RP:Dragons, Mages and Warriors

Summary: Krice finds Odhranos and S'erok training on the mountain slopes of Xalious. The pair engage Krice in a discussion about freedom, magic and immortality.

The Mountain Path

Krice moved along the mountain path, dressed in his usual black attire - the collar of his shirt open by two top buttons, sleeves rolled to his elbows - with his katana strapped to his back. He moved with neither haste nor hesitation, stride relaxed and leisurely - though gilded crimson eyes intermittently scanned the path ahead of him. Despite his outwardly calm appearance, the warrior carried himself in such a manner as to intimate that watchfulness and vigilance dicated his behaviour, ready to snap to attention should anything untoward befall the town at his back - or the path to his front.

Odhranos tapped the blade of the greatsword with a finger thoughtfully as he strode past and behind the lithe looking figure wielding it. "I think, if we have rudimentary ability when it comes to combat, that should be enough, right?" The mage said aloud, reaching up to brush some excess sand from the shoulder of the figure, which was a rather accurate stone render of the mage himself, albeit clad in some rather archaic looking armor and with a curious half-shaved hairstyle that the mage would never have been seen dead with, all artfully rendered in stone. <You'd think, that with all your studies, you'd have found the time to brush up your sword skills.> came the unimpressed reply of S'erok in his mind, as the stone figure relaxed it's arms, lowering the point of the sword to the ground and facing the mage (disconcerting as Odh stared back into his own stony features). "What can I say, mages have a tendency to neglect the art of swordsmanship. Or rather those that don't are regarded as spellblades rather than mages." The mage replied, rubbing his chin ruefully. "At least you have a physical form at all, that's an achievement, right?" S'erok's stone avatar quirked an unimpressed eyebrow and huffed mentally, lifting the blade once more and assuming a neutral stance.

Krice saw Odhranos and his new apparition--well, much more than an apparition, this time--up ahead and he continued on his way. They would eventually cross paths if they kept at the same heading, but the warrior slowed the closer he got until he was halted on the southern flank of the road, hands relaxed at his sides, gazed pointedly passing from the mage to his stone construction. Was the warrior suspicious? Potentially. He certainly didn't look readily accepting of the unknown 'something' having a form. Though...

Odhranos shook out his hands and feet, as if limbering up, before he took up a stance opposite the stone proxy. "You remember the rules?" He asked, as he leaned down and placed a hand flat against the earth, glancing across at the figure that was S'erok. <"Stop before contact, disarming counts as a victory. And you won't play any tricks with my form this time?"> came the reply. Odh chuckled, in their previous bout, je had won by simply using his terramancy to freeze S'erok solid, before daintily plucking the sword out of his hands. "A fair fight, I promise. As fair as fighting a living statue that doesn't feel pain can be, that is." The terramancer's hand had sunk into the stone ground, and was now withdrawn, with a long flint rapier clutched in it's fingers. <"Trying a small blade this time? That granite claymore really took it out of you last time"> the dragon-spirit jibed as he readied himself for the spar.

Krice tilted his head at a slight angle and realized immediately that Odhranos meant to spar with his stone counterpart. Different... Still standing a few metres out, and perhaps obscured from immediate view of the two combatants by a copse of trees and their corresponding shadows, the silver-haired enigma could observe from a safe distance the behaviour between Odhranos and the apparently possessed stone figure. Silently, without judgment or even clear curiosity, he looked on. Lingering for the battle also enabled the warrior to make sure that it didn't spread beyond its immediate vicinity - thus endangering the lives of the innocents in Kelay. With any luck, no one else would pass through this area for a while.

Odhranos leaned down in the sort of position a sprinter would assume, one hand holding the sword at his shoulder-level, parallel to the ground, while the other was placed flat against the earth. If Krice paid particular attention, he would notice loose stones and even a layer of dirt being almost hoovered up from the ground and disappearing up the mage's sleeve. Hidden from sight, this material wrapped around the mage's waist, shoulders and limbs, before he launched himself at his stone opponent, the hidden material serving to levitate him, effectively making it appear as if he were flying from the force of the kick off, as he darted towards S'erok, sword-point leading the charge. In response, the S'erok twisted his body aside, bringing the greatsword across so that the blade deflected the flint as Odhranos flew past, rolling his body aside so as not to slice his hand before landing on his feet again, kicking up plumes of dust.

