yoshua171

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Lhirinthyl

---

Avoiding the prick of the spear, Lhirin found himself stymied by the ghoul's ranged armament. Letting out a sharp breath, Lhirin's wide-eyed stare bored into the divine-possessed corpse, but before he need act further, a trail of water snaked through the air and did the rest of the work for him. As the water closed the circuit and the ghoul reacted, Lhirin cut off the flow of energy even as the water collapsed to the ground and his enemy convulsed and flung itself partially backward.

Taking a deep breath, Lhirin focused his senses--noticing the disappearance of the disruption to his energies as he did so, though he knew there was unlikely any correlation. He felt...heavy and drained. Not good things considering the greater encounter was likely ahead of them--if Irah's words were anything to go by (which they often were).

Lowering his runeblade, Lhirin turned his attention to the Knight of the Will who stood down the staircase, raising a single eyebrow. The man could have easily interjected or even taken out the ghoul in his stead. Why had he held back. In fact, given his speed and the effectiveness of his weapon against the divines, why had he not done more?

Lhirin stared, his gaze lingering too long, with far more intensity than was comfortable or polite. "Inefficient," he said matter-of-factly, his eyes still locked upon the knight. As the others gathered their wits and spoke--mostly to one another rather than at him--Lhirin considered his stores of energy.

His lips twitched downwards slightly, then returned to a more neutral expression. Idly he considered the piaan he had on his person but disregarded it after a moment's consideration. Still, Irah's words about what was allegedly the final divine worried him, if only slightly.

With his senses no longer disrupted Lhirin could tell that all parties of magical note had perhaps expended more than they ought to during this first engagement--himself included. Perhaps he was the truly inefficient one. With Irah's assistance and a measure more seriousness, he could have disabled all--if not the vast majority--of the threats almost entirely without input from the others...and using a fraction of the energy he'd expended in reality.

He shook his head slightly And glanced between the other members of their ragtag group, noting that each of the three silver swords had already been accounted for. Dismissing the idea of asking for one, Lhirin instead glanced down to his own runeblade even as he lifted its sheath to eye level. Scanning briefly he reviewed the various runes inscribed on each of their surfaces. When he was satisfied, Lhirin lowered both implements and turned his attention to the top of the stairs. Thoughts flitted through his mind As he considered, and then discarded the idea of imbibing any of his limited stock of piaan. After all, those were only for emergencies, and this did not yet qualify.

With that decided, Lhirin spoke, his voice projected mostly due to his clear tone and the acoustics of the room. "Freagon," he said, addressing the knight without so much as a glance his way, only then to pause for an awkward moment after which he half turned to regard the man with one silver iris. "Accompany me?" he asked, though his expression was difficult to read, yet clearly bereft of any embarrassment.

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Lhirinthyl

---

Gritting his teeth as the ghoul with his last needle lodged within itself treated the implement as an ultimately minor irritant, Lhirin swore under his breath. He began to raise his sword arm even as the clatter of a silver blade--and the wet sound of mushy flesh--reached his ears, but as a flash of movement passed him by, he found that it didn't matter. The Knight of the Will had things well in hand it seemed.

Still, ghouls were startlingly difficult to deal with--as Yanin and Jordan were discovering in very different ways. They had no sense for self preservation and--further--could continue moving even when they ought not to.

With that in mind--and a certain annoyance building behind his eyes--the deigan mage took shot a quick glance across the hall and what remained of their adversaries.

Not much. Four ghouls, one shard-wraith, with the ghouls all being largely disarmed or otherwise significantly hampered by the extensive damage to their vessels. Taking a shaky breath to prepare himself, Lhirin then lunged up the steps with surprising fluidity and though there was a heaviness in his limbs, the Deigan thrust his runeblade into the chest of the distracted ghoul that Freagon had left behind.

As he moved, a rune lit up on the bronze of his runeblade and he announced a single, clearly annunciated word.

"Atonakuv!"

Lightning.

