GinookazenoJinn

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Oh he will be fine.. if not a little tired from all of the hard traveling, and a bit a blood loss :D
Edit: Also don't forget I have Jinn as well.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Alright I want a good clean fight!
No nipple twistin, no hair pullin, and absolutely no tusslin

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Hm, I should post as Marco. He needs to make friends.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Who let this child have a knife again?

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Marco Maxell

---

Marco had slept well that night, though it was still rough to achieve slumber.

He sat tucked under blankets that were soft to the touch, that carried a radiating warmth, that made it hard to ignore comfort. The simple room that he was given felt right for him. It was nothing special and almost as if it was made for him. Though, after the exceptional dinner, he did not doubt that it was. He laid with his journal open, quill scratching lightly, as he worked odd equations out by the light of a bright candle. Every so often, his eyes would dart to the windows. He still felt the lump of fear that choked his breath at the thought of an invade leaping through. After a briefly, tense moment the boy tore the blankets off of him and went to cover the windows from the glare of the moon outside.

As mystifying of a sight as the moon was, the boy still felt the cold reality of fear. He drew a thick curtain over the windows, hiding himself from the gaze of the moon. He extinguished the candle with a quick wave as he crossed the room again, retreating into the cover of the blanket again. In the dark, he could feel the presence of his own mind. He could feel the fear gripping at him and drinking in the sensation of his innocence, his weakness.

He reached down to his waistline and pulled the dagger free from his night clothing. It brought him comfort and it made him feel safe. He closed his eyes and held the dagger tight as he tried on focusing his mind.

---

As morning came, or what could be described as morning despite the moon hanging above them constantly, Marco departed from his room. He was dressed and prepared for what may come, hopefully. His body was still tense earlier that night, though his mind had calmed.

He clutched the dagger close to him, wrapped again in the same cloth as always and tucked inside of his robes, and made his way through the manor. He didn't know exactly what was available to him, or whom he could have asked to guide him. He figured that he would be alright, he wasn't that easy to ignore and be forgotten right? So wandering would be alright. It recalled him of an old tale, about a young adventurer lost in the depths of a labyrinth being chased by a large beast. Marco shuddered at the thought and picked up his pace. He could only hope that there wasn't some overly large cow laying in wait for him.

There was no cow, to be certain. Though the hallways went back and forth constantly, with no clear defined path, Marco would eventually find himself coming across a destination. It was a long trip to the double doors in the hallway that seemed no different than the rest of them, but the result was certainly worth it to someone like Marco. After all, the doors would open for him, revealing the massive library beyond, the one that stretched high up above and was ridiculously long, the room alone most likely the largest thing that Marco had ever seen.

However, the path in front of Marco would once again guide him through the library. Like the hallways had done before, the shelves seemed to be set in such a way to guide him deeper and deeper into the library, though they did so much more subtly; only a turn as necessary, with more straight lines instead of corners. Eventually, it led him to the side, towards one of the walls, where one table (like many others he had already seen in the library) was set against it. There were two chairs facing the wall, and one was already occupied by the Lady of Demons herself.

She sat with her back to him, and apparently a book in her hands that she looked down to. To begin with, it seemed like she wasn't aware of him; however, there were subtle, slight changes that he might have noticed that told otherwise. After all, as he approached her head tilted slightly, but beyond that there wasn't a sign at all, and she certainly didn't turn to say anything to him.

It was a thing of beauty, a place of his dreams.

Marco's jaw dropped as the door before him opened wide. Perhaps he did die and was received by the Divine, gone to the place that his mother and father were waiting for him. More books than he thought existed, tomes and texts lost to most historians. He walked slowly through the grand hall, eyes scanning each book that seemed to captured his attention.

"Tales of Heroes and Epics...", he read the title of one that sat above him on a higher shelf. A quick look around to see if there was something that he could stand upon, sadly there wasn't. Shrugging he reached out with his arm and extended his magic forward to grasp the book. He brought it down to him and tucked it under his arm and continued to walk along the path. Wherever he was meant to go, he followed along willingly. It wasn't as if he could ignore a force that drove him like this. Though he soon wished that he had.

