Within The Wilderness

[Patrick]

Glade 42nd, 120th AoS (Veldas)

The sun had reached it's apex for the day, with a steady decline towards the western horizon in the distance. Far off in the distance the walls of Alfsos stretched upward, reminding the three brothers of the home waiting back inside. In a way Patrick started to see things a little differently now, compared to before when life was just about honor and duty. To say he felt that way now would be the equivalent of lying, to himself and to anybody else who might've given a damn. Dominik was busy tending to the fire built within their camp, while Connor remained bed ridden to sweat out the influence of his poison. To think a week ago he was strung out on a highly addictive drug, and now he was out here in the middle of nowhere with them.

With everything going on Patrick felt that this would do good for the three of them. He needed to get away from the inn for a bit, and quite frankly so did Connor when one thought about it. After he had checked on the younger sibling, making sure he had water available and the like, Patrick exited the tent to join his brother at the fire. Patrick wore dark teal wintry jacket over a white shirt, while Dominik stood arms crossed in green shirt with long sleeves. Both brothers of course wore cargo trousers and boots for the occasion. "How is he?" The oldest sibling inquired without taking his eyes off the flames.

"He's in the worst of it now, it's only a matter of time until his body is clean again." At Patrick's response Dominik shook his head slowly, a disapproving sigh given afterwards as the man rose to stand next to Pat.

"Let's just hope he gets through 'the worst' first."

Patrick's furrowed his brows a little, questioning Dominik's logic for a slight few seconds. "It's only an addiction Dom, he'll come out of it stronger than before. You know this."

"Yeah, I do..." And yet the look on Dom's face made it seem as though he were hardly convinced. "but I also know that Connor's delicate." Patrick couldn't help but grimace at first, until he reevaluated the statement and realized the fact. "He may pull through but he could also fall off the wagon again. And arguably he needs to show that he can handle it."

"There you go sounding like Pa Pa," Patrick remarked in a bitter tone, "has it ever occured to you that this might actually be, I dunno, his fault when you look at it in hindsight?" When he thought about it Patrick had perfect inclination to blame Albert, given that the man couldn't handle any slight on the intent of fun.

"Pa Pa's role in this hasn't been overlooked," Dom assured Patrick reluctantly as he still watched the flames, "and neither has any of ours in all this either." It was then he finally looked to Patrick, a look of thoughtful consideration in his eyes when he did so.

"Right. So we're all at fault for Connor's addiction problem. Got it." Patrick defensively shrugged as he could see the point, he was after all the reason why they all decided to drink that night.

"I'm only sayin' Pat that Pa Pa wants what's best for us, yet we've squandered it based on silly notions and personal desires." Dominik reasoned with his hands gesturing delicately on the subject, hinting that Patrick was a little too worked up over the matter.

"Except there's a difference between livin', and livin' life to the fullest Dom." Patrick argued quickly with a sigh to follow, weary of the matter even after being gone for only two days.. "I'll be back, I'm gonna go find more wood." He excused himself by starting in a general direction, hopeful to take a bit of a break while walking the fields. He remembered the cluster of trees that was dotted the fields south of their camp, and felt sure that he'd be able to find a decent amount of fallen branches within that general vicinity.

"Take Pa Pa's broadsword with you, make sure you-"

"Stay alert of all my surroundings. I got it." The bartender interjected as in passing he slowed his stroll, quick to pick up the weapon by its scabbard as he continued onward. "Keep Con from dehydrating while I'm gone." He then went ahead and reminded Dominik as he continued to march steadily away from the camp, the leather strap on the scabbard brought around his waist so that he could attach it to his form.

Patrick walked for what he counted as fifty meters away, with a mindful glance at the smoke trail in the distance. Since he was now a ways away, he started to scour the ground for what could pass as decent firewood.

Party Hub

Patrick [indent=54] Dominik [indent=54] Connor

Main [indent=54] Guest [indent=54] Guest

[Taelian]

"What did you call it, again?" he asked her.

"Reverb," said the Umpire. Eloise was visiting from Melitene -- every few days she had come to see him for a short span of time, helping Taelian refine his skills in Transposition and critiquing his mannerisms, studies and attire. He hadn't begun to actually integrate into the court of the Finla as of yet, and before he did so she wanted to ensure he was utterly prepared. "For... reverberation. Rebound would also work, though. Rather than a full blink, it is a linear reverberation through space; a wild, high-speed dash through the energy surrounding you. That's what it looked like, at least. Try it again, young one."

