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A real mage? She couldn't help but show the excitement at that thought. She giggled as her lips curved into a full smile blossoming across her face. Even her eyes lit up at the perspective of learning magic. Her brother had tried, and considering he could wield no magic of his own he had been exceptional in honing her abilities so far. His lack of knowledge of the subject allowed him to consider possible uses that she herself would never had considered.
"I would be honored." she bowed her head belatedly in respect. "There are few granted the gift of magic in Juvaro." She frowned slightly considering the mages other words. "You have not heard of Nepheli?" her eyes twinkled. "Then perhaps you can teach me, and I will teach you?"
With a sudden yawn she blushed slightly. She hadn't realized how tired she was. "Then in the morning then?" She did not wait for a reply before hoping down from the box and heading for her room. She wasn't sure where exactly it was but she could feel her brother's presence close by. After a few wrong turns she found her brother already fast asleep on the top bunk. She knelt as the head of her bed, her head down.
"Please goddess help your followers. Give him strength of mind and heart as he faces the troubles haunting him."
"I will be fine." Drice whispered from above.
She could sense the disbelief in his voice. Behind the stern focus, the wall of confidence there was an inferno of...pain? She wasn't sure but it was getting worse. She closed her eyes wondering if her brother would ever find the peace she knew he deserved.
_______
She awoke to find her brother already gone. She fumbled through their bag removing a much cleaner gown and tunic then the tattered one she had worn in the forest. They would need new clothes soon she had but one outfit left. She sniffed she needed a shower but she was unsure of where they were located nor exactly what they were allowed to do. She considered asking her new found teacher. She smiled at that thought.
After brushing her hair back she exited the room. She knew that Drice was worried about something. He had probably over stepped his bounds, so she was sure that the captain would have talk if not make a judgement upon their stay on the ship. She hoped feverently that they would be allowed to stay. She was starting to like it here. To think she was flying!
She found the mess not surprised that there were few there so early. The local priestess was eating at a table by herself studying the fork in her fingertips like it was a new creation. Though it might be she knew very little of the locals other then the fact that their spears hurt. She sat down at the opposite end of the table taking a slices of bread and a small portion of fruit. Still unsure of exactly how much she and her brothers privileges extended to she did not feel right pushing things.
She ate quietly offering a few glances and polite smiles to the woman before excusing herself when her meal was finished. Putting away her plate she thanked the cook, Aram, she thought his name was. As she exited the mess she could feel her brother nearby. She found him upon the deck not surprisingly deep within his excersises. As she neared he turned showing her his naked back, tattered with scars. Everytime she saw it she involuntarily cringed. It had been a miracle from Nepheli that he had lived but she was still unhappy that she couldnt heal him any better then that. Not when it had been her that had nearly killed him.
His fingers flinched and with a thump two knives buried themselves into a target he had set upon a crate. He rolled backwards and again his hands flashed and two more knives centered the target with ease. It was a wonder to watch him, many people were scared of him. He was an animal trained to kill ruthlessly and effieciently. She had felt fear radiate off of people when they met him and yet....
She had seen his darker side unleashed but she had also seen his otherside. His fierce loyalty his overbearing heart. He was a monster to those that threatened him or the ones he cared about but he was her brother she only felt pride when she saw him. And yet she could feel that torrent of emotions still growing inside him. Soon he would face his demons she just hoped her brother was still standing when it was done.
She found a place slightly to his side and knelt upon her knees. She closed her eyes and began to pray. She could feel the power growing within her as she whispered each the word of the prayer. The chenkari burst from her fingertips a dozen fireflys swarming around her. She waited wondering when Cyradis would come calling.
Neither of Weka'u or Arlen was aware of his presence where he stood as an invisible string allowing the connection between their two minds. Images were flashing before him of people he did not recognise, of things he could not understand. It felt like a world of wisdom flooded through him, all spoken in a language he did not know. If it was Wek'au's native tongue or something else entirely he could not tell.
Then suddenly all became silent again and the words and the images were gone. It was all over. The connection was broken. He looked at the native, and saw wisdom beyond the man's age within his eyes. Something had changed.
He followed Arlen back towards the ship, with a native woman in their tow. Both of them were blissfully unaware of his presence, and afraid of what would happen to Jade he decided not to show himself. Something had happened earlier, something that never had happened before. They both knew that there was an invisible connection between them. If he stayed in solid form Jade would become more and more tired, thus he did not stay so for long. Seeing his wounds appear on her had frightened him. That was new. He wished that he could understand. If he understood perhaps he could prevent it. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause more harm to Jade. She had been through enough. He had sworn that he would protect her, no matter what. What if he was the one to do her more harm? What then could he do?
Fear. Pain. Anguish. Death.
An image flashed before his mind of a man lying on the ground. His white shirt was coloured red. He had never seen this man before, and yet it all seemed so familiar. He could almost smell the fresh air. No, he was sure that the memory was not his. But if it was not his, then whose was it?
Deep in thought he arrived at the ship, still unable to shrug the image off.
Jade had already gone down to her cabin, but instead of following her he made her way to Sephara's cabin. It was empty inside and he kept himself busy with pacing back and forth until she finally returned.
Still feeling more than a little reluctant to turn into solid form he began to shout at her.
<Sephara!> He waved with his arms as if she would be able to see them.
<Sephara!>
He was standing right in front of her, but there was no reaction from her eyes. Nothing that hinted at that she had heard him at all. Despite Jasper's effort Sephara sat down behind her desk. He continued to shout at her for a while before he took two steps forward and walked right through her. Even if she did not see or hear him, he was certain that she would feel that. He quickly turned around and placed his lips against her ear.
<I need your help>
-----------------------
For the first time in days Jade slept through the night without any haunting nightmares. When she woke up the next morning she felt refreshed. Jasper was still nowhere to be seen, and she couldn't help but to feel a bit worried. What had transpired the day before was something new. She could remember the pain. Looking down at her arms the wounds had healed, but some parts of her skin remained pink as if to remind her that it had happened. Gently she pressed a finger against it. Nothing.
After cleaning herself up a bit and with a change of clothes she wandered aimlessly around the ship for a while until she found herself up on the deck. She ought to be hungry, her mind told her that, and yet she felt no hunger at all. She sat down on an empty crate, looking out at the blue sky for a while. After a while something demanded her interest, and she turned her head around almost as if someone had pulled a string, as she saw Drice training not far from her. His clean and sharp movements almost mesmerized her and she was unaware of the fact that she was staring at him.
Cyradis was up with the sun that morning. She felt suprisingly refreshed, probably because they were now leagues away from that damnable island. In the short time she spent there, she developed two bad memories and more then enough comtempt for isolated and hostile islands. Maybe thier departure was friendly, but after the pirates and takign down Pu'aki, Cyradis decided to keep herself clear of the remote parts of the Haloed Sea for a while.