He stood before her, book in hand and grew tense. She didn't even acknowledge his presence, not physically at least. As he approached her he noticed the head tilt and stopped again. "Good morning, Lady Renata. May I join you?", he asked politely as he bowed. He was the one interrupting her private time, it was only proper that he should ask permission.

With the voice of the young mage the Lady of Demons finally looked up from her book slightly, and then turned her head to look towards him slightly over her shoulder. Facial expression calmly neutral to begin with, her unique sort of smiling soon came over it, her nodding slightly. Even as she nodded the chair next to her moved slightly, pulling out and turning turning so that it would be easier for him to sit down into it.

"Of course, Mr. Maxwell. I don't see any problem with it at all. Come, sit down."

The book in her hands was slightly raised, her hands nearly closing it but not quite as she looked to him instead; whatever it was, it was very old, worn down with age and its color a very faded green, what may have once been golden but were now brown letters etched into the cover in some language he couldn't recognize.

He took the offered sit with a bright smile. "Thank you, Milady," he said as he laid the book he carried on the table before him. He took notice of her book, his curiosity wonder what was inside. as Master Az'Cer always said: The older the book, the more you could learn from it.

He wasn't sure if he should ask however, seeing how she wished to keep it hidden by her movements. Instead, he opened his won book and began to read. His eyes moved rapidly as he absorbed the information. "I have a question, Milady, if you will allow me," he stated without lifting his eyes from the pages. He turned a page over and quick skimmed over legends of local heroes of Barcean, stopping once he noticed his master's name. "You said that you had gifts for us," he began after reading a quick passage.

"I am curious as to what you had in store for me."

The smirk grew on Lady Renata's face, her slowly closing her book completely and setting it gently to the side. "Curious, aren't you? The youngest usually are, and they're the most straightforward and honest about it. It's refreshing." Her hand turned over then, palm up and fingers curled slightly as she held it out towards to him. "Very well then. If you don't mind, I'd like to see that knife you've made your keepsake."

Marco nodded and placed the book down, closing the cover with a soft thud. He pushed it away to clear enough room for him to lay the dagger out. The blade was a simple design, straight sleek edges that meet at a fine point. Much of his dried blood had flaked off, though the rune pattern of his personal seal remained.

"Here it is," he said as if there wasn't anything special about the blade.

Gently she took the blade from him, and as soon as it entered her hands it began to vibrate subtly, so quickly and yet so slightly it was almost impossible to see to the naked human eye. Slowly she turned it back and forth, looking over it with almost a bored expression. "Hmmm... It seems to me, Mr. Maxwell, you have a latent talent you're just beginning to tap into. Amusingly enough, you can thank the Advisor for that, I suppose. However... You're inexperienced and untested, and blood magic can be quite dangerous, as I'm sure you know."

He nodded again and sighed a bit.

"As I have been told, by many more educated than myself. Unfortunately, I can not find a way to gain the experience to be tested." He turned to face her, a small look of despair flickering across his eyes. He had learned much and more with his time within Barcea, but there was always more to learn and more to discover. It was consuming him, day and night. It was an endless struggle and in this time of war, it felt was if there wasn't enough time. "I just want to be useful to Queen Kori and Prince Cyril. I don't want to be something that my father would be ashamed of."

"Admirable enough, but ultimately meaningless if you end up hurting yourself or those you're so desperate to assist. With that stated, allow me to temper the blade a little for you, so that they learning curve is not so steep."

Quite calmly the Lady of Demons brought her other hand over, and ran it over the edge of the blade. Though she clearly cut herself, she healed just as fast (or perhaps even faster) than the pace she sliced along her finger, her digit appearing as if it had never been harmed at all. However, the very sharpened edge of the blade was stained a bright red, and would remain that way from then on.

With the deed done, she held it back out to the young mage. "With my blood added, you should find it a little easier to grasp and control. Specifically, any blood you draw with this blade will now be yours to control. It might take a little bit of practice to begin with at first, but I'm sure you'll figure it out soon enough."

Marco grasped the hilt of the blade and eye'd the edge of the blade in the light provided by the chandeliers above. He gave the blade a slight nudge with his magic, causing it to vibrate rapidly as the runes appeared just like before hand. "Thank you," he said briefly after staring at the blade and allowing his magic to retreat back into his person.

