EliteCommander

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

@ExpendableI would say you can put your character in the character tab. Let me know if you need any additional information for you to introduce your character.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

@Catharyn & @EliteCommander - A submission for you to consider. Also, is there a limit on characters?

J'eon of Mythadia

Name: J'eon of Mythadia

Species: The Glen

Appearance: This male Glen puts you in mind of an unstoppable machine. He has narrow olive-green eyes. He has a muscular wide-chested build, and a network of old, dark flogging scars on his upper and middle back. His hide appears creamy yellow or gold, depending on the light. He has hollow cheeks and wide feet, with a long dark scar crossing his cheek below his right eye.

His wardrobe is practical, a dark brown leather cuirass peppered with small burns over his upper torso and bronze pips along the shoulders. A medallion of the Mythadia Blacksmith Guild is over his first stomach - an anvil with a six pointed star of a master craftsman over it, flanked by a hammer on the right and a sword on the left. His upper arms bear a studded leather rerebrace, while his lower arms wear a darkened leather vambrace peppered with small burns. Each leg wears leather greaves, with the front pair peppered once again with small burns. A wide leather belt bears two leather pouches in front, with leather gloves tucked behind them, his favorite hammer on his right, while on his left he carries a long kukri blade, with two smaller blades and a small iron hook for cleaning his hooves. Each hoof has an iron shoe on it.

While traveling, he wears a leather chamfron with small iron plates & bronze pips over his face, leather paulroons, and has a cart with harness that he can strap himself into.

Leaves on the left, right, and back sides of the cart can be pulled up and slot into ironwork straps underneath. It carries under canvas a traveling forge (in the back), an anvil, a box with his tools and a leather apron, a locked iron-bound chest (key is on a cord hanging on his neck), a box holding two blankets (one quilted with straps) wrapped in oilcloth and ropes, a tripod with a small cooking pot, barrels holding charcoal, iron blanks, water, and grain. Oarlocks on the right arm of the cart hold a long spear.

Augmentations: N/A

Magical affiliation: Heat domain - able to manipulate thermal energy.

Occupation: Blacksmith

Key skills: Blacksmith, Engineering, Wilderness survival.

Backstory: J'eon was born into the Dark Ash clan, a nomadic group that assisted settlements with planting, harvesting, and various services they lacked before heading back to Dark Ash Vale, their wintering grounds. F'eon, J'eon's father, was the backsmith for the clan and its unofficial leader. He spent much of the winter months mining for ores that he would then smelt into the old forge into the refined metal blanks he needed, or into various impliments he could sell. J'eon watched and learned beside his father, marveling at how he called up the flame.

They were raided by bandits, his father ran through by one of his own swords. What happened to J'avra, his mother, he didn't see. He was chained up with the other survivors and eventually sold to a miller in the west, who chained him to one of the poles to turn the millwheel along with the other slaves - simple brute labor. One can still see the shackle gauls on his wrists when he takes his vambraces off. When he got out of line, they'd flog him. In his sixteen summer, the miller's daughters began to pay him close attention with strangely hungry eyes and giggles. When the overseer reported their attentions to the miller, he had the young muscular buck unchained and hauled to the flogging post. It was during that flogging that the Fire came to him.

With the burning of the miller's place, J'eon along with the other Glen made their way back east, eventually finding themselves in Mythadia once more. It wasn't long after that he found himself the oldest apprentice in the blacksmith guild, but he was quickly initiated into the innermost secrets once they realized he could call forth the flame. It was here he learned the riddle of iron and steel.

Once he became a master, he took to the road in a cart he build to hold his traveling forge and his tools. Word of his craft spread beyond the borders of Mythadia, and he found himself traveling out of the kingdom, called forth to build weapons, craft armor and chains, even called to repair waterwheels and windmills. Slave mills, however, tended to go up in flames. Nor was he particularly soft on bandits or slavers.

@Expendable

I have to say, I rather like this character. Low key, I was hoping someone would be interested in making a Glen. Being centaur-like, I can imagine plenty of ways that simple, biomechanical difference would influence both their society, and day-to-day life.

I do have to compliment you on your description of him. You can paint a picture better than I can, and everything you described about him makes sense to me. All of his armor does seem practical as something he could equip himself without assistance, even if it took a bit of work. The greaves on the rear legs might be hard, but doable with some effort.

