RP:Coral Castle, Cenril Beach. High Noon

This is a Mage's Guild RP.

Part of the Lies Within Us Arc

Summary: In the midst of preparing for the invasion of Xalious, Odhranos is visited by an acquaintance with a very particular set of skills. Skills that make him a nightmare for people like Hal. Also he's not above playing fast and loose with the law. But hey, at least he's on our side, right?

Coral Castle, Cenril

Time: High Noon

The unmistakable sound of a horse cantering along the sand preceded the undead's entrance--a blue roan, ridden by none other than Ernest Crane; mummified crossbow slinger, literal card-carrying villain, and as of this present moment, grinning like a maniac. Pulling to a stop in front of the coral castle's new front gate, he said, "Y'know," to anyone who might happen to be listening before dismounting and dropping to the ground, then turning around and striding up to the gate, a faint amount of aeromancy surrounding him just enough to make his longcoat billow impressively around and behind him, "here I was thinkin' y'all were s'posed ta be th' hero version of th' necromancer's guild. Or at least th' neutral one." His hands on his hips, he looked around at the castle, squinting, but still definitely sporting a grin. "But then y'all're disgraced an' kicked outta yer own tower, which is firin' a big ol' somethin' or other at th' moons, meanwhile we got ourselves a Khitti who seems ta be doin' her best ta fight off Caluss." He gestured vaguely in the direction of Xalious and continued towards the door. "So what was th' big villain plot that involved not firin' a big ol' somethin' or other at th' moons? Seems like y'all're in full retreat, which sounds ta me like y'all might need some assistance with y'all's villainy. Lucky fer you," he took a dramatic bow, "I happen ta be in town."

Odhranos looks up from his musings on the castle steps and breaks into a smirk. “Ahh, heroes and villains are all the same, just depends on what angle you’re looking from.” Pulling himself to his feet, Odhranos dusts off the rear of his robes, tucking the large glassy-looking tome into his chest as he bows towards the approaching spur-jangling wrangler. “It’s been a while Ernest. Good to hear you." Odhranos looks none too worse for wear, his robes are a well tailored deep green set, with a bit of Oohjmaeyik flair in the cut of the collar. Unfortunately for Ernest, the silk sash tied about Odh's eyes quashes any chance of an audience for his flamboyant billowing, though it certainly does sound impressive. "Aye, we had an infestation, and something a bit more troublesome than termites. The lightshow is courtesy of Haladavar and the Ossian Order, Xalious' new Protectors if you'll believe their rhetoric. Which the rest of Xalious seems to be listening to; unlucky for us, they had us dancing in the palm of their hand long before we ever even knew they were there. The attack on the Tree and subsequent cover up was just the final nail in the coffin." Odh holds his book on top of his head and grimaces, appreciating the cold emanating from the ice-bound time as it shelters him from the sun, high in the noonday sky. "If we're guilty of anything, it was being blind to what was happening right under our noses. Ironic, really." Odh waves to his blindfold with a humorous smirk. "Which brought us here. Temporary HQ of the Mage's Guild and jumping point of Xalious' Great Revolution." Turning to face up towards the dilapidated castle, Odh sighs and turns a grimace Ernest's way. "It could do with some freshening up, I'll admit. If only we had the time." A weary shrug concludes that line of thought. "But you say you're looking to assist? I'll be honest with you Ern, I'm not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, we need all the help we can get right now. What do you have in mind?"

