Old Friends

[Laveriel]

Old Friends

7th of Glade, Year 123 of the Age of Steel

Light shone through between the columns that circled the arena. With sweat beading down her face, Veriel finally looked up. Momentarily blinded by the sun, she used her hand to shield herself from its rays. It seemed like she had lost track of time.

The siltori had been training by herself since she couldn’t fall back to sleep that night. Her thoughts were wandering and refused to rest, so she figured might as well tire it out. Veriel didn’t mind the darkness as she practiced with the lightforged constructs. It reminded her of her days as an aspirant, desperately trying to catch up to her fellow hopefuls.

Veriel had struggled with the swordsmanship and physicality that was required of a dawnmartyr. No matter how much she trained, she had no inherent talent in wielding blades and her slight physique didn’t quite scream warrior. It was sheer stubbornness that finally made the knights relent and risk initiating her.

Fortunately, she survived. But even then she was weaker than most. While her aether was strong, her skill was not. At least until she came with the idea of blending affliction and reaving. After that, no one really liked training with an afflictionist so she had gotten used to working alone and today was no different.

With dawn cracking, knights started filtering into the arena. A few people greeted her and lowered their heads in acknowledgement. She would never get used to the reverence they gave her ever since Arcas had granted her the title of his Wrath. Still, she smiled back and hurried to leave the place.

Outside, a crowd had begun to flow across the streets outside. Aspirants complaining about their morning drills, knights hurrying to their posts as the sun rose higher and higher. They all had some place to go, unlike her.

But then she spotted a familiar face in the throng. An impossible face. One she hadn’t seen for a long, long time. Her heart pounded with excitement as she pushed through people, practically running. A warforged she knew from the days of the war. Alistor. Wait. No, it wasn’t him. It was, in fact, Rickter. Her eyebrows furrowed, wondering how her mind could possibly switch the two. Perhaps the lights were playing tricks on her. It had been what, a century, since she had last seen the warrior. And as far as she knew, he was dead.

As she closed the distance between them, the light shone on his face. Then it hit her. She didn’t mistake him. Rickter’s features were a twin to Alistor’s. They look so alike that it was almost disconcerting.

Despite her confusion, she waved at the man.

[Rickter]

Old Friends
7th of Glade, 123rd Year, A.o.S.

It was perhaps one of the more beautiful places he'd ever decided to visit, and it wasn't only because the man he loved had created such a safe haven. Compared to the last time he'd been out here where the Dawnmartyr's hold was, there had been nothing but wilderness and natural beauty to encompass their surroundings... But now? The Order and their home had significantly changed in such a short span of time, all because of the power and might of what a Demigod could do through sheer will and imagination.

Rickter could only wonder if he'd ever be able to perform such grand feats, if his own Divinity would allow him to one day do outstanding things for those who might one day follow him. It was already complex of him to even grasp that people one day might, however, he was already a well-established individual within and around Kalzasi. Not as the newly awakened Lord of Frost though, that he wanted to keep under the lid for the time being, and for good reason too considering events.

He'd accompanied his uncle here to get a better lay of the land, having not quite managed to come and visit Dawnhold initially after it's creation. The veteran Dawnmartyr himself had been rather busy getting reacquainted himself, meeting what few old friends remained among their ranks, as well as welcoming the newer ones that also joined their cause. It was hard to believe honestly, the fact Erikson remained ever bound by faith to the cause. Faith was such a strange concept to Rickter, especially of late, that he didn't quite know how to think of it himself really.

Even so, the uncle brought him along to show him where the arena resided, a place often used for training the young recruits that came to join the cause. Feeling the connections of those all around him, those with Emblems like his, the wolf could only gaze around in a half-lost and half-mesmerized fashion. "What is it, Rickter?" Erikson inquired as he slowed to a stall and turned, noticing that the wolf had stopped to eye those passing him. His uncle wore the raiment of a Warforged Dawnmartyr, donned in leathers and cloth that resembled their very House in Kalzasi.

Though the wolf focused on no one in particular just yet, he couldn't help but feel a sense of kinship among someone here. And by the scent, he recognized them too but didn't quite place it. "I was just wondering something..." He admittedly rather softly but still above the general noise of the public, before his eyes finally fell on Iselya as he knew her to be. That had been the scent he recognized, even if it had been almost a whole season since they'd seen one another. "I actually know her though." He soon added with a gentle wave to follow in turn, granting the woman a polite smile as his uncle came closer to his side.

