enthusiastic to meet the stranger, that she had completely forgotten to come up with something to say. Vala wasn’t a social butterfly, but she was cute enough to garner a regular amount of attention from sociable strangers; her current social choke up was like a dagger digging into Vala’s stomach. The physical pain her mind was inflicting on her, was making logical thought even harder. She blushed, hard, her pale cheeks flushing a crimson red – the same color as her hair. “I uh…” She cleared her throat. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, biting her lip, drawing a drop of blood, licking it up greedily, and whispered Priskil’s name. It took another moment for Vala to finally get herself together. “I’m sorry.” She said, fluttering her hands absent mindedly. “My name is Vala.” She bowed politely. When she brought her head back up, her face was a pretty, doll-like mask of politeness. She smiled, hoping Torc wouldn’t run away from her weirdness.

OOC :

by **Torc Ironwood** on March 29th, 2011, 3:34 pm

Torc began to help the Yasi gather their things. He smiled softly at the memories of childhood, how he had often forgot about clothes or toys left them where ever he was done with them. Yet, he also remembered Priestess Lara and her never ending well of patience. Should help direct Torc to pick up his things, gather his toys, while always working herself. Later, she told him that when raising children one had to guide but never do for a child. Lessons learned from experience and under a sturdy gaze made sure to last, instead of being lost amongst the clutter. He gave a few children pats on the head or a gentle squeeze of their shoulders, as they help others gather their things. It was important to reward those that took charge and help others. All too often men and women tended to see only the bad in life, and forget to smile at those that did good.

As the last child left, Torc heard a soft coughing, he turned to see a slip of a woman. One of his eyebrows raised slightly as she began to walk closer to him. The woman was a good four inches shorter than him, having to deal most of his life with being short this actually surprised him in a way. Perhaps because of the mark from Cheva, or because Torc was becoming more sensitive to people, Torc relaxed and allowed impressions from the girl to slowly sink into his mind. She had taken time to prepare herself for this meeting, she had wanted to impress him with her cuteness if she found him interesting. He could feel that she had done it many of times before, and that a smile, and a wide eyed innocent look had gotten her a few things.

Yet below it, Torc sense that the woman before him didn’t know how to be anything else then a child. Her defense was that of Yasi, and had yet to learn what it meant to be an adult. Torc had seen quite a few women like that, and it would take years of work to cure the twists of ego, but then again Torc knew that Cheva wanted him to love all. She wanted him to show that there could be love for everyone in the world, even people who were slightly twisted. Besides, perhaps one day the Gods and Goddesses would send someone that would change her.

So as the woman approach, Torc felt the power in his stare amplify from his mark. Torc remembered Cheva’s stare and how it went down to the core of his soul and showed him everything. Torc facial features changed slightly to mirror the girl’s inner form. It was a stare that showed no mercy for who one was, Torc hated that his mark made him do this. Hated that in his stare, people often wondered if they deserved loved because of what they saw reflected back at them…

Then Torc blinked and the connection between Cheva’s eyes and his own were gone. Softly he shook his head a little, wondering what the girl had seen in those few moments. A look of genuine kindness and peace settled back over Torc as he spoke in Nari, “Hello Vala, I am Torc Ironwood. Sorry about the face, sometimes my mark forces its way up in unusual ways. Did you have any questions about the story I just told?”

by **Vala** on March 31st, 2011, 1:51 am

Pain, rage, resentment, and loneliness, so much loneliness: Vala reeled back from the sight. Her eyes tightened into wary slits. Was he mocking her? Her lips pulled back to a grimace, her nose crinkled hideously, and a short growl rumbled in her throat. She was scared, scared at what she saw; to save herself from being consumed by the pain, she transformed her fear into rage: with rage she could banish her weakness. Her control had slipped for only a moment, before she was masked perfectly yet again, and this time she wouldn’t leave herself so open for such emotional attacks. In her fear the color had drained from Vala’s already pale face, leaving a cold, porcelain visage. From that instant, a seed of hate buried deep within Vala. She would get revenge.