Somehow, the ship's ever dilligent cook was up even before Cyradis and was busy preparing the gally for breakfast. From what she saw, Cyradis guessed he was attempting to purge the hold of any remaining fruit from the island before it went bad. It was an easy meal, at least. She strayed from the more acidic fruits and instead choose a handful of sweet, berry-like fruits and some bread. She decided to brave a bright yellow juice Aram had undoubtly invented that very morning, and was pleasantly suprised at how well it complimented the berries.
Everything on that island seemed to coexist. From the lush growth provided by the fertile volcanic soil, to the natives worshipping the volcano, or at least a spirit living within it. She doubted T'a'u'weke was much more than a powerful fire elemental, but then again, Cyradis was no expert in celestiology. After all, Cailey's god Nepheli was new to her as well, and apparantly one who was open to outsiders. Cyradis had never really taken much interest in religion. Most Kellans generally accepted that believers had a right to worship whom they wish, and as long as thier practices were clean and didn't involve sacrifice of the unwilling, they were allowed to practice in Kellei. There were some things proven as fact when it came to magic, however. Cyradis hoped Cailey had an open mind.
Having finished her breakfast, she thanked Aram for the meal and the delightful juice and headed for the spar deck. There, the turned aft and made her way to the dishelved platfrom from which she fought off the orc raid. It seemed like months ago, but was barely over a week. The polished mirrors were all either broken or missing after the crash, and parts of the rigging that held them up were splintered. It would need some work to fix, but hopefully Gabe still had some money left. Once they got to Gebron, the Dawn would still need some repairs. You can only do so much with refitted driftwood, afterall. Cyradis didn't relish the thought of bringing the ship into dock only to have it sink in the port. Still, the relatively wind-shielded platform would be a good place to get Cailey started.
After some time, other crewmen were beginning to filter out from the cabins below. First was Drice who went into a practiced form of martial meditation. Cyradis had seen similar arts and was always intrigued. It was almost like a dance, but one very obviously meant to hone grace on the battlefield, rather than the ballroom. A little while later, Cailey herself found her way to the deck. She briefly observed her brother before kneeling in prayer. Cyradis always admired the truely devout. They always found something to believe in when others turned to despair. It was... inspiring.
Cyradis gave Cailey some time with her prayers, using the few minutes to appreaciate the sun's warmth without the island's humidity, as well as get a sense of her surroundings magically. Eventually, she descended the small staircase from the quarterdeck and approached the young priestess as her brother was concluding his exercises.
"Drice isn't it?" she asked as she came within conversation distance, "I'm Cyradis." They exchanged a handshake, and Cyradis could feel that same confidence in his hand as he showed in his movements. This was a very well discplined young man. One could wonder where he might learn such a thing. Releasing his hand, Cyradis continued, "I offered to teach your sister some things about magic last night. She seemed very excited." Cyradis turned her attention to Cailey, "I hope you're feeling rested, young lady, we have a lot to talk about," Cyradis smiled brightly at the girl. She was actually starting to get a little apprehensive as well.
Sephara slid the door to Gabe's quarters closed behind her, only to find Arlen waiting on the other side. She smiled as they chatted about their Captain, she found it put people at ease. The old adventurer had a way about him that made himself stranger than even her own people she thought. He spoke funny, and acted funny.
"Sometimes a plain answer is better than weaving words carefully." The First Mate contemplated the irony of him uttering such words, but soon noticed his intention to retire for the evening.
"Arlen," she stopped him and he turned his head. "Thank you for what you did in the village. I... appreciate it." The full weight of what had almost happened hours ago had not been lost on her, and she was struggling with how she'd been a spectator of the whole thing, unable to do anything but watch.
(OOC: I rewrote a bit Ren)
It had left her feeling useless and incompetent. Two things she hated deeply. Gabe would know doubt have told her she was being ridiculous and not to worry about it. That was why she remained silent, but he was not of her people. She had failed. A life debt was no small matter, and when he had needed protection, she was not there. Could such a thing ever be forgiven?
"I've been burned before..." he stated symbolically, touching on the point of their odd relationship with a smile. "You're welcome, First Mate. You can tell me where you hail from next time, perhaps." Leave it to time and you'll want a friend again. Trust me on this, young lady. Heh, I talk to make up for the time I couldn't."
He talked as her Elder, but Arlen too was not of her people, no matter how many cultures he had visited. She wanted to to tell him to stop being so bizarre. Gabe was more than her friend, he was family, and that was better. Instead, she held tongue. Something told her just to let it pass.
"The Emiru," she blurted out. He looked back at her confused. "We call ourselves the Emiru. From the Northwestern plain of the Occident." Arlen merely smiled, accepting the offer, nodded, and made his way below deck.
Sephara followed, but ended up in the dining room where she saw one half of the siblings they'd found in the forest. The young girl seemed to be just sitting alone, looking over everything around her.
"Good evening," Sephara said, and took a seat across the table.
"Evening," she replied in kind.
"We're heading for the city of Gebron, about a day's flight inland from the coast. When we get there you and your brother are free to do as you will, until then, consider this your home." Sephara took a few minutes to go over the list of rules and expectations she had for anyone aboard their ship. The girl remained silent, listening closely to what she was being told. What happened to the pair once they set down again was up to them. She didn't think the two belonged on a ship like this, but then she wasn't sure they belonged anywhere.
"Thank you again, for getting us off the island... and saving our lives," she giggled at the last part. Being in peril wasn't usually cause for laughter, but even Sephara smile broadly, understanding full well the absurdity of their situation.
"And to you," she replied, "you're efforts in the village helped a lot. Dream bravely," she startled herself with those two words. It was a common expression used amongst her own people when saying goodnight to children, and one she hadn't used since she left.
"Goodnight Sephara." The first mate got up and left. She fell onto her bed with her eyes wide open thinking about the family she'd left behind. When she couldn't fall asleep, she rose from her bed at side beside her desk, looking out onto the night sky. As she did so she felt a jolt run through her body, and it paralyzed her for a moment.
From out of nowhere she heard the words, "I need your help."
She jumped to her feet, wondering what was going on, but calmed herself when she realized the voice belonged to the spirit of Jasper. Conversing with the dead was not something she made a habit of, and she felt like her privacy had been invaded knowing that Jasper could be anywhere at any moment, watching her and the others without reprieve.
"What do you want?" the question was both forceful and unsure.
When Sephara jumped quickly to her feet again Jasper knew that she had heard him. Well maybe he did not know, but at least he was certain that she had felt his presence. Not long after she asked him what he wanted, while her eyes went looking out into the empty air around her, as if searching for him. He wasn't sure himself of why, but he remained silent for a while, observing her. After a while her eyes were almost looking straight at him. He couldn't help but to smile as he took a step to the right, placing himself a couple of steps in front of her. He could play his version of hide and seek for ages, thrilled by the fact that Sephara seemed to be able to pinpoint his whereabouts, even if not exactly. The feeling of someone other than his sister recognising his presence without having to pretend to become something that he was not. If only he was not here in such an important matter.
"With Jade. I need your help. Something happened today. You saw it, didn't you?" he finally said to her in reply. Had anyone else been in the room with them he or she would have heard nothing, but he was convinced that Sephara could hear him now that she knew that he was here. She was special in that way.