Krice opted to rest into his left shoulder, body propped diagonally against the nearest tree. It seemed for all accounts that he was settled in to watch the spar unfold, from the manipulated stones levitating Odhranos--yes, he noticed--to the swing and parry of his stone creation in response to attack. Whatever he thought of their individual skills--could a human-shaped stone really be considered an 'individual'?--remained his own knowledge, for he held his silence and continued his observations. The katana strapped to his back stayed there, dormant without reason for use.

Odhranos straightened again, slipping into a stance that seemed almost fencing-like. "I'm impressed, that dodge was better than any you've done so far, I told you that if we worked on it, your reflexes in the new body would improve." The mage stated brightly, leaning in to jab towards the statue's midsection, only to be parried away by the large blade. <"I can read your mind Odhranos, not so impressive when you know it's coming."> "Oh... right" The mage grimaced, then closed his eyes. Pausing for a moment, he lunged forward and swung wildly, as his blade bit into stone with a resounding crunch. <"Well, that was an interesting technique, swinging blindly so I can't pre-empt where your blade will land. Smart."> the spirit commented, before a stiff kick landed in the mage's stomach, dropping him to the ground with a whoosh of air. <"But realistically, fighting blind is stupid."> S'erok stated plainly, tugging the stone blade out of his hip, where it had lodged, before placing it point down in the earth by the mage, who had gotten his breath back. "I don't understand how it doesn't work both ways though, if you can read my mind, why can't I read yours?" He inquired puzzled, as he retrieved his sword. <"Perhaps the same way a blind man can hear better than a seeing man. Senses compensate. And with all my senses gone, it stands to reason that I have some capabilities you lack."> The mage hummed contemplatively before glancing around, spying Krice out of the corner of his eye. Aha! There was someone who might be able to help in the area of swordsmanship. "Krice, it's good to see you again." The mage called out, waving him over.

Krice tilted his head. There it was again; 'in the new body'. So his stone-man was indeed possessed by a sentient consciousness, not simply animated 'in his shadow', as it were. And that vague but familiar scent... The warrior was entirely content to remain against that tree, hands pocketed, in his casually observant pose since Odhranos and his counterpart were keeping their battle restricted, barely disturbing their immediate surroundings let alone the vastness beyond. And then -he- was drawn into the interaction and he dipped his head in a nod, greeting Odhranos in turn. Upon being waved over, the warrior lifted his chin to volley a casual, " I'll stay right here. You're both a little reckless."

Odhranos smiled and didn't wave further, not minding that the swordsman chose to remain where he was. That was how just Krice was and the mage didn't begrudge him for it, he respected the decision to remain a step back from the world and observe. "Right, so we still have to work on developing your reflexes, but clearly sparring isn't the way to do it, as you can simply read my actions before they happen. Hmmm." The mage rubbed his chin thoughtfully. <"Why not ask Krice nicely?"> The dragon replied. "No, no, it wouldn't be fair to ask, he's just passing through, we couldn't disturb him." The mage replied, waving a hand idly. "Perhaps if we rigged up a system, to help provide random actions... *mutter mutter*... oscillating counterweight... *mutter mutter*" Odhranos becane lost in his train of thought. Sighing mentally, S'erok's avatar planted it's sword in the ground and took it upon itself to approach Krice, bowing low upon reaching him. Partway through Odh's muttered speech, S'erok's deep voice burst through, addressing Krice, a rather disconcerting ventriloquism, as the avatar's lips moved and the voice came from the other body. "Pardon my rudeness, Silvermane, but would you perchance be able to spare a minute for a light spar? Odhranos is proving somewhat recalcitrant." The dragon-spirit stated, rolling his stone eyes in exasperation. "S'erok! What did I say!!!" The mage cried, striding across anxiously.

Krice wasn't really sure what to pay attention to, at least not -first-. Odhranos was mumbling something about calculations and estimations and oscillating counterweights and Gods knew what else, but the stone-avatar had deposited its sword in the dirt and was approaching. Pushing off his tree, the silver-haired warrior moved more toward the center of the road, which in turn didn't allow the stone-man to get too close. Its bow was met with a speculative stare, which then shifted quizzically toward Odhranos when the familiar tone and speech pattern of a certain sand dragon burst free of the mage. One brow arched and the other lowered, Krice clearly found the juxtaposition of a moving mouth nearby with its voice further back to be quite disturbing, but he calmly accepted it--really, he had seen worse--and opted not to focus on the request, but the nickname. " Silvermane," he echoed, blandly, turning his attention to Odhranos. " You gave the sand dragon a body? Is that wise?"