It didn’t matter if it took a bell, a day, a season, a year, or even her entire lifetime: she would make the stranger pay for what he had made her face. It took all her strength just to push down her true nature, back below the shallow façade of cute politeness, to see it so easily mirrored was an insult to her efforts. Now was not the time. She would wait, bide her time, until she could strike as he had. By his genuine sounding apology, he seemed truly remorseful, but that didn’t matter. He had done what he had done, and Vala could feel, with distressing intensity, her swirling, raging nature threatening to burst from behind the thin, fragile veneer of her restrained smile. She wouldn’t strike him physically, that was rash, and it wouldn’t deal enough damage to satisfy Vala’s need, her sick craving, for the reciprocity of her suffering: if she suffered, then others must suffer as she suffered. Vala would wait until she could strike him emotionally; strike him speechless, not until she could hurt him as much as he hurt her, if not more.

She hated his kind face. She hated his genuine words. She hated his happiness. She hated herself.

Vala needed to learn: knowledge was power. She needed to know more about him, more about what he had done; she needed to know how he knew. He had seen inside her: she needed to destroy him and the knowledge of her shame, she needed to erase the traces.

There was only one way. If he knew what she was, how she was, then he knew she would try to hurt him. His kindness would be the weakness she would exploit, but he would know if she was false, she would have to open herself up to him, she would have to be… genuine. Vala tried to assess her state, she wasn’t sure if she had the strength to let herself go. What if she lost control? There wasn’t anything to lose: he already knew. And in a drop of a hat, Vala’s face relaxed, her smile slipping from her face. Even more color drained her face: she looked sickly now; Vala felt sick, she wanted to throw up. Her skin felt wrong, she wanted to rip it off. She stuffed her shaking hands into the pockets of her byrda.

“Hello Torc.” Her voice sounded flat and lifeless without the forced cheeriness of her emotional masks. “What mark?” Vala’s wariness of magic prevented her from really ever researching into gnosis. She loved to read about her patron god Priskil, but she never bothered to explore more into the mortal champions bestowed with godly power. She tilted her head to the side. Her eyes gleamed in the dim light with a tearful, watery stare. “What are you? Where did you hear that story? I’ve never heard it before. Why is your arm like that? What are you?” The questions flooded from Vala’s lips. Without her artificial and forced control, Vala couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by her natural curiosity, manifest with the rudeness of a child.

by **Torc Ironwood** on March 31st, 2011, 9:08 pm

Torc eyes filled with sadness and perhaps pity for the young girl before him. What she had seen reflected from her inner soul, must have shaken her to the core. It’s a sad thing when you can look inside yourself and see the horror, and then decide never to face it again. For Vala, the greatest thing she could do was face herself in the mirror and see the poison inside. Yet Torc knew that such a thing could not be forced upon her. For her tone and now deadpan face, Torc knew that he wouldn’t have to listen to a girl, fluffy and pounce about while a deadly viper lay underneath. No, now he got to deal with the viper itself.

Sitting back down, Torc released a sigh. “Vala, a question like, ‘What are you?’ is not an easy one to answer. Should I believe that since you dress in a Chiet manner and are reasonably cute, that I can use you like a breeding horse, since I am an Avora? For people looking for the simple answers, that question might put a hard edge to both our throats, and see us chain in thought. Perhaps, if you sit down and forget the hurt and pain suffered in a moment, you might actually understand what happened.”

Torc began rolling up his sleeve on his left arm, “I, like all other people, come from a mother and a father. I have no knowledge of who they were, but I know that one of them was of Isurian blood. I grew up in a place much like your communal nurseries. The leaders of the nursery believed that since I had Isurian blood in me, that I would be good at shaping metal. So that gave me hammer and tongs, fire, and forge to start my training. I was decent at my craft and the leaders decided to teach me a bit of magecraft to enhance my creations. Slowly my talents grew and I became a decent blacksmith, less so of a magecrafter. The woman that I loved decided to be with another and so I left my home, for a nearby city called Zeltiva. It’s a dangerous and scary thing leaving your home for something else… I thought the world would eat me up and I wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore. During those times I spent a lot of time praying to Kelwyn, perhaps people are right, and the twins solve your problems by giving you other ones.”

“One day, after continuing my education in magick and metal, a flyer about a man going to Wind Reach fell across my path.” Torc laughed briefly. “Normally, I would have tossed the piece of paper into the kindling drawer and called it a day, but for some reason I picked it up and read it. It sparked something within me, and I went to the grand Zeltiva University to look up books about Wind Reach and its people. I found a group of people, that were willing to work hard for their food. A people that were lead by giant birds that were reincarnations of previous people, so I set out to meet this man that was going to Wind Reach. I found out later that the very Gods, or at least a dead one, was sending this man to Wind Reach for a reason. During the crossing I lost friends, I lost ideas about who I was, and then the Goddess Cheva asked me to make something. Her stare, Vala, was a hundred fold more powerful then the brief glimpse I gave you of yourself.” Torc took a moment to really look into Vala’s eyes, to give deadly seriousness to his words.