"Though time isn't something that we have much of a luxury of anymore, so my practice would need to begin quite rapidly." He gave the blade a slight prick against his finger, drawing small beads of blood to the surface of his skin. He slid the blood against the flat side of the dagger, much like how someone would sharpen a tool. "Sharp enough to slice flesh and armor alike, I need this to be a tool in order to protect myself and my allies." His thoughts were voiced aloud as whispers while he watched the blood form under his spell. He picked up the cloth he used before and wiped the blade off of excess fluid. The oiled cloth parted ways as it made contact along the edge, falling into two pieces as he finished.

He stared at the cloth, stained red with blood, then to his palm, gaping gash leaking blood over himself and the table that he sat at. He was in shock, because he felt no pain, and he had to react quickly. Taking a deep, shaky breath the boy used the cloth to wrap his hand up and squeezed tightly. "I-I suppose that I should be more patient than I am now."

The Lady of Demons chuckled, giving a nod. She had watched the process that the young mage had gone through with only slight interest and more than a little amusement. "That you should, Mr. Maxwell. In fact, I would concentrate on making sure you know how to stitch yourself back together before you start cutting at yourself without thinking, otherwise one day you might simply pass out."

"I-indeed, I do believe that I should work on that right now actually. E-excuse me, my Lady Renata." He said quickly as he grew more pale. He clutched the dagger close as he stood up and calmly made his way away from her. Pain started to radiate from his hand as his fingers began to grow numb. He left the book behind along with Renata, and his manners it would seem. But he didn't really care right now, his hand was on fire and he was trying his hardest not to cry.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Marco Maxell

---

It hadn't taken Marco long to catch up to the others, riding at a swift gallop until he caught the tail end of their group. He had much to reflect once since the meeting with the Divine. Any whom may have noticed him would have gathered that he was more silent than usual. Like a brooding storm cloud hung over the boy for the remainder of the trip.

Though, the natural beauty of the trip though the mountains and enclosed forest was not lost to him. From time to time, he was gazing upon the lands in hopes to discover something new. He would occasionally jot down quick notes in his journal as his pony rode onward, stopping briefly to take a small sample with him. He would never pass up the opportunity to learn something new.

Once they reached the mansion however, the boy finally spoke.

"By the Divine...," he whispered quietly as the others began to dismount. He had never seen the moon that color, or that big. He could see the imperfections upon its surface due the the eons of existence that came to mar it. He quickly recovered, following the others to the large doorway that was opened to them all.

However, he did not enter soon enough. A flash of a small being came flying past him and knocked him over into a nearby fountain ass first. He quickly spat out some of the water that flew into his mouth and look toward what caused him to spill over. He wasn't angry at the girl that was embracing Etsuko, well what he assumed to be a girl with the strength of ten gorillas at least, but rather curious. He didn't dwell on it for long however. He quickly removed himself from the fountain and began drying off his belongings with a simple fire spell. "I will be in shortly," he shouted to Richard as he worked the water from this clothing, "I don't want to hold the others up." Still the butler waited patiently for him.

He wandered into the mansion with the others, surrounded by the soft sound of music like a siren's call. It was pleasant to hear and mesmerized him into following its tune. He became aware that on his own he would have been lost within the mansion's expansive halls and silently thanked Richard for his assistance. Having seen the Lady of Demons for the first time, he was conflicted. She was cute, small and adorable... but he felt nothing from her other than the warm greeting smile... or at least what he perceived as warm. He remembered the same when he saw the Divine, though he couldn't grasp how Karin looked not a day beyond her prepubescent years. Marco found himself short of breath at her sight, though he managed to hide it better than before. She looked no older than he did, though he could only imagine what magics she used to hold such an appearance.

"Thank you, ma'am, for having us," he said politely before take a seat at the far end of the hall, away from the Lady of Demons. He glanced over at his guest, the Guratan warrior named Thuraya, before their meals appeared before him. His eyes widened as he saw his favorite meal. Shepherd's pie with golden flaky crust, mashed potatoes covered in melted butter, corn off the cob in a sweet cream sauce, and bread made from cornmeal. His mouth began to water just from the different aromas, though he knew that this plate was just for him. He took up his silverware and cut into the pie, steam rising forth, and brought a small fork load to his mouth. It was quite delicious, though it felt like it missed something. The more he ate, the less he tasted the food. It was until he was half way through the pie that he knew what was missing.

