Two Stories

[Taelian]

42nd of Glade, Year 120
First Bloom

Patrick had brought him to sit against the length of a tree, the Siltori's back somewhat uncomfortably leaning into the thick bark, though the support did help. He wondered if there were any of those... paper trees, as he used to call them in Daravin, with the soft bark that could be peeled off so easily. Something like that would've been nice to lean against -- though he doubted there were any even remotely nearby.

Taelian's eyes occasionally glanced to Patrick, though for the most part he kept them largely shut. He was going through the ringer of magical feedback, backlash from his overexpenditure. As he had told the other man earlier, though, his lowest point was the initial reaction: after that, he would only get better. Luckily, none of the mental effects had come. Unluckily, he was likely being subjected to spectral waste, a side-effect of overstepping through Summoning. The Marghozad wasn't near him anymore -- it was off collecting branches. When it got closer, though, some more side effects were prone to occur. It was likely why his body hadn't done more, despite his moderate overstepping; Summoning's threshold sickness worked in unique and different ways.

"Questions?" he asked the other man. Taelian opened his eyes for a moment, but he began to feel his consciousness fading. He shook his head. "It'll have to wait for a while," the Silver Elf replied. "Just for a moment. I need to..."

The weight of his lids grew too severe. Taelian yawned, though partway through doing so he broke into a fit of coughing. "I need to rest," he finally said, breathing.

And he did. At least an hour passed, though it began to verge on two. Whatever Patrick did during that time, Taelian was not aware of it. After around ten minutes into his rest, the Marghozad returned with a large bundle of branches, more than enough. Shortly afterwards, it quite literally told Patrick in the common tongue that it would go to hunt for them. The creature had nothing else to do, and Taelian's vulnerability to spectral pollution meant it was best that they kept their distance from one another, even if one Vrannik alongside a man whose severity was barely moderate wouldn't be significant.

Finally, after the elapsed time, he woke. The sun would likely begin to set soon, he thought, and then he would have his opportunity to rest again. Already after his eyes opened and he lazily stretched, he noticed that he felt significantly better. Not incredible, but the tension had been relieved enough to where he felt he could move. That was something.

"Patrick," he called to the other man. Taelian softly smiled at him; if there was any point during their meeting where he recognized that he'd warmed up to him, it was this one. He was glad that he was still there -- and hadn't taken advantage of his rest to steal from him, or worse. Though the man was a stranger, he acted like a friend. Taelian took such deeds seriously.

"I just realized that I'm more of a fool than I thought," he said. "I can make flame that doesn't go out -- not for days. For no aether. It's called Shrivenflame, or Sigilfire, a part of one of my magics. It's just... I'm so used to hiding it, I didn't even think to use it. We didn't have to collect branches at all," the Siltori laughed. He had always been told not to show his Black Sigil before others, before the unknown -- the Dranoch were cunning. They heard the songs of the birds. They were natural spymasters, and the skilled night hunters they were, Pyromancers like him were prone to be gripped by their nape at night and culled.

But he was safe here; he knew that. The bundles wouldn't be necessary, but they could at least compliment the fire. "What did you want to ask?" he questioned. "I can't promise I'll be able to answer everything, whether for lack of knowledge or trust. But you've been kind. So if there's a curiosity of yours, expand on it. I'm all ears."

[Patrick]

(Continued from Here)

Patrick had been both amazed and horrified from what he'd witnessed, the utter sense of dread somehow co-existing with unreal fascination. Yet while his mind became flooded with so many questions, questions that he would've loved to have answered, he also became quite aware of the prevalent drawbacks. Taelian was an impressive subject to be sure, but the bartender did particularly notice the risks posed out of his recklessness. Of course Patrick had been wary enough to only observe, and not assume, what interesting nuances that Taelian seemed to display.

Thus he helped the strained Siltori with little to no fuss at all, which in turn quite surprised Patrick just a little. "Here we go, let's get you situated here." He encouraged the outlander as they reached the base of an oak tree, where Taelian was then eased down to lay against it. "There. Not as comfortable as a bedroll, but it'll help for a lil' while." He assured Taelian with a faint smile, a step taken away to give the man his space. "Say, you wouldn't be up for anwerin' a few questions would ya? I can understand if you need your rest first." Patrick's tone remained humble and, almost endearing, when he asked the question; mindful of the fact his new acquaintance might need rest.

"Questions?" Taelian inquired with drowsy eyes cast towards him, however he looked on the verge of being out of it for a while. Then with a shake of his head, "It'll have to wait for a while. Just for a moment. I need to..." Within moments his voice trailed off, and his head lowered slowly as Taelian drifted off in a slumber. Patrick placed his hands at his hips as he watched it happen, a perplexed grin made as he considered the amount of exhaustion the mage fell under. "Well, he's out like a light." That led him to wondering what to do now, he did still have firewood to collect after all. Yet the creature Taelian called forth had already started, it's tentacles and limbs being used to gather sticks and timber in clusters.

So maybe he didn't need to worry about it right away, but he did need to figure out a way to reason with Dominik. Knowing his brother there would certainly be a fuss, mostly because the idea of Patrick coming back with strays seemed naive. Plus it would've been weird if Taelian's pet was there, Pat's poor siblings wouldn't get any sleep out here anymore. No he needed to consider the reasoning, figure out a way to appeal to Dom's good nature; Connor normally opted in anyways with situations like this. "I mean it's still the truth if I only tell him what he needs to know... right?" The thought made him shrug afterwards, the construction of a plausible story already happening in his mind.