Supplying only a trickle of his energy at first, Lhirin's runeblade would not even attempt to pierce the ghoul's armor. Instead, as the sharp edge of his magical implement met with the ghoul's armor the lot lit up as electrical energy sparked forwards, taking the path of least resistance from the bronze straight into the ghoul's body and armor both. Yet, it wasn't a lot of power, only enough to generate an electrical current.

Nonetheless, magic disrupted the manifestation of divine beings in Reniam. Where Lhirin's iron needle had failed, this was far more likely to succeed as current traveled through conductive metal and the liquids suffusing the mushy flesh of the ghoul, disrupting the divine's control on numerous fronts and near simultaneously at that.

Lhirin's only likely regret would be that he hadn't done this sooner...perhaps he would not have wasted quite so much energy that way.

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Lhirinthyl

---

Noting the failed attempts of the vast majority of his needles to incapacitate the foes coming for his allies—and him if they could manage it—Lhirin swore quietly under his breath. Silver eyes flashing from one divine-possessed vessel to the next—both ghoul and wraith alike—Lhirin realized that perhaps he had slightly overextended himself early. Gritting his teeth, the Deigan mage—now feeling the exceptionally unpleasant effects of the second stage of magical exhaustion— swallowed hard, noting the soreness in his throat and the ever-so-faint aching of his lungs. With a shuddered breath he nonetheless focused himself, moving despite the heaviness in his limbs.

He was not nearly done, but he couldn’t waste much more—if any—energy on the current encounter. That considered, Lhirin recalled his needles—excepting those in the table wraith that Freagon was slaying. Almost all of them streaked through the air and placed themselves back in his pouch, all but one. With that remaining needle, Lhirin narrowed his focus, firing it from its position on the ground, over the upstairs banisters, across the room, and into the body of one of the ghouls coming down the eastern (right) stairway. The needle—if it met its mark—would slip upwards from the ground and into the gut of one of the ghouls. Carrying its momentum through the body, the needle would pierce upwards into the body, disappearing entirely into the flesh, before finally coming to a stop with its tip through the spine below the neck, but above the shoulder blades. In its position it would be impossible to get to without the ghoul ripping into their own body to get at it—which would cause far more damage than the needle itself had done.

If successful, Lhirin would release Magnetic Field completely and turn, putting his back to Jordan and Nabi to face the two ghouls on the eastern stairway. Hopefully, one of them would be disabled from the neck down, leaving only one of them for him to dispatch.

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Lhirinthyl

---

As expected, the ghoul collapsed in a steaming pile as his spell faded, and in response, Lhirin released the portions of the Magnetic field that were no longer necessary, using the rest to withdraw any errant needles back to his person where they arranged themselves in a series of three wide rings. One above him, one at almost ground level, and a third at his midsection. All were arranged such that they would not impede his movement or his weapons in any way. Lhirin, with wide eyes, turned his attention as he heard the exclamations of at least three of his allies, immediately noting that they had recoiled and covered their eyes.

'Ah,' he thought internally, keeping in mind that those individuals were apparently particularly light-sensitive. That considered, Lhirin's gaze swiveled to the fadewatcher captain who apparently thought himself in a position to lecture him. Silver eyes regarded the human for a long wordless moment before the doors on the left and right of the hall burst open, revealing yet more wraiths, followed swiftly by a sound from above as a series of ghouls revealed themselves as well.

Lhirin assessed the entire group of would-be assailants, four ghouls, and three wraiths--the latter possessing a series of various shards, a long table, and a series of blankets respectively--and then promptly realized another factor entirely. The drain on his magic had drastically lessened, and furthermore, the pressure that had been affecting his senses had also largely lifted. Given Irah's words, their circumstances, the number and nature of their enemies, and his position at the center of it all, Lhirin made a decision.

This was a waste of time.

"This is all a distraction," Lhirin said, his voice echoing from the acoustics of the hall. They needed to locate the more powerful divine and deal with it as swiftly as possible. It was the true threat.