He hesitated slightly. Sharing his heart and inner feelings with someone was not Jasper's strong side, even if this person was the first one he had felt a connection with in a long long time, no matter how small it was. He knew that he needed to say these words even if they were difficult to speak. For Jade, but also for himself. He took a deep breath before continuing.
"Her safety means more to me than anything."
The words were spoken simply, on the edge of being too silent, but they sounded honest and pure.
...
OOC: I would actually like to keep the conversation ... in the background, Geco. For now anyway. We haven't even gotten to Gebron yet. No point rushing things. :) I'll shoot you a pm or wave. Pretty much talking about Zran's char being aboard and a shirt. ^_^
IC:
It was nice to be sailing again, instead of under a giant balloon. Arlen could feel the sun beating on his skin and it felt good. It was a different feeling than on the ground. The wind was a nice temperature, for being so high. His eyes were closed and smile wide as he bared his face to his everlasting companion in the sky. Deciding to let the young priestess have her time to herself. Time to get accustomed to the intermittent shudder of "dead air," as he'd heard such turbulence called before. To see new skies, new oceans, and most of all new horizons.
"If you wish to see new horizons," Arlen had been told, and repeated to her as he passed by in his deckhand duties, "You must have the courage to leave the shore."
For the moment, he sat on a fastened crate on the top deck, mending his jacket. In reality, he was letting the wind billow through his newly acquired white tunic with his sleeves rolled up; rather fine of Gabriel to acquiesce one in return for his life. As he patiently snipped burned pieces away from his patchwork jacket and sewed new hem to keep it from fraying, he lounged and watched the silent opera of emotions between the young pilot and the young archmage. Archamae realized she was lost in daydream and started to walk off after submitting her defeat in shame. She was still lost in thought as she started to pass Arlen, who simply took his eyes off of his sewing and pulled a secondary needle from his mouth, should he drop the first.
"If that was true she would see the pain as clear as the dawn," he could faintly discern.
"Perhaps she's blinded by her own demons, Archamae," he quietly told her, knowing that with the faint rushing of the wind, no others could hear. "Just as we all are. I understand why you say you're from Faroese. It's the same reason - well, similar anyway - that I tell no one that I come from the same mother land you no doubt remember and miss as well. By the way, in Acacia, have you ever heard of Ciribaque?" Arlen chuckled then, "I won't tell if you don't..."
Arlen gestured to their interim pilot, "I think we both noticed your exercise, after the crash. Some more than others perhaps," he grinned, thinking of the young men. Kaltor not the least of which who stared at her rare display of relaxed attire and composition. " I suspected as much beforehand. I had a similar routine as a young boy."
OOC: Feel free to have me delete my post, if you want, Arch. I just figure I need to get Arlen into the rest of the characters more, instead of hanging back and watching like a hawk. Now is as good a time as any, since Weka'u is so outgoing.
...
OOC: LOL, I love the fish thing Arc. Ren, I figured you'd do as much, was all I had planned to. Well boys and girls, here we go at last ^_^
IC:
*Knock Knock Knock*
"No more bananas and fish," Gabe stumbled out of his drunken coma. This morning, the sun was no friend. Actually, that's exactly what it was. It was just like a friend that loved torment you when you were already hurting, chuckling ever so delightedly as they did so. Still curled gingerly between his fingers and propped against the floor was the half empty bottle of rum from last night. His mouth, nose, and just about everything else felt either dry, sore, or both. Nothing was responding like it should. He shifted around like a snail in his chair, desperately trying to find some relief for his eyes.
Finally, by sitting up straight with his head tilted slightly forward he found the sanctuary he desired. He groaned in relief, "Not how I expected to feel the day after leaving that dung heap," he mumbled to himself. The knocking at his door came again, and he sighed with displeasure. Easing himself out of his chair, he put the rum back into the chest, closed it, and walked over to the door.
"Arlen," he swallowed trying to ease the pain he felt in his throat, "What is it?"
"Good morning Cap... are you okay?" Arlen's face twisted with concern at Gabe's appearance.
"Please just skip to the reason why you woke me up," Gabe's eyes were having a hard time focusing, so instead he just stared at nothing and retreated back into his head.
"Uh... right. Um, I need a shirt. I believe you'll recall how mine was burnt, so I was hoping I could borrow one from you?"
Gabe almost scoffed at the request. Of course it could only be something so stupidly insignificant that brought him out of his blissful dreams and back into the horror that was a hangover. Instead, he just groaned, "Yeah sure. Wait here a sec," and he moved away from his door, letting it swing inward, and towards the large chest at the foot of bed, messing with his hair as he did so. Rummaging inside he found a simple linen tunic. Taking it, he threw it at Arlen who smiled as he felt the fabric with his hands.
"Thanks Captain."
"No problem."
"I'll just leave you-"
"Best you do."
"Right."
"Arlen?"
"Yes Captain?" there was some excitement in his voice. Gabe pointed to the still open door to his cabin. Arlen laughed, "Right, sorry," and closed the door on his way out.
Falling backwards Gabe plunked down on his bed like an anchor splashing into the sea. He left the ripples of the sheets swallow him, falling deeper into their grasp, until he felt the world melt away.
-o0o-
The almost two day trip to Gebron passed by fairly uneventfully, although when a passing seagull crapped on Kaltor's shoulder, the rage the man flew into was more entertaining than any theater performance Gabe had been to. Their small crew seemed a bit quieter, and a bit more serious after their detour. If anything, he thought what happened to them had brought them closer together, bonded them in a way that was unseen, and he was extremely proud of that. Nerves were getting the best of him. Gebron was no more than a few hours away, and his first real lead to finding Shandalaar with it. And now, with this crew, he truly believed he could do it.
Walking the decks calmed him and focused him on the present. He watched as his crew performed their tasks as they always did, and watched as Sephara inspected and then rejected their futile attempts at perfection.
It was until an hour before their scheduled landing that he sent a runner to find Meg. He'd held off on chatting with her this entire time, but he couldn't resist any longer. Shandalaar had called to him since he was a boy, and now was the time to indulge. A soft tapping came from the other side of his door. Closing the notebook he'd taken out, he turned in his chair to face his guest.
"Come in," he said.
The enchanting silhouette of Meg slid into view, smiling coyly as she closed the door behind her. "A private invitation to the Captain's quarters. Did you have something naughty in mind Gabe?"
It was a game he'd played many times over, but one that Meg made feel as new and amazing as his first taste of chocolate. "Nothing as naughty as what you can imagine, I assure you."
She squinted her eyes as she studied his face, then broke into a wide grin, "What can I do for you?"
"Ending the game already? I was just beginning to enjoy myself."
"There's playing the game when you're trying to win, and then there's playing the game just to try to make someone else lose. The latter isn't nearly as fun," she paused in thought, "most of the time," she winked at him, and they shared a laugh.
Once they regained themselves it was Gabe who began, "I think it's time you tell me what's in Gebron that is going to lead us to Shandalaar."
"My dear captain, I was beginning to think you'd forgotten all about that. I see patience has become an asset." She sat down on the edge of his bed, hands braced her as she leaned back a bit and crossed her legs.