“Love, is perhaps the harshest punishment you can inflict on someone. I saw all my weaknesses, my flaws, my strengths, my joys… I saw who I was and what Torc Ironwood was really made of. That is what you see every time you look into love’s eyes, and you can either strive to become something more in its vision or you can hide your ugliness away. It is a horrible thing, this knowing, for a little while I sat and thought about exactly what it meant, at other times I tried to hide from it, but the knowledge never goes away. You know and because it’s from pure love… because its Cheva it eats at you.”

Torc shivered, he remembered that stare and how it completely destroyed his independent thought. It was the most purest form of love and he would have done anything… he had done anything for it. Torc’s eyes refocused and he realized that he had been staring off into space. He focused back on Vala, “That was my reward and punishment, for being given a task by the Goddess. I forge a part of myself… something that open me to every connection that we make.” Torc’s hands began to shake and quickly he balled them up into fists.

“Cheva gave me her mark, and because love sees the connections between our souls, I see the same thing and at times I can show others their own connections. For instance Vala, I know that you nurse that seed in you. That seed that is marked Torc, that you are going to grow it in a dark place till it’s ready.” Torc gave her a stare that would metal iron, “I suggest you seek your revenge quick, because I can feel within me that my time here is getting short. I still remember her eyes, and I must purge more of myself into the fires of love. Can you say that you are ready to do the same? Can you say that from that brief glimpse you are ready for something more?”

Torc waited for her response, waited…. For if she acted the girl, and decided to spirit away, he was ready to grab her wrist with his left hand and make sure she would leave without giving him a real answer. “Tell me Vala, what did you see staring back at you?”

by **Vala** on April 1st, 2011, 12:42 am

Pity was nothing new. Vala spotted it easily in Torc’s eyes. Normally she would have made up an excuse and ran off at the filthy sight, but it was rare Vala let any of her masks slip, let alone all of them. She remained standing as Torc sat down and began to talk to her.

Breeding Horse. Vala laughed, short and mirthlessly, sounding almost like a bark. It wasn’t the first time the idea had been proposed, she was pretty and of a breeding age, but it was the first time someone had been so blunt about it, usually she was accosted by pastries, not logic. He told her to sit. Vala sat down, only a few hand spans away. Since he had brought up the idea of breeding Vala felt a gnawing fear, the one she always felt around higher ranking men. She quickly dashed the fear away; he didn’t seem like the type to take advantage of a woman using such cheap motives; it didn’t look like he would need the help anyway; she hoped.

She wondered why he continued to talk to her, even when he knew what she was like inside. She had even stopped acting – even if people knew her true nature, those like Ronin, as long as she kept her masks up, they would love her . What made Torc stay? Vala wanted to scream why; she wanted to scream at him to run, to leave her. Vala sat still, her heart slowing, slowing, slower and slower, until her heart was near sluggish. Forget her pain? What did he think she was trying to do every day of her life. Her pain was a part of her. Vala was fueled by her pain, by her rage; she felt empty without it.

He rolled out up his sleeve to show her, his arm. Vala felt her fingers twitch, as if to reach up and touch the living metal, stopping herself and instead she focused on listening intently to the rest his story. When he finished she reached up to touch her face. She pressed hard against her cheeks and lips with the pads of her fingers; it felt strange, not having to force herself into a face, a mask for the rest of the world. She dropped her hand to her lap; she felt numb.

Vala said the first thing that came to her mind. “Teach me.”

She smiled - a real smile, it came slow, building up from the corners of her lips. It was real and it was Vala: wicked and sharp. Her porcelain canines flashed behind her scarlet lips. “I don’t have to tell you what I saw. You already know I’m nothing more than a shallow mask of ambition and civility, trying to survive the rage and pain that consumes me. You don’t think I know what I am? I may be false, but I am not an idiot. You say you are leaving soon; and yes you are right, I will probably be nursing this grudge, this seed of hate, until I get even with you; I am willing to accept I may never get my revenge, but you know my not so secret motive, which means you can protect yourself from my attempts, and as soon as you grow tired of me you can leave me in the gutter like the rest of them.” Vala scoffed, angrily running her tongue over her sharp teeth. She rotated her left wrist, the joint feeling stiff an achy; other random and insignificant pains began to manifest in Vala’s body.

