RP:Prelude to a Hunt for Knowledge

Part of the Things Are Looking Up Arc

Kreekitaka has sought out Thamalys for his potential knowledge of Schezerade. However, it seems perhaps there's more to the avian than might at first meet the eye! Dark past collides with potentially absurd future as the pair hatch a rather odd plan...

The RP!

Thamalys limped across the hall, casually hurling tiny spheres of blue flames up and around, encircling the willowy shapes of the Avian as pesky birds around a fir tree. His usual attire was no more, the only cloth hanging from his shoulders - and down to his bare feet indeed - being a long, loose white robe, pure silk embroidered with silvery treads telling of moons and stars. He dragged his left leg in a most ungraceful fashion, from time to time bringing his hand to his right shoulder as if something painful was nested within is collarbone - which was exactly the case. The magic of the Genasi did an awful lot in healing the Blue, and yet some of the suffering still endured, in plain sight from everyone to notice. He presently came to a stop in front of a massive painting hanged right at the side of the entrance gate, some moments taking to cherish the talent within. “Absolutely outstanding…” he muttered in a soft whisper. Unarmed, but for the blueish ink covering much of his skin, his impossibly long, ivory white dreadlocks swayed lazily across his shoulders, much as his eyes indeed - as if he was not entirely confident in just standing there unaided.

Kreekitaka was being as noisy as ever, though this time it wasn’t because he was being boisterous and aggressive as per usual and more that the wheels on his Mobility Device were a bit squeaky and their wooden surfaces clattered across the tile with a sound that, while not quite as violent as the sounds of his feet stomping here and there, was rather more sustained. Today, he was actually rather less noisy, and the guards were a bit less eager to stop him—after all, he was apparently Valen’s employer now, so if he had business here, he had business. But it wasn’t Valen he was here to see—instead, the crab rolled right up to Thamalys. “I beyieve your name is TAH!amayees, yes?” he asked, clenching his facial crushers respectfully. “You haDAH! a gooDAH! fighTAH! in Fros’maw HHHTHe oHHHTHer DAH!ay. GooDAH! magic. BirDAH!s of fire, very creaTAH!ive. Hyu has big pyans for you.” He pulled to a stop right beside the avian, shifted his weight slightly, and flicked a lever with his claw to lock his wheels in place. “I have someHHHTHing I neeDAH!, an’ I suspecTAH! you’re one of HHHTHe few who can hepp me reach iTAH!.”

Thamalys’ plan of spending the whole of that morning surveying the many paintings scattered across the Academy had just came to a rather abrupt end. With a long, annoyed sigh, he turned - his head only - to the clinking mass that just landed at his feet. He would have obviously recognised that voice - sound? noise? - spatting syllables across the hall, a speech that he found almost less enjoyable than the already daunting presence of the CrabMan. Yes, he was aware of the fact that for some reason Valen seemed to have establish a sort of trade with that thing, and yet he had to muster much of his control and all of his poise indeed to just avoid shoving the onlooker away. “That is correct…” he would have begun, already deep into the mighty effort of making sense of the impossibly odd elocution of the Arthropod. He did not like - at all - where the conversation seemed to be veering toward already, being considered as part of whatever plan the Crustacean had in mind not exactly a notion cheering him up. Nevertheless, and despite the throbbing pain affecting such a sizeable portion of his body, he resorted himself to listen first, and to answer even - shortly after, the tiniest sparkle of curiosity lighting up within those solid blue eyes in the form of a faint net of golden colour. “I know who you are…” acknowledged the Blue, a courteous nod proffering to the clenching jaws so definitely too close, “… and I know what I believe it is only a very small fraction of your businesses and trades. What are you looking for, then, that even Kreekitaka the Resourceful cannot just seize by himself somehow? No, wait…” he added, his right hand raising to catch the attention of a servant darting in the distance, “you would have to wait until I find a proper seat - it was a good fight indeed that one, but that Rogue had me battered like a bleeding piece of meat… if you would follow me please…” he concluded, already turning - slowly and painstakingly - on his heels, only to amble across the hall toward a massive wooden chair in a corner next to a low table, there where the servant was already pouring some black tea into two elegant cups.