"Have you ever heard of Ramez Durlane?" she asked softly.
Gabe's face tightened as he search his memory for any recognition of the name, "Can't say I have."
"Most people haven't. He was once a scholar of little importance teaching ancient languages at the university in Lanvaldear. That was until he went crazy, quit his job, and fled the city to live as a hermit in the Sarisian Woods. Keep in mind this is before the Confederacy was even founded."
"Okay, so what's the connection?"
"When he died they found, amongst the other piles of dribble he'd written, one paper containing a theory about the legend of Shandalaar. In it, he talk about the significance of the number eight to the founders of Shandalaar."
Gabe nodded, "Right. There were originally eight founders, it took eight years to build the first city, they believe in the eightfold path of enlightenment and peace."
"And more," she added. "It seems Durlane picked up on a pattern everyone else missed. How the number eight appears in many of their legends, in the images, like the guiding star, that we associate with Shandalaar today. Included in his revelations, was the tale of the Friendly Spider."
Gabe's ears perked up at the mention of the child's bedtime story. It was common enough that almost every child heard some version of it as they grew up. Historians had traced the story back to a book titled, "The Spider's Way," which was believe to have originated from Shandalaar itself. Most accepted the story for what it was, a testament to the ideals of the mythical city's inhabitants. In the story, the Spider travels the world and is tested eight times. Each time he was to use a different virtue in the Eightfold Way to help him solve a conflict. It's a morale tale that to teach children good values, but little more than that. Or so Gabe had thought.
"He thought the story was more than a story," she continued, "it was left as a guide, for the worthy, to find Shandalaar."
"A children's story?" he asked incredulously.
"A book for those who are still innocent and uncorrupted. A book for the pure. A perfect hiding place, no?"
"Okay, but there are several different versions of the story now. How do you know which ones true?"
"Actually, I don't think one is right," the same coy smile she wore when she entered returned to her lips. "I think there's eight partially true stories."
Gabe couldn't help but chuckle. He wanted to believe Meg, but it seemed to simple, something too good to be true. No matter how much he wanted to find Shandalaar, his mind had become convinced over the years that it wasn't really true, but in holding onto the dream he kept the city alive.
She didn't take kindly to his mocking laughter, "Tell me, what's the book the tale comes from. You have studied the Shandalaar and at least know that much I hope."
That wiped the smile from his face, "The Spider's Way."
"How many perfectly preserved copies of that text did they unearth at Wyndamere?"
"Eight..." Gabe barely whispered.
"What if there were only ever eight? Everyone thought only eight copies had been found, but what if those copies had been left behind on purpose? Preserved by magic, they were left deliberately, so that people who truly wanted to find them could."
"Okay, so then what, eight copies of the same story, so we-"
"No no no. Eight copies, eight slightly different stories. They left a key, but they didn't hide it in just one book, they hid it in all eight. The Spider's Way, the Guiding Star, eight legs, eight points. Eight differences that reveal the truth."
It sounded so plausible Gabe felt years shedding away from his life. He was a child again, listening to his mother tell him about the spider's adventures, and how he always wanted to grow up to be like the spider.
"And one of these books is in Gebron?" he connected the dots.
She leaned forward, elbows on her knee, "That's right."
"One more question."
"Shoot."
"How did you find out about this guy Durlane? You just happen to come across his one paper in a library somewhere? Did faeries hand it to you?"
She laughed loudly, "You know the university in Lanvaldear right?"
"I've been a guest once or twice," he replied.
"They have a tradition there. On the first day of school every year, they take the first year students on a tour that ends in the library where Durlane's paper is sealed in glass and presented to all the students as an example of what happens when academic protocols aren't followed. You become forgotten and mocked," she grinned.
"Imagine that."
"Oh don't worry," she said, "The university in Lanvaldear is complete devoid of imagination." They both shared a laugh, and Gabe felt every new breathe of air bring new life into his aging body.
-o0o-
"Arch!" he shouted from below the pilot's dome.
"Yes Captain?" she answered.
"Let's take our girl into port. She needs a little TLC."
"Aye sir."
The Requiem Dawn banked gently to starboard as it steadily dropped towards the ground. An entire small forest had been cleared next to Gebron to make space for an airship dock right next to the city. Tree stumps had been left in as artificial partitions. The fields surrounding the city were an edible mosaic of color. Gebron sat in a fertile valley surrounded by low lying hills which had been steeped and cultivated. Stone aqueducts brought water from beyond the hills into the fields and city. And in the middle of the valley sat Gebron itself. An unspectacular urban center with three large palaces and indifferent gray architecture.
It was the perfect place for a band of scoundrels who were up to no good.
OOC: Finally! ^_- I get to post something! Yay!
IC: GUILIANI (THE BIRD)
The wind was cool, up where the medium-sized bird was flying. The thermals, however, felt like a warm roost under Guiliani's wings as they pushed her further into the air. She could still see her mistress, a long was back and even further down. Ah, but the wind felt so good!
It was then that a dead-but-still-flies ride that the Humans traveled in appeared on the horizon. Intrigued as only a scavenger bird could be, she glided from thermal to thermal 'till the Dead-but-still-flies was near the dead-thing-roost. She went ahead and flew up to the railing, landing was significant back-winging. The Dead was, after all, coming at her at quite a fast speed. After landing, she cocked her head at the people on the ship. They all looked so different, unlike the People that her Mistress helped to guide. The woven fabrics (even though Guiliani didn't know what that was) were all of different qualities, some wearing or carrying articles for colder climes, and others looking like thy only wore their spare garments. It was then that a peculiar-looking human came into her line of sigh. Cocking her head to teh other side and watching the fluttering fabric wtih a predators eye, she ignored the other crewmen who tried to shoo her off the railing once she was discovered.
Her mistress would like that fabric. And if she didn't like it, then she would keep it for Guiliani's roost when they started their trip home.
She fluffed her feathers, happy at the thought of raising her own chicks, having a mating flight. So, just as one of the crewmen approached to physically push her off the railing, she took off, flying high into the sky--in reality not that much higher from where the fluttering fabric was--and dived, catching the fabric in her talons. Her wings beat the head of the person that it was attached to. With an agrieved cry, she winged hard up into the air. The fabric came loose, and she flew as fast as she could back to her mistress, avoiding the hands of the crew that tried to stop her escape.
Her mistress would be pleased.
~*~*~*~*~*~
LARIRE
LaRire sighed as she rung the last of the water out of her hair, no evidence of the former chocolate streak framing her skull from where her hair had grown out. It was all white again, thanks to the syrupy substance that the reigning Spirit Woman had taught her how to make before going on her Story Walk. She was humming to herself, causing a light breeze to flow in circles around her in order to dry her hair a bit faster. She wanted to get into town and away from the port as soon as she could. It was a dangerous area that she was sitting in now, she knew, for she had been to the cit of Gebron many times, looking to barter their goods for precious stones like jade and bits of volcanic glass, something rather rare in the plains and forested areas that her tribe lived in.