Vala’s head spun at a sound; a young yasi ran in grabbed a children’s book he had left in the room. He looked up, making eye contact with Vala. At the child’s wide eyes, Vala realized her face was still a ghastly sight. She quickly threw up a glamour; color returned to Vala’s cheeks, a pale blush. She smiled comfortingly at the child, who only ran from the horrifying sight of a pleasant smile unnaturally combined with her terrifying blue stare; it took more effort than Vala remembered to keep up her pretty looks. Beauty was more than just a nice facial structure and styled hair, but attitude and control. Vala dropped her smile as soon as the yasi turned the corner, his light feet scrambling to get away.

Vala continued as if the child had never come in; as if she didn’t feel pain from being so obviously hated for showing her true nature. “So, what do you think? Are you willing to teach me? I know your kind; you want to change me for the better. I know you feel pity for me. This mark of Cheva would be a curse to someone like me; I am truly in awe of your strength of a person; you must be truly good to be able to face yourself without fear, without shame; and I’m sure you know I also resent your strength.” Vala wasn’t use to such candor, as an Inarta she was unnaturally restricted; she found the freedom refreshing but uncomfortable. “I’ll be honest, know nothing of blacksmithing or whatever it is you do, nor do I have any interest in such coarse crafts, but I have heard of this mage crafting; it is rare and difficult to find a master, especially one who would talk to a lowly chiet; such an opportunity does not come often. I offer myself completely to you as a willing apprentice. I already have a job here in the Enclave so I will not be able to work at all hours, but I can serve you as long as you give me enough time to make the proper arrangements, all this in exchange for knowledge: for we both know knowledge is power. If I ever overstep my boundaries, I am still a Chiet and you can have me punished, or even punish me yourself. So, are you up to the challenge to make someone as twisted as me love myself?” Vala looked Torc straight in the eyes, unwavering in her offer.

by **Torc Ironwood** on May 2nd, 2011, 11:05 am

OOC: Sorry for the long wait, Computer died on the move and I will be only on here every few weeks. But afterwards, I should be able to post like crazy.

Torc sat patiently as Vala spoke, as the Yasi came in Torc smiled at the child, however it wasn't enough to keep the kid from running away in terror of Vala. Torc knew how very hard it was to see someone for who they were. It was even harder to love someone for who they were. Torc had no illusions that Vala was empty, the question was whether she was a cup that could not hold water, or one that needed but a drop or two to finally realize its purpose. Torc scratched his mark for a moment, his left arm glittering in the light. "A father's love knows when to let his child go to find their own path, Vala." Torc breathe a heavy sigh. "Vala, teaching you is as much of a trap for your revenge as it is a vehicle for your growth. I am a good man, but seeing the sacrifice of a dead god, I also know that life can be very unfair. Your whole argument is based on the idea that I will teach you because you will magically change into a better person. You flatter me, and asking to take the bait on the idea that I can change you." Torc shivered, for a cold chill ran down his back.

"Vala… The only way you are going to value any lesson given to you, is one that costs dearly and the punishments are swift and harsh." Torc wondered if he had the ability to be as harsh as Vala needed. The type of love that she needed to change her, was something that Torc never had experienced, but because of his own personal curse and gift… he knew the pain that Vala would be in to truly learn magecraft. He looked at her, slowly he raised his hand towards her face. It moved no quicker then an inch ever second. He was no more then six inches from her face before he felt the cold energy shell that was her aura. For Torc auristics wasn't about sight, but about feel, as he slide across her aura he flet the small cracks in its tough shell. He felt that storm upon the crown of her head, but as his hand hovered over her chest he felt a thing within it. "The first magic a person learns for magecraft is auristics. It about sensing energy around objects of power, and just by being alive you have power. For instance, this is how I know what price to really ask of you." Torc felt like the energy that he was sensing fall about his hand like cobwebs. Slowly he began to feel the shape the energy took. "What's important to you is… a book. It feels like its so big," Torc held out his hands to show Vala that the book was roughly the size of the journal she had. "And there is something engraved on the top of it." Torc's hand seemed to dip and raise as it went over the cover of the book. "Vala, if you wish me to teach you lessons, I want this book of yours. If you truly change by the time I leave, you can have it back, but if you don't I will keep this connection to you… that is the payment I require. As for punishment, you do anything that may cause you harm or another I will answer swiftly with pain of equal kind. You may experience something from a sharp slap to broken bones if you intentionally hurt someone to the core. Otherwise, I expect mistakes and I expect you to push the boundaries of your mind and spirit. If I am around I will try to stop you before you can do too much damage to yourself. Those are my terms…"