Then, having made his proclamation, the deigan split his focus and closed his eyes. For the space of roughly five seconds Lhirin visualized the paths his needles would take while formulating the necessary changes in the Magnetic Field he was generating. Rather than do all the changes at once, Lhirin swiftly set up the pathways for the needles beforehand. Then, preparations made, Lhirin opened his eyes and the halo of 6-inch iron needles around his person, thirty in total suddenly burst into motion. Two shot in Freagon's direction, circumventing him entirely before they whistled past the bulk of the long table and then promptly stabbed into its two back legs, the intent to cripple its movement. Lhirin's eyes darted to the next set of targets.

Fifteen needles soared upwards almost to the ceiling, then leveled off, becoming parallel with it, before turning at a ninety-degree angle and slamming down into the blanket wraith in a roughly even distribution. They came down hard enough not only to puncture it but also to pin it to the floor above.

Four more of Lhirin's needles hurtled through the air as they blitzed up the stairs at surprising speeds and each aimed to impale a single leg of each of the four wraiths. The final nine needles floated down into the pouch he'd originally withdrawn them from and then the spell released its hold on them. Lhirin himself had his eyes darting between targets to make his manipulations as accurate as he could manage. If his attack was successful it would seriously hamper all of their adversaries, empowering the rest of the party to dispatch them with comparative ease to their prior situation.

Thus, Lhirin simply raised his runeblade and continued scanning the room, ready to cast or act in another way if necessary. The only other action he made was to--rather slowly--move towards the shard wraith's location where the strange coal-skinned woman and the younger fadewatcher were convening.

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Lhirinthyl

---

With his needles giving him some literal breathing room, Lhirin had been preparing to fully extricate himself when the sound of something whirred through the air just above him. Then light shone in, the rug grew almost entirely slack around him and so Lhirin took the opportunity with immediate fervor. Directing his needles, Lhirin punctured the rub anywhere he sensed anything remotely magical. Then, without further preamble, he pushed to his feet, using some of his embedded needles to unfurl the rug from around him. As he rose out of the once-deadly embrace of the wraith—which now ought to have been banished—Lhirin heard the Knight of the Will’s warning.

His eyes twitched slightly, their lids already opened wide to maximize his visual awareness of his surroundings. In that instant, Lhirin relaxed his focus slightly, releasing Bound Blade. Given his experience and the nature of situation, Lhirin would not be making the same mistake again. To avoid that, he would decidedly not be entering close quarters unless absolutely necessary. As such, he would not need to enhance his ability to wield his runeblade. His focus was better used elsewhere.

As if to punctuate that reality, Lhirinthyl drew upon his power and began to chant in a barely audible drone as he tilted the flat of his blade slightly so he could read the runes upon its surface. After a scant several seconds, the deigan mage finished his incantation and—focusing on his blade—released his spell, a series of runes on it surface taking on an actinic glow.

Galvanize

The faintest smell of ozone entered the air, trails of magnetic energy formed pathways that soared upwards into the air several feet before leveling off and going forward invisibly until they connected above the ghoul. Pooling in that space, the magnetic field then cast thin threads of itself downwards. Lhirin, for his part poured magical energy into Galvanize and his runeblade began to crackle and spark with intense arcs of electrical energy.

The instant before he moved, Lhirin levied a warning to the Knight before him. “Withdraw,” he snapped, his voice filled with warning and dangerous intensity. Then, without hesitation, Lhirin thrust his blade aloft and closed the circuit.

Almost instantly the electrical energy once trapped within his blade discharged and as it did so it found the path of least resistance. Too bright to look upon, a trail of lightning arced into the air, pooled above the ghoul and then struck down in multiple scorching bolts. There were a scant few seconds for Freagon to disengage with the ghoul. However, much of the power Lhirin had channeled into Galvanize would be confined to the magnetic fields and iron armor that the Wraith wore—as well as its chosen vessel, which was filled with wonderfully conductive liquid.

After perhaps two seconds, Lhirin cut off the flow of energy to Galvanize and waited, watching closely to verify the effectiveness of his attack.

Divinus Mk. 8: The Eleventh Cycle (A God Roleplay)

---

In the Vast Expanse beyond Galbar, the primordial form of Mae-Alari had shifted. Caught in the deluge of power that had been the Big Bang, the goddess had taken on a much more refined shape. A beautiful woman formed of light and magic. Azure skin that rippled with power, less flesh than it was magic itself. Garments of prismatic hue flowed over her form, drifting in the void of space as she beheld Galbar in all its glory.