"Okay," Taelian nodded. He got into stance, prepared to dash. It seemed to help him, focusing on actually running before he made the motion. The woman, however, quickly shook her head in disagreement.

"Don't run," she advised. "Stand straight, as you would in a casual moment. We need to expand upon it -- test its boundaries. As one must with all abilities."

He nodded once more. Standing flat on his feet, he stared at the clearing before him and restrained his movements, his mind urging him to take a step forward. He didn't. Instead, he channeled aether and with it formed a node, implanting a small amount of aether into the space before him as more coalesced and formed around it, completing its shape. Then, attaching a stream to it, he attempted to pull himself along the stream to meet with the position of the node.

For the first half, Taelian was flung rapidly, a teal aura surrounding him as he rushed linearly towards his goal. Unfortunately, partway through the stream appeared to sever, and the mage fell back and flat onto his rear. The panic, due to the high velocity at which he'd been flung, consumed him; but fortunately once arriving at his location he appeared to lose his momentum. It wasn't actually his body propelling the movement, after all.

"Ugh -- this is shit."

"Again," the woman advised. Taelian frowned, his brows coming to rest against their ridge. He appeared disappointed, if only perhaps half ready to even continue. He'd been doing nothing but learning of portals and their ways, of late. Try after try, each and every unique ability. Eloise wanted to turn him truly into one of them -- the Thespians, the group's elite. But Taelian would not be that man for a long time. He barely knew how to speak on a casual level, let alone properly addressing courtiers in the court of a noble Lord, or scheming in the flux of a political game. The Customs were far from his element.

Magic, in truth, really was too. Even though he'd become better at it -- and realized to some degree that he was much better than he thought.

Taelian tried again. The second time, though really the fourth for that day, he managed to arrive at his destination but felt strangely dizzy after doing so. Eloise advised he try again, the next time doing so within a few seconds of the first Reverb. Blinking virtually always caused serious drain, if not outright overstepping, if its limitations were defied. If Taelian could Reverb back-to-back, it would mean a considerable advantage in certain situations. And from what it appeared, as the Siltori ramped up his aether to perform another Reverb... he could.

He had learned a lot. But Eloise was done for the day, and in some ways so was he. Taelian had little interest in continuing their attempts, and the woman did not know of his ability and so could teach him no more. The two said their curt goodbyes, Taelian noting something of a distancing in their relationship. He felt far more like her employee than before.

The Siltori shrugged off the thought. He stepped deeper through the forest, practicing Reverb as he did so, attempting to focus its direction to see if it always had to be linear. It turned out, it did. Before long he ended up in the bounds of another clearing, though he suddenly broke out into a cold sweat as he did, noticing his breathing begin to pick up. The Siltori cursed beneath his breath: it was a sign that he had over-exerted himself, using a new ability that he barely understood at least a dozen times. He had overreached, and the immediate backlash was obvious.

The Ebon Knight could see a smoke trail before him. He felt a clutching pain gripping his chest, and a weariness that made him feel inexplicably tired. He wondered if the camp was friendly or not. If the people present were hostile, then the Elf feared the outcome of his present state. Glancing at his surroundings, a simple look forward revealed another man already beginning to draw near. He appeared simple; an Atinorin, not one worth fearing.

Taelian tried showing some of that charm Eloise had been teaching him. As he cleared his throat and prepared to speak, however, he began to violently cough. Then, he coughed out blood, sputtering the red fluid out from his lips and leaving the grass discolored.

He attempted to speak again, though once again he was hacking things up. At least now it was just... probably mucus. "Sorry," he frowned, wiping his lips. "Threshold sickness. Do you have water on you?"

[Patrick]

Patrick hadn't really done much of this camping business, and while it was great to get away from the inn for several days; he admittedly felt quite out of his element in all this wilderness. Nevertheless he knew supper time was drawing close, and the next best thing his youngest brother needed was food with his rest. Of course that also meant being out here, alone, with nobody watching his back left Patrick on alert. Enough to the point where he halted his march, once he heard sounds rasping their way past the overgrowth. Somebody was ahead... and Patrick questioned if he should withdraw, or venture forth and see who exactly suffered from a stout case of smoker's cough.

As he drew within the meadow with this particular individual hid within, Patrick kept his left hand rested on the hilt of the sword he carried. He didn't intend to draw the weapon immediately, which probably wasn't the best idea honestly, but he also wasn't willing to go in unprepared for the risk. While the stranger seemed lesser likely to hack up a lung now, he still appeared to be vexed with a episode of hacks. Since Patrick was close enough to personally see it, he looked from the spatter coloring the forest floor to the man a little concerned. "Shit man, are you alright?"