She had started out on her journey 4 days ago, instructed by her Master to follow her totem, Guiliani. That her spirit guide would show her the way to find her own story to add to the Collection told every year. If hers was legendary enough, it would be told for many generations, and not just the night that she returned. That was the reason for the story-quest. It was the only way a spirit woman could have her own story, and for the young woman taking the journey to discover things about herself that she would never find out otherwise.
Just as her hair was nearly done drying, and after she had everything packed back into her cloak-turned-pack, that she heard a chirruping cry form Guiliani, coming in to land. Guiliani laughed, signaling with an upraised arm that she herd her "daughter", and that she was ready to take the birds weight.
As Guiliani back-winged, she could see many ruffled feathers on her body...and a rather large piece of fabric, much like a veil but heavier, in her birds beak. "Guiliani! Desca no'oti?!" <Guiliani! What did you do?!> The bird dropped the fabric from her sharply curved beak, then let out a sound similar to a purr of pleasure. Guiliani shook her head, heaving the bird form her arm up to her shoulder. "Na, Descama go to'oni...dama." <Well, let's go return it then...brat.> With that, she tucked the last strap into her pack and picked it up heading in the direction that the bird had come from: the nearby port.
OOC: This is a post done in tendem by myself and Arc. We figured it would be the best way to do it at the moment. ;)
IC:
It had been three night's blissful sleep since they'd gone aloft among the clouds. Having heard their destination was coming near, Arlen unearthed his pipe from his small pack and an even smaller pouch. His dreams of late had been quite calming, and the company of Amateira was pleasant enough. Who wouldn't enjoy the presence of a half naked bronze woman about? He grinned as the answer came about, perhaps other women. I'll have to mention to her something about modesty. Hmm... Walking out onto deck he attempted to light the pipe, but found resistence with the wind. Arlen promptly decided it was time to go into the galley. Food - or what could almost be called it despite Aram's best efforts - would be ready soon anyway. His shift ended nigh on half a bell ago and he reckoned he'd be good for another six off shift. With less crew than they had started with, duties were stretched thin. It was a bit of a tire, but necessary, until hopefully a couple of hands more could be found in Gebron. Sephara was pleasant enough besides. Arlen took his plate with a nod to Aram, the young man was after his own heart. Arlen could see why so many aboard thought of him so fondly. A good man with a good heart.
Sitting by the window, he opened it to allow a slight breeze to enter, and as a porthole for his pipe smoke. Several of the crew were present, but doubted any of them were smokers, let alone the sort of stuff that Arlen enjoyed. With a greedy grin, Arlen put his leaf into the pipe and flicked his flint a couple of times until he saw a red ember. Drawing in a few times, he got the pipe smoldering sufficiently and started puffing away. Staring out the window gave him little view at this time of night but to look southward at the reflections of the moon on the ocean waves below. They were larger here than in his home. Many things were larger than in his home land. Pulling his journal out of his small bag and setting it beside his as yet untouched plate, he pulled out a stylus with an inkwell and started flipping through the pages. A page caught his eye and he grabbed a glass on the table and filled it with water. Arlen could tell it was an old page, as the writing was small. He lifted the journal up to the light and put the rounded section of the glass somewhere between his sight and the page, watching the letters stretch and bend to a size he could read easier. "Ah yes... Heheheh... Katrina... That's right. My was I debonaire in my youth..." he mumbled with a grin around his wooden pipe.
"So you're saying that you had tact at one point?"
Arlen moved the journal down and closed it, the Requiem's pilot appearing from behind it. "Ah... Archamae, my dear," he chuckled.
She had a plate in hand, with a look of disdain at the contents. "I am doubtful I will ever eat fish again." Her nose upturned with a smell and easily tracked it back to Arlen, her eyes narrowing, "Are you... An opium fiend? Ha!?"
Arlen grinned, "Like I said before... We all have our demons - I think." His eyes widened and he slid his journal into his bag. "It's supper, isn't it? We had a date to talk about, dereliction of duty was it?" Taking a couple of puffs from the pipe he snuffed it out, saving it for later. Enough to take the edge off, for now.
"You call this a date, old man? I don't fraternize with men twice my age," she huffed jokingly.
Arlen's head lowered, but his eyes fixed on Archamae. With a lowered voice he grinned, "Let's not be too unkind to a man passed his prime... You've seen at least thirty winters, after all."
"Well played..." Archamae said, clearing her throat and peering out of the window with tongue in cheek. Arlen motioned for Arch to sit and she obliged. "I've been trying for two days to think of a reason not to talk about home but-"
"Tired of running?" Arlen asked, leaning onto the table and picked up his fork. "I know the feeling. I've been running from Dominia for most of your life."
"I'm not running," she replied flatly, "I'm figuring things out."
"Ah," Arlen said, and took a bite of fish. Archamae followed suit, beginning to eat. The talk was turning into a bloodfest that she was beginning to regret. So defensive. She doesn't remember how to relax. Maybe I know too well. "Forgive me. You're right. I used to have tact, but it seems to be running low. Let's talk about our homes, shall we? You know, I tried to get you to open up just before we crashed. I miss home too."
A few seconds passed by before her attitude cooled enough to respond, but nodded. "As I said, I'm familiar with Ciribaque, but only in passing near and with a mention."
"Ah you should have made a stop, but... ah," he chose his words carefully with a glance around the room. The open window would cover their talk well enough. "You weren't the one flying the ship, were you?"
"No, I was mostly a passenger at the time. Going..." she trailed, "going somewhere else." Her eyes looked into the past, and Arlen could see that memories, some pleasant, most not, were skipping by behind them. Replaying like they had for he and Weka'u.
"Well... Should you have stopped there, you would have seen a small but enlightened group of wonderful simple people. Completely content with what they had. Though, that changed a little bit after Dominia took over. You wouldn't know what it's like, losing your identity. Having it stripped from you. But I have to say, they were honorable and abided by all articles of the treatises." Arlen nodded, "I had gone back once. Just to see it. Crossing Dominian borders is no easy feat when you're exiled and don't have credentials. Heh." He grinned. "The mountains and the ocean... It is different from a lot of Acacia, but definitely much like it. The mountains are the black basalt common to the rest of it. The waters are icy. Grasses and rolling hills." A sparkle lifted in Arlen's eyes. "I remember walking the peaks of the nameless mountains around my village and spotting the ocean. I stayed there on the peak for two days staring out at the waves, smaller than out here," he gestured. "It's more protected. More of a sound than a fjord, like you would be used to seeing. It was then I fell in love with freedom. With the waves. When I learned you could travel on them, I was enthralled."
Arlen chuckled. The memories passed by the other day so fast he couldn't quite savor the good memories like those. "I remember making a boat out of the dry yellow alpine grasses on one of the small high ponds. Ice floated on the surface that winter, but it never froze over. It was a simple oval shape, but I recreated it from a book. I was so happy when it floated and skimmed the still surface. One of my sibl-" Arlen stopped and his head lowered, a finger tapping his lips. A lump formed in his throat, which he quickly cleared. "One of my friends - a boy I called a brother, Tresdon was his name - found some extra cloth and made me sails." A melancholy smile pricked his lips then. "Even though we poked a hole in the bottom and the ship started taking water, it was the thought that counted. We made a better one that floated and moved with the wind."