Kreekitaka himself was not exactly without injury either--as was rather plainly evident by the fact that he wasn't using his legs to support himself. He unlocked his chair and turned towards the room with the table and chair, then raised a claw and rattled his paddles at the servant to grab his attention. "None for me, HHHTHank you, save iTAH! for someone ess." He glanced up at Thamalys as he followed the avian into the room. "KreekiTAH!ka HHHTHe Resourcefo, hmm?" he echoed quietly, almost purring a little at the thought of a new name to add to his list of titles. At some point he was going to have to start writing them all down to keep track. Should he write them in chronological order, or order of importance? Regardless, without waiting for Thamalys to properly respond to that little half-aside remark, he set his wheelchair up opposite the man and locked the wheels again. Due to the way the chair supported him--instead of supporting his back, he was angled forward with his front side resting on a cushion--he gave the impression of leaning intently into the conversation, which is probably what he'd be doing anyhow. "HHHTHis has yess TAH!oo DAH!oo wiHHHTH being enTAH!ireyee unabo TAH!oo reach whaTAH! I neeDAH!, an' more abouTAH! saving TAH!ime an' having fun. You are famiyiar, of course, wiHHHTH SchezeraDAH!.? HHHTHe ciTAH!ee of your kin, which fyoaTAH!s above Xayious. I require a TAH!our. I wish TAH!oo see everyHHHTHing iTAH! has TAH!oo offer. Of course I coulDAH! simpyee go myseff an' expyore on my own, however HHHTHere are a few HHHTHings in parTAH!icuyar which I wish strongyee TAH!oo see."

Thamalys would have seized the fuming tea cup with both hands, as he found soon enough that his right one alone would have not sufficed, plainly trembling below the weight of the CrabMan words. The Massive One on Wheels could not possibly imagine how deep the mere mention of the Flying City dug into the Blue’s mind, bringing at the surface ancient fears, the strongest pull for that place he once called Home… and, obviously, the much unwelcome remark of the Ageless Black: || Ooooh… we are going Home, aren’t we Silly? How marvellous, witnessing you while struggling to bring back who you were, maybe right in front of your comrades, family… lovers, even? Ah, this is going to be a tremendous lot of fun…|| . And yet, the Spellblade managed to show only a tiny fraction of that turmoil, in the form of shaky ends, some golden streaks building within his solid blue eyes, and the faintest blueish hue dripping from his ink - enough for the Clinking One to notice, most likely. In any case, the Blue would have taken a whole mouthful of the piping hot beverage, immediately soothing much of his pain, clearing his battered mind that much he needed to put together an answer. “I… cannot say I - am - familiar with Schezerade, no…” he begun, shaking his head slowly, “… but I - was - familiar with the Flying City. It just so happen that… well, let’s just say my memories are not exactly… sound, shall we say, these days. In fact… I would love to get back there, and yet…” he would have continued, leaning toward him the tiniest bit, clearly eager to proceed with his speech in such a way to keep it as private as possible - not exactly easy when your interlocutor is Kreekitaka… - without getting too close to the disturbing features of the crustacean. “Point is, I cannot be recognised - by any means. There is some… darkness in my past… I don’t know what exactly, but I do know very well I don’t want to be a part of it anymore. So…” he would concluded, resting much of his weight on the chair then, those silver-clad wings tinkling loudly. “… unless you have some really, truly effective way to guarantee with absolute certainty that I won’t be recognised by - anybody -… I am afraid I would have to decline you request. Utterly sorry, but as much as I would love to get to know again a place I used to call Home… I would have too much to fear.” And with that, he would have returned to his tea, impossibly sad glances darting here and there, as trying to veer away from the painful subject.

Kreekitaka rippled his paddles in disappointment at first, twitching his facial crushers--not familiar currently, but was? Couldn't be recognized by -anyone-? "Hmmm." It was definitely an interesting problem to have to solve. "I've goTAH! no answer for you currenTAH!yee--iTAH! is, however, a very intriguing probyem. YeTAH! me ask HHHTHis--can you remember who woulDAH! recognize you if you were TAH!oo arrive an' approximaTAH!yee where in HHHTHe ciTAH!ee HHHTHey mighTAH! be? How comforTAH!abo are you wiHHHTH wearing a DAH!iscarDAH!eDAH! carapace of one of my kin? Perhaps you, being a magician, in an acaDAH!emy of magicians, mighTAH! have your own answer which I woulDAH! noTAH! imagine?" There was a pause. "Perhaps you coulDAH! research HHHTHe magic pixies use TAH!oo resize?" Probably a fool's errand, that--pixies have a vastly different physiology, most likely, but still. "An' if none of HHHTHaTAH! works, an' we are unabo TAH!oo fix your probyem, mighTAH! you be abo TAH!oo poinTAH! me in HHHTHe DAH!irection of someone who can assisTAH! me?"