"Lady Laveriel? She's helped the Order immensely over the past few months." To that name he raised an eyebrow, unaware she had adopted a new identity as it were. Or perhaps it was an old one, and she simply finally put aside the alias? Regardless, he looked from the veteran next to him, if only to nod his head toward her for them to approach.

"Never knew she went by that name." He admitted as they drew closer to her, the wolf bearing a soft but friendly smile to the lady. "Good to see you, again, Iselya. Or... is it Laveriel now?" He considered with a bit of a confused look, an eyebrow rose when he made the correction in suit. Unlike his uncle, the wolf wore what he often did while being out and about, donning his fur-padded vestment over leather trousers and boots.

"Dialogue" Monologue
"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"

[Laveriel]

Upon closer inspection, it really was unnerving how much Rickter looked like a man who supposedly died more than a century ago. Perhaps he shared Alistor’s lineage? She could probably ask him about it later.

“Good to see you, again, Iselya. Or... is it Laveriel now?”

Veriel chuckled as she looked between the two men. “I suppose I owe you an explanation.”

“Let me reintroduce myself,” the siltori said with a bow. She figured the easiest way to explain it was just to lay it all out. “My name is Laveriel d’Revrinti, knight-captain of the warforged. I first joined the order in the year 383 of the Age of Sundering. I escaped during the siege of Ailos and went into hiding. Which was why you know me as Iselya.”

She looked at Rickter apologetically. “I am really sorry for deceiving you. It’s just… Back then, it never ended well when someone figured out my true identity. Even among friends. The inquisitors were quite persistent in hunting me down. I just couldn’t take my chances.”

It could be because of her reputation. Or it could also be somehow the Imperium had found out that she knew where the sword was supposed to be. Whatever it was, they were merciless in their search for her. Many have died during all this, innocents and imperials alike - all their bloods drenching her soul.

But now, with the creation of Dawnhold and the fact that she had wielded the sword openly in battle, Veriel figured this was as good a time as any to reveal her identity. It felt weird saying the things she had kept under wraps for decades out loud with so much ease. Veriel had always lived in fear of someone discovering her, but how far had things changed.

Still, having this conversation in the middle of the street felt unwise. “Should we find another place to chat?”

[Rickter]

Admittedly, Rickter's uncle Erikson was a little intrigued with the interaction that stemmed between the two of them. But for Rickter himself their meeting was nothing other than simple, destined perhaps, given that their paths oft crossed time and time again. It had been a few years since their first encounter sure, but the wolf had remembered when he first met Laveriel as Iselya within the Tranquil Gardens.

It seemed that they both had come a long way since that first encounter, and even then, Laveriel's path was longer still from the length of time she spent. Both in hiding and in service of the Dawnmartyrs. "Wow," he briefly started with a look of bafflement, "Age of Sundering? That makes you... well..." Way older than old some would say, and even if put into context politely, 'old enough to be his great-great grandmother' still didn't seem to do the revelation justice. "So if you were there when the Dawnmartyrs were first founded, then..."

"She's certainly seen her fair share of battle, yes." Erikson remarked with a thoughtful look spared at Rickter, though, the fellow Dawnmartyr raised an eyebrow as he considered the length of time in turn. When she began to apologize the wolf gave her a gentle smile, along with a slow shake of his head to politely refuse the apologize.

"Don't feel sorry. You were looking after yourself at the time, anyone in the same situation you were in would've done the same." It was rather smart of her to take on that alias for the time being, given, the Order of Reconciliation was hard-pressed to iron out Dawnmartyrs.

"The fall of Ailos was a hard loss for a lot of us. I'm glad you found refuge here in the North in the meantime." Erikson offered with a nod in solidarity, admittedly a little curious as to how he'd never picked up on her when she did arrive in Kalzasi. He noticed, however, the sense of friendship that did exist between both Rickter and Laveriel, and therefore opted to bid them both farewell rather than linger to snoop in their affairs. "In that case, I will leave you to be for a while. Rickter," he gave the wolf a knowing glance, "I'll be at the Hearth whenever you need me. It was lovely to meet you, Lady Laveriel."