Arlen's eyes tracked towards Archamae's, who had stared at him for a moment, lost in his story. The thought that they lived in the same lands but had such different experiences with small towns and big cities seemed to interest her. As he understood it, a small trickle at the nameless alps helped to forge the mighty river that probably ran through her hometown. "So... what do you miss most about home? The mountain sides you could remember every crease of, like the faces of old relatives? The stones at the bottom of the river you knew by name? The streets you walked so often you could walk blindfolded? What was the best of your home?"
Archamae leaned back in her chair, aimlessly pushing the fish Aram had called 'bluefin' with her fork. She hadn't the courage to decline the offer when the boy was serving up plates. His energy was almost contagious, even if his food didn't agree with the pilot. She'd managed to get an extra scoop of rice and would content herself with eating the staple with ginger and garlic. She put the fork down with a sigh as memories of home tickled the back of her mind. "What do I miss about home?" Arch repeated the question quietly. "I miss the alpine tundra - climbing peaks that reach out to the heavens themselves." Her eyes flickered to the ship itself. "That is one reason I have a passion for flight, I suppose. My life just feels complete up amongst the clouds." She looked at Arlen and nodded. "Yes, I miss the mountains in summertime. That's another thing we have in common."
"You've ignored my comments on Dominia." Arlen smiled, deep wrinkles casting flattering shadows across his weathered face. "So I trust you used to fly with the Fleet?"
Archamae glanced about. Their table was apart from others and the open window created enough noise to mask their conversation. She was nevertheless uncomfortable talking so cavalier about the Empire. "Yes, though I volunteered. The government paid for my education and training, and in turn I gave them nearly a decade of service." Her thoughts strayed to Ari, currently manning the bridge and no doubt wondering where Archamae was.
Arlen's thoughts must have mirrored her own, and he spoke them aloud. "Requisite service comes in many forms, I suppose. I think our novice helmsman has forsaken citizenship for freedom."
"Yes," Archamae agreed, taking a sip from an open flask. "I think I've placed him from the southern plains, perhaps across the Volga. It is not terribly uncommon to see the younger fellows abandoning military service. What's unfortunate is Ari is quite smart. If it was combat he was avoiding, no doubt they would have found his skills more useful in the civil service sector anyway."
"Perhaps it was not just the military he wished to avoid." Arlen seemed to be playing the Darkness' advocate, but beneath the casual comment there were layers of truth.
"Please," Archamae dismissed the argument she had heard countless times before. "You hint at a larger conspiracy of a war weary population ready to rise up against Dominia." Arlen spread his hands, clearly just toying at the notion. "Acacia is Dominia. As the Empire winds down from the recent campaigns, so will the tension. They enjoy medical wonders no cleric can provide -"
"Not in such quantity, yes." Arlen amended.
Archamae agreed. "Of course, I am not one to diminish the power of the supernatural." Her thoughts strayed to witnessing the 7th Fleets flagship being wrought asunder by the combined power of Kellan magi.
Before the pilot could be worked further into a huff, Arlen calmly interjected. "We mask our identities when traveling abroad for a reason. I understand your plight as much as I understand theirs." His hand waved to the other dining crew. He watched as Archamae visibly transformed once more into the stoic pilot they all recognized. "Now, what did you fly during your service? Those goggles are not needed on a transport like this."
"They are certainly not," Archamae whispered. She cleared her throat and smiled fondly. "I flew fighters. Small aeroplanes that require forward momentum and lift to stay airborne - not powered by magicite wells and vertical turbines." She leaned forward and struck the table softly. "Arlen, you have never lived until you've gone that fast. I'm talking about diving like a kingfisher and wheeling like a falcon." His faint nod was all she needed. "You've seen the flyovers. That was me. Up here, flying faster than you've ever dreamed of." She trailed off, happily reliving such memories.
"At home amongst the clouds." Arlen nodded. "I understand, it makes sense now."
"What does, then?"
"Why you're on this ship. You just need to be up here in the sky." Arlen knew there was so much more to the young womans story, but this piece of the puzzle made complete sense. "It is interesting," he began, "that is one thing everyone on board this ship shares in common. Not the idea of escaping to the skies, but that of running from their past. You might have noticed I like to fix things," he grinned. "I hope one day I'll be able to fix my own problems. Though, when it comes to you, myself and Dominia, we must accept the responsibility of precedent while moving forward with our lives. 'We do not know what we want and yet we are responsible for what we are - that is fact.'"
Archamae was taking a bite of spiced rice when she started choking and nearly dropped her utensil. As the fit of coughing slowly subsided she peered up at the concerned older man, his hand on her shoulder. "What was that you said?"
"Are you okay? What? Oh," Arlen seemed a bit bewildered and sat back. "That's just a bit of folksy wisdom from back home. Something someone used to tell me, along with a bunch of other generic phrases."
"But that in particular...where...?" Archamae cleared her throat. Within his words was wrapped a mystery - perhaps Arlen was dangling something in front of the pilot, perhaps just repeating a helpful passage. Those words had been spoken many times before in particular circles, and they meant so much more than their mere appearance. But before she could dwell on it and observe the jovial traveler longer, a bell chimed several times from the exit. "I.. I think that's my queue to report upstairs. We must be nearing Gebron."
"Ah, of course!" Arlen wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. "Put us down safe, now. I'm not sure I trust Ari with seeing us onto the ground. At least, without your steady hand guiding him."
A bit shaken, Archamae cleared her meal, tossing the fish out the open window so Aram wouldn't see it uneaten. "Thank you for the mealtime chat, Arlen." Pushing her flight goggles back into her nearly white-blond hair, Archamae nodded with a quick short smile before she made for the bridge.
Arlen nodded in return and watched her go as he pulled the pipe out again to finish it this time. As he lit it he couldn't help but chuckle and shake his head. "So concerned, that one... Well... She probably has just seen more responsibility than she would like to for her years, eh Tresdon?" After lighting the pipe and taking a drag, Arlen sighed. "Responsibilities..."
"Raedett... Hmmm..." he grumbled, thinking of the similar hair that Archamae had. For a wielder of magic Raedette had a rather robust body too, one that he missed these days. She always felt that the more fit and able-bodied, the better that her magic would work, channeling through her. Arlen's bed was far cooler these days than then. Remembering Weka'u's lustful nature, Arlen waved the thoughts away. Strong-willed, that Weka'u. Arlen would have to keep his wits for a while, so as not to lose himself in the daydreams of the younger tribal leader. Arlen's eyes scanned the room through the smoke of his pipe and he leaned back his his chair, propping a foot onto the one across from him. Amateira's going to be a handful in Gebron... ugh...
"Drice isnt it? I am Cyradis." the mage introduced herself offering her hand. Drice offered a slight nod of respect and shook her hand firmly. "I offered to teach your sister some things about magic last night. She seemed very excited." Cyradis turned her attention to Cailey, "I hope you're feeling rested, young lady, we have a lot to talk about," Cyradis continued with a brightly genuine smile.