A tear ran down his cheek as he thought about his mother and her passing. It was her cooking that he missed most, the love and care that went into each ingredient. He sniffed back more tears that wanted to flow, insisting on finishing his meal. He didn't want to ignore Karin's hospitality, such rudeness would sullen the teachings that his mother and father gave him. He grasped the mug of coffee, that he discovered much to his surprise again, and swallowed many hefty gulps. It burned on the way down, but warmed his chest and brought a small smile back to his face.

"I may be a simple boy," he spoke briefly as he rested the mug back down. "Born a farmer and his wife after a time of strife, but you have a way with cooking, Lady Karin. The food is delicious and reminds me of a life I may never get back. It was good to remember my roots during a time where I do not know of my future."

There was much that he was unsure of, and frankly it scared him, but he had to keep a brave face. He wasn't the only one frightened by these events he was certain. But the others came willingly and would do what they could to ensure that they remained safe. It would be foolish to think that he would do less than that. 'Divine watch over us, those who seek peace, in this war brewing at our feet,' he thought in silent prayer as be started to mix his corn with his potatoes.

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Marco Maxell

---

Marco blinked rapidly at the sight of the woman as she spoke with him quickly, unable to do much more than that. As sudden was a breeze she appeared and turned his world upside down. "A god in the flesh", he thought aloud in a small whisper escaped his lips. The reality of the situation crashed around him. His father would never believe him if he was still alive. "I doubt that even Master Az'Cer has seen one of the Divine alive, but then again I am just a simple boy with fancy tricks and I lack the depth of mind that my Master has."

He had wanted to speak, as she spoke to him, but found himself just gasping like a fool. She was beautiful to the boy, yet terrifying. He could feel the weight of her being surrounding him, suffocating him, and it scared him honestly. No being, mortal or Divine, should be able to command such power. It brought a tear to his eye, even though he was certain that he wasn't sad or upset. The boy wasn't able to properly process what he was witnessing, a Goddess among men. He fought to find his voice, to respond with her and carry on a proper greeting.

And just as quickly as the feeling came, it was gone. He let out a sigh and allowed his shoulders to slump as the Divine wandering over to others with the same cheerful poise. He shook his head and moved a bit off to the side to collect himself. 'She... it...,' his thought came back in a rush, 'She believes in me.' A smile came to his face, warmth beyond compare blossomed in his chest. 'She believes and she shows care for my well being, just like mum used too...' He had questioned that buzzed in his head, questions that burned to be answered, but he would have to wait. Others flocked to the Divine with questions of their own and he did not wish to interrupt them.

To say that the young boy was surprised by this sudden appearance was an understatement. He was sure that it went for everyone, though he couldn't say for sure how to handle the situation. Had he not witnessed the tear that she hung out of, he would find it hard to believe. 'A goddess, in the flesh stumbles upon us... I am not certain if this is a good omen or an ill one.' He didn't dwell on it long however, as other individuals made way to speak to the Divine. He was about to speak, ask Lady Ambrosia about the origin of blood magic, but he saw another he was hoping to speak to first. Marco wasn't sure of how long the Divine would be with them, so he decided to make it quick.

"Drosil," he began as the older mage walked away from his conversation with the Lady of the Abyss, "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind answering a few question of my own, if you aren't too terribly busy with that Arcane Matrix." Marco had seen the device before, though never this close up. He had read about the properties of it in the text left behind by Master Az'Cer. However, viewing on up close was far more interesting.

Drosil didn't seem to notice the boy at first, so engrossed he was in what he was doing. With a frustrated look on his face, he kept trying to impose his control spell upon the creature, only to find his attempts rebuffed time and time again. The problem was simple, he lacked the strength of will to make this beast submit, but this only made him angrier as he pushed harder and harder with his mind. As he did so, he felt a slight shiver crawl up his spine, followed by the slightest sliver of purple energy flowing into the Matrix. Suddenly, the control spell seemed to have some effect on the beast, but Drosil's frustration seemed to only grow, for he soon, released his hold on the magical energy, letting the matrix fade away into nothingness. Letting out a grumbling curse in some whispered language of old, Drosil took a moment to calm himself, only to finally take notice of the boy who had approached him.