So much had already come to pass as she had watched, her fellow gods bringing life to the world, and more besides. Yet, it all felt so...empty, as if the depth of things was insufficient. Eyes flashing, Mae-Alari moved. No longer drifting idly through space, she darted towards the center of her siblings' creation and then slipped into the Veins.

In that instant, beneath the cosmic skein a deep a power pulsed throughout the cosmos as through it the goddess swam.

In the next moment she emerged above the center of a great body of water. All around her, land stretched out from the edges of the water. Below her was an island, upon which there dwelled a great tree. Mae-Alari smiled and drifted down from the heavens.

Power welled beneath her skin and a great upwelling of luminescence burst forth from her as for the first time she set foot upon the substance of creation--upon Galbar.

Her eyes closed and in that moment of strange bliss, her deific form wrought something far more focused than her prior creation. Around the Great Tree formed a ring of water that was deeper than anything was tall, yet only as wide as several men strung together from shore to shore.

It was the Wellspring.

A contented sigh fell from her lips and as her breath touched the air, mist rose from the Wellspring and began to stretch its tendrils out into the world. Her eyes opened and so too did the power of the Veins spill into the Wellspring.

Ripples crossed the waters, then formed at the shores of the island and spread out in a glowing dance that played across the waves of the inland sea. Even beneath the ground, where springs and subterranean rivers and pools of moisture naturally formed, the water rippled and that selfsame glow became apparent. Faintly, across the surface of Galbar shimmering bands of mist could be seen, and they would persist both in the central lands and in the deserts beyond.

Thus were the Wellspring and its Mists borne unto the world.

Summaries

Narrative

Mae-Alari, after a long time watching from the Vast Expanse of space beyond Galbar, traverses the Veins of the Cosmos and emerges upon the planet. There, on the central island, around Allianthe's Great Tree she brings into being the Wellspring and its Mists purely from her contact with Galbar's surface due to the incredible power pent up within her deific form.

Might

Starting: 15MP.

-7MP —— Create a Holy Site/Superstructure (The Wellspring)
The Wellspring is an endlessly deep well of magic that is connected to all sources of water on Galbar, infusing them with a measure of arcana. The Wellspring itself takes the form of a ring shaped series of sigils surrounding the Great Tree/Tree of Life, which themselves surround a moat of glowing gold and azure arcana, taking on the form of water. Beyond this, the creation of the Wellspring does little other than making liquids more magically potent relative to their distance from the Wellspring. Additionally, the primary purpose of the Wellspring is to provide an easier means for mortals and gods alike to access the infinite potential of Arcana.

By bathing in the waters of the Wellspring, a mortal can be blessed by the Goddess, granting them the capacity to manipulate the essence of magic. However, this does not come without its costs. Any mortal who bathes in the Wellspring risks oblivion for its depths are endless and its tides impossible to predict. Anyone entering the Wellspring to gain its blessing must hope that the Wellspring does not devour them. Even should they survive its waters, all magic comes with consequences. Notably, while magic granted in this matter has few limitations, it will instead exact its cost on casters by warping their minds and bodies with every use. Whenever a mortal uses magic, their body and mind will be altered slightly depending on what they do with their magic.

Some few can balance these mutations by using opposing forces to return themselves to equilibrium, but most eventually succumb to the warped arcana of their souls. When this occurs the mortal will be transformed into a Maecari.

Notably, if another God draws from the Wellspring and mixes it with their own power (might) they can create new forms of magic to bestow upon mortals. Furthermore, this power can stabilize the arcana further causing less side effects as a result of using the magic. Additionally, unlike the power granted by bathing in the Wellspring, magic granted in this way can be inherited by the offspring of those blessed.