Right then and there however his thoughts were interrupted, as the Marghozad walked up next to him to drop it's pickings. The sound of branches cracking as they hit the ground startled the bartender, as he had forgotten the creature still lurked relatively close. "I'm going to hunt for more." The Marghozad suddenly spoke towards him, before trudging on to resume the task it just completed. Patrick's only reaction was to watch, mystified, as the creature went away; his eyes fallen on the large pile of twigs and branches next to him. It was enough to keep a fire going for the whole damn week! Patrick's mind fell into that same process of thinking, as the curiosity drove him to wonder even more about these 'Archetypes'.

Nevertheless he knew exactly what he needed to do now, and therefore collected an arm full of timber; so he could return with something to keep the fire alive.

...

From where he had sat down Patrick had noticed the sun's position, noting from it's orange rays that night was not too far away. By now it looked to be close to the distant horizon, just on the verge of sinking beneath its edge. He had explained everything he needed to with Dominik, about how he had found Taelian and that he needed a hand. Naturally Dominik seemed rather adamant until Patrick gave a brief speech over being helpful people, and of course with Connor weighing in as expected the oldest brother caved. Allowing Taelian a shot to not only eat dinner but stay if he needed to, but of course Patrick knew Dominik would be watchful for a while.

When Patrick left Dominik was put in charge of cooking dinner, much to Connor's scrutiny and prejudices. The middle brother had grabbed his journal and writing materials, and left camp to return to Taelian as they both antagonized one another. When he arrived he found a spot at a tree neighboring the sleeping mage, and then took a seat down so that he could begin writing. That had been actually... well over an hour ago, long enough for Patrick to jot down his thoughts so far. He had so many questions bouncing in his head, interests in the nature of Taelian and his magic; and particularly the Aether's role in all of it. There was so much he didn't know, that nobody at the inn likely knew! It was a sitting opportunity that Patrick didn't want to lose, yet not once did he feel too driven to disturb the mage.

No. For a while when Patrick wrote in his journal, he stopped briefly to contemplate the type of sketch he wanted. Remembering what he'd seen, and how madly curious he became, as the hand of that Marghozad first appeared over Taelian's. Yet he couldn't quite find the idea he wanted, as he doubted his ability to portray such a significant moment. At first he debated if such a drawing was really necessary, as he already had so much that he wanted to express. Eventually he focused more on writing than drawing, just to clear his mind and put every thought to paper. The bartender had just finished when he noticed the time. And then Taelian started to move, his body pushing into a stretch as he came around.

"Patrick," Taelian called him as Patrick closed his journal, his eyes moving from the horizon over to his left. Seeing Taelian awake with a smile on his face, somehow it felt unusual after their earlier interactions. Yet it also was good to see him feeling better, as it seemed to improve the mood between them. The mage seemed to go on a brief tangent, explaining his reasoning with hints of his personal life. They were small and subtle but stood out well enough, leading Patrick to wonder what kind of person Taelian really was. Still to learn that he possessed this power called 'Shrivenflame' intrigued him, even more so when he learned such a fire never burned out. From what Patrick was able to tell, Taelian was quite a powerful wizard already; if he could use all these amazing powers at whim.

So why did he feel the need to hide having such power? Something as dangerous as that likely had great risks, so maybe if the wrong people knew about it... then?... Taelian laughed as he made the point of his story, a reaction Patrick couldn't help but chuckle along to when it happened. "Well..." Patrick remarked as his gaze shifted from Taelian to the piles of timber gathered. "I feel bad for the guy who did all the gathering then." In a way there was a bit of truth in that, seeing as how the creature from earlier collected so much. It was all rather really impressive watching the thing, bringing in heaps of twigs and branches every now and then.

Seeing Taelian in better spirits however warmed Patrick a little, making him feel a little more at ease with trusting him earlier. He hadn't forgotten how silly his notions were, and that being a little more prudent in the future would suffice. The stranger part is he was glad Taelian seemed more open now, as it felt that the two of them now had even ground to connect on. Yet when the moment came... that one moment Patrick had been waiting for, for almost two hours after they'd met! Taelian inquired on the matter of his questions, following with the prompt to give them immediately afterwards. Patrick's 'friendly bartender' ruse pretty much dropped then, his eyes almost glinting with eager wonder now. This was it. This was the opportunity he waited for!

"Wuh- uh- Sure!" He stumbled hard as he leaned up from the trunk, his legs tucked in a criss-cross fashion as he shifted. Right away he sealed the bottled ink with the cork, and placed his writing materials to his right as he focused solely on Taelian. "Okay bear with me! There's a lot I've been sittin' on, so just answer them as vividly as you can!" He instructed with a hearty grin, before he then looked up to think on his first question. There so many! He wanted to know everything, everything he could about Taelian. Where he came from, who he was, and of course his magic. "Okay, you said earlier you were from... uh," He snapped his fingers a couple of times to jog his memory, "Sil-Elaine!" His voice elevated a little as the enthusiasm started pouring out now.