Ernest, realizing that there was no point to his longcoat's shenanigans, let it drop after a moment. And after listening to the plight of the Mage's Guild, he was able to keep his composure remarkably well. "Given how I owe ya one fer pullin' me back from th' brink, I'll overlook yer castin' aspersions on my line o' work. Ain't nothin' professional about heroism, an' anyone who tells you different is jes' a mercenary with good PR." He curled his lip slightly in disgust. This whole thing sounded like heroism after all. The real villains were out there shooting rad lasers at the moon and here he was owing a favor to the (otherwise likable) good guys. After a brief pause during which he crossed his arms and sulked quietly, he finally said, "An' let's get one thing clear. Y'all're on th' receivin' end of th' revolution, from what I hear. Y'all got revolutioned outta yer tower. If anythin', this is th' anti-revolution. Yer tryin' ta UNrevolutionize Xalious." When he put it like that, it was almost palatable. Like an old tyrant trying to return to the throne after having been ousted by the populace. He could work with it. "That bein' said, I ain't got nothin' in mind yet. I'm a scheme consultant, an' I ain't yet heard yer scheme." Before Odh could start talking about said scheme, he held up a hand--though the gesture was likely wasted, it was force of habit--and added, "Now don't try an' convince me of yer noble cause or greater good or any o' that. It says 'Villainous' on my business card an' I aim ta keep it that way. Doin' th' right thing makes me itch." He paused again, briefly, then asked, "What -is- th' point o' th' moonbeam, anyhow?"

Odhranos is somewhat taken aback, after weeks of being told how they were doing the right thing, how their cause was just and proper, this was the first time someone had just bluntly laid out the facts in front of him like a smack in the face. And yet, surprisingly it wasn't an unwelcome feeling. "Y'know, I think that's the most sensible piece of advice I've gotten in a long time. Let me reword what I said." Odh taps the icy cover of his book against his chin in thought before answering. "The Guild was already falling to pieces with that inept Council leading it. Haladavar just capitalised on their failure." Had Odh eyes with which to stare fiercely, he would have. Instead he shrugs noncommittally. "Haladavar took Xalious to impose his vision upon it. I'm taking it back to impose my own vision instead. Make no mistake, I plan on taking Xalious back, but not for the Council. I'm taking it for myself this time." Odh arches his eyebrow at the undead and breaks into a small smile. "Whether my vision is good or not is subjective. To my allies, I'm the hero. To my enemy, I'm the villain. If it means that I get to fulfill my vision then fine, I'll be the villain." Odh cants his head to the side and faces Ernest dead on. "Sufficiently selfish for your services?" Odh's smile widens and he laughs warmly. "I've heard nothing but the greater good and the nobleness of my doings ever since Xalious saw fit to give a fool like me his codex. It's grounding to admit the truth of my avarice. I could do with more honesty around me at this time. But anyway, let's get to the crux of the issue." Odh turns to face westward, where the faint bluish mountains of the Xalious Range peep up beyond the Cenril skyline. "I won't bore you with the particulars, but in essence, Hal is transforming Arh'nuk into a vessel for his soul. If he succeeds, he becomes the new conduit between our world and the source of magic. He could strangle the source, running magic dry, or he could open the floodgates and tear the world apart just like that -" Odh snaps his fingers for emphasis. "- All without fear of retribution."

Ernest audibly relaxed at this admission of wanting Xalious for his own purposes. That was absolutely selfish enough for his services, and he grinned and rolled his shoulders, giving a nod. "Oh yes. When y'put it that way, I'm absolutely game fer some proper schemin'." However, having heard what the moon laser and Haladavar was up to, he flicked his wrist and appeared his flask into it with a faint burst of shadow magic, took a swig of water, and then spat it into the sand in disgust. "Yet another two-bit world-conquerin' hackneyed jackanape what threatens all of civilization," he growled. "It's folks like that what give villains a bad name. Beatin' 'im's technically hero work, but given I hate everythin' he stands for I ain't gonna complain 'bout shovin' his face into a manure cart an' kickin' it off a cliff, an' you got schemes of yer own apart from 'im. Count me in." He extended a hand, making sure to cast just a bit of aeromancy to help the sound of his longcoat rustling in the particular way one does when extending a hand to shake reach Odh's ears. "Speakin' o' soul vessels, at some point you an' me oughta have a chat about me an' mine an' how exactly y'did what y'did back at th' party. Business first, though, I reckon, since Halawhatever ain't gonna be lightin' up th' sky ferever. So. What's yer scheme? How're you plannin' ta usurp th' throne an' kick all th' revolutionaries ta th' curb?"