The stranger seemed to regain control over his lungs once more, a brief wipe across his lips made as he apologized; with a request for water if the bartender carried any on him. Luckily... "Er, yeah. Here." He offered as he reached around his waist, where he pulled the waterskin from it's clasp and held it out at a distance. As Patrick waited for the man to accept it, he gazed curiously at the individual found before him.

The stranger appeared well defined in terms of posture, and no immediate wounds seemed noticeable at first observation. Certainly taller than Patrick, even taller than Dominik, he possessed a pristine complexion even within the shade of trees. Very defined angular features outlined his face and jawline, with a stout nose and ears that seemed relatively pointed. Moreso pointed than Patrick's even. His hair looked to be a relatively golden platinum, but that was likely due to the copious amount of sweat covering his head; yet when Patrick's eyes met with the strangers he saw no immediate threat within them. So that led him to ponder the question; who exactly was this stranger out in the wilderness?

He mentioned something about 'threshold sickness' before asking for water. To Patrick that sounded fairly reminiscent of a plague, though nobody ever used that specific term to describe one. Why was he all alone out here to begin with? Something about this seemed uncanny, and reeked of fish but that was likely because of the neighboring river. "Uh, you don't by chance happen to have any friends waiting to jump me do ya?"

Patrick checked around briefly after asking that, a nervous chuckle made as he then shrugged to the stranger. While he could've very well walked into an elaborate trap, Patrick didn't really see this man as someone who'd be acting earlier; not when he was coughing up literal blood. So... reasoning with the idea that maybe this person was friendly, Patrick eased up a little and extended a hand to greet the fellow. "Patrick Barnell, of the Barnell clan. What's your name... friend?" He hoped that by calling the stranger that, he would discard any ill intents that may have remained hidden.

[Taelian]

The other man didn't seem to understand what threshold sickness was, but... at least he offered him water. Taelian reached for the waterskin and quickly clutched it from the other man, grabbing it almost forcefully. He spat out some of the blood lingering in his mouth, with some of it seeming to stick to his lips. Shortly afterwards, he raised the waterskin and leaned his head back, scarfing down the water within seconds. The mage felt air in his throat, and closed his lips shut, patting his chest to dispel any uncomfortable sensation. Then, he eyed the other man again.

"Not really alright, but I'll survive. It's just... you don't know what threshold sickness is, then?" he asked. Taelian, observant enough, noted that the human appeared to be examining him. It wasn't uncommon; many people had interactions with Elves on a semi-frequent basis, particularly Dratori and Hytori, but Siltori were much rarer. They virtually did not exist outside of Turoth, and many were curious upon first seeing one. Taelian did not particularly mind.

"It's a drawback of magic; your Rune straining your soul. I've only overstepped... lightly, I think, so I'll be okay. Thanks for the water." Despite his spoken gratitude, however, Taelian did not seem particularly gracious or impressed; his demeanor was somewhat cold and standoffish, and his eyes narrowed curiously in a way that almost seemed judgmental. Though it was not his intention to portray any such judgments.

"I don't have any friends here, and none of them would be particularly interested in jumping you. Maybe my friend Elduweyn; she's privy to human men. Alas, she's in Kalzasi, so... you'll have to preoccupy yourself some other way. I'm sorry."

Obviously, he was being absurd. But the assertion itself was absurd. Were the forests of Atinaw really so dangerous? Or was the human merely afraid of Common-speaking Elves, out in the wild? He wondered.

"Taelian Ela'Rannoch," he replied, at least offering the other man his name. "I'm a foreigner here, as you can likely tell. Originally from Sil-Elaine. What is the Barnell Clan? Wouldn't you be in Clan... Loregard, or Clan Alfsos? Are you a foreigner as well?"

He was doing his own sizing up of the man. He was tall for a human, and in terms of his physique and general characteristics he appeared fairly typical, perhaps a bit above the common brass. He was fairly handsome, and at least appeared friendly, so as much as he could be... Taelian was partial to him. The water had been a nice offering, considering they'd only just met. He had to remember that resources out in the woods like this, were scarce -- this 'Patrick' had done him a kindness.

"What about you? I see a campsite in the distance. Here with friends, or something?" He realized that his line of questioning might have seemed suspicious, but Patrick had already gone above and beyond him in his level of suspicion. At this point, he was simply making conversation.