With a respectful bow, the Spellforged Dawnmartyr took his leave of the two, allowing Rickter to converse with Veriel on their own. "I uh... Don't know my way around Dawhold quite yet, so if you have a place in mind..." He suggested with a bit of a bashful grin to the lady, admittedly considerate of setting up a Negation ward around them if need be. Even the subtlest of wards had enough potency to provide them with true and complete solitude, which in Laveriel's case, might've been the best boon he could've given if she had important matters to discuss.

There was something about her though, something that he hadn't forgotten back when they went to the Warrens. Alistor had recognized Laveriel on his own too at the time, a fact not lost on the wolf now that they were alone. Which led him to wonder now, given her age, if the two likely had anything to do with one another during his time as a Dawnmartyr.

"Dialogue" Monologue
"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"

[Laveriel]

The knight laughed lightly at their surprise. While her heritage helped her retain youth longer than most mortals, time took something else from her. “Perhaps, but that was a while ago. As Rickter might have witnessed, I’m getting old and out of practice. I am trying to train again, but it’s not as effective as I wanted it to be - admittedly, I was never the best swordsman to begin with.” Her magic had always run stronger than her techniques. She had lost count of how many times her old instructors had reprimanded her for being too reliant on affliction during battle.

Her silver eyes went far away for the briefest of moments at the mention of Ailos. Unwanted images flashed in her vision and she shook her head to disperse them. She gave the man a sad smile. “And I’m glad to know that some of us worked hard to preserve our legacy.” She had heard of how Erikson had helped more than a few survivors and guided them, teaching people their way. Men like him were paving a way forward, while she couldn’t stop looking into the past.

After returning Erikson’s bow, she turned back to the rathari. “Well, to be fair, this place did just spring into existence a few days ago. I still get lost all the time,” Veriel admitted playfully. It was easy to forget that the stones they were standing on did not exist a mere week ago. After considering it for a few seconds, she knew where they could go. “How about the aviary? I heard they are starting to bring in the gryphons. I haven’t seen one in a decade at least.”

Slowly, the elf led them to their destination. Slowly because she did make some wrong turns and not without asking a few people on the way, but the aviary finally came into sight. The white stone building was sitting on a cliff overlooking the water. It was still unbelievable how Talon had willed this place into existence - a reminder of how different the divines were from their mortal counterparts.

Veriel also reminded herself of the fact that she was standing right next to one right at this moment, like it was any other day.

As they walked the stairs, the siltori took another look at Rickter, not bothering to hide that she was trying to analyze his face. “You look a lot like someone I know a long time ago. It’s uncanny if I’m honest. He was a great warrior, though taken from us far too soon.”

[Rickter]

The wolf did chuckle at the remark of this place only being made a few days prior. He'd been so occupied with many other things lately, on top of what he wanted to build into for his beloveds, that the wolf hadn't fully noticed the latest developments that they had tackled. Talon and Aoren had been kept busy in their own way as of late, that most days he felt he would've merely bothered or distracted them more than anything. Not that he didn't love or appreciate the incredible work they did, after all, Talon had practically created an entire city in the blink of an eye.

Something that Rickter wanted to do for them eventually in his own way, and not with the miracle that was born from powers such as Archmagic. All the same, it was impressive to look at, even more so, it granted him the same sense of home that he hoped to actually build for them. Something about it made the wolf feel that the place could, potentially, be that shelter and refuge he wanted to provide them from the world. And if luck would have it that Talon did create such a place instead of him, well then, Rickter certainly wasn't going to challenge that when the time finally came to deliver on his part of the awaited promise yet to come.

Regardless, where his mind oft wondered about the times ahead, he needed to remain focused on the current moment in time. Right now, that meant spending a bit of time with a good friend and invaluable comrade, one who certainly would continue to serve Talon in other ways the wolf himself might no longer could. "I've never seen a gryphon before," he admitted a little warmly with a gentle smile on his lips, "An interesting suggestion. Lead the way then, Laveriel." He remarked with a subtle nod for her to show the way, a patient walk found in his steps as he accompanied her on the path.

He wanted to ask questions but at the same time, the wolf wasn't sure where to begin with the lady exactly. Even after the length of time they'd met one another, Rickter didn't really know Laveriel enough to break the traditional formality that existed between them. In a sense, he felt it dutiful to be quietly patient in her presence for the time being, if only to await the time when she finally felt ready to bring something up herself. Once she finally did his expression changed, the expected look of astonishment met with a sense of knowing behind his gaze.