Torc left the words unsaid, magecrafting could be just as dangerous as any other world magic. If Vala wanted she could use human sacrifice to power her crafting, so Torc asked for something that was worth something to Vala. She needed to understand that the knowledge she wanted wasn't just highly useful but deadly costly. For Torc it made sense to ask for something that was essential to the core of her being. After all in a city that frowned on individual wealth, asking for money didn't make a lot of sense. Besides, after all her talk, it felt a little too sly for Torc to give her power with the promise that she might change. No, Torc had requested a payment that was a fair price for what he could give her, it was up to her to determine if it was worth the emotion turmoil to learn.

by **Vala** on May 4th, 2011, 2:05 am

His hand was close, far too close for comfort. Vala’s crimson lips drew back as she scowled with feral rancor. She kept her ground, taking most of her self control not to run away. Gritting her teeth, closing her eyes, Vala tried to pretend she couldn’t sense his hand before his face. He was doing something, something magical. The air sang with energy; it was subtle, unlike the oppressive manifestation of reimancy.

Punishment. Vala blue, fiery eyes snapped open, honing in to glare into Torc’s one green eye and one brown eye, but only for a split second; Vala’s gaze quickly softened to a look of incredulous revulsion. Listening to Torc’s self righteous speech was punishment enough. Vala tried to imagine horrific scenes of dek’s being stretched upon a rack, screaming in agony, just to calm down.

It was perfect! Just utterly perfect in the ease of which it stopped Vala’s heart. The mention of a book, a book of power, instantly brought her only heirloom to mind. Unable to help it, her eyes darted to the hidden pocket in her byrda, right by the waistband above her left leg. The outline of the mini journal was barely visible beneath the baggy folds of cloth, but to Vala, it appeared to bulge as a tumor, visible to all, especially Torc. She had just enough to sensibility, or was it shrewdness, not to let her twitching fingers go to it, to touch it, to reassure herself that it was still there, with her. Her precious black journal, found with her when she was left at the nursery; her only tie to the family she never had. Time was ticking, far too fast. Vala needed to answer him; he was still talking – good, more time. Wait, he mentioned an engraving - not a glass, sapphire bead. Thank you Priskil! He was talking about her… personal journal. That was no better.

Vala gagged at the thought of allowing another, to man handle her precious journal. Sure she threw it around, got some water marks, or other what not smudges on it, but never, ever, had she let another touch, read, and especially hold on to her journal as collateral. Her journal held her thoughts, her dreams, but most importantly her rage. Her soul: in written word.

She never missed a day. One of the few things Vala kept constant in her life was her journal. It grounded her to reality. It never left her. It never hurt her. It never forgot her birthday. It never used her. Her journal was there for her, forever and always. To lose something like that would be like, no it would be worse, than losing a friend. To be honest, Vala would have preferred seeing a human, or any living creature get mauled, not die per say, just physically assaulted, rather than see, or even hear of a book, especially her journal, get mistreated.

It was then the second thoughts began to stream in, flying around Vala’s head; little demons vying for the attention of her fears, her worries. “What if he rips it?”, “What if he spills water on it?”, “What if he writes in it?”… “What if he loses it!” They screamed into her ear, tormenting her with crippling anxiety. Her breaths grew shallow; whatever color she had regained from the earlier anxiety attack was fast draining out again: a true porcelain doll. Vala wondered, truly pondering, if all the pain was worth the rubbish knowledge. She was supposed to be a master glassblower. Where was she now? She was shelving books in a dusty old library, not even a very good one. Where were her masterpieces? Where were the stain glass windows? The beautiful glass vases? Nowhere, that’s where. All in her imagination! What was she? A lowly chiet that everyone trampled upon, forgot about, if she was lucky, really lucky, she would be ignored, left to her own devices. Now she was really wallowing. Vala let the anguish wash over, feeling it strengthen her resolve to change it. She remembered every Endal, every Avora, every anyone, who dared push her around. She was the master of her fate; she would change herself around!