"Tell me about that place! What's it like there? What's the culture like? How about it's history?! What brought you here if you came from there?! And your magic! I'd love to know more about it as well! Like when you begin the witchy-woo stuff, how does it affect the environment and it's Aether?! Can you feel the Aether as a mage? What's it like?..." Finally he realized just how daunting this was about to get, as almost all his questions came pouring out at once. "Oh, shit." The bartender chuckled at himself then, knowing that he'd gotten carried away like he always does. "Sorry, no need to answer all of them in one sitting if you don't want to." While part of him hoped otherwise, Patrick concluded that everything he wanted to ask was the equivalent of probing. Something he didn't normally like to do, as it usually poked into people's privacy sometimes.

"And if you also want to ask me anything, feel free to do the same to me okay?" He checked with the offer thrown out there, figuring that if Taelian was going to share information; then he might as well return the favor.

[Taelian]

Considering he had just woken and was still in the throngs of overstepping, Patrick's sudden burst of irrepressible energy was certainly a lot for Taelian's muddled mind. Despite that, he did find the man's excitement somewhat sobering, bringing him back to reality in a way that was... fairly positive. Of course, it was enough to keep the smile going at least, and at one point Patrick even provoked laughter. As he continued to rapid-fire his questions, Taelian found himself laughing even more, before he quickly interjected with a request.

"Okay, okay!" he said, his tone lightening. "Slow down. Those are all questions that require very detailed answers, Patrick. I'll start with--"

Taelian paused. Patrick apologized, informing him that he wouldn't need to answer them all at once. The Siltori nodded his head, making it clear that he intended not to regardless. As for questions for the other man... he would have to think on them, perhaps as he spoke. "I'll start with Sil-Elaine," he continued. "There's a lot to cover, though. What is it like...? Well, I don't think most outsiders could possibly understand it, to be truthful. It is a grim wasteland covered in grime, aethereal corruption that sticks to the surface of everything like a black waste, and filth. It's swampy, hot and humid, and due to the corruption I mentioned it tends to get people sick very frequently. Any small cut can become a horrific infection. Crops can't grow easily and when they do, they are greatly vulnerable to disease. There are beautiful aspects of the land, such as Veratelle's forest, and Tyrnac's Mirrorlands. Two Elven Gods reside there, one living, one dead. Their influence brings the land beauty: the Vainwood trees quite literally sing old hymns, and the Mirrorlands are a wasteland of crystal and glass stretching for hundreds of miles. Off the coast is another Elven God, Lotheric, who leaves us in peace even as he lashes out against the world. Geopolitically, it is a very interesting land. I'll explain that more in a moment."

He took a breath. There was still much, much more to be said.

"The culture is as you'd expect. Living in such hostile conditions, we are tight-knit. Most of us are infertile so we value children, family and community a lot. Everyone knows everyone -- and we are very particular with how we look, our appearance, the way we present ourselves to our peers. Our fashion is interesting, as is our food. It's... inventive, though fairly gross. Siltori cuisine, before the Sundering, was known to be among the best in the world. Now, well. I've eaten a lot of bugs."

The history, Taelian could go on for hours. The history of Sil-Elaine was largely suppressed from public knowledge while he was living there, but since leaving he'd learned a lot. Even in the Remedy he did; Aldrin was a knowledgeable scholar on the realm's past, and the Ald'norai, the days leading up to the collapse of it all. Even for him it was a lot to consume, so he decided he wouldn't go too deep. Patrick really wouldn't find it interesting, or so he thought.

"Sil-Elaine was a place of pilgrimage and worship of the Elven Gods before the Third Age. During the Third Age, after Riala Elaine conquered all of Turoth and consolidated it into the Kingdom of Silor, Sil-Elaine was renamed after her. Eventually however, Silor collapsed due to the Dragon God Wraedan culling its ruling elite. For... hubris; for trying to become immortal, and succeeding. He culled them with the very same thing I use to cast Shrivenflame -- the Black Sigil, a boon and a curse to our kind. It's the source of Sigilic Pyromancy, and it's drawn directly from his power. From what I've learned from my master, Vendrael, it was a Lost Magic until Aldrin was given the Rune once more by Wraedan himself. Anyway -- sorry, moving on."

This was the part that he felt almost uncomfortable sharing: the part that divided a man like Taelian from a man like Patrick. The thing that had made their two kinds enemies, always, for the horrific things that humanity had done.

"As Silor's elite bled, the humans beneath the Kingdom's rule rose up by the millions and began to cull the Elves. In the worst genocide in history, they killed almost a hundred million of us over the next few centuries and forced all survivors to relocate to Sil-Elaine, which became our sole province and prison. Eventually the Siltori came to thrive again, but considering how close it was to the Clockwork Empire's capital - the Empire formed from those very same genocidal humans - the Siltori's fate remained tied. Kaitos, who led the genocide himself and did achieve true immortality, eventually caused the Sundering of the world and the cataclysm that nearly ended life on Ransera. Only... in eastern Turoth, where SIl-Elaine is located, it effectively did end all life. Around ninety percent of all Siltori died, again. Yet again, we were subjected to the worst genocide in a thousand years. And this time, we had no land and no home to relocate to. Just a black waste, with our nobility nearly all dead, the survivors either becoming Dranoch in desperation or overcoming the ones who did not. And now, we are ruled by them. A race of beings that doesn't even view us as worth life. That views themselves as superior. We're worthless; just fucking sacks of skin and meat. Food."