Your character's background checks out, and I can give you plenty of leeway with what you want your character's clan to have been like. On the whole, Mythadia and Acanata originated from a mix of Glen clans that came together to resist the Kolodon Empire, so they have a mix of cultural backgrounds. Generally, the Glen loathe strict restrictions, so I imagine nomadic clans would not be uncommon. Though, they do still have static cities and towns (The capital of Mythadia is actually the largest city in KA).

Overall, I am perfectly happy to accept the character as-is.

If you need any more information to start off, I can give you some more detail on the area around where Kareet and Shirik currently are (which is near to the future crash site of the Jotunheim). Broadly speaking, it is a fairly remote area. There is a road leading down from some smaller settlements in Mythadia into the Ascendancy that passes through the area, but it is a minor trade route. It is around the border of the Ascendancy and Mythadia, which is also a border between the mountains and the plains. The area is settled, but it is pretty far from the more civilized parts of those two nations. Imagine it a bit like the "wild west", in that respect. Towns are mostly responsible for protecting and governing themselves. There are also known to be dangerous creatures in the area.

The Cradle

Vreta nodded in agreement. “Indeed. We have vehicles that can get us where we need to go once we are on the surface. Our landing zone does not decide which lead we investigate, so I say we land in the mountains to make sure the ship is safe. That said, I do believe we should monitor the locals safely from a distance, and take the time to investigate the other leads before we do anything that risks bringing us into contact with the natives.”

Finding his moment to chime in, Nirann also spoke up. I can keep scans going consistently, regardless of where I am. Though, no matter which one you investigate first, I would also recommend that everyone be in disguise as a native at all times, no matter whether you expect to run into any of them or not. We can’t track every lifeform on the planet, and all it would take would be one stray hermit or lost hiker to spot you, even far from their cities.”

Again, Vreta nodded. “Well, I think we should all get ourselves ready, then. Who is going to be on our ground team?”

Call of the Hunt [EliteCommander and Muttonhawk]

For some parts of Fendros’ speech, his words were, for many, as difficult to hear as they had been to speak. The changes through the years had truly been immense. Before all of this started, the lives of lycans had not been easy, but it had been far simpler. To band together in their packs, to live and hunt in the wilds of Tamriel, it was a challenge every day, but it was the life lycans were meant to lead. Hunter and hunted. War had not been what they were made for. For those who had not been worshipers of Hircine, the transition to life among clans might have been a relief. However, one could hardly say that there had been any for whom the war had been an improvement. Even for those who took glory in battle, a war against one so devious as Vile had hardly been honorable. Once the soul-tearing gas had been made, the clans had been forced into hiding like rats. Hunting parties, even entire clans were massacred to the last without so much as being able to put up a fight. There were few standing here now who could not share in the pain of the losses from that time, and now again, they stood together in silent mourning for the battle just behind them. The General who had led them for years, countless warriors who had not returned from beyond the portal, and even their own Champion were now gone.

Although, there was a point in Fendros’ speech where the mood seemed to start to shift. “The war is over.” That, and much else that Fendros had said, was something that many of these warriors likely already “knew” on some level. Defeat for them was something that likely would have meant death for most, if not all of them, and neither Meesei nor Ri’vashi had been seen since the battle’s end, when they certainly would have been the first to have wanted to rally them together. This, however, was the first time they were hearing it aloud from their leaders. Now, they could say truly that the war was over. Not only that, but they were victorious. It was not immediate, but as Fendros continued, one could sense a certain energy to the crowd that was not there at the start. Regardless of the pain and sacrifice, there was now something ahead for the survivors who stood here now, and in this moment, that was something they could celebrate.

At their core, all lycans, no matter the type, were hunters, and as Fendros had just said so clearly, their hunt was a success. Their prey, in practical terms, was slain, and that called for feasting and cheer to every hunter: man, woman, or beast. And cheer, they did. When Fendros’ voice finally ceased, it was met with the roar of the crowd. For just this moment, it felt easy to put aside all that was now gone and instead embrace victory. After a few moments, there was one shout that was loud enough to be audible over the rest: “godhunter!” Elsewhere in the crowd, a Nord’s voice repeated: “To the Godhunter!” It took mere moments for the cheer to spread and repeat throughout the crowd, among lycans from all clans, from all over Tamriel, who were now shouting up to their Champion: “Godhunter. Godhunter!”