"I do, huh?" It was not surprising to him, at least not anymore, since he had met two of his predecessors that he resembled. With Callen, he wasn't sure how it was possible, other than the Maze 'genes' must've run strongly throughout the family line somehow. But with Alistor on the other hand, there was a history there that the wolf had yet to fully dive into, one that connected him not just to the Dawnmartyr but to the legacy he left behind in turn. "I haven't learned much about him, yet. But I think I know of this person you speak of."

Rickter might've questioned whether the gravity of the situation was something Laveriel truly needed to know about. But seeing as how she literally knew Alistor in their time, and her long-standing devotion to the Order itself, he felt more than confident that she'd be able to carry such secrecy with her either way. "I'm still assessing the details of it myself, but my family line was involved in some... plot. I'm fairly certain there's a curse tied in somewhere, but, Alistor and I are descendants who have inherited a bit of an interesting boon as a result of this 'curse'."

He admitted with a mildly uncertain look to the Elven woman, a bit of a downcast to his gaze before the aversion led him to look at the stairs they'd already climbed. On just the last few steps down from where he stood, he could see the ancestral Dawnmartyr watching the both of them, a calm yet heartfelt smile found in his expression as he watched the pair. "I can actually see him now, in fact, since it connects us in a way normal magic doesn't seem to." The wolf doubted Laveriel would be able to see him too, right away anyhow, as he hadn't figured out if there was a means of making that happen in the physical world or not.

As much as he figured, Alistor was bound to him as an ancestral spirit, by a chain that tethered their bloodline together. Ever since awakening with his Divinity though that chain had felt stronger now, and much different compared to the link he felt between them before. "He recognized you," that much the wolf confirmed with a steady gaze back to the Elf, "before we went down into the Warrens to retrieve Novuril. He knew who you were from his life prior, so it almost dawned on me then that you were a bit older than what you originally led on." He admitted with a polite grin to the lady, curious if she might have any questions in regard to the information he shared.

"Dialogue" Monologue
"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"

[Laveriel]

It was surprising that Rickter already knew exactly who she was talking about. There must be more to that story. “So, you’re a descendant of Alistor… I’m still not used to that idea, you know,” Veriel with a small laugh. “That I’m old enough to watch my friends have children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren.”

“A curse?” the siltori asked as the aviary slowly came into sight. She and Alistor knew each other, but she couldn’t quite remember if she ever heard about him being cursed. For a curse to be passed down down a bloodline… it must be something. “What is this curse, if I may ask? You don’t need to tell me, of course, but I’d like to think that I know a thing or two about curses.”

He recognized you.

Veriel blinked. It was certainly not something she expected him to say. “He can see me? Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised, weirder things had happened.”

“It’s sort of comforting to know someone from the past still lingers,” the siltori admitted as they stood under the archway of the white stone building. There weren’t many people coming and going - which was a relief. She could spot a few handlers carrying supplies back and forth but that was it. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong here. Most of my friends are dead or missing and I haven’t been able to contact my family while on the run.”

Of course, she had Laelithar who had stubbornly stayed by her side all these years but they never really had the chance to integrate into any community. Whenever they started to feel comfortable and build relationships, the Imperium would find them and chase them out. More often than not, those who were involved with her with get hurt or dead in the struggle. At some point, Veriel had simply given up.

There was no place she could truly call home.

She turned back to look at the sprawling white city, sadness in her eyes. It was beautiful and all she could think about was when it would be ripped away from her again.

[Rickter]

From the way that Veriel expressed her sentiment on age, Rickter could only provide her with a gentle if not small grin at the corner of his lips. There was something about the idea of growing old that sometimes perplexed him, only because he beheld a sense of mixed feelings on the subject. On the one hand, he had felt fulfilled by the prospect of aging along with his packmates before. Whereas now, he could only ponder on that given his actual awakening. Demigods were beings that aged far slower than mortals did, if he had remembered what little he knew of them prior.

To actually be one, led him to ponder both the length and levity of his existence. If only because he did not wish to see his loved ones age well before him, and he be left by them to carry on with his existence decades after. “I am a descendant of Alistor, yes.” He confirmed still with that same gentle grin lingering on his expression. “To be honest though, I don’t think I’ll ever grow accustomed to the idea either.” The lupine demigod then remarked with a soft chuckle. “I never imagined myself living beyond my packmates. Truthfully, I shouldn’t even be alive now, a fact that's recurred several times over the past few years.”