His breathing began to increase. Taelian was beginning to grow... angry. He couldn't admit it easily, but his gaze portrayed what his words wouldn't, as he looked sharply into Patrick's eyes: in some way, Taelian blamed humans for what had become of him and his kind. The suffering they endured. All humans, even the ones that lived today, dwelling in re-appropriated Elven lands while those loyal to the garden of their forebears were confined to an enclosure of corruption and pain.

"That should answer your last question on Sil-Elaine: why I came here. Because who wouldn't? It's destroyed. There might be hope for it, and that's what I want to achieve; finding out if there is. That's why I'm trying to become a powerful mage. So that hundreds of millions of my ancestors can be proven right; so that from Nod they can see that they made the right choice."

It took a few moments of regaining his composure, after that, to try and even begin to broach the subject of magic. But with his spirits still riled, it wasn't particularly easy. Taelian took another deep breath. Okay.

"I can feel aether, sort of. It's hard to explain -- some mages feel it differently than others, I think. I also feel it differently based on what magic I'm using. With Summoning I feel it immersing me into a sort of... alternative space, plunging me into the Patron's dominion. Then, I feel it being siphoned away from me. With Sigilic Pyromancy, I feel it as if it were a heat in my chest, burning through me but in a soothing way. With Transposition, I feel as if I'm gripping the aether around me and bringing it together to coalesce, forming something and connecting it to other constructs. It's different; the line that draws them together is that it's channeled by the Rune, which always feels energized for me as I use aether from its particular school. The way you direct each Rune - as they're different constructs - is by willpower. Directing that aether to manipulate reality with the purview of the Rune. Some mages say it's actually with your own essence, but I don't really get the distinction. I guess it can feel like that sometimes, too. I don't know -- everyone learns it their own way."

He bit his lower lip. Taelian had spoken a lot, but then, he supposed that was what Patrick wanted. It was a shame, as he didn't know what to ask the other man in return. "Are you interested in magic?" he questioned. "It's not particularly widespread here. Must be interesting to see it the way you are now, yes? Drawbacks and all."

[Patrick]

Patrick honestly did feel a little bad for getting ahead of himself, but such was his way when his head was brimming over with questions. With such an inquisitive mind wasn't always so bad however, not when one considered the brutish canter many warriors commonly possessed. But to finally be getting his chance to learn everything about Taelian, Patrick ultimately looked the part of a scholar when he considered reaching for the book. Part of him wanted to take notes on everything he would hear, and yet the other part didn't wish to make his journal an academic project. So he pretty much fondled at it with his hands still in his lap, his attention solely focused on the elf in front of him.

Taelian began with Sil-Elaine first as it had been the first question Patrick brought up. To say that what he learned didn't bother him would've been a lie though, once he heard the elf carry on about the harsh conditions of his homeland. It was already difficult to imagine such a place already, and from underlying tone in Talon's voice it sounded even more harder living there. Patrick couldn't help but sympathize for him, a pitiable expression present as he continued to listen further. Hearing more about the culture and history, he came to lean in just a little more; his eyebrows slightly furrowing as the answers came. To hear how the culture which once was thriving had been severely diminished troubled him greatly, as Patrick knew the Sundering had caused unfathomable damage to the world.

That meant the Siltori people were highly endangered as a species, their way of life on the verge of oblivion because of entropy within the world. Taelian also started to sound more and more bitter, the further he carried on with describing everything. From what Patrick gathered as he listened, the story told about Riala Elaine and these Elven Gods proved most interesting. For the first time in Patrick's mortal life, he was actually getting some disclosure on a foreign power's own history. Not only was he ecstatic of the idea, but deeply drawn in with everything he listened to. Hearing how the Dragon God Wraedan used the Black Sigil to wipe out their civilization troubled him even more, leading Patrick consider the levity of truth in the story he was given. It's not that he doubted Taelian at all though, just that he wondered more about what other places, the Academy for instance, had to say about all of this if they heard the same tale.

Sure enough Taelian's story felt darker and more scornful when humans came into the mix. This led Patrick to not only pay attention to the story, but to Taelian in particular given the stark change in his tone now. He wasn't just bitter or resentful... no Patrick could hear the outrage in his tone as he continued. The more he went on the more Patrick started to feel bad, not because he'd asked Taelian to tell him all this; but because Taelian himself had to go through all of that. Finally when he finished on the subject of Sil-Elaine, and finished with the rhetorical question posed afterwards; Patrick placed the book back on the ground to his right before responding. "No kiddin... I had no idea..." He really did feel bad now, but also better with understanding Taelian. "I'm sorry if talkin about it brought back hard memories. For what it's worth I hope you succeed."

Patrick honestly didn't know if that was such a good thing or bad thing, granted he wasn't fully aware of everything involving Sil-Elaine's history. Hell he had more than plenty to think on now, and could only imagine the look on his mother's face later; when he relayed everything to her. Now that they had come to the subject of magic and Aether however, the gloomy demeanor gradually became more warm and pleasant once more. Everything Patrick wanted to learn about with the Aether seemed to revolve around magic, as it seemed to be the best way to directly interact with it. As he was now Aether remained impossible to study or even detect, but if he were to study magic then perhaps he'd become more attuned to it? It wasn't such a bad theory honestly, if Summoner's used it to pull these 'Patrons', as Taelian called them, into the world.