Call of the Hunt [EliteCommander and Muttonhawk]

I will try to get my response in tomorrow.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

EliteCommander and Blizz

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With a nod, Kareet removed her backpack and set it down beside her. She took a few moments to pull from it a blanket, unroll it, then lay it out gingerly on the ground in front of her. She sat herself down cross-legged on the blanket, careful to keep her feathers out of the dirt. Her gaze settled down on the Iriad before her, examining them. “Indeed, though I shall offer a counterpoint. How would it be that anyone could hope to meet you, specifically, without stalking you?” She remarked, accompanied by a chuckle.

Kareet leaned forward, her brief moment of levity fading quickly from her voice. “I am Kareet of Arcaeda, Seeker of the Order of Sages. Allow me to make it known from the start that my purpose here is nothing more or less than the pursuit of knowledge. You are…a rumor, a myth in some places. It is a courtesy we would like to extend to you to allow you to tell your own story, free from…misinterpretation.”

Shirik was familiar with the Seekers. They were the scholars of the Ascendancy. Its scribes, its scientists, and its researchers. Shirik had never met one of them however, and hadn’t expected to. ”A myth. In what stretch of the Ascendancy do they whisper of someone who simply minds their business?” Shirik asked, slightly more passive aggressive than they really intended to come off as.

“You would be surprised how far and wide stories can travel, especially given time.” Kareet answered, though her gaze was still taking in all the little details of the Iriad’s unique form. “A caravan from Mythadia made it to Arcaeda a few weeks ago, speaking of an Iriad who was ‘one with fire’ that had been seen near the border. A fantastic contradiction, to most. Yet, not actually an original tale. Our records have stories from hundreds…a thousand years back that tell tales of a burning Iriad. Reclusive, mysterious, and evidently…quite real.”

Pausing a moment, Kareet straightened her posture slightly. “Of course, the notion that all of these disparate stories could refer to the same individual is quite far-fetched. I am, I would say, curious what might cause the people from these stories to break so sharply from their people’s traditional attitudes towards fire.”

It was true that all of those stories spoke of the same individual. Shirik was no longer the isolated hermit they once were. Their presence in the world was bound to elicit curiosity, but hearing someone say that stories stretched across time, all the way back to the Day of Black Clouds was something Shirik hadn’t expected. Being told that stories were written down since that day took the aggression out of them somewhat.

Shirik paused, and took a deep breath before continuing. ”Your presence is abrupt. I expected to be alone. My anger is unfounded. Forgive me.”

Kareet shrugged lightly, gesturing towards her own body. “I am unharmed.” She answered. Not an uncommon expression for accepting an apology, in Arcaeda. “From my understanding, you move frequently, and unpredictably. Were there a way to find you in a less surprising fashion, I would have chosen it. I am not sure if you are familiar with the Seekers, or the Order of Sages, but I genuinely just wish to learn from you.”

”You followed me looking for objective understanding. As you can see. I do in fact, exist. The stories are real. There is an Iriad who is one with fire that walks Kanth-Aramek, and they are sat before you.”

Shirik fidgeted with that magic staff that lay across their knees. ”I am more than one thousand years old. I did not know the accounts stretch that far back..”

Kareet tilted her head, raising the brows of both of her right eyes. The claim this Iriad made had not been entirely unexpected, but at the same time, it felt like it could not be possible. For now, Kareet had to press forward with cautious skepticism. “Those accounts fall well into the category of myth. Fables. A story of an Iriad who merged with flame in the wake of the Day of Black Clouds? Well, most scholars today see that as story meant to highlight the cruelty of the Kolodon Empire. And a warning of what could happen if they could not stop them. At the time, at least, flame was considered a dangerous evil to the Iriad. Moreso than it is today. A story about how the Kolodon could force this evil thing into them seemed like a story meant to motivate them to fight harder. But you are saying that this story is…more than a fable?”

”I am the one these myths speak of. I was there. The day they first set fire to our home… I would not have made it out of there alive had this not happened to me.”

Shirik raised an arm up, the wood that made their skin was charred, and broken around their joints. Their hands were completely bare, and made of faintly glowing endomatter underneath. ”The flame embraced me, and it changed what I was. I became something else. The antithesis to my people. I left when the fires dwindled, and I did not go back.”

There was just a brief interruption from Kareet, once it felt appropriate. “Forgive me, if you would permit me, I would like to record this.” Reaching into her backpack beside her, Kareet produced a leather-bound notebook. With her hand held above her backpack, she rubbed her first and middle fingers together, then flicked her wrist. From one of the pouches on the side, her metal fountain pen magnetized up into her hand. From the Iriad’s perspective, either a show of Force or Lightning magic.