He glanced away momentarily to notice the sight of the aviary, before resuming his conversation with the Dawnmartyr next to him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to teach me, if you still remain around that is.” The wolf admitted as he could only imagine where time might take the two of them, one could never tell due to the whimsy of Mother Naori.

He noticed the genuine spark of interest in Veriel’s eyes after he had mentioned the word curse, having almost forgotten her aptitude for them with her Affliction rune beforehand. Undoubtedly, the term more than intrigued her, and given their disposition together, he wasn’t entirely against being reserved on the matter. “Well I’ve not sorted it all out quite yet, but from what I know, Alistor and I share a connection to an ancestor from a long time ago.”

The wolf rested his hands into the pockets of his trousers as they walked, admittedly staring ahead introspectively as he recollected the rest of those dives into his soul. At the inquiry of her being visible to to the spiritual Dawnmartyr, Rickter gave a firm but warm nod to the woman in return. “Believe me, it’s certainly been a strange ordeal for me. I didn’t even realize I had the Echo when things started to happen, hell, I never learned of my connection to Alistor until he finally came through for me.” Although that was a time when the wolf himself felt he needed the right guidance, when his heart felt still within the storm of chaos at the time.

The news of Alistor though did not seem lost at all on Veriel, as it even so much as led her to share her comfort in the matter. It led to the spectral Dawnmartyr himself to express surprise in his eyes, before he stepped from where he was to stand closer to the Elven veteran. “What I wouldn't give just to share a few thoughts with you.” The knight admitted with a steady yet somber gaze, before his eyes shifted to look back on Rickter as he watched in turn. “Maybe… you can?” He remarked as he pondered the effort to try. Part of what he’d been able to do with the Echo had remained a mystery as to why, but the fact wasn’t lost that he could connect with others through the Echo as a proxy.

It had been what allowed others in his soul that night, and, what had allowed him to dive into what snippets of memory he could of his ancestral history. He gave a thoughtful stare to Veriel but not so blatantly as to make her feel uncomfortable, rather, suggestive that something of an idea had crossed his mind. “I’m not entirely sure if this’ll work, but, he does wish to try and speak with you. Would you be willing to try?” It was an offer he inquired about since it generated opportunities for both parties involved, Veriel and Alistor both would get some closure over the past, and if that allowed them to find some semblance of peace or solidarity; then who was he to deny that to them both?

He had to try at the very least, so, as he waited for Veriel to decide on the matter, Rickter’s eyes fell on the spectral warrior next to them as Alistor observed the wolf warily. So far from his past experiences, the wolf knew he only needed to reach out spiritually with this power, and allow the Echo to hone in on the resonance of one’s aura they gave off. The subject had to be willing of course, inviting upon the moment the Echo called out to them in turn. While he had prepared for this already, he remained patient with awaiting her decision, aware that his ancestor entirely for nor against this idea either. With good reason of course, but Rickter felt this a safer approach to learning this power, while still generating opportunity for the other two in the process.

"Dialogue" Monologue
"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan"

[Laveriel]

Veriel gave Rickter a sad smile. The elven lifespan was already a burden for her; she couldn’t begin to imagine the torment of true immortality. “I’m afraid I have no comforting words to offer you. I’d like to say it gets easier, but it hasn’t for me.” A part of her wondered if it might have been easier if she had met Ryo much later in life. That way, she wouldn’t have to face the prospect of living centuries without him. Even that fleeting thought made her heart twist. “I still miss every one of them.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to teach me, if you’re still around by then.”

The siltori chuckled, the sound hollow and quickly carried away by the wind. There were days when she wished it would all just end, but Veriel never had that luxury. Eighteen years ago, even when she teetered on the brink of death and begged for the darkness to take her… they brought her back to fulfill her duty to the order. “I suppose we’ll see.”

Rickter’s brief explanation only deepened the afflictionist’s curiosity. An ancestral curse… It was a feat beyond the reach of most warlocks without some form of divine assistance. She had toyed with the concept before, but she still couldn’t quite work out how to embed magic that could be passed down through blood. Perhaps if she could learn more about Rickter’s particular ailment…

When the demigod offered to connect her with Alistor, Veriel immediately straightened. That would indeed be quite a feat. The chance to speak with an old friend and perhaps even investigate this peculiar curse was more than a little exciting to her. “Let’s do it.”