"Thank you lady Mage." Drice began to recover his things catching a glance from the healer that had seen to Cailey earlier. She had been the most friendly of all the crew so far and felt bad for not conversing more with her. Possibly during their trip or more likely when they landed he might be find the time. "My sister has been gushing about your abilities since she met you in the forest. There is only so much I can do to help her..." he added turning his attention to Cyradis. "She can be a bit stubborn and argumentative at times."
"...wonder where I got that from." Cailey muttered under her breath just loud enough to be heard.
He smiled receiving a michevious grin from Cailey. "I will leave you two ladies to your own. Should you need anything feel free to ask. I think I might go find the shower if you will excuse me."
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Cailey watched her brother go still feeling the knot of pain smoldering within him. There was nothing she could do yet it still worried her. She turned her attention to the older mage sitting across from and tried to hide the excitement that raced through her. A real teacher! Not since...she caught herself as the images began to flare. Shaking the memories away she offered a nervous smile to Cyradis. "Thank you Master Cyradis." not registering that she had already equated the mage as not only a teacher but her own. "There are so many things I want to learn." she giggled. "But I don't know where to start."
"Such as how did you order the magic around me when we met? I could feel you doing something but..." She called forth the Chenkari the small firefly like orbs of light flowing around them both excitedly reacting to her own emotions. She grinned as another thought occured to her. "Can you see through veils?" she offered wrapping one of the orbs in a veil and landing it on Cyradis's nose with a giggle.
ooc: Feel free to take over this part Shari. Cailey's magic is more natural and one of her strengths is flowing several spells together at one time
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Soft warm fingers needled their way through the knots of tension that riddled his back. He felt like he was melting his eyes closed letting the fatigue drain away to Arieko's more then capable hands. Hot breath warmed his neck and the scent of roses carried in the air. He had just returned from his patrol, for once his luck had held true for Arieko still was in between patrols. Had he waited another day like he had considered he would have missed her for a week if not more. Now he was taking advantage of the little time they had.
"You can't keep doing this." she whispered.
"I enjoy this though." he offered amusingly still not opening his eyes.
She sighed sarcastically. "You know what I meant. You aren't a killer it tears at you others might not see it but you cant hide it from me."
Drice frowned. "I dont see what you mean." he left it unsaid that according to his numbers he was more maktah then most. His death count was dozens higher then most packs. He opened his mouth to add something and stopped as she worked another knot biting his lip. "That feels good." he offered instead.
"You wrap your self in the shadows of death keeping your true self from everyone except me and Cailey. Everyone else is afraid of you they see you as a ravenous murdering animal that one day they may have to put down." She paused. "But I have seen the real you the one who is just a scared boy worried about protecting and not disappointing his loved ones."
"Its like you have two souls trapped within you Drice, a demon and a man. Only one can exist. You will either end up like Gavin an uncarring beast or..." she paused "or dead." He felt the tear drop land on his cheek. He rolled over enfolding her in his arms. "I love you, you idiot." she growled in his ear.
"There has to be another way." Although he couldn't see it.
"We could take Cailey and disapear just the three of us."
Drice held his breath. Abandoning his duty? But then what did he care about this kingdom? About any of them. There were two people that he cared about and Arieko idea took care of both of them. He opened his mouth to answer.
"Drice Malehn."
The voice though soft carried into their tent trapping his words in his throat. Panic enveloped him and he even caught a brief flicker of terror pass through Arieko's calm demenour. Had they been over heard? With a nod he pulled the tent flap and exited into the cool drizzle of the outside rain. "Lord Gavin." Drice offered taking a knee.
"Cailey has been taken." the words brought a chill to his heart. How? He wanted to scream at him, how in nepheli's name had he let someone take her? Instead he remained silent awaiting Gavin to continue. "We were betrayed. Merik has payed with his life but not before he handed her over to a partol of Dominion soldiers. I do not need to tell you your orders?" he raised an eyebrow.
"I will kill them all." he hissed.
Gavin nodded and turned away. Drice waited until he had disapeared into the darkness before returning to the tent. As he began to prepare Arieko offered her thoughts. "Are you sure this isn't a trap? You haven't even slept yet he could be sending you into a trap."
"No..." he shook his head. "He was scared to come in person means the truth of it. I made a promise to her."
"You should sleep but you wont." she mused to herself. "I will gather the others.."
"Then catch up." he said rising the Kamir pulled over his face. "The trail will get washed away if I wait..." He took a deep breath. Demon and a man? Two souls Arieko had said, yet he needed both. He needed to be a demon to protect them.. there had to be another way.
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The cool breeze greeted Drice on the ships deck as it began its descent into the city that was their destination. Movement broke his thoughts from the past as he glanced a bird warily watching the crew. He almost dismissed it before it moved with sudden interest. Its target was not what Drice expected to be. It clawed at him in a fervor of feathers. He grabbed for his blades but the creature tore to the skies. He gritted with disgust and heard Cailey giggling beside him. As he checked himself for any injuries his eyes widened at the loss of the Kamir.
"Perhaps Nepheli is showing you a new path? One where the Kamir is not needed." Cailey whispered.
It was strange how different the personalities of Drice and Cailey were. Drice was the image of control and calculation, where Cailey was practicly vibrating with energy. Cyradis could onyl image how fast her mind was racing. It was obvious she had been looking - or at least hoping to find - a teacher to hone her magical talents for a long time. Cyradis was glad she could provide that service. Teaching another would help her as well as her student. Study of magic was not something one who can understand it ever stops learning. There is always a new suprise or inventive use for the arcane. Most recently, and arguably the most change-enducing, was the advent of magicite.
After Drice excused himself for some personal hygene, Cailey sat across from Cyradis and instantly started asking questions. Cyradis didn't mind answering, but the questions were more of an expression of admiration than actual theory. Cyradis grinned as Cailey summoned the tiny balls of light she'd seen at least twice before. It was remarkable how easily the spell came to her. It was a well-practiced execution; much like casting a fireball or similar spell many times. After a while, one no longer needs spell chants or the aid of runes. Cyradis smiled as Cailey placed one of the small orbs on her nose. Reaching up, she cupped the energy in her palm and lowered it to her lap. With a small nudge, she infused the raw energy with her mana causing it to become visable again, and chage into a smoldering ember of fire. Closing her hand, the ember puffed out and Cyradis leaded foreward, her eyes on Cailey.
"First of all," she began, "I'm not your master. I'm your friend. Please, if only for my sake, call me Cyradis. 'Master' makes me feel like a 200 year-old arcanist back in Kellei." Cyradis smirked and reached her hands out to Cailey. Catching the gesture, the young apprentice placed her hands in Cyradis'. Her voice became more serious, "I'll begin with the first thing I was taught: control. Raw energy, like the sparks you summon, is magic in its most basic - and harmless - form. It's often just light or tendrils of electricity. What seperates the mages from the adepts is control, focus, and release." Cyradis turned Cailey's hands plam up, and placed her thumbs in the center of the girl's palms. Judging from her excitement, the next step may take a while for the girl to master.