“If I might ask, do you have a name?” Kareet questioned, opening up her notebook to a blank page.

Shirik could not squint, but they had something akin to scrutiny written on their face. ”My name is Shirik. You’re a Psion.” The term “Psion” was a distinctive term some people used to describe those who were skilled in the domain of Force. Few people were familiar with magic, and even fewer knew of the terminology.

Already, Kareet began to write down what Shirik had told her so far, though after a few moments, she divided her attention enough to give them an answer. “Psion? Hmm, not a common term, really. Not within the usual schools of study, at least. You must be well-traveled. But no, I am not. You are close, though.”

Holding up one hand, Kareet flicked her thumb across the talons on her fingers, prompting sparks of electricity to arc between them for a few seconds. “You are plainly a being of magic, and I believe it fair that I give you the courtesy of knowing the same about me. So we both can approach this encounter on equal ground.”

”A Stormcaller. Yes, I am familiar with that magic. I was… Likely the first living creature in Kanth-Aramek to experience any form of it. History tells us that magic has only existed for the last four centuries at most. The Day of Black Clouds was six centuries earlier. We did not know of such a thing, and I did not call it magic until I heard others refer to it as such. When I rejoined the world after six hundred years in isolation, the world seemed to have caught up to me. I sought the understanding that others would have hopefully come to, in order to fill the gaps in my own. Therefore, I am the first, and oldest master of the domain of Heat.”

There was a brief delay as Kareet wrote. While focused on that task, she did not give much in the way of a reaction. It was only once she lifted her pen that she let her curiosity express itself. “To claim an awakening so early in history is exceptional. It has never been known, truly, for how long magic has been with us. Has it always been here, but we were blind to it, or did something bring it in to our world? Your story may suggest the former, though it is not entirely proof of it. The case may simply be that magic was introduced to the world a few centuries earlier than we thought.”

After a moment, Kareet looked at them intently while hovering her pen over her notebook. “I have met many a Heat domain mage in my time, but none have seemed to embrace flame so deeply as you. Forgive me for how this sounds, I mean no offense by it, but how can you be alive? You seem burned so deeply, almost to your core. Your protective bark is gone, and I see no way for you to feed from the sun.”

”I feed from the fire. These flames are what sustain me. The notion that I am one with fire may be a sort of poetic metaphor in the accounts you’ve heard, but it is more literal than that. I did not embrace the flame, it embraced me. It opened me to the power, or awakened me as most prefer. It is an intrinsic part of what I have become, and is inseparable from my physical form.”

“Fascinating…” Kareet muttered to herself. For a few moments, her writing became almost frantic in pace. “This is something entirely unique, something new. Well…new to us, perhaps. If you were indeed the first of the Heat mages, then I suppose this would be the oldest form of magic. Yet, it is not something that the world, as a whole, understands. Would you say that it is something you understand, yourself? The way that you describe it, it sounds as if this is something that happened to you, rather than something you discovered as a result of those circumstances. If you wanted to teach someone to be able to embrace flame, would you be able to do it?”

Shirik measured their words very carefully before giving Kareet an answer. ”I experienced something the greatest minds of our time could not fathom. I have suffered pain that is quite literally mythic in nature. Could I teach others to control the power of fire? Yes. But, there is nothing in this world that could do to anyone else what has been done to me. There is a degree of understanding I have stumbled upon through this pain. It is not something any other person deserves to bear the weight of. What I have become is not something to aspire towards.”

Kareet gave a light nod, this time not returning to her writing. She rested her pen down on her notebook and clasped one hand over the other. “The Sages have a saying which I believe is apt: ‘Every life is a lesson’. From our childhoods, to maturity, to old age, to death, we all walk a path of our own. Every experience teaches and builds us. In the end, who we become is a product of every lesson life gave us. Yet, only we see through our own eyes. Left as is, no one else can experience our lessons. Now, I realize that the Iriad experience ancestral memory, so perhaps this philosophy is less applicable to your kind, but for the rest of us, the only way for others to benefit from our lessons is to teach. That is, fundamentally, the purpose of the Order of Sages. We learn, not only to build ourselves, but to build the experience of everyone who can read our works. Our struggles, our joy, our suffering, we give to others so that the generations that follow will be able to climb higher on our shoulders. With the…creativity of the mind, you never know what one might take from your lessons. Can you be so sure that what was pain for you might not end up helping someone in the future?”

