RP:Runeweaver and Stoneweaver
Part of the Lies Within Us Arc
Part of the Weave Your Own Fate Arc
This is a Mage's Guild RP.
Summary: Iintahquohae travels to Xalious to meet Odhranos, being both involved in the discipline of artificing, albiet approaching the subject from different angles; Iintahquohae as a creator of magic imbuements and Odhranos as an analyst of ancient magic relics. Discussing the mysteries and mechanisms of the runic language, the pair find common ground in unfortunate past experience that proves for promising future endeavors.
Upon unfolding the letter, a small scrap of muslin with an embroidered rune made of red thread falls out, along with a blank square of muslin roughly the same size. Both pieces are just the faintest hint warmer than they should be. At the bottom of the letter, adhered with a blot of wax, is a piece of mercurial thread roughly one inch long. If Odhranos is familiar with chronomancy, he may recognize that the thread possesses qualities related. The fabric pieces clearly lean toward some minimal knowledge of pyromancy.
To Odhranos Kerrigan,
A colleague of yours by the name of Quintessa Dragana advised me to reach out to you regarding a thesis you are working on. As a terribly novice mage - below novice, to be frank, I am uncertain of what you may glean from my capbilities, but I thought I would inquire just the same. Another of your colleagues, Daath D'Artes, educated me very briefly long ago. Folded within this note you will find two pieces of fabric that I have, well I suppose imbued with heat, and a piece of thread that I spun from a solid...rock, I think, that Kasyr Azakhaer gave to me. I was able to spin it into a spool of thread and stitch together a portion of Vailkrin's sky many years ago. Admittedly, I do not see myself as much of a conjurer or weaver of spells, but more of someone that imbues and creates, given my occupation as a tailor.
I look forward to your response.
Iintahquohae Oohjmayik
Ms Oohjmayik,
The samples you sent on to me are quite fascinating. From my study artefacts and relics that the Guild has dredged up across Lithrydel, it is often the subtle enchantments that impress me more. Delicately controlled imbuement is exquisite, and your work is no exception.
Secondly, this thread is quite a marvel. I would be most curious to speak with you about its fashioning, even if it bears only tangential relevance to my research. Being a terramancer, the notion of a thread spun from my attuned element opens realms of practical possibilities that I can't help but wish to learn more about.
I simply must speak with you. I feel like I have much to learn from your experience in the craft, and perhaps I can return the favour with some academic secrets of my own. An equal exchange, perhaps? I have a wide selection of fine teas that might sweeten the negotiations, if you are partial.
I look forward to your next letter,
Fondly,
Odhranos Kerrigan, Provost and Researcher of the Mage's Guild
Mr. Kerrigan,
I am pleased that what I have provided may useful to your studies, and would love to meet with you. I travel often with my trade, and conveniently enough I am currently en route to Xalious. I normally stay at The Dancing Destrier, but I will visit the Mage's Guild upon arrival to leave word that I am in the area. I would very much enjoy what knowledge you have to offer. Hopefully it will help me better understand what I am able to do, or at the very least improve what little skill I have shown you. Anything would be appreciated.
Tea sounds lovely. I will have to make sure to bring one of the Destrier's cake logs along with me to accompany it, if you enjoy sweets.
Yours,
Iintahquohae Oohjmaeyik
Mage Tower
Iintahquohae's arrival to the Mage's Tower is, she hoped, in a timely manner. As indicated in her letter, she had brought along one of the Dancing Destrier's cake log, wrapped in a square of cotton and placed in a small basket to prevent it from getting squished. She is decidedly not...mage-ly in her appearance; no robes, but instead boots, leggings, sweater vest, and jacket, all black and made by her own hand. The jacket is purposely left unbuttoned to reveal the red dragon scales lining it, multipurpose in their use. Protection, heat, and in her case, aesthetic. She had considered bringing along more examples of her capibilities, but the extent of what she could do, she believed, was shown well enough in the letter she provided and the jacket she wore. Uncertain of where to locate Odhranos in the Mage's Tower and if she would even be allowed access to upper floors, should he not be on the ground floor, she asks one of the mages entering the building if he may send word that she is here to see the terramancer. Once the mage wanders off, she quietly waits, standing by the entryway.