Odhranos hears the quiet rustle of Ernest’s sleeve and he offers his own hand, which the undead would hopefully take and spare him the trouble of questing about for a handshake. “I won’t take any joy in ending Haladavar; under a different set of circumstances, he could have been one of the greatest mages in Xalious’ history. I’d have counted him as an inspiration and a mentor. Unfortunately our paths diverged too far back and when they collide again, only one of us is making it out alive. It’s as simple as that.” Odh is intrigued by Ernest’s question about the events of the Titan’s Ball, but he nods in agreement that it can wait til another time. “Aye, well, that’s the question, isn’t it?” The terramancer laughs gently and sits down on the edge of the steps, gesturing for Ernest to join him. “I’ve already taken the first step to the throne, or rather it was given to me.” Odh places his ice-bound tome on his lap and instead holds out his right hand, splayed in such a way that he looked ready to launch into some inspiring oratory. Instead, motes of blue light begin blinking into existence, swimming above his open palm like tiny fireflies. The motes grow in number, rapidly coalescing into the form of a heavy leather bound book, its cover inlaid with the intricate design of the Lamen of the Mage’s Guild. “If it’s the throne that I’m usurping, then I already have the crown. Courtesy of the old scholar in the sky.” The Archmage’s Tome fully manifests and Odhranos grips the spine of the weighty book with a firm grasp. “Asked for with the Guild’s petitioning, granted by Xalious’ good grace. Supposedly. It solidifies my claim as Archmage enough that I can convince those that need convincing.” Odh taps the tome against his chin with a half smile before it bursts into a thousand motes of light once more, dispelled back to its pedestal in Khitti’s storeroom. “The difficulty is in actually taking the throne itself. Haladavar has transformed Xalious into his own personal fortress; circling it in a wall of magic that would give any trebuchet a run for its money. Meanwhile, his flock of believers patrol the valley and village while Hal roosts at the top of his tower, awaiting his apotheosis.” Odh jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward the castle behind him. “Half of the mages loyal to the Guild are here, while the rest are prisoners in Xalious. The Ossians, they’re slowly converting them into soul cages. Er, magic weapons, to put it simply. Same principle as the moon, but I won’t get into it.” Odh waves his hand to try and ward himself from getting off track. “Essentially, they have double our number by turning our own allies magic against us. We’re outnumbered, outgunned and outmatched. In a fair fight, we’d be dust before we could even blink.” The corner of Odhranos’ mouth turns up as he considers what to say next. “So, we don’t give them a fair fight.” Ernest is presented with an inquisitive grin from the Archmage-in-waiting. “If you were me, how would you go about it? A smaller number, besieging a fortified valley against a garrison twice its strength. How would you claim that impossible throne?”

Golly-goshdang it! Everyone kept having cooler spellbooks than Ernest. Which he supposed wasn't necessarily a bad thing. He preferred to use his only in extreme situations anyhow, so he could practice casting without it. "Me personally?" He tapped his chin. "Prolly without magic at all. In fact, I'd curse myself with a little concoction I call th' Curse of the Tyrant's Dissent." He opened his longcoat and slipped out a crossbow bolt he kept in the breast pocket. To someone with magesight, the thing glinted with an unhealthy blue-green light. "Completely silences its victim, an' hugs their body with an antimagic field. Totally negates castin' entirely. Then I'd jus' walk through th' barrier an' shoot or stab my way through. They're mages, an' it sounds like they're they're used ta havin' magical dominance. So y'make their magic useless, an' they're left with nothin', plus th' silence effect'll make ya nice an' quiet fer when y'gotta be sneaky." He grinned. "An' if Hal is as good as you say he is an' breaks th' curse, then I'd have a couple special treats fer 'im once I can cast again. I wonder how he'd react ta havin' th' Curse of th' Tricksy Rabbit shoved down 'is craw." The implications of what that would mean if somehow this transferred The Curse of the Tricksy Rabbit to the moon suddenly hit him, and his eyes widened. "...Or maybe I'd jus' shoot 'im," he said, walking back that statement. "Tricksy's a mite too volatile fer that situation, come ta think of it. Could potentially be worse than Hal if th' moon got it." Leaving that ominous statement as to how Ernest knew a power that he named after a bunny that he considered too dangerous to use when the world was in danger entirely by the wayside, he whirled around and started pacing. "That'd be my scheme. Though it'd help if I had a layout of th' tower, guard rotations, things o' that ilk. I could plan a better route in that way. How 'bout you? Judgin' from yer tone I'm guessin' ya got somethin' in mind already an' are settin' me up fer some big reveal. Props, by th' way. I appreciate a sense o' drama."