”To live as long as I have, one must spend a lifetime detached from the world. For over six hundred years, I retreated into the depths of my mind to wade through pain like an ocean. I was not the only one of my kind to be burned alive, but I was the only one who survived it. The power and control I possess over the Heat domain is something many could benefit from, and I have helped a great deal of people along the way. If there is ever a way to recreate what I experienced, what changed me to what I am now? I would not wish it upon my worst enemies.”

“And if you could give this knowledge without the pain, would you? Do you feel your expertise would be able to help the world, if only the price were not so high? No one would take on the pain you describe willingly. But, maybe there is some way to achieve those ends without such terrible means? If not, if it truly is impossible, then that part of your story will likely remain in libraries; a testament to what you have been through. But, perhaps one day, maybe in decades, or centuries, someone will figure it out? Maybe those steps you have taken in your life will lead someone else to even greater heights?” Kareet spoke softly, intending to be as encouraging as possible.

”What you are describing is nothing more than indisputable mastery of the Heat domain. Without what I’ve become, there is only what I can do. That is something that can be learned and taught. Doing something can be passed on, but being something is not the same. Are you suggesting I give others the mastery I have, somehow?”

Kareet shook her head. “I am asking only that you describe, as best as you can, what you have become. How does it interact with your magic, and what does it do within you? I am not suggesting that someone would want to…become like you willingly. You have described what you had to sacrifice, and I agree with you when you say you would not want to encourage someone to go through that. But I am not exaggerating when I say you are entirely unique. To understand you is to bring to the world entirely new knowledge. To simply understand the nature of your being and how magic has become a part of you could lead to other discoveries down the road. Perhaps kinds of discoveries we cannot even imagine.”

Leaning forward, Kareet gestured her hands forward. “I will give an example. When I traveled to Torant, I noticed them using a clever arrangement of pulleys and metal gears to operate a lift, driven by a Lightning mage. Now, in most places, they use Force mages for heavy lifting. It is a natural solution, if you are moving around something non-magnetic, like stone. But, it is easier to use magnetism to move a certain weight than to use Force magic for the same weight. The person who created these magnetic lifts was inspired by watching mages who fought in gladiatorial competitions. He noticed that Lightning mages would almost always overpower Force mages when they were struggling over something metal. Now, using that lift, one Lightning mage can hoist up slabs of stone that would require a small team of Force mages. Yet, those gladiators weren’t trying to make better construction equipment. They were just trying to hone their own craft. Someone else took that bit of knowledge and made something new with it.”

”I’ve been to Torant. I have seen what you’re describing…” Shirik said, thinking for a moment.

”Earlier, you described yourself as a being of magic, as if to imply you are a mage. My experience tells me you are a mage, but you are not a being of magic. You are a being of flesh and bone that wields magic. I am a being of flesh and magic, because magic has been infused with my form down to the core. I do not simply wield magic. For me, it is an extension of my being. Fire is my life force, the essence that fuels my existence in this world. Without it, I simply do not exist. You, as a mage of the Lightning domain, simply direct the storm and command it. But it is not a part of you. You can be separated as a person from your magic because you do not exist at the behest of the Lightning domain. I cannot be separated from mine, because there has never been a line between me, and the flame.”

Kareet did not have a reply for Shirik’s comments on her own perspective. Rather, she was happily scribing every word they spoke, along with her own notes in the margins. “I see. It is not a conscious part of your mind, it is a part of your being. I have never heard of any case of magic having any will of its own, though. It is a force of nature, not a living thing, yet that force is so clearly fused with you. Maybe it is a part of your mind that has coupled with it; just not any part that your consciousness is aware of? I don’t think to beat my heart, but my heart would stop beating if my mind were to die. Either way, the end result would be the same.”

Kareet tapped the end of her pen lightly against her beak. “Might I see some of this magic in practice? I am curious to see if it behaves any differently for you.”

”Very well.” Shirik stood up with a creaking noise, and gripped their staff in one hand. With the other, they undid their clasp on their cloak, letting it fall to the ground.

Shirik formed an elaborate sign with their right hand, and pressed it to their chest, which prompted the flames swirling under their skin to glow brighter. They raised their staff and pointed it over the cliff, in the direction of the moon. Suddenly, the stones woven into the staff burst into flame, and a stream of fire sprung forth, brilliant and bright like a morning sun.

The blast climbed into the air for miles with a noise like a howling beast, as the veritable shooting star eventually faded into nothing. Once it was gone, Shirik turned to Kareet once again.
”That is the power I control.”