[Patrick]

At the inquiry of knowing what threshold sickness was Patrick barely seemed phased, rather completely unaware of what it referenced entirely in fact. The best he could do was modestly shrug for a response, before looking to the stranger to hear what the explanation was. From what he heard it tied into the realm of magic, a subject the bartender was hardly versed well in. But that didn't mean he didn't find it fascinating, given that the vast majority of his family were scholars in a sense. Therefore when he listened Patrick tried to illustrate the logic in his brain, considering the technicalities involved from what little he did actually know.

Aether was a constant thing in the world, this he remembered from a few lessons his mother gave. The reason why it was an important subject to note, was due to the fact many historical sights were affected by it. It's existence flowed throughout every corner of the world, and there were those out there who dared to harness it's magical properties. That meant this stranger was one of those people, a mage who could manipulate the very threads of Aether through the use of a Rune. So that's how it worked then? Mages were given these Runes, and in turn they could manifest all kinds of magic in the world?

Immediately this curiosity ignited a spark within his mind, almost enough to drive Patrick to asking more questions than probably necessary. "No problem." He answered in turn when he was thanked for the water, aware that the paled man seemed to keep at a distance. Patrick didn't wish to read too much into things, but he vaguely received the impression that he wasn't liked. Or perhaps trusted. The latter felt more reasonable, and appropriate, to stick with given they had just met; particularly out in the middle of nowhere. Alone.

Yet if he was a mage then the only one really in danger here was Patrick... Except no real threats have been made on his behalf, if anything the stranger remained cautiously reciprocative for now. It certainly felt odd to exchange glances with one another, like they were both considerably measuring each other up. At the response to his inquiry on friends though, Patrick found it so much easier to ease up a little; the tension visibly gone from his form when he briefly laughed in turn. "Lucky me then, though it sounds like this friend of yours has good taste." He credited with a soft grin in to the man, who revealed his name to be Taelian Ela'Rannoch a moment later.

Learning that he was a foreigner here also, Patrick's eyes were alight with vivid wonder as of now. Another outlander in these lands, how he wondered what Taelian thought about the region. Never in all his years had Patrick heard of Sil-Elaine, now that he had though questions began to crop up in his mind. Taelian seemed surprised at hearing of the Barnell clan, a reaction that didn't really phase Patrick at all honestly. It was essentially a way of evening the ground between them, of building that personable bridge between two souls; both which were curious or so he humored.

"Nope, born and raised in Alfsos actually. My parents had decided that they would start their own clan, so you're lookin' at the first generation material right here." He responded suavely as he moved both hands towards his pockets now, the thumbs still tucked out as he further eased into a relaxed posture. When the campfire smoke had been pointed out, the bartender briefly nodded with a perplexed grin at best. "Yeah... somethin' like that. My brothers and I are on a campin' trip, takin' a break from the Inn we all three help run." Not that he wanted to be reminded of that fact, given that they would all have to go back eventually.

Yet the three brothers were out here to get away for awhile, and to pretty much help Connor sober up before they went back. "I actually came out here to collect firewood, so that we could get started on dinner soon. Wanna help out?" When Patrick extended the invitation he did so with a hint of enthusiasm, an eyebrow raised as he waited to see how the stran- how Taelian would respond. Of course he did so with a faint grin still on his face, hopeful that his chances to interact with this individual more just got better.

[Taelian]

Good taste. The Siltori rolled his eyes. Patrick didn't seem particularly offensive, or crude, or as disdainful as a lot of the Atinorin he'd met had been. Many of them appeared to find foreign cultures somewhat repugnant, not minding Taelian for his Siltori heritage but instead for the language he spoke and sometimes, the clothes he wore. But lately he'd learned to blend in -- at least, as well as he could.

The man had been born and raised in Alfsos. It was no surprise; Taelian could tell from his accent that he was Atinorin, though he did find the prospect of building one's own Clan a bit strange. He thought they were regionally tied... but then again, he knew nothing of Atinaw. Even though he'd been within the bounds of the Kingdom for nearly a season now, he barely left Melitene or the small estate the Black Remedy had procured for his group. Now, he was away from both, and was forced to integrate at the expense of many unpleasant interactions.

So far, though, this one hadn't gotten unpleasant yet -- and he was glad of that fact. Very much so.