"Meditation is the key to control. The ability to recognize, and feel the flow of the latent magical energy is what gives mages like myself our control. This ley energy is the very same force you were consuming back on the island to keep yourself alive. When I found you, you were acting on instinct; absorbing all available energy to sustain yourself. This is a reaction almost every naturally gifted mage posseses." Cyradis' voice became very serious, "It is also among the most dangeous. The reaction does not convert the raw energy into mana - our pool of power for spells - but into life energy instead. Life energy is consumed by the body. When you're dying slowly, the energy is used very quickly, creating a vortex of sorts that sucks in everything. Even the life energy of other people." Cyradis paused to make sure Cailey understood, "You and your brother were very lucky that particular island had an almost unnatural magical potency. Anywhere else in the world, except maybe Kellei, and you likely would have sustained yourself on your brother's own life until he had none left to give. Control can prevent that from happening."
Cyradis closed her eyes briefly, tapping in to her mana. Her thumbs on Cailey's palms allowed the girl to feel the magic the way Cyradis did. She opened her softly glowing eyes and connected them to Cailey's. "Feel this. Memorize the way the energy is moving through your body. Feel it traveling into your palms, up your arms, and into your stomach." Cyradis intensified her transfer of power; auras of blue light formed where her thumbs met Cailey's plams. After some time, Cailey's own eyes had a dim glow. "Now, concentrate on breathing. Breath is your natural source of energy. Even more so than food. Breath is something that you always have access to; pulling the outside air into your lungs. Feel it enter. Feel the energy it adds to your body. Concentrate only on that. Block out everything else."
Cyradis lifted Cailey's hands, still pressing her thumbs to her palms. She positioned her hands in front of her chest. Cyradis could feel Cailey adding to the pool of mana she'd given her as she concentrated on her breath, and slowly stopped the flow from her own body. Releasing her hands, Cailey kept them positioned where Cyradis placed them. Cyradis observed her closely. Meditation would eventually come so naturally she wouldn't even need to concentrate on her breath, but for now, she had to grow accustomed to the feeling. It wasn't uncommon for Kellan mages, especially battlemages, to walk around all day with a reserve of mana ready to unleash at a moment's notice. Eventually, the sensation became as natural as a heartbeat, and just as easy to maintain.
Cyradis slid back and crossed her legs, preparing to meditate herself. She glanced across the deck briefly and caught a pair of eyes. The eyes belonged to Archamae. Cyradis wondered how long she'd been watching them. She didn't feel uncomfortable, in fact, any unoccupied eyes were on the pair already. Most people were either fascinated or terrified by magic. Both reactions drew their attention nonetheless. Archamae's reaction seemed to be neither. The pilot offered a quick wave not long after she met Cyradis' eyes, and removed herself from the deck. Cyradis turned her attention back to meditation. If Cailey could remain this concentrated for the next couple of days, they could resume her training after their business in Gebron was concluded.
Five days of travel and the road finally led somewhere. Rama squinted his eyes against the glare of the sun as the eastward road on which he travelled crested a hill. Pausing at the peak, he looked out over the medium sized port town of Gebron. One of few trade hubs in the region adapted for airship docking and cargo handling. Many merchants wealthy enough to purchase an airship made a stop here before crossing the Haloed Sea. It was here his search would truely begin. Tsav turned up very little for leads. Trailes that were almost a year old, villagers who barely acknowledged the service of the military, and false leads were all Rama took from the dead end. he was beginning to think the council sent him away as punishment for something. Whatever their motives, however, Rama was happy to finally be able to actually search. Strict post-war military life was a constant drill of patrols, inspections, and regulations. Dominia invaded Kellan space easily due to their lack of general border defenses. Kell would not make that mistake again.
Rama was joined at the top of the hill by Mirelle, Gustav, and Cid. Gustav and Cid were brothers who joined Rama and Mirelle the night before they left Tsav. Gustav was a gifted fighter, much like Rama, but lacked the discipline for prolonged service. He left the military for mercenary work after his term in the Second Legion was finished. Cid, on the other hand, was less of a fighter and more of an informer. If his fingers weren't in someone's business, it was only a matter of a visit to one of his secret speakeasys to find out whatever he wanted to know. Both men were significant assets to Rama's search. Gustav could travel anywhere in the world under his mercenary banner and he had a knack for finding locations of obscure conflicts. If X'Irah was involved in a battle of any notable scale, Gustav would find out about it. Cid, obviously well connected could glean further information from his various sources, but Rama didn't hold much hope of those sources turning up anythign new. Still, it was better to have someone with their ear to the ground reporting to you.
"Well, Rama, it was fun trailing along behind you for a week, but I think here is where we part ways," Cid spoke up from behind as he moved his horse next to Rama's. "There some outlying villages I need to visit. See you in a month. Stay well, friend, Ouran batan." Rama nodded his head as Cid offered his blessing and departed down an intersecting highway a few dozen yards down the road.
The remaining three continued into Gebron, arriving just was the town was beginning to get busy with daily trade. Being a well travelled port city, there was much to be seen. Goods from every part of the world graced various kiosks; their attendants trying to pitch a sale to anyone passing by before they had to travel to the next town. Rama wasn't interested in shopping, though, Mirelle was often distracted by some kind of decorative new curio or jewelry. Her admiration for things like that showed Rama there was still a woman buried somewhere underneath that stony exterior. After weaving their way through the increasingly busy streets to the airdocks, the three stopped and dismounted.
"And now we split up," Rama began, "We'll each book passage on a ship to a different part of the world. With luck, one of us can turn up something in a month and either send message or meet back in Kell, as agreed. Gustav, head for the northern Orient. Mirelle, take the south. I'll stay on the mainland with Cid. Hopefully I can find passage to Faroese or at least Dominia." Rama spoke the last nation in his list a a certain degree of resentment. The others heard the tone, but approved. Dominia had scarred many lives in the past half century. Perhaps their government failed to realize it takes several generations for those scars to hide themselves. They chained wars together as if battle was all they understood. Rama was glad for the peace which rested over the Occident, for now. Hopefully, trade would flourish again and Dominia would opt for diplomacy in the future. Once he got there, he would have to take some time to get a feel for the attitude of the citizenry. Such a long time spent in a state of war likely had significant effects on their own society.
The three exchanged farewells and sold their horses. Airships did not take the stabling of livestock very well, and more often than not, beasts of burden were more of a hindrance than a boon. He could always buy a new one, if need be, reguardless. His first stop was the travel office. Any ship captains lookiing for crew or passengers would come here first to list their vessel and either boarding or hiring. Rama didn't care which he was accepted as, though, crew would be far cheaper than passenger. He was no sailor, but surely there was some need of a smith or good sword hand.
OOC: Obviously, the next destination after Gebron is up to Geco, but where he ends up going is inconsequential. If you end up going to the south pole it doesn't really matter. I just needed to seperate my NPCs from my PC. :)