Flipping to a new page, Kareet started frantically sketching what she saw, not from the demonstration of fire itself, but of the techniques Shirik was using to create it. A plume of flame, visible for miles around, was the sort of mastery she expected from a mage with so many years of experience. Without more testing, and comparisons to other Heat mages, she could not know if Shirik was stronger, and by how much, but that was immaterial at the moment. What mattered to Kareet was how they were casting. Kareet herself was a Lightning mage, but just because she did not have the practice to use the Heat Domain herself, that did not mean she could not understand it on an academic level. She, and many others in the Order of Sages, were educated in all Domains of magic. Even those who could not use magic at all. She was still capable of comprehending what she was witnessing. These forms were so distinct from how the Heat Domain was normally taught. The base patterns were still there, sure, but Shirik was not lying when they said fire had become a part of them. The way the flames had flared within their body, flowing along with the motions, was elegant and, obviously, entirely unique to this Iriad. She could only begin to imagine how the flow of magic within the body might interact with how the effect manifested in the end.

This time, Kareet did not have a quick response. She was still in the midst of sketching one image after another of Shirik in each successive step of the spell’s casting. Though, if they were familiar enough with Tekeri to notice, Kareet was not hiding her excitement.

”You seem oddly ecstatic for someone who has met Heat mages before.” Shirik could feel a sudden wave of heat begin to roll over the meadow they rested in. It would have been uncomfortably hot to others, so Shirik forcefully slammed the bottom end of their staff into the dirt, which resulted in what Kareet may have perceived as a gust of wind. The air suddenly felt much cooler, and pleasant as a result.

For as long as she was still drawing, Kareet did not pull her gaze away from the pages. She had taken care to remember the motions as accurately as possible while observing, and so now she had to get them down on paper while they were still fresh in her mind. “Um, yes…I suppose I am. Your technique is new. Unusual. Everyone’s individual gestures and forms are a bit different, of course, but yours are quite different. Even if the end result is the same, how your process can be so different is something worth understanding.”

Eventually, Kareet did give a quick, fleeting glance up at Shirik. She had noticed the heat washing over them, which was something of an unexpected side effect. Obviously, fire warmed its surroundings, but the way it covered the area well-after the plume was gone made it seem like it came from Shirik themselves. She wondered if that was a result of their unique forms, though that was a question to explore later. “You are using the staff as a focus within your forms. Is that a technique you learned from others, or one you came to yourself? I do much the same in some of my forms, when I need to defend myself.”

”I learned this myself. There are only so many motions one can make with their limbs alone. Eventually, an instrument of some sort becomes necessary to open new potential. For me, it is this staff.” As if to demonstrate, Shirik rolled the staff over their wrist, as a spark appeared at one end. The motion formed it into a large ring, and Shirik swiped across it with the staff, causing stick figure shapes to dance across it like pages in a book. They resembled S’Tor, Iriad, and all the other major denizens of Kanth-Aramek. This seemed to merely be something to satisfy Kareet’s fascination, but was a display of fine control nonetheless.
”Everything is done through motion, and fortunately, that doesn’t change for me.”

It was perhaps amusing that, compared to a plume of flame that had lit up the night, this little show of sparks captured so much more of Kareet’s attention and curiosity. Great raw power, while not easy to execute, was easier to understand, conceptually. This little light show hovering above a staff, though, spoke of an entirely different sort of control. Using magic for entertainment was hardly a new idea; indeed, it was a concept almost as old as magic itself. These little figures of light, though, were something that would be deceptively difficult for a Heat mage to create through movement. A caster’s thoughts were also an integral part of using magic, so a part of Kareet wondered if, perhaps, thought was a bigger part of Shirik’s casting, proportionally? In any case, although deep in thought, Kareet did seem to be more relaxed. For once, she was no longer drawing or writing, and instead looked almost mesmerized by the simple light show.

Eventually, the shapes disappeared into thin air. ”The overarching rule of magic is that to do it requires movement. Somatics. The more powerful a spell is, the more it demands from its user. One might argue that there are spells so simple that one need not move at all. If that is true, they do not apply to me. The use of magic is like a sword. Harming someone with it requires movement on the part of its wielder, but even a weapon that remains completely still can hurt someone. I don’t wield magic as a weapon, but as part of myself, as I’ve already mentioned. Therefore, everything I do involves greater dedication to somatic casting.”