This led Patrick to consider the idea of somehow studying magic and these Runes, perhaps in a hand's on manner to get the best experience out of it. "Interesting..." He murmured with a finger curled beneath his chin. "I knew magic existed before, just never knew it's fundamentals up until now." Through willpower and these Runes one could control the Aether, producing different results based upon the power of the Rune they possessed. That seemed to be the basic principle, but Patrick wanted to explore the concept even further. Then Taelian seemed to finally ask questions of his own, but only the few he mentioned on magic in general.

"Yeah, it's certainly an amazin subject." Patrick admitted with a brief yet hearty chuckle. "It's been interestin seeing it first hand, drawbacks included, and I really..." How did he want to put it? "I'd love to explore as much of it as possible honestly. It's probably just a silly reason, but I'm just so fascinated by it. There's so much about the world to learn, and magic's one of those things I'd love to crack wide open and study." He likely sounded like some naive scholar or mad philosopher, but deep down everything he said was true to his core. Patrick wanted to unlock the mysteries of the world, believing that history was the beacon towards it's truth. While he hadn't done any exploring or excavation like his mother did years ago, that didn't mean he didn't want to venture out and learn what was in store.

"This may sound even stupid to you, but I really want to know what happened to Ransera. Knowledge from before the Sundering is scarce, makin it impossible to discern the truth about it." Patrick then glanced to his journal and wondered more and more about what he professed, curious as to think of where he might go to learn such a thing. He'd been writing pieces of his life in pages for over a decade now, yet none of them ever implied going out to see the world. But the more he realized how little he knew, the more his desire drove him to wanting to leave home; and seek out that elusive truth within the world. "Guess you could say I take after my mother in that field." He then added in a lighthearted tone, a modest grin shot to Taelian as he waited to hear what the elf had to say next.

[Taelian]

"Don't worry about it," the Siltori replied. By the time he'd gotten to the end of his story he'd mostly returned to calm, though with a level of disquiet between them as he seemed to absently stare at his own feet, his body still somewhat outstretched. Taelian adjusted himself to simply lay upon the grass, still not feeling good enough to be incredibly mobile. Besides, he liked it; it felt relaxing, particularly with the soft breeze that came through, and the wind rolling among the leaves.

Despite whatever sense of relaxation, though, the Ebon Knight remained a cynic. Such was clear from the full breadth of his response. "I won't succeed. Myths and heroes from the past, if they ever were real, are no longer real today. Riala Elaine, the greatest leader in our history, only managed to cause our Empire's collapse from her hubris and all the pain that followed. It is folly to expect too much from yourself. What I can at least do is aim towards killing a Huntsman -- that, I believe I might be able to do."

He would never be able to restore the land, but he could at least slay its oppressors. If they were gone, life would at least be a little easier. The people of Sil-Elaine could learn to govern themselves, based on their own needs, their own objectives. Rather than living as sacks of organs and meat, they would be members of a greater community like the days of old. Perhaps with a new royal family, to wipe away the bloody stain of House Sil'Elan, their ancient royal family. Riala's descendants.

And that brought them to magic. Magic was the key to much in their world -- to change, to creation, to devastation, to despair. Those outcomes were motivations to learn it; to produce what one wished to, to recreate the world to their will. While magic crafted reality through the purview of a Rune, it also reshaped the real circumstances around it. It was an instrument of divine power.

"When you say study, do you mean... from a distance? As a philosopher, admirer, scholar? Or directly, such as by becoming a mage?" he inquired. "You know -- most people who are initiated die. That's why so many people fear even the thought of Runes, the temptation that could lead them to death. My people... we're more resistant to the negative consequences of magic, being hardened by the aethereal wasteland we live in. But humans, and all the other races -- you're very likely to die. Even we are, just a little less so. Unless you have truly lofty aspirations, I would advise study from a distance."

It was good advice for himself, too -- Taelian had been acquiring many new Runes lately. He'd gone from one to four in the span of a season. The Black Sigil was now joined by the Rune of Transposition, Summoning and Reaving, the latter of which he'd never once used since his initiation. He had risked the considerable probability of death or excruciating drawbacks, for an art that had done nothing for him.

"What do you mean by understand what happened to Ransera?" he asked. "Maybe we don't know everything we should, but we know a lot. The general picture, at least. We know who caused the Sundering. Though... I guess I at least don't know how he did it. I think maybe a lot of it is known, but the information isn't widely proliferated to the under-classes of society. Sil-Elaine, for example, prohibits the spreading of most geopolitical and historical knowledge. But in some places, like the Academy here, and the group I belong to known as the Covenant, much is said of these old things. The one period I believe we know the least about is the Age of Dreams, before we settled into civilizations. A lot of what is written from those days sounds like myth."

But maybe it wasn't myth. They lived in a genuinely magical world, forged by Gods of incomprehensible power. Anything was possible, even if it appeared mythical to them now. The Ald'norai of old really did build cities more advanced than the ones of the current Age, for example, places that survived the Sundering. Places that were suspended among the clouds. He supposed there was a lot of knowledge that had been lost in the cataclysmic event.

"Was your mother a researcher? Mine was a tailor. She was born to a wealthy family, but she fell for my father who was by all rights, a con man. So she needed to learn how to work, and make money." He laughed lightly, remembering her briefly. Both of his parents were gone now, but their reminiscence always had an effect on him. "If a tailor's son can become a relatively talented mage, a scholar's son can too, I think. Or at least he can become good at examining it. Do you have any that interest you in particular?" he asked.