"Oh, uh, Marco was it?" Drosil began, clearing his throat as he tried to recollect what the boy had said to him. Something about answers and questions, if he recalled correctly, so it was likely the boy wanted to ask him something. "You've some questions for me, right? I certainly wouldn't mind seeing what I could answer, though I would think a budding mage such as yourself would jump at the chance to speak to one of the Divines. It is, after all, a once in a lifetime opportunity for most."

Marco had glanced over at the Divine again as Drosil voiced his opinion. See Marco would have jumped at the opportunity to speak with the Divine, had she not intimidated him to such an extent. He was nervous about a goddess just suddenly appearing before them, but then again he was nervous about a lot since the evening at the Castle. He could still feel the dread wash over him at seeing those creatures of death and darkness.

"Yes, I do have a few questions for her, but I have one that maybe you can answer for me." He cleared his throat and swallowed his nerves as he reached for the hilt of the blood stained dagger. He held it out for Drosil to see, laid bare on the oiled cloth. "This blade is stained with my blood, it seems to react to my magic whenever I channel it. what I was wondering is if you knew anything about this phenomenal occurrence?"

Perhaps speaking with Sir Sampson had given him confidence to trust others with the subject. Despite not knowing much of the magical art, Sir Sampson was not bothered by the blade. If the Sentinel was willing to offer him aid, why wouldn't the others be as well?

"Hmm. . . How intriguing, to say the least, though not as strange as one might think. Blood is often associated with the binding of objects and magics to certain individuals, and shares a deep connection with the most powerful of magics, though it also holds an equally strong tie with that of Taboo magics that requiring gruesome deeds to be accomplished, such as human sacrifice and what not."

Drosil was quick to pluck the dagger from the boy's hands, giving it a few look overs before summoning another Spell matrix around the object, his eyes taking on a bright luminescence as he examined the magic that may be attached to the bloodied weapon, his gaze attempting to strip from it of any and all secrets it may hold. As he did so, he continued his conversation with Marco, hoping the young mage could give him some more details about the dagger.

"How, exactly, did this dagger get coated in your blood, and what do you mean specifically when you say it 'reacts' when you channel magic? Please be as detailed as you possibly can about this, so I can better understand what may be causing this binding between you and the weapon, as well as ways you could possibly turn it to your benefit."

Marco nodded a bit and moved his hand up to his wound out of habit as the memories of that night came back to mind. Even in his heightened state, he felt the sensation of his flesh parting easily before the dagger's point. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before speaking to his colleague.

"What I mean is," he began as he let the breath out, "this dagger was used to assault me during the raid on the castle a few nights ago." He lowered his hand and focused his magical talent. His personal rune spread over the back of his hand and through to his palm, the dagger began to vibrate slightly, lifting off the cloth. The same rune appeared on the flat side of the blade before spreading along the length. "And that is what I mean, the blood upon the blade's surface is my own. It would appear as if it still reacts to me, maybe even as an extension of my own magical talent."

"How odd. . .," Drosil said with a slight frown on his face, shifting the spell matrix as he studied the connection between the blade and the boy, muttering a few things under his breath. Something about 'fluctuations in the energy field' and 'improper bonding of arcane channels'. He'd go over the whole thing a few more times, assuring his inspections, as well as having Marco channel magic energy a few more times before he finally released the spell matrix, letting out a light sigh before looking up at Marco. "Well, definitely Blood Magic, though it's of a more acceptable sort. You must have lose control of your magic when attack or something like that and accidentally bonded yourself to the blade. From what I can tell, you should be able to learn how to possible wiled it telepathically with practice just by channeling energy through it. A very useful little ability, I must say, though I suggest you reinforce the connection yourself through some more mundane methods."

As Drosil spoke, his voice went from observational and objective, to very serious as he turned his gold and green eyes towards the young apprentice, having noticed the taint of Blood Magic in his investigations.