-2MP(Boosted to 4 by Arcana Domain) —— Create a Curse (Create the Maecari Transformation)
The Maecari are the result of overuse of arcana, specifically when the ability has been granted by the Wellspring. These creatures are created as a result of a practitioner not being mindful of the magics they use nor the amount they use it. After a certain threshold that various for every person, a practitioner will transform into a Maecari as their soul is overburdened with the infinite potential of arcana causing it to spill out into their body and force a metamorphosis of both vessel and mind.

Maecari can be either beautiful or monstrous, but they are always dangerous and powerful. Once this transformation has taken place it is irreversible and the mortal will have utterly lost their mind. Nonetheless, Maecari are more intelligent than the average beast and while no longer capable of freely manipulating the arcana of the world, they almost universally possess various supernatural abilities. These abilities--like their form and behavior--relate to the magics they used leading up to their transformation.

-0MP —— Tied to the Creation of the Wellspring(Create the Breath of Mae-Alari[Aka "The Mists"])
Taking the appearance of shimmering mist that fades in and out of view, the Breath of Mae-Alari is how ambient arcana manifests in the world. While normal mortals not blessed by the gods or having bathed in the Wellspring cannot directly tap into this ambient potential energy, it can nonetheless be harnessed by gathering it using rituals or arcane implements. Though, for now such things remain beyond mortals for the art has yet to be discovered or taught. Those blessed by the Gods or having bathed in the Wellspring can directly draw upon these energies, using their will to manifest their desires and intent.

Ending: 6MP

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Lhirinthyl

---

Victor, Victim. As ever, the dividing line between the two was a perilous one and Lhirin had not walked it well. Still, with two spells and the threat of suffocation on his mind, the deigan mage hardly had the time to consider things for more than an instant. Instead, what he was dealing with was what most would consider primal fear. Lhirin considered it an annoyance. It was something he'd trained to resist, both with Irah and before her. So, when his head was suddenly enveloped in water and his neck strained, body lifted from the ground, Lhirin clamped down hard on his emotions even as he fixated even more intensely upon his spellcraft. There was a brief stutter in the hovering formation of iron nails surrounding his runeblade, then nothing. Yet, before Lhirin could act something splashed into the midst of the wraith.

He felt the hold on him loosen, but could not quite react in time to take advantage. The only thing he managed as he was deposited into the wraith-possessed rug was to land squarely in a kneel. His shin ached from the impact, but the feeling was distant as the decoration swallowed him like some cloth maw.

The constriction was unbelievably unpleasant, but unfortunately for the rug, Lhirin had not lost hold of his spells, or even his runeblade. Thus, Lhirin directed the needles that surrounded it using his Magnetic Field spell and had them simultaneously impale the rug from multiple angles. While a far off feeling of frustration simmered in the back of his mind, Lhirin kept himself from burning through the rug instead.

He didn't want to offend the Lady Bor any further, after all.

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Lhirinthyl

---

While Lhirin absorbed the various utterances of those behind him, the only ones that found significant purchase were Irah's. Though he made his judgements in a flash, Lhirin reevaluated his initial thoughts on the witch hunters, given Irah's warning. He gritted his teeth slightly, the sensation of them grinding helping him offset the anger he felt for their ignorance and zealotry. Thoughtless, but sadly not incompetent. He'd keep a closer eye on them when they came into view, but before that....

Lhirin glanced repositioned his left arm, putting his sheath's surface in view once more. This done he began to chant, his words quiet but precise. The runes on the ebon wood of the sheath's surface began to glow as he channeled energy through the implement. Then, as he entered the armory, he completed his spell. There was a brief actinic flash, like a scattering of faint sparks across the surface of the sheath, then his blade, then his person. It faded in the next instant replaced by a strange warbling pressure in the air around the deigan mage.

Magnetic Field.

While the spell split his attention, he figured it was worth it and quite swiftly it might become apparent why that was the case as a pouch at his waist opened by its metal button and a series of thirty 6-inch long iron needles floated out from the leather. The needles arranged themselves in a halo around his runeblade where they remained as he walked.