Clueless, but mostly just naïve, especially molded by Wind Reach’s closed society, Vala knew little about things outside what she needed to survive and skills needed to provide for the city. Other than Reimancy, unofficially one of the most useful magics in Mizahar, magic was a rare and dangerous being in the city: rarely discussed and even less commonly practiced. Most magic users were known for their sudden bouts of insanity and over giving, than their life time achievements. Vala had expected blacksmithing, or some other brutish activity that her body type wasn’t suited for, and Torc’s Isur body was. Auristics, and especially magecrafting, well the depth of the consequences of perusing such activities hadn’t even really had the time to fill her thoughts, which were too preoccupied worrying about the future of her journal. Now that she had calmed down a little, a new plague of worries swooped down upon her. She handled the new worries with a little more grace; the dangers of over giving wasn’t as personally connected as the thought of losing her precious journal. Her naivety and self absorption was both a blessing and a curse in this sense. Vala did not worry as much about the physical consequences, because she didn’t really know much about it; only the fear of losing her journal would keep her within safe limits. And for one like Vala, sweet whispers seemed like only a miscalculated fireball away. What she knew of magecrafting, the miniscule, almost negligible fact compared to the grand scheme, was that it could enhance one’s glasswork… something that appealed greatly to the still, almost foolishly, aspiring glassworker.

Her mind was made up. She waved her hand around her forehead, dripping with cold sweat, banishing the demons away. She stood up, abruptly and awkwardly. She didn’t say anything; she felt too weak to even walk properly; Vala walked with the accuracy of a wind up doll, walking with dull eyes, back to the reception desk.

She was stupid, leaving Torc, sitting there, without a proper answer, especially with her choice so ambiguous, her inner thoughts, just that, done inside. If she was lucky he would realize she was off getting her journal for him – if she was lucky.

Vala wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, trying not to think about what she was going to do: the price she was going to pay, just to get ahead in the brutal world.

by **Torc Ironwood** on May 9th, 2011, 10:44 am

Torc watched Vala become increasing worried. He didn't say a word, he wanted her to be worried and disturbed by what she was asking. Torc had been taught the world magick of magecrafting as a teenager. It took a steady hand and understanding of the world around and in the object to truly balance all the energies. Yet he understood the type of trouble one could get into when learning magick. Frankly, he wished he could come up with a better way to understand the whole of it. Using magick used a core part of your energy, it pulled and drained a part of you, filling you up with a dangerous emptiness. Was overgiving bad because it drained your essence to such a point that it couldn't handle the influence of this world, or was it dangerous because it allow all the darkness inside of someone to come out unhindered.

Torc thought about the Gods and their own Djed that they brought. In a way the Gods used prayers in a form of leeching, people giving up hope and energy into their prayers waiting to see if they would be answered, and perhaps that was what Gods acted on, if enough energy was given into one idea or one hope the Gods and Goddesses heard it. However, it didn't make sense in a strange way, if they only got energy from us because we prayed then answering any prayers would be too costly.

Thankfully the small girl who had fallen asleep came back with a doll. "Thank you, mister, for the story." Torc melted with warm emotions, he smiled and softly brought up the little girls chin so that she looked him in the eyes. "I am glad you enjoyed it, little one. Did you know that the story had a hidden meaning?" Slowly the girl shook her curly red hair. "You see, each of the seven tales secretly speaks about the power of women. About how their beauty and minds can snare a man so easily that he forgets all else, Elle didn't love any of the three brothers, but they loved her so much that they were willing to kill one another over her. Sobar, might be a hero for his clever wit, but it was Elle and her sacrifices that kept the brothers from harming one another, and that’s why I told it, little one. A woman's strength and power, isn't in her muscles, but in her heart and mind. A woman can be stronger then any blacksmith by using her wit to lead several blacksmiths into doing something." The girl bit her lower lip as if trying to understand Torc worlds. Finally, Torc thought about how to say it another way. Genlty he poked the girls belly, "The fire that comes from her, is reined by your head, child. Endal know that fire can help everyone, but they also control it and use it for the benefit of others. Okay?" The little girl spoke so softly, "Okay, mister." Torc gave the child a hug and told her to go back to her teachers. Sometimes children didn't understand the lessons given to them, but it was Torc's duty to keep trying, and so he waited for Vala, getting up now and again to see if he couldn't find a good book on crafting.