[Patrick]

While it was easy to hear the Siltori man disregard Patrick's sympathy, the bartender could not so easily dismiss such a genuine feeling deep down. To not only know that Taelian's homeland was plagued with entropy, but doomed to remain in such dangerous state for Old Ones knew how long. And from the sound of it his Siltori friend didn't sound so hopeful, as he made it clear that he wasn't anything like the heroes of old. Even Patrick had heard a little about those, most famously the Order of the Dawnmartyr before they fell to the Imperium.

"You know my mother always said that there were two sides to every story, and that when you're reading about history you only usually see just the one." He rambled after Taelian's pause on this Huntsmen he mentioned. "It's up to us to tell our own story, Riala Elaine made her own when she conquered Turoth like you said! She had to have had impossible odds before then, just like you may feel like you do right now." There wasn't exactly any wisdom found in his tone, however Patrick did speak from the heart when he said this. "Don't think that all heroes from the mythic ages are gone, when you yourself can become one of those heroes; the next and maybe last generation Ransera could hopefully need."

It was a far cry the more he thought about it, the idea that mythical heroes from ages past could return. Yet being born in Atinaw you grow up hearing so many stories; stories about the Brave and their code of brotherhood, tales of warriors throughout the eight clans before the Sundering even. History was littered with these types of people, brave and hardy people who persevered through the hardest of times. Deep down Patrick wanted to believe that heroes still remained within the world, because who else would rise up to push back when forces like the Gelerian Empire struck once more.

Still there was plenty to discuss between the two of them, and while Patrick would soon learn how Taelian felt on his words; the subject of magic was what connected the two even further. The question that the Siltori mage asked posed an interesting situation for Patrick, particularly when he was warned about the dangers of initiation. Deep down he really did want to study them, but from a distance seemed so... Almost too precarious in fact. Sure he could study magic without being involved, but how else would he learn about Aether and it's nature. How else would he be able to read and study it, if he himself could not see the flow with his own eyes. No. Studying it in safe practice wasn't the route he felt destined to go on, deep down Patrick felt that magic was truly something he needed to explore.

"As scary as it is to say it, but I'd rather risk the chance honestly. How can just 'safely' learn from a distance, when I just saw you affect the Aether hours ago. I mean, c'mon, most scholars would kill for a chance to learn and study the practice. And with Aether being so intricately connected to everything, there's gotta be stuff out there nobody else has learned yet." Somehow the thought of attaining untold knowledge excited him, as it became prevalent in his enthusiastic tone. Then when the question came up on what Patrick meant, in regards to Ransera, the scholar smiled just a little as he listened. "Well you do have valid points there, and I only know enough from what general education my mother passed on."

"But it's like I mentioned before, there's always two sides to a story; and history is usually the one decided by the victors. As many articles and studies there are at the Academy on this, even with all the access available I think everyone is only seeing a general picture. I mean records of the ages prior thinned out over centuries haven't they? How do we know that the real story isn't out there, waiting for someone to find it so that they can share it with the world?" Of course he was practically ranting on about it now, but there was an innate passion in him now that he was discussing history. "When the Sundering happened, everyone alive back then was there to feel it's backlash; but what about the generations prior? They all had their own side of the story to tell, and in the blink of an eye they lost everything to it."

It was then Taelian had asked about Patrick's mother, a question that stunted the scholar's very train of thought. The Siltori went on to share a bit about his parents, a bit of a light-hearted change found in his tone after he'd done so. "Gods that sounds rough, you're mother was strong though to work hard the way she did. My mother became a scholar at the Academy when she was younger, still has connections there that check in on her from time to time. She studied quite a bit but she favored history mostly, which is probably why I'm so crazy about it myself." Patrick laughed a little at that remark. "She met my father when her research group was assigned to study a historical sight. It's how the two of them met actually, as he was a member of the Order of the Brave; and given guard patrol to the group."

It was then Taelian made the remark that if a tailor's son could become an avid mage, then perhaps one such as Patrick could become one also. It led the bartender to give a wry smile, as he felt a sense of flattery within the statement. "I mean I could only hope so, can't say that I expect to become an avid wizard or anything." Truly he wasn't hellbent on mastering the practice, if he ever did come to possess a Rune that empowered him with magic. No his approach would be more practical, scientific even as he studied with a hands on approach. Yet when asked what in particular tickled his fancy?... "Oh, good question really!" It really was to be honest, Patrick had so much he wanted to learn now. Yet if he could practice magic... what would he use? What sort of magic interested him so greatly?

He thought hard about for a moment, thinking back on some of the stories he's heard. While he had never really seen magic up close, there were a good number of tenants that stayed at the inn; travelers frequented the place with stories often. "I've heard about mages from time to time, some being able to control the elements within the world? I know that would be interesting, because of the Aetheric properties found in the elements alone! Then there's... psychics? No that's not right, the ones that can lift things with their minds! I really would love to figure out how that works. Oh! And teleportation! The ones that can warp across distances, how they affect Aether is what I really wanna learn!" He finished with a state of elation in his voice.

[Taelian]

As much as Patrick tried to be optimistic, Taelian remained a skeptic. He had always been one, and one interaction with a hopeful man would not be enough to change that. As much as Patrick believed in change - even brought by an individual - Taelian looked around him and at the history he just spoke of, with Kaitos and Riala and all the rest, and only saw mortals perpetuating their failure across the tapestry of the world. No good change ever came of their ambitions. Perhaps it was why the Dragon Gods had abandoned their ilk; the mortals they created nearly destroyed their reality, after abusing every principle of it a thousand times over.