As the concentration necessary to manipulate the needles waned with them being put in position, Lhirin swept his gaze over the armory. He noted the various weaponry on display and took the equivalent of several visual snapshots for posterity. He noted each iron implement present and then turned his gaze to the second set of doors. With their being metal in the handles, Lhirin stretched out his magnetic field and turned them, before using those same door knobs as a point to push upon. Altering the polarity of the field at that point and pumping through a small burst of additional energy, Lhirin willed the two doors forth. They swung open before him revealing the room for all of them.

While he took in the environs they were to fight within, Lhirin made a note of any magnetic materials he could see. Iron and steel primarily, before settling his gaze upon the only moving details of the room, the two figures at its center.

Yet, before he could take them in entirely, Lhirin felt the drain on his reserves and a sound not unlike a low growl left his lips. Then things came into focus a strange construct of furniture--clearly a wraith--and an armored man, beaten and bloodied. The man, clearly on his last legs, called out for assistance. Lhirin's iron needles drooped slightly and he felt the weakening of his other spell: Bound Blade. Reasserting his control and ensuring the spells had enough energy, Lhirin took a deep breath and acted without hesitation.

Unseen, though likely not undetected, paths of magnetic energy--created by his prior spell, Magnetic Field--shot forth towards the wraith. Once those paths were slightly more than halfway established, Lhirin had them overlap with the positions of ten of his iron needles. In response the needles flashed forth, following the magnetic fields at speed like tiny 6-inch arrows, where they made to embed themselves in the wraith's makeshift body. Once he'd released the projectiles, Lhirin continued into the room, his narrowed silver eyes locked upon the wraith as he made his approach.

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Lhirinthyl

---

With the shifting of Lady Bor's stare to the path beside him wherein Lhirin's runeblade stood, the deigan mage tilted his head, his brow creasing slightly. Then the penin, some emotion restrained on her face, turned her attention to Irah, who had joined him at the head of the mismatched party.

When the old adventurer chose to disregard him in favor of Irah, Lhirin only sighed slightly and closed his eyes. Listening with half his attention, Lhirin tried to figure out where he'd gone wrong. Perhaps his greeting had been too polite? Was it that he'd said too much too quickly? His eyes opened--gaze downcast even as he absorbed the words of those around him. He tilted his head as he noted where his runeblade had cut into the stone of the path. The irregular marks of stress around where it had pierced the well-arranged walkway.

The Walkway....

Lhirin frowned and despite the important story being relayed, he fixated on the marks his blade had created. With purpose, he grasped the crystal hilt of his blade and with a small flex of power, withdrew it smoothly from the rock. For a moment he surveyed the blade--it was unmarred--before he glanced at the grass of the manor lawn. Suddenly annoyed, Lhirin callously tossed the runeblade into the lawn perhaps two meters to his right--where no one stood in the path of his throw--before promptly disregarding the valuable weapon. Then, taking to a knee upon the path, Lhirin muttered a few words of the arcane language as he placed a hand upon the perforated stone.

Call Earth

Casting one of his simplest spells, Lhirin used only a small amount of his magical energy, guiding it in thin planes between the parts of the stone path that he had damaged. In the space of several seconds the stone almost seemed to flow like water until the gap between them where his sword had been placed disappeared, repaired by his efforts.

Still, it took its toll. Working earth was more taxing than piercing it or calling upon a bit of wind. Yet, despite this fact and the looming battle ahead of them, he'd done it anyways. Lhirin hated his ineptness with social cues. Disliked that he sometimes utterly disregarded that his actions might bother someone. Yet...he could not help but act thoughtlessly sometimes. So, this was his way of making amends. Pushing back to his feet, a frown still on his handsome features--though there were (as always) bags beneath his eyes from lost sleep--Lhirin turned his attention to Lady Bor.

While he didn't know if any of his other actions had left a sour taste in her mouth, there was little he could do about that, and further, they had a more pressing problem to solve.

“My Lady, we will exterminate these wraiths and see to the conflict between your guests. Thank you for the information, it is invaluable.”

Then, with a pause longer than someone who was more socially adept would take, Lhirin realized that there was another social ritual he could utilize to show his obeisance and respect.