Though he doesn’t have true magesight persay, Odhranos can tell from the way that the metal of the crossbow bolt hums with a sickly reverberation that there is something unnatural about it. “Now that is a smart ploy. Magic will be the primary weapon at play in this conflict, so anything that can nullify it will be quite effective. Unfortunately, curse-users like yourself are few and far between, I’d love to have a hundred of you at my back, but we work with what we have, aye?” Ernest’s compliment about the drama Odhranos has been weaving is met with a cheeky grin. “Were I not so hopelessly infatuated with magic, I’d have made my living as a bard instead of a mage. Perhaps some parts of that have bled over.” He chuckles brightly, then throws his arm westward, toward the blue mountains looming in the far distant haze. “The greatest army known to Lithrydel, ten thousand men strong. Winter-bitten veterans one and all, clad in the finest that Frostmaw has to offer. As we speak, they are slowly massing within the Sage, ready to launch a siege upon Haladavar’s arcane palisade. When I send word to Queen Hildegarde, Xalious will bear the full brunt of the City of War battering its way up the mountain pass. The kind of bone-shaking spectacle no one could ignore, not even Haladavar. Their wall will hold against Frostmaw, at least for some time, which will lull them into a false sense of security. Unfortunately for them.-” Odhranos points his index finger, out westward, to the sharp snow-capped peaks rising up above Xalious. “The Gods left me a battering ram that even their wall can’t hope to stop. An entire mountain range of them.” Odhranos’ grin has lost its soft brightness, instead gaining a touch of feral glee. “The City of War, creating the mother of all distractions, while the Mages Guild crushes through their line from behind, severing the snake’s head before the body even realises what has happened. Tell me, is that theatrical enough for a usurper king’s return?”

Ernest beamed and was about to explain how he was working on a system through which he could, in theory, give him those hundred curse-users, at least for the purpose of a single battle, but then he was instead treated to an explanation of a scheme so dramatic, so explosive, that he couldn't help but applaud a little when he was done. "Th' presentation," he said, after a moment, still grinning brightly. "Throwin' a whole mountain at 'im. That'll humble anybody. Yeah, I'm givin' it full marks fer theatrics." He paused a moment and tilted his head. "I jus' got a few logistical concerns," he said, thoughtfully. "How're you gonna keep th' mountain from crushin' th' whole town an' leavin' you with nobody ta rule over? Is Hildegarde expectin' her whole army back? Are you gonna want me ta curse some of 'em with Tyrant's ta improve their survival rate or are they disposable minions yer not gonna care about turnin' on ya later?" This seemed like a good time to bring up the-- "Cause I'm workin' on a system what'll make cursin' about a hunnerd times easier fer me, so if I gotta mass-produce a spell I can try an' hurry it along." --yeah, that. "Course, that'll cost you considerably extra, since at that point I'll be considerin' you my primary sponsor fer research an' development purposes on top o' orderin' a couple hundred curses. Definitely a premium rate, that option." He paced a bit more, thinking the plan over. "Usin' terrain ta yer advatange, settin' up a distraction, an' goin' big enough ta knock someone down a peg. If it don't kill everyone yer tryin' ta rule, it's a solid scheme. Definitely my kinda action."