Odhranos taps his quill absentmindedly against the sheet in front of him, staring blindly at the empty space between the door facing him and the desk he sits behind. The sound of footsteps passing his doorway shake him from his trance, and he returns his focus to his writing, cursing softly at the blot of spreading ink where his quill had been resting. Trying to mop the blot as best he can with tissue, a scrap of parchment and almost the sleeve of his grey robes, he accepts that the page is beyond saving and crumples it up in frustration. With a flamboyant toss, he lobs the ball of parchment towards the wastepaper basket that sits beside his door, just as the door opens and Charlie, one of the apprentices interning in the Guild’s Administrative office, steps inside. “Provost Kerrigan, there’s someone to see you by the entrance hall if you -” Charlie’s words are cut off as the crumpled ball bounces blithely off of his forehead. In an instant Odhranos has leapt from his seat, near-vaulting over the desk in his hurry to reach the apprentice. “Charlie! Forgive me! That was purely an accident, I am so sorry!” Odhranos hurriedly plucks the paper from the wooden floorboards and places it gingerly into the wastebasket, before straightening to face Charlie, who rubs his forehead ruefully, with a slight grin on his face. “I am terribly sorry, I wasn’t paying attention at all, do please forgive me.” Odhranos flusters, wringing his hands despairingly as Charlie laughs. “It’s fine, Professor, it was just paper. Anyway, there’s someone waiting for you in the entrance hall. Said she’s here to see you, apparently.” Odhranos immediately perks up upon hearing this. “Ahh, that must be my guest! Wonderful, thank you Charlie!” Odhranos sweeps out of his office, robes a-flapping in his wake. Halfway down the corridor, he stops and spins on his heel. “Oh, could you close my door over there? Thank you! And sorry again!” With that, the terramancer whisks off towards the entrance hall. Rushing down the glassy spiral staircase two steps at a time, Odhranos arrives in the hall with a graceless aplomb. Casting his eyes around the hall, he seeks out unfamiliar faces, and upon spying Iintaquohae by the door, he breaks into smiles and strides across. “Ms Oohjmayik, I hope?” Odhranos pauses a few paces from her and bows deeply. “Odhranos Kerrigan, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
While waiting, the seamstress had begun walking along the walls of the tower, observing the pillars supporting the upper floors with a lofted brow. She could sense and very, very, vaguely understand the magic that was there, but it didn't entirely make sense to her. The sound of footsteps approaching caused her head to level out again, eyeing the man, presumably her host, with a somewhat scrutinizing eye. She never really shut what she called her 'business mind' off, and immediately her dull eyes swept over his robes before regarding his face and more importantly, his words. Not the flamboyant, brilliantly colored attire she assumed a mage would have. Subtle and muted, she thought, except for his brilliant looking eye. She made a point to not stare at it to be polite. Head dipping with a low nod, perhaps a slight imitation to his bow, she replies, “Yes. It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Mister Kerrigan.” She presents the basket hanging from her arm to him with a small smile, removing a bundle of fabric tucked in it while doing so. “Cake log, like I mentioned in my previous letter. I have also brought along some more items that I've created to demonstrate further what I can do, if you are interested.” Figuring he might like to know what they are, she quickly adds, “Wands. They seemed fitting.” Assuming he had an office or a room prepared for the two of them to step into to chat, Iintahquohae looked about the hall. Small talk clearly was not her strong suit, but she tried. "It is magnificent here. I can't say I've ever visited a place quite like this."