"While Blood magic offers much more expedient ways to gain power and cast spells, it's a path fraught with dark temptation and wicked compulsions. If you must use it, I suggest you wait until you've completed your studies and reached the level of an Adept, at the very least. None of the 'Dark Magics, as they are called, should ever be taken lightly, no matter how confident you are in your skills. Too many fools, both young and old, make this mistake, and most do not get the chance to regret and learn from it." While no magic was inherently bad in his eyes, he knew that Blood Magic was a steep slope to darker magics that can easily corrupted even the strongest of wills, not to mention that in order to progress in such a study, sacrifices were usually needed. With a sigh, he dropped the serious face, entering a light banter with the boy as he rose up from where he was kneeling, stretching his legs to regain the feeling in them. "If you understand this, then I'd be more than willing to assist you in strengthening the connection between this blade and yourself and helping you figure out how to control it. We should probably get Diane to over see this, however, lest we end up injuring ourselves in the process."

Marco could only nod as the gravity of what he had heard weighed in. 'He speaks from experience, from grief,' the boy thought as he matched eyes with the other mage. "Thank you, Drosil, for your council and your concern," he said with proper manners and a short bow. Marco glanced over towards the Goddess, speaking once again with the Prince. "I think... I will take up that opportunity now. Thank you again, we will speak again once we reach our destination."

Many questions were asked as Marco waited patiently, and it seemed that each person who chose to ask something of the Divine had a different way of asking it. Soon enough though, especially thanks to Vesta's question, it seemed to be time for the meeting to come to an end. The Prince had taken a moment to recover after Vesta's failed challenge against Ambrosia, and had apparently hidden just what he was thinking behind a veil focused on the task at hand. Sending his horse forward slightly, he once again approached the Divine.

"Thank you, Lady Ambrosia, for blessing us with your presence. With your permission though, we'd like to continue on so that we might reach Lady Renata's soon."

The Divine gave a happy little wave with her hand, and a nod as well. "Of course, Prince, I understand! Do enjoy your trip, and I'm sure I'll see you all again soon! Ta ta!" Giving a nod in response to her reply, the Prince gave another flick of the reins, once more beginning to lead the group past the Divine and to the east.

As the others rode off after the Prince, the young mage trailed behind. His own mare, a small pony befitting his own size, grazed close by. It was simply the boy and the goddess left. Swallowing his fears and willing himself forward he approached the Divine. "Excuse me, Madame Ambrosia, if you would allow me but a simple question." He made sure to mind his manners, it would not do well to anger a being whom could destroy him without much thought. "I am a simple boy, grown by a man and his wife. We were farmers, though my talent was not present then. After witnessing my fathers demise I grew worried for my mother. I was wondering if you knew how she fared and if you could pass a message along to her about my story."

Ambrosia looked down to him with a smile, and it was a very soft and caring smile. Slowly she floated down to his level, and her hands reached forwards from the edges of the tear to take a hold of his, gently holding them. Bowing her head briefly, she quietly said, "Your mother rests now, my dear. I'm sorry I must be the one to tell you this. She went quietly, though; she did not suffer. She would be so proud of you, as I am, and as Kori is too."

The news did not shock him, his mothers was always a sickly woman. Where anyone else would have felt sad, Marco felt empty. He nodded as the answered crashed around him like the waves crashed against the shack he lost his father to. His life was a series of storms, any peace was just the eye stared down at him from the skies above. "Thank you, Madame," he said after a brief silence, his head bowing low to hide any tears that may have come. "It is good to know that she did not suffer. I shall not disappoint you, nor Queen Kori, if I can help it." He looked her in the eye, a passionate fire a lit.

She would have felt a surge of energy come from him, like a brief explosion. He let go of her hands and gathered the reins of his pony. "Good day to you, Madame Ambrosia. May we ever be in your faith."

Once more the Divine beamed, pulling away from the young mage and giving him a nod. "Of course, my dear! Travel safely, now!"