Odhranos smiles and dips his torso into a mock bow. "That is the intention. In reality it's barely magic at all, just a clever landslide, but it's just audacious enough to catch them off guard when their attention is elsewhere." Ernest's queries are met with solemn nods and just before Odhranos launches into his explanation, he is caught off guard by Ernest's contract negotiation, which causes the mage to erupt into chuckles. "I should have known you for a savvy salesman. Research doesn't run on aspirations and hot air alone, I know that firsthand. Give me a moment." Odhranos gets up from the steps and strides out across the sand, tugging at his lip with a look of concentration on his face as he seems focused intently on the sand beneath him. "Aha, I knew I spotted you earlier." He says to himself, crouching over a seemingly inconspicuous patch of beach. From Ernest's perspective, a small poof of sand grains would erupt between the terramancer's feet, where something small and earth coloured had just shot to the surface. "Here. Consider this a down-payment" Odh plucks up the object and tosses it towards Ernest, who upon catching it would find a small closed clam in his fist. "Oh, sorry, let me open that for you." An idle click of the terramancer's fingers and the clamshell cracks open, revealing the withered remains of a long since expired clam, bearing a rather colossal and exquisitely pale pearl. "She must have made that and been buried sometime in the last thousand years. Bring that to any appraiser worth their salt and you'll have enough funds to last you til this war ends. After that, we can negotiate an extended contract." Odh returns to the steps with a smile on his face, proud of his find. "Now, yes, you had questions. Remind me again…" Once reminded, Odh nods in recollection. "Aye, yes. The first one is easy, simply a matter of geography. The Mage Tower is our target, and it stands at the northern end of the valley. Howler's Peak, the mountain kind enough to be donating it's peak is located up in Frostmaw, directly north of Xalious Valley. If my calculations aren't woefully off, severing Howler's Peak will drop us directly into the mouth of the valley's northern end, funnelling us directly on course with the tower. Haladavar's wall will take most of the wind out of our sails and the intervening distance between that and the Tower will give us plenty of time to lose speed. Xalious Village won't feel more than a dust cloud. As for Hildegarde's army-" Odhranos chuckles brightly, "- all going well, they won't so much as cross blades with the enemy before the conflict is resolved. They'll conduct a slow siege on the Valley from Sage, just enough to draw attention but not enough to allow the Ossian's to draw them into combat. Once the Wall falls and the Tower is taken, the Ossian forces will have no defences to hide behind and no stronghold to fall back to, while the figurative head of their Messiah is waved from the battlements. They'll have nothing to fight for anymore. A recipe for a surrender if I've ever seen one."

Ernest nodded along with the answers to his questions, squinting at the pearl currently resting in his palm. An orb like this might actually make a decent magical focus, rather than something to sell. That'd be worth experimenting with later; in either case it definitely showed that Odhranos was definitely worth his time. "If yer wantin' ta make a real impression, may I recommend tarrin' an' featherin' 'im, an' danglin' 'im by his ankle from th' highest window?" He grinned maliciously. "An utter humiliation without killin' 'im avoids makin' 'im a martyr an' guarantees that any time people look at 'im they'll remember th' time he resembled nothin' more'n a giant upside-down chicken. I could whip up a Tyrant's fer 'im, too, so he cain't even say a word in 'is defense." With that suggestion, all of his concerns had been addressed. The minions didn't sound like they needed any extra protection, and given this was the Mage's Guild having curses for all of Odh's allies would be more of a hindrance than a help. ...Or would it? "Speakin' of which. Are you wantin' a batch o' Tyrant's fer any of yer other allies, since th' minions're safe? Maybe as a last-ditch survival tactic or somethin' ta fling at an enemy? I'm absolutely gonna load up with 'em myself--maybe a Tricksy or two, prob'ly several Cannibal's Gardens an' an Undertaker's Ire jus' in case... yer gonna get a kick outta watchin' those at work." He paused a moment, then added as an afterthought, "...hearin'. Hearin' those at work. Maybe I'll narrate 'em to ya after th' fact." He would have pulled his crossbow out and spun it on his finger to show off his curse delivery system but didn't feel there'd be too much point to it.