Kareet still wondered if there was something more behind it. There was clearly motion, but perhaps also thought? Intention? There was something that made it seem like it was a part of Shirik’s being, and that was a question that she did not know how to answer at the moment. Kareet had already learned enough to be worth bringing back. A historical account, as well as a potential avenue of research in the Heat Domain; both had fulfilled her mission. Yet, there was still more to learn. More that could not be ascertained in just a night’s conversation. This was a subject worthy of greater understanding.

“With everything I have learned about you, all that the rumors have said, I do find myself curious why you are so…elusive? Separating yourselves from the Iriad I understand, your…nature is in conflict with your people’s traditions. It is through no fault of your own, but that is the reality of things. Yet, you do not seem to want to isolate yourself. Not anymore, at least. You’ve visited towns, you’ve helped people, you even visited Torant, capital of Mythadia. There are places where you can live openly. The world has changed through the centuries; you don’t have to hide anymore.”

”I don’t hide. I never have. I simply keep to myself, because I find it easy to do.” There was more to it than that, but Shirik did not know this woman enough to divulge past that. ”We live in Kanth-Aramek. We do not live in Torant. We do not live in Uldrakir. There is an entire world laid before us, and I slipped away from it to avoid harming others. I missed more than enough in that time. I don’t intend to miss more.”

“A fair point.” Kareet nodded. “But how much do you truly see if you move so far, so quickly? There is so much of the world that is…hidden in the details. You might meet a lot of people wandering from town to town, but can you say you really know them? To form friendships, to learn about people more than just for a few stories around a campfire, but to know their principles, their dreams, their ambitions. And that’s just one person. Cities can be like an…ecosystem of different groups, all interacting in ways that can take years to just start to wrap your head around. I am not suggesting you pick somewhere to settle down for life, but maybe you would find it fulfilling to spend a few years really getting to know a place?”

”I am content to move as I do. Where I go, I help people who need help, and rest in places where they do not. I have seen most of what this world has to show. If I decide to stop moving, I will have no trouble finding a place to do so.”

“Well, I do not intend to try to argue that you should change your whole life. I merely wish to offer my perspective.” Kareet remarked. After a moment, she picked back up her notebook, pulled her pen into her hand, and resumed her notes. “Do you mind if I stay here for a while? I would like to try to get down what I can while I have you here. Should you tire of conversation, just ask and I will take my leave. And if you have any questions, well..I suppose it is only fair that I answer in return.”

”I suppose you can. I had considered traveling from here to the Ascendancy, so I may decide to leave soon. If I do, you may as well follow me there if you wish to ask me more questions.”

Kareet nodded in return, peering up at them from her notes. “Is that so? Well, if you are wanting to see my homeland, I would be happy to show you Arcaeda. That will be where I shall be returning.” She opened up to the sketches she had made and began to add more detail to clarify what she remembered of the techniques.

”Very well.” Shrink walked over to a tree and hacked away at some thin branches, and then laid them in a pile between themself and Kareet. Shirk then lit them up in a campfire. They weren’t going to rely solely on their own body to light this area up, and oddly enough, the campfire Shirik made didn’t burn the grass it was sat directly on top of.

Shirik rested against a tree and then tuned out the world as the night went on.

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

In her time tracking this being, Kareet had pieced together rumors and story into a picture of who they might have been. Something like an Iriad, yet also the antithesis of one. To any people, fire was, of course, dangerous, yet there was a dichotomy to it. Fire was also an invaluable tool to most civilizations. It allowed them to cook their food, provide heat in places where warmth was a commodity, and to forge metals to their needs. However, the Iriad had, traditionally, little use for most of a fire’s utility. To them, there was nothing left of it but a threat to what they held most dear. Curiously, this was not the first they had heard of this “burning Iriad”. Stories of Iriad imbued with flame went back centuries, even all the way back to the start of the Kolodon Empire in some cases. Though, Kareet was skeptical of those claims. In any case, aside from some cautionary fables from the Myriad, these stories did not necessarily paint this being, or beings, as a danger. Especially not the more recent rumors.

In the dark of the night, the light of this being’s flame had been like a beacon to the eyes of a Tekeri like Kareet. She did not hide on approach, at least not after she set her gaze clearly upon the being. This was, undoubtedly, her quarry. She approached openly, stepping into the area illuminated by the flame. Her eyes were visible first, as with how the light reflected from within them, all four were given a piercing red glow. Once in the light, though, it was easier to see the Tekeri’s features. She was towering in height compared to the average Iriad. Most likely, the being would not be able to tell on sight whether she was male or female, as Tekeri had no readily apparent features to distinguish one from the other that an outsider’s eyes would be able to notice. At least, not without many years living among them.