Thamalys stood in utter silence for quite a while, pondering all the different options rattled off by the noisy interlocutor. He actually tried to recall some, why, even a single face that could recognise him within the Flying City… with very little result. “No, I know nothing of who or where… it could be anyone, anywhere, I guess. Which - is - a mighty problem to be solved…” he pointed out, a long, white dreadlocks playing with, the rough texture of his own hair brushing unpleasantly against his tattooed face. “My magic is mostly based on instinct and ink, and this rather useless in this particular context. In fact, tattoos would have to be the very first thing to hide… those, and my face. As you can see, I recently had my wings clad in silver, so that… yes, that would be misleading enough for most of the people of Scherezade.” He was not willing to let that opportunity to slip away from him. However disgusted he was by the clinking mass of the CrabMan, he certainly was quite an asset - chances were, most Avians would have just avoided the queer pair of those two in any case. “Are you not into dressmaking yourself? I suppose that any fashion of long robe, long enough to cover my tattoos, would be more than enough… no, I do not wish to wear anything close enough to a carapace - no offence”, he would have specified, a generous dose of revulsion plainly painted on his curved lips. “But I guess that the real problem would be my face… a mask, maybe? Any material, crustacean included…” he unwillingly sighed, “would probably work… what do you think?” And with that he crossed his legs, ready to listen; frankly he did not expect at all anything clever coming out of those crushers - the things you learn in Larket.

Kreekitaka rumbled a little, an internal sound that foreshadowed his realizing a problem with making a long robe. "I woulDAH! be pyeaseDAH! TAH!oo make you someHHHTHing, however... few of my fabrics are... hmm... nonDAH!escripTAH!. I expecTAH! HHHTHaTAH! if I were TAH!oo make you someHHHTHing, iTAH! mighTAH!... sTAH!anDAH! ouTAH!, you know?" He paused for a moment. "Of course, HHHTHe wings of sihver an' HHHTHe mask mighTAH! DAH!oo HHHTHaTAH! for you anyhow, so... waiTAH!. WaaaaiTAH!. Yes. How abouTAH! HHHTHis." The crab seemed to be perking up. Oh dear, Kree, what are you thinking now? "HHHTHere is a sTAH!ory among my kin of an abyssoh magician who wisheDAH! TAH!oo imbue his arTAH! wiHHHTH some MighTAH! eyemenTAH!, so as TAH!oo make iTAH! move an' fyow." Some "might" element? Might be worth discussion later. "So he researcheDAH! everyHHHTHing he requireDAH!, an' casTAH! his rituoh perfecTAH!yee. BuTAH! someHHHTHing strange happeneDAH! TAH!oo his sTAH!atue--iTAH! became hungry, an' began eaTAH!ing everyHHHTHing iTAH! founDAH!. HHHTHe sTAH!ory conTAH!inues for some TAH!ime, however--whaTAH! if I dress you in sihver an' preTAH!enDAH! you are my sTAH!atue, which I have broughTAH! TAH!oo yife?"

Thamalys was having such a hard time to get the full meaning of that stuttering speech - anybody could have told. Eyes narrowed down to slits, a lips pouted into something that dripped focus and annoyance in equal measure, the Blue leaned over a tiny bit, to try and adsorb as much as it could. “A statue?!” he went soon after, eyes wide this time, the absolutely ridiculous proposition barely sinking into his mind - and yet, it could have worked? Most likely, the Avians of the Flying City would have just regarded the Crab Man as utterly mental - and let the two of them alone. “Well… it does sound like a very, very strange idea to me, I won’t lie to you… but maybe it’s strange enough to actually work out nicely? Why, I doubt any of my fellow Avians would dare to come close to the two of us in that guise… by the Wind, let us do this!” he claimed possibly a bit too loud, fist smashing onto the law table - some of the black tea spilling shortly after, but the Spellblade did not care at all. “What do you need? Gold… I do not have much, but I am willing to retrieve more if needed. But most importantly… can you not tell me a bit more about the real motivation of your visit? I tend not to tolerate too shadowy plots, especially those that involve me somehow… what is it that you are looking for in Scherezade, exactly?” The tone of the Blue was anything but flat, and yet not curious at all - genuine concern was driving him, a mighty fear of being manipulated, chiefly building in that broken mind.

Kreekitaka seemed a little taken aback by the near-accusation and his paddles and facial crushers flared, claws raising in a "who do you take me for?" sort of gesture. "A few HHHTHings, since I've never been HHHTHere before. Fashion or archiTAH!ecTAH!ure inspirations, perhaps. However, whaTAH! I wish TAH!oo see mos' is a yibrary. An' in HHHTHaTAH! yibrary, I wish TAH!oo finDAH! wriTAH!ings on HHHTHe nature of fyighTAH!." The nature of flight? Well... yes, a flying city might in fact be a pretty great way of finding something like that, or at least one would imagine. "WhaTAH! woulDAH! make you HHHTHink I am up TAH!oo someHHHTHing 'shaDAH!owy', TAH!amayees?" The question came out with a touch of hurt.