Odhranos raises his eyebrows at Ernests’ suggestion; it would certainly send a message. “That might be difficult, Haladavar isn’t as… corporeal, shall we say, as you and I. His body is made with the magic he had control over, no different than if I were to make a construct of ice or sand. Defeating him will be rather final, and there won’t be a corpse left behind. That said-” Odhranos clutches his chin as he thinks, pondering the problem of how to make that final declaration. “-until such time as Hal’s flock knows hes dead, they’re unlikely to back down. We’ll need something flashy to break their morale.” Odh tilts his head aside and looks at Ernest. “You seem to have a knack for that kind of connivance. Can you handle that once the time comes?” The terramance breaks into a gentle grin. “Waving the fallen standard as it will, something flashy to drive home that they’ve lost? You’ll have the stage of the Mage’s Observatory after all, highest point in Xalious village. I think you could do something spectacular.” He reaches over and bumps the undead’s shoulder with his fist, a show of camaraderie. “As for your Tyrants; when we’re done here, I’ll introduce you to Ondrel. He’s one of our spellblade Stewards. I feel if anyone could make use of your curses effectively, it would be our spellblades. They have the flexibility to work without magic and having your ace in the hole could save lives, so I’m inclined to take you up on the offer.”

Ernest harrumphed at being told that there'd be no body left behind. Even when he left skeletons in his wake, at least they were skeletons. You couldn't even make a depraved puppet out of something that wasn't corporeal. But being told that he had a knack for flashy made him grin again--yeah, he could work with this. He'd have to figure out some shenanigans, but the theatrics of villainy were part of his schtick. "I certainly can. Not sure jes' what yet, but I know I'll think o' somethin' by then." Spellblades were the ideal sort of people to make use of Tyrant's Dissent--the mummy supposed that by some bizarre turn of fate he technically was one, by the loosest possible definition. After all, most of his magic was designed to facilitate shooting people easier, or making combat a great deal more difficult for his opponent. Sometimes both. He much preferred a good old-fashioned crossbow bolt to the gut and/or face for his actual damage. "I reckon that's a wise tactical decision. I ferget sometimes that a lotta magic folk ain't up on their," he patted his crossbow's holster, "weapon techniques same way I am." He flicked his wrist and made a notepad appear in his hand, and from the darkness of his sleeve emerged a second, spectral, half-skeletal, half shadowy mist hand which began jotting down notes. "How many spellblades ya got?" Once the business part had been attended to--orders officially placed and all that, there didn't seem to be much else for him to take care of, consulting-wise--he asked, "Now that we got that squared away, mind if I circle back around ta askin' about th' soul vessels again?"

Odh grimaces at the thought that magic folk -should- have good weapon techniques. "We're not all fighters, much as a lot of people would think otherwise. There's about as many mages who consider themselves handy in a fight as there are ordinary people who would be good with a sword. Just because the magic is in the blood doesn't mean it's meant to be a weapon." That said, it does seem like the Mage's Guild has been doing little but getting involved in wars recently, from Gevurah's little genocide in Venturil to the current predicament they find themselves in. "It's a lot easier to just blanket us all as magic mercenaries, but really very few of us train explicitly for battle. The spellblades are an exception, most of us are just researchers, or artists." Odh shrugs sadly before he gets back on track. "Our spellblade corp currently numbers around thirty six or so, give or take a few apprentices who are still unaccounted for. Remind me to ask Ondrel, he'll have a better sense of numbers." With that dealt with, Odh smiles at Ernest's question. "Feel free to ask, I can't guarantee I can answer everything. This research was what started this whole conflict, so I need to be somewhat cagey with the specifics, but I'll see what I can answer without getting into details."