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Welp most of my friend are AWOL on this friday evening

Time to work on some new profiles

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

@GinookazenoJinnTossing a question at ya: Want to have our two mages chat for a bit the rest of the way to the Renata Estate in a Collab. I think it'd be interesting for them to discuss research topics and what not. That being said, Drosil will not be very willing to tell your character about, well, a majority of his major research projects, for fear of the young mage repeating his mistakes, though without the help of magical magic seeing eyes

@Raijinslayer

I am always up for a collab, and seeing as I am off for the next two days it would be as good of a time as any really. Marco could use the wisdom of another that isn't his master

The Origin: A War Resumed (Arc One; Completed)

Marco And Sampson

---

The young mage had situated himself at an empty table far from the entrance, beside a window that offered a view of the town outside. He sat with a sigh and waited for his order to arrive. He wasn't sure if he would be given a drink, but he was alright either way. He lightly touched at his wound as a flash of pain appeared suddenly. "That brew seemed to not be as effective as I hoped," he stated as he lowered his arm and brushed his palm again the hilt of the knife that was used to assault him.

For a little while, Marco was left alone. After all, everyone was busy getting situated in their own ways, some already falling into their own discussions. However, one of the Sentinels didn't have any talking on the mind, and was instead thinking about catching up on all of the food he missed. This Sentinel, of course, was Sampson Avary, and already he had snuck into the kitchen and exited with heaping plates of food. To complete the getaway, though, he had to find a place to sit, which is what brought him to the mage's mostly empty table.

"Mind if I sit here, Mr. Maxwell?"

He jolted as he heard the new voice, his mind slipping into a dark corner. "Y-yes, sure! Sorry, my lord Avary," the boy was clearly flustered and scrambled to clear a spot for the Sentinel. Moving aside his bags had caused the knife to slip free from the oiled cloth it was wrapped in. He quickly ducked down to retrieve it, the darkened blade gleaming in the candlelit inn. He went silent for a brief period, unsure of what to say to someone like a Sentinel. He didn't know the man personal, only the title and surname. Apart from passing, Marco was certain that this was their first meeting.

"How is the food?," he began timidly, "How does it compare to home?"

Even if Sampson had just gotten his food, the question Marco had asked couldn't have been to anyone better suited to answer it as the Sentinel was already rapidly becoming an expert. He had a way of devouring his food at almost a frightening speed, and yet he never came close to seeming like he might choke or get full-

"Oh, it's pretty good! It's got a nice, home cooked flavor to it. A little different from what they serve at the castle, but I like it."

Marco's face brightened a bit at the news. He had enjoyed the food within the castle, Madame had a magic to her cooking that would warm any soul. Though it made him nostalgic, it also made him homesick. He sighed a bit and smiled softly. "Good to know, though I doubt I could eat at this point in time."

Marco eyed the Sentinel, nearly a decade his senior, and began to understand why the Prince had chosen the man. "Lord Avary, if you would forgive me, may I ask you a question about being a Sentinel?" He placed the knife on the table before him, the tip pointed towards his core. "I was curious as to why Lord Serio had chosen me for this journey, seeing as I am nothing more than a bookkeeper and scribe in all truth. My magical talents are weak and unimpressive compared to that of my master, but he and the queen both saw fit to bring me along this trip."

Not much could get Sampson to stop eating, and being asked a question certainly wasn't one of those things. After all, eating helped him think, so the young man with the messy brown hair continued to munch away as his eyebrows raised ever slightly. No more than a minute passed by before he swallowed, saying, "I think it's because you're so young the Prince brought you along. That's what we Sentinels do; we look after people, do our best to keep them safe, and so that's what you're doing. Besides, you might learn something, too."

With that he went back to munching, but even as he did so one hand reached forwards, turning the tip of the knife away from Marco and off into a direction to the side, away from either of them.

He took the answered in with a nod as his guest went back to eating again. "Sounds like it would be reasonable," he replied as the knife was turned away. Its keen edge pointed a safe direction. "Being a Sentinel must be a honor, though I do wish that I could provide and protect for myself and my country with more than petty tricks and cheap flashes." The memories of the previous night were still fresh in his mind. He stared hard at the knife that wounded him as his shoulder ached again.