But again, he was a cynic. It was difficult to reason with a perspective so thoroughly tainted to begin with.

Moving forward, their conversation centered on magic. The Ebon Knight could not blame Patrick for his interest in magic, even to the point of being willing to undergo initiation. Perhaps he did not understand the risk, or -- apparently -- he thought it was worth it, whatever befell him. The mage himself, having undergone several initiations at this point, did not find Patrick's philosophy entirely objectionable. It was difficult for most mortals to find purpose in the world, and searching for a purpose for many of their kind was all-consuming. Magic provided something akin to a framework within which one could live, and if it augmented the goals he already held, it did have an undeniable benefit.

The Siltori nodded his head.

"There are probably some things still unlearned... yeah," he replied. In truth he wasn't sure. Magic had been around for at least several millennia now; he wondered how many stones truly had gone unturned. Eloise had told him that Ascendant magi were capable of tapping into powers never garnered by others; even, effectively, developing their own abilities. The potential changes, the depths and possibilities of such additions, were unknown to him however. He wondered if Patrick was interested in something like that, something that would change him at the core. Make him not so human -- just to discover or unlock new things.

Patrick continued. For the next few minutes, Taelian only listened to him as he spoke of his mother and her group, his parents in general, his low expectations for his magical abilities and the sorts of magics he found himself interested in. He began with Elementalism. Immediately, Taelian smiled, as the thought of course reminded him of his beloved. He even said as much shortly after the Rune was raised. "My Arlaed... or, my partner in life, is an Elementalist. He lives in Kalzasi, though," the Ebon Knight stated, softly. Almost solemnly. He still hoped that he would come down to see him -- he wondered if he'd even received the letter, yet.

"As for the second magic... Kinetics. I don't know it. My mentor is a Kinetics mage, but she's more focused on... the last one you mentioned. Transposition. I am a Transposer, and a Reaver, and a Pyromancer, and a Summoner. Those are my four Runes. Among them, I'm most skilled at Pyromancies, but I know Transposition fairly well at this point. It's actually what got me into this whole mess." Abusing Reverb, effectively. Overestimating his aethereal reserves, particularly with an ability he scarcely knew and found difficult to attune to or control.

"I can initiate you into Transposition, if you want, Patrick. But the likelihood of your death is about fifty-percent. It would be maybe forty if you were a Siltori like me, and it drops the more magics you have; the more initiations you've undergone. Magic is a game of chance. It is fate; it is arbitrary. If you accept my offer now, your brothers may never see you again. Nor anyone else from your family. That is something you must keep in mind as your thoughts wade into the arcane, into the unknown. And initiation isn't the end of the mortal fear. Even as you learn it, you risk death. It only makes sense, as you are given the power to bring so much change to the world around you. And death to others in far greater scores. I've killed a lot of people already; magic places you beyond them. You won't think like a human anymore -- but like you're something better than that."

He sighed. "I would think on it. I've never initiated someone before, so your chances of dying are probably a little higher than half-half, and I can't help but think your brothers would find me responsible if you lied dead in the woods. But I'm willing to. It's a simple process for me, at least."

[Patrick]

It intrigued Patrick because he had watched Taelian while he'd rambled continuously, and while seeing the Siltori reacting to different parts of the conversation was one thing; gauging them to determine how he might've felt was another matter entirely. In short Patrick wasn't entirely sure if his constant prattling annoyed or bored the elf, at least not until the latter part of magic became their main conversation. Not that it surprised the bartender of course, it really was fascinating to discuss even in practical terms.

To learn that Taelian had himself a lover, which he used the word 'Arlaed' to describe him. It intrigued Patrick to hear about this partner of Taelian's, especially because he in particular was a mage with Elementalism. "Kalzasi huh? Met a couple outlanders from there earlier this season." Patrick shared as he wondered the chances, of course he was aware that Taelian likely didn't know them. But nevertheless he did wonder what the odds were, especially given this partner of his still lived there apparently.

To hear the name Kinetics with what Patrick described earlier felt enlightening, as he now had a means of referencing it should he go studying articles later. The academy or even the Front Page was likely bound to have something he could look at for a while... Yet it was Transposition that both Taelian and the mentor he mentioned, that power in particular led Patrick connect the dots with how they met. "You don't say? Wow, to think that could very easily be me." He remarked as he remembered seeing the few splatters of blood on the grass, if that was the result of overusing his power then Patrick could only begin to wonder... Of course that's all his mind ever did was wonder, constantly asking questions that he needed to answer.

However at the suggestion that Taelian could initiate him, curiosity became a sudden apprehension once his words sunk in. Patrick could actually risk getting a Rune from the Siltori? Right now if he wanted to? The thought made him almost shudder now, leading him to hesitate when he thought to answer right away. No he needed to consider this bit, the odds weren't exactly something he wanted to gamble on right away. He needed to think on it, to rule out every possible reason why he should and why he shouldn't. Taelian also made it clear that he had never initiated anybody before, another important factor to consider for someone in Patrick's shoes.