Odhranos scratched his neck, a little embarrassed. "In a sense, but it's not a permanent body. I've been making terramantic constructs like it for months before the whole incident began, essentially, S'erok is able to piggyback through me to use it. But without my abilities, it would simply turn to unmoving stone or crumble once it left my presence or I ceased my magic. So in a sense, we are still in the same situation as we have been, we are simply experimenting with means through which S'erok can better present himself than by possessing me directly. It's no more or less dangerous than it was before." The mage then threw an irritated look at the statue. "That is, if he doesn't make a fool of himself. You're lucky it was Krice, had it been Pilar, she'd have put a hole through you by now." The statue made a face and shrugged, he didn't see the issue. "So, to answer your question, I see little fault in trying it out. If he had bad intentions, I could have disassembled him there and then." <"Could have tried, you mean. Remember how we first met, don't get ahead of yourself, Grey One. We're equals in this."> Odhranos grimaced at the mental words but chose not to convey the message.

Krice glanced between Odhranos and S'erok's stone avatar, slow movements of those crimson eyes ensuring that he was pointedly attentive to the words spoken by the aforementioned. By the mage's conclusion, the warrior stated a matter-of-fact, " I could put a hole in 'im, but... there's no point." Why would Pilar want to damage a simple avatar? Anyway, back to the point at hand, Krice held his silence while Odhranos seemingly dealt with some discomfort, which the warrior could only assume was caused by his link with the sand dragon, and then he said to the mage, " What's the point? So he doesn't have to share your body anymore, or?" He squinted, glancing at the stone avatar. " What happened to yours? I'm not...too familiar with the lore surrounding you."

Odhranos smiled. "And for that I thank you. Pilar probably wouldn't either, if she knew what it was, but she can startle sometimes, and with the pyromancy she's practicing at the moment, startling her could be... explosive." The mage had startled her during one of their duels, but thankfully her pyromancy was only burgeoning, to the extent that she reacted instinctively with illusion magic instead. At Krice's question, S'erok's face fell and his shoulders slumped as he turned away, evidently bothered. "Oh, I should have mentioned something..." the mage stated sadly as the stone figure stomped away to his sword. "S'erok ended up in his current predicament as a result of an illegal experiment carried out by the Mage's Guild. Not recently, almost a hundred years ago. I'm attempting to find out what I can about it, in the hopes of trying to undo it's effects, but the records are proving... well buried." The mage frowned unhappily, watching as S'erok lifted the sword, swinging it angrily through the air. "The mages removed S'erok's soul, binding it into an artifact, and left his body to rot in the desert. For the near-century between now and then, he lay abandoned in a vault, before being stolen by Raiez and left in her hoard. Where I found him." The mage explained, patting the golden cage at his side, S'erok's true physical form. "When he encountered me, he was driven half mad from isolation, so he possessed me much in the way that a drowning man would grapple a lifeguard for air, uncaring for the other's safety. It was only when we got to the Nameless Desert and found his remains, that he relinquished control, so broken by the realization that he couldn't return to his body ever again." Odhranos glanced at Krice, his eyes sad with compassion. "This is more for his sake than mine, it's to give him freedom after a hundred years of imprisonment."

Krice observed S'erok's change in mood pointedly, but as Odhranos retold the story of the sand dragon's history, his predicament, he came to realize why; he wouldn't be jumping for joy either if his soul had been stolen by the Mage's Guild--well, by anyone. When his eyes returned to Odhranos, the warrior lifted his chin and murmured on a tone of slightly evident compassion, " Sorry. That sucks." Those gold-streaked eyes slid away from the mage again to fall upon the animated stone avatar, his expression guarded and difficult to read.

Odhranos nodded soberly. "It does. Which is why I am going to continue digging. If I can uncover how the ritual, or whatever it was worked, then perhaps I will have a better chance at understanding how I might be able to set his soul free. Even if he can't return to a living body.... he deserves to rest, after all this time. Immortality isn't always the blessing it's made out to be. Especially if it's unwillingly forced upon someone." The mage murmured quietly, his slate-grey eyes somewhat overcast. S'erok had calmed down by this point, and his stances became more fluid and graceful, as graceful as a statue could be. "In the meantime, I want to give him as close to a body as I can. After the suffering he experienced at the hand of the Guild, it's the least I can do."