He was about to speak again, a breath being drawn in, as a plate of food was placed before him and a pint of juice as well. Of course he was too young to drink, so he nodded and mouthed a thank to the maiden that served him. He began his meal with a silent prayer to the Divine before tearing meat with his hands and nibbling here and there. "Hmm, they added a spice to the meat. Tastes savory, but there is a heat there that blends well. I will need to remember that." The young mage used his free hand to reach into his bag and retrieve his personal tome and began to scribe the sensation he felt down. He flipped past designs and scribbles of runes to a fresh page. He used a quill that required no ink, for his magic filled the pages with his thoughts. Being ambidextrous held its advantages, though he favored his left more often than not.

Unnoticed to him however, the knife's blade began to glow with runes of his work as he continued to write. It was almost as if it reacted to his magic, being aware to what he was doing.

The Sentinel almost missed it as well, so entranced was he in his food. However, when he happened to glance in that direction he blinked, before sitting up a little straighter. "Er, Mr. Maxwell, just what are you doing?"

Marco did not look from his work, which had transformed from simple recipe to redesigning his attire. He had a vision of armor worn over robes to protect himself, but not to limit his movements. As frail as he was, he could quickly gain muscle mass with a flick of the tongue. "Hm? Oh nothing, Lord Avary. I was simply debating on how to change my wardrobe if the need arose to fight again." When the tore his eyes from the book, in hopes to better show the Sentinel, he became aware of what was transpiring.

A puzzled look appeared on the boys face as gazed down at the knife. He wiped the grease from his finger and lifted the blade to have a better look. "By the Divine, is that my work? Could this be a by product of my blood during my magical awakening? I know that Master Codigo stated that the blood of a Magus could be used as a catalyst, but I never knew that this is what he had meant. If I had known that my blood was the cause of the stains on this blade, I wouldn't have tried so hard to cleanse it off." He was clearly in awe with this discovering, ignorant to what the Sentinel might have been thinking at that point in time.

"However, blood magic can be dangerous. Fuck me, if only the library wasn't so far away now. I could do more study on it." Realizing what he had said, he stole a glance at Avary briefly. "Pardon my language of course, I lost sight of my current surroundings."

"It's, er... Fine." Sampson gave Marco a little smile, though it was slightly strained. The Sentinel was definitely more of a physical fighter than a magical one, rather he relied entirely on the physical as most of the Sentinels did, so he didn't understand too much about the in depth nature of magic. Still, he knew enough to know that blood magic could certainly be... unpleasant, especially if things didn't go well.

"Just, uh... Be careful, I suppose."

Marco had placed the knife back down again at hearing the Sentinel's reply. "Speaking of being careful, I have a rather strange request my lord." He rotated his journal so that Lord Avary could view it easily. "Could you...," he started slowly, "could you help me train? I don't want to be useless in a time of crisis again. I don't want to bring shame on my family name anymore than I have during the last incident."

He hadn't really spoken about that night to anyone, he doubted that anyone could view that night in casual regard. He still remembered the fear that gripped at his soul as those twisted abominations continued to rise after each strike.

In that moment, Sampson happened upon the first thing that made him stop eating in awhile. Upon hearing the young mage's request the Sentinel slowly lowered his fork, blinking several times. After just a moment of thought though he slowly nodded, smiling. "I don't mind doing that at all. I'll do the very best I can to help you."

Nodding in agreement, an energy surged through the boy. He didn't know what type of training the Sentinel had in mind and he had no idea what to prepare for. Being honest, he wasn't even sure how long he would be able to keep up. However, he would do his damnedest to follow instructions. "Thank you, my lord. I doubt that I will ever be able to repay you for this kindness."

Sampson laughed ever slightly, giving a slight shake of his head. "Start off by calling me Sampson. I'm not a Lord, and I don't need to be called one."

The boy smiled and nodded again. "And I am not a mister, yet. I am just a young boy who can make fancy lights and petty tricks." He was humble of his gifts, about a lot of his person honestly. "Now, it looks like you could use a drink. I am surprised that you haven't chocked yet with how you wolf down your food like that."

Sampson gave a slight chuckle, shrugging afterwards. "It took a lot of practice, and too many accidents than I could count. But yes, you're probably right, and I wouldn't complain."