Odhranos scrunches his nose as he considers Ernest's questions. Given the gravity of the situation in Xalious right now, he is very hesitant to divulge too much, but he furrows his brow and tries to offer what littl he can without giving away too much. "I'm not entirely certain what I did that time in Frostmaw, if I'm perfectly honest. I could feel your soul slipping and my body moved on its own. It felt like you needed bolstering, so I tried to bolster..." Odhranos grimaces apologetically and shrugs his shoulders, even he knows how unscientific that sounds. "Souls are a strange kind of thing. They're equal parts magic and not-magic, thinking about them takes you into the realm of fringe-magic that dabbles in healing and necromancy and divinity all at once. The kind that I have been studying doesn't delve too far into all of that, it just focuses on containment. Like, binding of a sort." Odhranos gestures towards Ernest's body as he elaborates. "Given the way you are currently bound to that body, Robelous magic could arguably bind you better, but it's got drawbacks. You become dependant on the capabilities of your vessel, which in your case means you might be very securely bound to a corpse, but it would still be just a corpse. You'd be as well off bound to a wand or a sword for all the use you'd get out of it." Odh kneads his thighs as he tries to wrangle his wording. "As for their minions, they're by and large, normal mages. Using soul-cages as weapons. Make no mistake, Robelous magic isn't intended the benefit the soul. It's to weaponise it. I wouldn't recommend seeking it out. It's... a twisted kind of magic."

Ernest didn't find these answers completely encouraging. It seemed like rather than making an anchor point for his soul it would instead make a trap for it, and his body would just sort of lay there lifelessly with him stuck inside it forever--if, that is, he went about this containment thing exactly like how Odh was describing it. Maybe there were more ways to go about it that didn't bind so completely, but it didn't seem like here and now was the right place to go looking for those answers. Maybe he'd have the opportunity to question an Ossian mage after the battle. "Hmm. Yeah, sounds like it ain't quite exactly what I'm lookin' for," he said, to placate the archmage that he wouldn't go looking for more answers. "Maybe after this is done you an' I could do some experimentin' with this bolsterin' thing, though. Get somethin' more concrete'n 'I tried ta bolster'. That'd be a handy thing ta have in a back pocket fer both of us." Ernest didn't mention the possible benefits of research into that sort of soul magic beyond just strengthening one's grip on reality, but if a person could save another from the brink of any death and help them hold on long enough to heal their body, that could do wonders for prolonging the lives of others. That, however, would be hero magic.

Odhranos laughs gently and turns his face upward into the sunlight. “I’d like that. It’s been months since I had the time to actually research something that didn’t involve ancient tribes and shadowy organisations. I’m honestly worn out.” It is no lie, Odhranos may be acting as chipper as ever, but his face is lined and drawn with the bone-aching weariness that this catastrophe has dropped on him. “When this is all over and done with, feel free to drop by Xalious whenever you'd like. “Villain” though you may be, I consider you a valued… collaborator.” Odh grins as he chooses his words carefully. “I could do with keeping a rapport with someone with your skills and connections. Keeps things interesting, don’t you think?”

Ernest beamed and briefly grabbed the brim of his hat. "I do indeed. You'll be seein' me around. Prolly end up needin' someone ta bounce yer tyrant dictator ideas off of, too, once yer supreme overlord of Xalious." Long-term contracts were his favorite sort of gig. This one seemed like it could be particularly fun and lucrative, so it was definitely worth following up on. "Welp, that ammo ain't gonna curse itself." Yet, he didn't add. "Suppose I got myself a metaphorical tarrin' an' featherin' ta dream up, too." He extended a hand to shake on it. "I'll meet you again on Howler's Peak."