Krice looked puzzled by Odhranos, and his stone-pal, but when he spoke, it was of concerns that should have affected the mage. " And you're teaching him how to wield a sword--not too effectively, but it's something. What if he goes on a rampage of vengeance on the current Mage's Guild?" The warrior hadn't meant to insult Odhranos in his lack of swordsmanship, only to state a truth. Nodding, he added thereafter, " It would be good to set his soul free, though."

Odhranos smiled, not minding the comment on his swordsmanship, because it was completely true. "I'll put it this way, he has already proven capable of possessing me and using my power against me. If he so chose to take vengeance against the Guild, he would have a far greater weapon in me than any sword. But I trust that he will not and that his intentions are good, as during our time spent in the desert, we both experienced a complete baring of the soul. At this point in time, there are few people who's intent I would trust as much as his. Understanding someone intrinsically does that, I suppose." Odhranos pondered, as S'erok finished his workout and set the sword back in the earth, gazing off up towards the peaks of Xalious silently.

Krice didn't mean to insinuate that S'erok would use -only- the sword has his means of vengefulness, but he wasted no words clarifying. Instead, he absorbed Odhranos' answer while observing the stone figure who paused a few metres away, his crimson eyes narrowed subtly in contemplation. With the sand dragon's eyes on the Xalious Mountains, the enigmatic swordsman took the time to properly observe its behaviour through the borrowed figure constructed for it by the mage. At length, with his voice low but not overly so, Krice asked of Odhranos, " You said he can't move unless you feed magic into 'im?" Or something of the sort.

Odhranos nodded. "He is to all intents and purposes not alive. It is simply the same magic I would use to raise a wall of earth, or whip up a storm of sand, it is simply a stone puppet. When you boil it down to it's most basic, S'erok gives me mental input on the directions and movements he wishes to enact and I enact them. It is not perfect, and it is by no means a permanent solution, but it relieves his captivity, and that is enough in itself for now." The mage tapped his finger on his chin pensively. "I am currently researching more advanced forms of artificial life, namely that of carnomancy and necromancy. I believe that may help provide solutions to the issue, if a new body can be made for him, so he can return to his previous life, no longer attached to me."

Krice as always was silent in attentiveness, his gaze on the stone figure but his ears attuned to Odhranos' words. By the mage's conclusion, the warrior frowned thoughtfully and turned his head, looking upon the man beside him, instead. " Necromancy? You mean a dead body?" He squinted, clearly skeptical of the viability of that option, and redirected his crimson stare to S'erok.

"Yes and no. Necromancy differs depending on how advanced the practitioner is. Some can merely make the body move, like a fleshy puppet, their magic creates artifical muscle stimulation, giving a false image of life. More accomplished necromancers have the capability to actually capture and command souls, resurrecting a whole healthy body and soul, tying them back together with magic. This is more the level I am researching. I'm no necromancer, I never applied myself to studying the art, but perhaps some of the principles related to soul-trapping could be repurposed." Odhranos explained folding his arms behind him. The mage's voice didn't hold any of the disgust that most have when discussing necromancy, Odh felt that it nothing more than any other school of magic. Honestly, how unnatural is bringing life back to a body, when highly accomplished mages can change the very fabric of space and time on a whim?

Krice studied S'erok in silence, even as Odhranos so freely spoke of binding long-lost souls to old corpses. Such topics turned the stomachs of the average civilian, but he portrayed no reaction. Upon the mage's conclusion, the warrior mused, " Obviously it's doable, since his soul is bound to -you-, but... You're alive, and have been, far as I can tell." A tilt of the head sent his crimson stare sideways at Odhranos. " Binding it to a dead body would take a lot of magic." He squinted pensively at this realization. From whence would the mage conjure such power?

Odhranos eye's widened. "Oh, no no, apologies, I should have been more clear. While the level of magic is somewhere on par with and borrows some principles from the arts of necromancy, I am no necromancer. If a new body is to be made for him, it will be with the materials I am accustomed to working with. Stone, earth and metal. But to tell the truth... I don't-" the mage's voice was abruptly cut off as S'erok's stone body froze and his consciousness snapped back into the mage's body, turning his eye's golden and deepening his voice. "What Odhranos was about to say is he doesn't think that I have any wish to live in a replacement body. And he is right. I wish to be put to rest. After all this time. Tell me, Silvermane, does your immortality prey on you sometimes? Have you ever wished you wouldn't live forever?"