A camping trip. It was... cute in a way. They all ran an inn together, and now they were out in the forests near Loregard. He wondered whether the inn was still functioning, whether it had a disparaged clientele or not. But that was, as Patrick acutely pointed out to himself, Taelian's excessive curiosity. In truth, this man and his affairs had no relevance to him, though he could admit that it was somewhat exhilarating to finally communicate with a local. A lot of them appeared to speak Common, but snubbed doing so at every opportunity. Often, they only spoke Common to ask him not to; to learn the language. To appreciate the heritage of the place he was residing within.

Like with most places in the world, he supposed his surroundings weren't perfect. But the opportunities he had to communicate with the people around him were best not left squandered. Particularly considering the situation at hand; he was... seemingly being offered a meal with a group of strangers, out in the forests. It sounded fun -- he could not deny that.

"Dinner... hm. What kind?" he asked. "I'm on a specific regimen of food, to keep my... ah, well, to keep everything in order." Taelian gestured to himself, obviously alluding to his physique. A part of his membership of the Covenant was... maintaining aesthetic cohesion. He had to look the part of a charismatic, handsome, mysterious court mage. Certainly, it limited his culinary options a bit.

"I'll help you get your wood, though. Wood for water. Sounds fair, right?" he teased. There were a million branches around, and a lot of them were more than appropriate. It wasn't a scarce resource, but he knew it would help to have a hand. In fact... that reminded him. Taelian's eyes sparked with color for a moment, shining a warm indigo shade that faded out with a light purple gleam, ivory bleeding into the lilac shade. He reached out into the void -- into the Stygian Grave -- and in the parallel reality that blended with the one he knew in the forest, his seemingly bare form swam through the dark, cold depths of Veravend's realm. He reached out and called out to the Marghozad, and before long a hand gripped his own. The creature answered.

Taelian called it to him. It began to form into being, ebony-colored aether forging a sort of portal that it materialized through. Taelian immediately felt an increase wave of shock fill his head. He clutched his skull and pinched his eyes shut, grimacing as pain rocked him. "Shit, what is wrong with me?" he cursed. Taelian had gotten so entwined in the conversation that he'd forgotten to acknowledge his overstepping, and now he exerted even more aether. But it was too late to get it back now; he was nearly moderate in the depth of his threshold sickness, and for it he felt moronic.

"Sodding..." he swore again. He'd only just recovered from another bout of sickness. This one would probably last even longer. "Marghozad, collect some branches for me," he tasked the Archetype. That was what he had called it for, but... now there was a lot more that was of concern. He should've just settled with Pathfinder, even though the thing was clumsy and slow. "Sorry, Patrick." Taelian frowned. "Something's been off with me today. I've been... reckless. I don't think I can do much else for the day. I'll need to lie down. Gods... I feel so stupid."

He knew it happened sometimes. But lately, Taelian had been far too out of control. He was one of the stereotypical, hubristic young mages, and had he not been a Siltori -- somewhat resistant to threshold sicknesses' effects -- he could've been significantly worse for wear. He already was far from well, and he could feel it in every sluggish movement. Now, before a stranger, it was all on display.

[Etro]

♅ Within The Wilderness ♅

XP:

• Patrick - 8xp {cant be used for magic}
• Taelian - 8xp {can be used for Transposition}

Pieces of knowledge:

Taelian

• Transposition: Reverb
  Transposition: Chain Reverb
  Transposition: Reverb can only move linearly
  Transposition: Minor threshold sickness
  Summoning: Spectral waste
  Summoning: Moderate threshold sickness
  Running: Chaining running with Reverb
  Running: Running through light forestry
  Bodybuilding: Keeping active with stunted endurance
  Investigation: Constantly monitoring your environment

Patrick

• Detection: Listening In On Distant Noises
  Detection: Noticing The Distinct Sound of A Cough
  Investigation: Following A Sound To The Source
  Rhetoric: Knowing When A Person's Friend Has Good Taste
  Detection: Seeing Signs Of Threshold Sickness
  Discipline: Remembering To Distance Yourself With Strangers
  Research: Seeking Out An Opportunity To Learn One's Origins
  
  Personal: Meeting Taelian, The Siltori Mage
  Arcana: Summoning, A Personal Rune Magic
  Arcana: Summoning, Requires Some Kind of Contract
  Arcana: Summoning, It -Summons- Things

Overstepping: For moderately overstepping, Taelian will find that his portals do not open as he intends them to for a period of 14 days. This is accompanied by a severe cough that causes him to cough up blood during that time.

Comments:

• For what was still within the thread, I have to say this was a very good read. I could only imagine meeting someone out in the wilderness and they are hacking up a lung or two, talk about first impressions. Again a very good read and enjoy your rewards.