He bowed at the waist, giving her what was perhaps an overly respectful social gesture. Then, with a nod--and a glance to Irah--Lhirin strode forth, chanting beneath his breath even as he took lightly tapped his runeblade with a foot as he passed. The spell initiated even as he seemed to leave it behind. The runes on his sheath, in the next moment, glowed an electric blue as Lhirin cast his right hand out in the direction of his runeblade.

Energy spidered forth from his fingertips in ghostly strands that met with the runeblade in an instant and cradled it in their grasp. Then the blade soared back through the air and its handle met Lhirin's palm.

However, he didn't dismiss the spell, instead lowering his input of energy to almost nothing and deliberately using only his own strength to move the runeblade. Repositioning his sheath along the back of his arm as he'd had it before, Lhirin continued forward, clearly intent on entering the manor.

The stranger--a woman by the voice--was right, as was Lady Bor, this was an urgent situation. The wraiths needed to be taken care of...and the summoner secured. They had what information the others could offer--by his estimation. Thus, it was time to act.

The Prophecy - Dreams of Destiny

Lhirinthyl

---

Noting the armored figure's injury, Lhirin nodded sharply in response to his words. He took in each piece of information without delay. Then the injured man was interrupted. Lhirin frowned, only half paying attention to the penin's words as he mulled over the first bit of explanation.

This was likely a separate issue from the bandits. Lady Bor's summons had--amusingly--attracted a summoner. How unfortunate.

Eyes snapping over to the penin, the deigan hybrid regarded the small old woman and found her suitably impressive for one of her status and stature. As she approached he noticed her kindly dismissal of her servants.

Tough, but not unreasonable nor arrogant, he noted, before totally dismissing the other two humans and looking down at the Lady Bor. She spoke and he lapped up each piece of information she offered with avid interest. His smile returned as she mentioned wraiths--an odd reaction surely.

'Wraiths!' he mused to himself, eyes alight with feverish interest. Lhirin's left hand reached down to his belt and unstrung his sheath from his hip. Grasping the handle in its construction, Lhirin took it in a reversed grip, the flat of the implement flush with the back of his arm. Its weight was a comfort.

“Mmm, Wraiths. I am familiar with their ilk, and their weaknesses,” Lhirin's grin widened slightly and he chuckled--as if this were a small matter. Then his expression changed all at once, becoming piercing and intense once more. “I am Lhirinthyl, Ms. Lady Bor. Mage. Scholar. Enchanter,” the words were clipped, perfunctory and he bulled on to his proper query, his former words a tacked-on phrase.

Idly, Lhirin channeled energy into his Runeblade and clearly--but quietly--uttered a single word in the arcane language.

Sharpness

The bronze blade pierced the stone of the path and sank into the ground before he ceased the flow of energy, embedding it for a moment. Lifting a finger of his thin right hand--now freed from holding his blade--Lhirin tapped his head. "The Deo'iel Guide to Survival, very useful to have memorized," he said, his grin flashing through the intensity. Then he leaned down and forward slightly, becoming serious again. “The wraiths, mmm...what manner of divines were summoned?”

That said, Lhirin sifted through his sensory memories, noting that the riders had identified themselves...or this Freagon had identified them both. He filed their names away for later, one of his fingers idly tracing the alphabetical symbols for their names in the empty air--no magic involved, just a sort of mnemonic device. One of many that he used.

While he waited for a reply--as little a wait as that may have been, Lhirin began to drum his fingers on the pommel of his runeblade's crystal handle. He was eager to get moving, but he would not go in unprepared. After all, while he was not cautious in the typical way of his kind, Lhirin was fortunately a rather experienced traveler and adventurer. He'd had his fair share of dicey encounters and he'd learned from each-and-every one--though not always the typical lessons that another might learn.

Still, it was enough that his experience--and voracious appetite for knowledge--directed him to survey a situation and gather as many facts as he could before throwing oneself into danger. Of course...he recognized that time was of the essence and that a thorough review of the facts could not always take place before an engagement. Still, this--for the moment--did not seem to be the case in their current circumstances. So, eager as he was, Lhirin did not act hastily but instead waited with bated breath for the Lady Bor's response.