Krice's attention remained on Odhranos through the duration of his answer - which meant that he had a first-row seat to the shift of the body before him from mage habitation to old dragon. His left eye narrowed, politely displeased with this change. After S'erok's conclusion of Odhranos' words, the warrior mumbled a wry, " He could've said that, himself." He went on to continue with the conversation, however, by addressing the dragon's latter query with one of his own: " My immortality?" It was more rhetorical than actual, for he soon elaborated with a proper response. " Wishes are for children and lost causes. I am what I am, and I live in the now. I don't worry about tomorrow or forever."

Odhranos 's golden eyes narrowed. "I worry about the future. I have done for a very long time. 134 years, to be precise, spent locked in a damned cage, cut off from the world, un-aging, undying, alone, nothing to keep me company but my thoughts. And would you like to know what occurred to me, during my century of imprisonment? Immortality is the most heinous sentence a living creature can suffer. Everyone deserves eternal rest, after suffering this damnable world. I have wished for my end for a long, long time of suffering this damnable world, so don't tell me wishes are for lost causes, Krice. Not until you have felt what I have felt." The dragon-spirit spat vehemently, before ripping out of Odhranos' body and back into the golden cage it inhabited. Odhranos nearly fell forwards with the force of S'erok's exit, and it took him a moment or two of gasping to get used to his body again. "I'm... sorry for his outburst. It's a... touchy subject."

Krice regarded S'erok's gold eyes in Odhranos' face for the entirety of the reply he spoke - or rather, spat. His expression was one of indifference, not because he didn't care but because he was apparently not bothered with the fact that he had irritated - and perhaps pained - the ancient dragon. The expression remained and he stood unmoving, even as Odhranos was gifted back his body and stumbled forward in regaining it. Following the mage's apology, the warrior offered a casual, " Don't worry about it. He's well within his rights to feel that way. Seems like he wants to rest, though. Why give him a body and keep him going?"

Odhranos rubbed his hand across his face tiredly. "I... I don't know. it just feels wrong, to let him die. He is one of the few ancient dragons remaining that survived the Great Saurian War, he has lived longer than most creatures that walk this earth nowadays. Even before he was imprisoned, he was considered ancient. I just feel... like he has more to offer this world. I know his imprisonment has twisted his perceptions, but... I am trying to show him, that giving up isn't the right course of action." The mage shrugged sadly. "I really don't know. I'm just trying to do what I feel is right."

Krice spent a moment watching S'erok in his clay body, while Odhranos put forth an argument for the longevity of the ancient dragon. At the mage's conclusion, the warrior regarded him once more and uttered a wry, " You're thinking like a human. He -wants- to die. He's sick of this crappy world and the creatures in it."

Odhranos sighed unhappily at Krice's suggestion. "I suppose. Either way, I won't be able to release him at all until I uncover how exactly the soul-transference ritual was enacted. I guess, I live in hope that he will reconsider. But I will respect his wishes." The mage straightened and tried to smile a little. "He has lived a full life, more so than most can even imagine. Some of the stories he has told me, memories he has shown me, they are older than I can even grasp. Sights that do not even exist today. If... when he does pass on. at least I can bear his memories. He will not be forgotten."

Krice nodded thoughtfully at Odhranos and had a moment of silence to contemplate. After all, their entire conversation had been about the ancient dragon and its longevity. He needed a second to process. " It's good," said the warrior, at length, " That you want to help him. And who knows? Maybe he'll discover a new interest in life by the time you figure out how to set him free." Lifting his chin, the silver-haired enigma called out to S'erok, " Didn't mean to upset you before."

Odhranos nodded silently, while a small sad smile crossed his face. "Perhaps..." He murmured quietly, before tilting his head as if listening to someone unheard. "He said there's no harm done. Don't mind him, he tends to keep to himself after outbursts like that." The mage shrugged gently. "Anyway, thank you for your insight Krice. It's... not been the easiest few months since my return, it's good to talk." The mage was halfway to reaching out with his hand for the vampire to shake, before he reconsidered and bowed instead, respecting Krice's distance. "Until we meet again."

Krice glanced toward Odhranos and nodded his acknowledgment of S'erok's mental reply, thereafter dropping his gaze to the outstretched hand. In the brief time it was offered, he didn't reach for it. When the mage opted to bow instead, the warrior dipped his head in a nod that was both thanks for the other man's respect, as well as a farewell of his own. " Take care," he said, glancing from mage to clay dragon before he turned to venture eastward.