The way Kareet carried herself was, in some ways, an interesting contradiction. She was clearly in good physical shape, like a soldier or explorer more than a farmer or laborer. Yet, apart from some of the feathers just above her scaled feet, the rest of her plumage seemed far too clean for that. One would have to spend a not inconsiderable amount of time washing and preening to keep their feathers clear of dirt and dust picked up on a long road. All she wore was a rugged leather traveler’s backpack, with no jewelry or other decorations that might have been popular in the cities, yet her beak was immaculate, shining in the fire light as if polished. Such a practice tended to be restricted to at least the somewhat wealthy, due to the cost of the oils they used.

“There is no risk of violence here, unless you are the one to create it.” Kareet answered, speaking in S’toric. “Would you grant a traveler’s request to rest in your camp?”

The Eye of the Needle (where Fantasy and Sci-fi collide)

The bustle in the streets of the small mountain town was hitting its peak now that dusk was settling on the landscape. It was a place called Ertiseda, nestled in a pass between two mountains, near to the border of the Ascendancy and Mythadia. It was, for the most part, a trading post that had sprung up naturally along one of the roads leading from Mythadia directly to Arcaeda. It was in Ascendancy territory and majority Tekeri, though this close to the border, there was a fair Glen population in town. The two populations had something of a convenient arrangement for how they ran their town. In the day, Glen were mostly the ones out and about, running their shops and going about their daily tasks. Overnight, it was the nocturnal Tekeri who took over the same shops and did their jobs in the darkness. No matter what time of day a traveler arrived, every service the town provided was always available. Dusk and dawn were the only times of day where the whole town tended to be awake at the same time, right as one group was getting up and ready to start their day, but before the other was ending theirs.

Kareet had been speaking with a Glen at his produce stall in the market. He was middle-aged, somewhat unkempt fur, though still…acceptably presentable. His antlers looked to be about halfway through with growing in for the season. A lot of the Glen around them looked to be closing up their stalls for the evening as the Tekeri came in to replace them, so Kareet would likely be one of his last customers for the evening.

“And you’re sure it was to the north?” Kareet asked.

The Glen gave an emphatic nod. “Oh, yeah, yeah. An Iriad comes strollin’ through town lookin’ like a bonfire, that’s not somethin’ ya miss. Didn’t make much sense to me; didn’t think those plants liked fire all that much. Innkeep made ‘em prove they could keep from burnin’ the place down before she’d let ‘em in, I ‘member. We still had some boys pull up some water buckets from the creek, but…well, they didn’t cause no trouble. Didn’t stay long, neither.”

Kareet tilted her head slightly, looking off to the north. “I see. Do you have any idea why they just went off into the mountains? There are no roads leading off that way.”

The Glen shrugged. “No clue. They didn’t come in off the road either, though. Just wandered in out of the woods from the south, from what I heard.”

“Hmm, well, thank you.” Kareet replied, giving a moment to take a look around the stall. After a few seconds, she pointed to a hard-shelled fruit about the size of her fist. “I’ll take one of those.” She said, mostly as a courtesy for taking his time.

Kareet slid over a pair of copper coins, then slipped the fruit into her backpack before moving on. She weaved through the crowd, ignoring the rest of the market around her as she made her way out of town from the north side. Pausing briefly, she gave a look up to the forest-covered mountainside, and the steep climb that would be ahead of her. “Why couldn’t they just use the road?” She muttered to herself.

Eye of the Needle (where Sci-fi & Fantasy collide)

The starting background information has been filled in on the OOC, and we are getting ready to get started soon. Though, we are still looking for a few more members, in case there is anyone else who might be interested.

The Cradle

Vreta observed the options before them as well. What they chose would have to be a compromise between the needs of their mission, and their need for secrecy. “All of these are rather well hidden for the ship itself, though we need to be cautious in what we do on the surface. We must avoid discovery by the natives.”

Pausing a moment, Vreta highlighted the rotten bough. “To my opinion, this may be a good place to start. What we know about our target is that they are life-seeders. If this object is not so buried as the Navigator on Rothia, then there are two places I may expect it to be. The natives may have built their largest population center around it, or it is connected in some way to this Morgrawal that covers so much of the planet. It is best for us not to interact with the natives unless absolutely necessary, so investigating this heart would be our best first choice. In the meantime, while on the surface, our ship will be able to scan in even greater detail to isolate our target’s signal.”