Thamalys pondered that explanation carefully - or maybe not that thoroughly after all. “The nature of flying? Mmmmmh… that prompts a whole manner of additional questions, I am afraid… but you are right in demanding an explanation yourself.” He exhaled, painfully outstretching both of his arms over his head - Avians, even wounded ones, are not meant to stay sit for long after all. “I have no reason to doubt your word - in fact, you are very well known as a fair trader, which is more that can be said for half of the Larketians. And yet, you must admit your quest has some aspects on the verge of being defined… unusual, perhaps? I mean, I cannot even begin to think about a single motivation for you to get documented about the noble art of climbing the winds… no, no, hold your horses…” he would have hastily added in response to a most probable further angered reaction of the Clinking One. “I shall keep my anxieties for myself only, and be of help as much as I can. If I ever was in doubt, the mention of the library made me capitulate. For books, and knowledge, I can easily kill. I myself would be absolutely delighted to step foot into the paper realm of the Flying City… they say it is absolutely stunning. Why, with those endless spirals of shelves nested into crowded clusters, where one has to climb, to fly even, just to retrieve the rarest of the tomes… and the smell, of wax, and leather, and parchment, the mighty hours spent in getting lost within the ancient arts exhuming from the very pages, forgotten lore at the ready, dripping the powers of old…” he stopped mid air. That was more than a random rant - it was an actual memory of his, however broken and pale. Even the Ageless Black creeping inside the Spellblade found himself speechless. “I… I apologise…” he went on, almost panting, an hand passing across his forehead where more than one droplets of sweat were starting to form. “I… well, let us not dwell into excessive details, shall we? As long as you’ll manage to disguise me effectively… I’ll come with you, Kreekitaka the Resourceful, and I hereby state that I will help where and when I can, with blades or speech, with wings or coin. Do we have a deal, then?” He concluded, his right hand offering swiftly to the Crab Man, evident streaks of gold eagerly building already into those solid blue eyes.

Kreekitaka had in fact raised a claw when his motivations had been questioned, but it wasn't an aggressive gesture--or it hadn't meant to be--rather, it was preceding an explanation, which, as it turned out, could wait for a bit later. What he was hearing was that not only -did- the city have a library, but it was a literally awesome library. He managed to contain the thrill of greed that ran through his body--why, imagine what one could -do- with all that ancient knowledge--and extended his claw, snapping it open and gently closing it around the man's hand. "I graciousyeee accepTAH!, TAH!amayees HHHTHe Knowyedgabo, an' Io begin work on your DAH!isguise righTAH! away." As burning as those questions about exactly what -kind- of forbidden and/or ancient and/or forgotten lore was hiding in that library, well, he was patient. He could wait and find out. "An' for HHHTHe recorDAH!, my ambitions regarDAH!ing fyighTAH! are for pure achievemenTAH!s sake. I wish TAH!oo be remembereDAH! as more HHHTHan a seTAH! of cyaws an' a massive hoarDAH! of money." He clenched his facial crushers in gratitude. "Io see you again soon, I'm sure!"

Thamalys, if possible, widened his eyes even more so - was that massive chunk of pincers and chelae actually after a way to… fly? The mere thought was ludicrous, at least for the picky taste of the Avian - and any other representative of that kin, surely. Nonetheless, as long as no evil was intended, the Spellblade stroke a solid deal, and his word, he himself valued a bloody lot. “Excellent, excellent. I shall eagerly wait for some news concerning the… disguise, yes. As soon as we have that detail neatened… we shall depart together toward the Flying City, then, like a most queer pair of bloodhound in search of forgotten lore! Ah, I can barely wait…” he merrily went on, clapping even with both hands, much as a kid anticipating a long-awaited candy. “Now, my resourceful comrade. I have received strict indications about the time I must spend resting, if I ever want to heal properly - that duel let quite some marks on me…” he concluded, already raising, slowly, on his feet, some of his weight actually distributing on both hands, now connected with the wood of the chair to provide some form of support. Yes, some proper rest was in order indeed. And yet, he still managed to put together a stiff bow together with a fair enough salutation: “So. If you would excuse me… I shall thank you for this opportunity and try to find my way back to my room, now. Till soon.” Limping away, the Blue would have raised his right hand to signal to some unfortunate servant that somebody would have had to take care of tea pot, cups, spoons, and the whole lot of it indeed. Never looking back, then, the huge shapes of the Spellblade would have squeezed into the corridor in the distance, disappearing within the winding ways of the Academy.