Odhranos smiles pleasantly when Iintaquohae greets him, though when she removes the wrapped bundle from her basket, the mage’s stomach growls hungrily when Odhranos is rudely reminded that he hasn’t eaten in a number of hours. “Ahh, seems I’ve been outed by my own stomach.” The terramancer laughs brightly, as his nose crinkles with mirth. “It’s far too often that I get up from my desk and realise that hours have swept past when it felt like minutes. Time is a fickle and mischievous thing” Odhranos gestures towards the stairs that he just descended. “But yes, I’d be fascinated to study your work. It’s so rare in my particular line of work to have a chance to discuss the creation with the creator in person. Most of the artefacts I study are so old, even their creator’s names have long been forgotten. So I look forward to the opportunity!” Odhranos clasps his hands with glee. “My office, perhaps? I shall whip up a pot of tea to have alongside.” At Iintaquohae’s comment on the magnificence of the Guild Tower, Odhranos lifts his eyes to the lofty roof of the entrance hall, as if he were noticing it for the first time. “Yes, it does seem magnificent, doesn’t it?” He murmurs, as if lost in thought, before turning a bashful smile towards Iintaquohae. “It’s a shame that I barely take note of it anymore, the extraordinary becomes commonplace after a while. But it is quite an extraordinary feat of design. Did you know that most of the tower’s structure is in fact water, held in place by the power of wardings alone?” Odhranos breaks into idle chit-chat as he heads towards the spiral staircase. “A number of my predecessors have written about the topic, praising its “revolutionary materiality” and “forward thinking ingenuity”; but between you and me” Odhranos smirks and whispers conspiratorially; “It was really just for the novelty of being able to claim that we reside in a tower made of solid water.”
Iintahquohae doesn't require food thanks to vampirism, but her sweet tooth never really went away. The thought crosses her mind that her stomach might growl similarly to Odhranos if it still could growl, and she flashes a small grin, both at it and his words. “I know that too well. Granted, I'm fussing about with frills and sewing buttons to things and not studying, as I imagine you are.” She follows the mage's lead to the stairs, finding her eyes wandering to the walls of the structure yet again as he describes the building's make. Water? She never would have been able to tell if he hadn't told her. In fact, she still can't tell. “Yes, tea sounds lovely,” she agrees, nodding again, then voicing her disbelief at the building's make. “That seems almost impossible, but I'd believe it, given what I have done and seen over the years. This truly is incredible,” she says, then pauses briefly midstep on their ascent to peer down at her feet before following again. “Do you ever wonder what would happen if the wards failed? It is unlikely, if I were to guess, but I cannot imagine...” She recalled on occasion Daath mentioning a vast library somewhere within the tower. All of those tomes were hopefully waterproofed in one way or another. “It is lovely,” Iintahquohae concludes. She adjusts her glasses and checks to make sure the bundle of wrapped up wands under her arm haven't slipped away. “I'm eager to see and hear your thoughts.”
Odhranos follows Iintahquohae's glance downwards and immediately regrets the decision. With an obvious catch in his breath, masked by a slight cough, Odhranos tears his eyes from the ground disappearing beneath the glass steps and instead fixes his gaze upwards, towards the approaching roof, where the spiral staircase punctures through. "Ahh, yes, if I'm honest, I try not to wonder. I'm sure there are enough counterwards and enchantments in place that should the wardings fail, the damage would be minimised, but given that my office is… quite a number of floors up, I wouldn't care to imagine what the experience would be like." Odhranos shudders visibly. "I've had enough scares in one lifetime, what with visiting Schezerade. The fewer reasons I have to leave the ground, the better, but when I have to, I always appreciate my descents to be… gradual. I've been deathly afraid of heights from a young age. Makes me wonder why I ever joined the Eyrie, but, well, circumstances got the better of me." The terramancer shrugs bemusedly, before continuing. "Most of the upper floors are constructed out of traditional blockwork and wood, but the water serves as the primary structure throughout. It's just best exposed on the exterior and the ground floor. For show, I'd imagine." Once they have spiralled past the roof of the entrance hall, the stairshaft is enclosed in a limestone block, giving a dim and subdued atmosphere to the climb. After passing several landings, each marked by a wood-panelled corridor stretching out of sight, Odhranos strides off the stair at one floor in particular, gesturing for Iintahquohae to follow. The corridor runs in a straight line towards the perimeter of the tower, before meeting another curving corridor at a t-junction. Taking a left, the pair pass by a series of identical wood-panel doors, each one sporting a neat brass plaque, bearing the name of the room's occupant in cursive engraving. "Aha, this one is mine." Odhranos gestures towards the door in question and with a quiet latching noise, the door swings open. "After you." Odhranos holds the door, following Iintahquohae in afterwards. "It is a little cramped. I was supposed to move to the Provost's offices when I was promoted, but I had just got everything where I wanted it, so I've been putting off moving indefinitely. I'm sure they'll toss me out someday, but until then, this broom-cupboard of an office is mine." The terramancer grins as he shuffles around the desk, reaching up to take down his kettle and tea-case from their dedicated shelf. "Please do take a seat. Oh, and let me know if the seat could do with a cushion. I've got a few for the very purpose."