As much as he would've loved to jump in without thinking, the bartender knew this wasn't one of those situations. "I think..." Patrick realized now just how much he really wasn't sure, probably because the great unknown always gave him reason to pause. As much of a scholar as he wanted to be, at the end of the day he was still only human. Normal even. Did he really want to throw all that away? Did he really want to cast it aside and subject himself to something more? As eager and inclined as he was before, he couldn't help but sigh now as he remained impartial to the choice. "I think I'd need time to consider it honestly. It is a big decision like you said, and I wouldn't want to do this without bein' all in beforehand." The bartender reasoned as he started to move, considerably to rise onto his feet once his writing materials were in hand.

"You comfortable? Dinner's probably ready, if you still wanna join us that is. Dominik's not the greatest cook and unfortunately Connor, who is, is not really in the best shape to handle cooking." Patrick remarked as he started to stretch, realizing that his thighs had nearly fallen asleep from sitting too long.

[Taelian]

The crux of their conversation came when Patrick was posed the idea -- the proposition, that he could perhaps be a Transposer like Taelian was, that he could learn the magic. That Taelian would gift it to him whensoever he wished; at any time and with any associated risk, largely because he would not feel responsible for the final result. As much as he considered this man a friendly face -- and perhaps even a blooming friend in general -- Taelian could not contest the result of chance, of the reality they lived in. Magic wrought death, both to the ambitious and those beneath their thumb. If Patrick were to die, it was simply chance enacted.

Of course, the other man did himself hesitate. Understandably so. Each time Taelian had acquired a new Rune, he felt himself begin to hesitate; even though the chances were much smaller for him than they were for Patrick. For one, he was a Siltori... his teachers had always been expert, and he had several Runes now, decreasing the risk of mortality. Even then, he felt fear bridge what logic and the unknown could not.

He had to think on it; consider. The Siltori nodded, neither disappointed nor relieved, as the offer had been as neutral as one could imagine. It was simply whimsical, as the Elf had recently realized he was. Unlike Eloise, the Umpire, he was no schemer or planter of seeds. He was a curious man who wished to watch the theater unfold.

"I do feel better," he replied initially to Patrick's query. "Not incredibly so, but enough to probably get some food down. It won't help with the symptoms, but it will help distract me... I think," he added. The mage began to ponder.

"Dominik and Connor... your brothers. Is Connor in something of a state, like me? I'm sorry that I've helped to fill your hands. But at least, I think I can provide you some relief. My Archetype, the Marghozad, should be able to hunt for us if necessary; he can provide us food, and then with Shrivenflame I can keep the fires burning. What I'm trying to say is... your hospitality will be rewarded." He nodded. Taelian had likely shown Patrick by now that he was, at best, somewhat aloof. He wasn't necessarily cold, but he wasn't warm either. Still, he had warmed to the other man even if only a bit. And for that reason he wasn't opposed to spending a night around a fire with him and his brothers.

"Can you help me?" he asked. "With..." Taelian gestured to himself. Walking. He wasn't going to have an easy time of it, going to the camp on his own two feet.

[Patrick]

Taelian didn't seem surprised to hear that Patrick wanted to think on it, and consider if the risk would very well be worth the reward. Magic being something that he wanted to look at in depth, the bartender needed to be ready to deal with whatever stipulations it posed on him. While he didn't like the fact initiations could end up failing, he did find small comfort in knowing that he had a budding friend. For Patrick to have one who was adept in magic practices, it could eventually serve as quite a boon later down the road. Of course Patrick himself wanted to be able to do the same, since friendship to him typically meant being there for someone who's been there for you.

And since Taelian seemed to share similar beliefs, Patrick himself honestly felt they could be good friends. Not necessarily because they'd help one another out when they needed each other, but because of the fact they got along so well because of it. Hence why he decided to check with Taelian, and see if he was feeling better enough to go get dinner. To hear the Siltori say he felt well enough to eat brought ease to mind, as that indicated that the elf was getting along well compared to a couple hours ago. "Yeah? Good to hear, food's always a welcome distraction in my opinion." He remarked in turn with a soft chuckle, with a brief look of surprise when he heard his brother's names.

"Nah, don't worry about it." The bartender immediately shrugged the apology off, a modest grin shot to Taelian as he went on about hospitality. "You're lookin' at someone who gives hospitality away every day honestly. But I can tell my brothers will appreciate you pitchin' in, just be sure you warn Dominik though before doin' any magic." While Patrick had been easily reciprocative of magic, he couldn't outright speak on behalf of his siblings honestly; Connor might've appreciated it but Dom... He was an unknown quantity at the moment. "But Connor's actually goin' through somethin' else. Bit of a bad drug habit we're clearin' out of his system, hence why we're out here campin' and not back in the city." He had to give Connor credit for making their getaway a little easier, since Patrick had also been pining for a break from the Inn for a while.

"Help? Oh, sure thing." He checked as he realized what Taelian needed from him. While the Siltori was definitely taller than him, Patrick thought that maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing honestly. He was after all somewhat strong, though comparably average compared to most men. Maybe one day he'd come to possess a rock solid body like the warriors throughout Atinaw, but for now he stuck with enjoying what the Gods gifted him with already. Thus Patrick offered a hand to help bring Taelian on his feet at least, hopeful that the Siltori could partially walk before offering to help with that also. "Alright... Think I gotcha now." He assured Taelian after adjusting his grip at the man's waist, mainly clutching his belt to help support the man.

By then Patrick began to lead the way back to camp, hopeful that dinner was only now cooking; so that it wouldn't be cold by the time they got back.