Iintahquohalistens intently, eyes briefly lighting up at mention of the Eyrie. “Oh? I am, or was, I suppose, a member of the Eyrie as well. One of the Red Riders. Honorary, considering Pinquettki doesn't breathe fire.” A beat, realizing she didn't explain who Pin was. “My couatl. I quite like flying after doing it for so long. It's freeing in a way, even if it can make you overlook things.” She decides not to volunteer her greatest fear, due to recent revelations regarding it, and presses her lips in a thin line while quickly shaking the thoughts away. Following Odhranos up the staircase and through the maze of corridors she kept quiet for the most part, in effort to try memorizing the way in case she was expected to wander back on her own. She's surprised at her inability to do so, but believes it to be intentional. Perhaps the tower is warded as well to make the halls change on occasion to trip up intruders or non guild members. An intriguing thought, but one that quickly fades once the pair have reached Odhranos' office. “Thank you,” the seamstress says, once he has opened the door, entering and taking a brief glimpse at the room's interior. Before she takes the offered seat, she places the basket filled with cake log on the desk close to the edge, for fear of disrupting any items that may be on it, along with the bundle of cloth carrying her wands. She removes her jacket once she has removed two items, a spool of thread and a length of measuring tape, draping it over the chair before taking a seat. The lack of cushion doesn't appear to be a bother, considering how stiff and rigid Iintahquohae tended to be. A blessing and a curse, she supposed, as it could make her unreadable to some while unfortunately for her, unpleasant and cold to others. With her hands free, she removes her gloves and stuffs them into a jacket pocket, then tucks stray, black curls behind her ears ears and out of the way. Once she has finished busying herself with essentially unpacking her belongings, she watches the mage intently, uncertain of how this interview or her demonstration should start. This felt a bit like school when she was a child, and the thought elicits a grin. She waits while the terramancer starts preparing tea, then says, “I am uncertain where you would like to start...I have brought a fair bit to show you. I do hope it is of use and that I am not wasting your time.”
Odhranos perks up when his guest is revealed to be a fellow Eyrie member. "Ahh! Well it is always pleasant to meet another of the flock! I wonder my Kess has encountered Pinquettki during her time in the Northern Outpost." Odhranos offers an explanation in kind as he places the kettle down on the table and begins filling it from the pitcher he keeps by the windowsill. "Kestrel is a Frost drake from the wildlands of Frostmaw. She lived here in the Tower for a year or two when she was just a hatchling, but she's lived in the Northern Outpost since her size started proving troublesome around the Guild. I should really visit her one of these days." Once the kettle is filled, Odhranos plucks two small river stones from the shelf to his left. Clenching his fist around them, he then drops them into the water from a height. As they fall from his hand, the two stones suddenly begin glowing a deep cherry red as the terramancer sets the particles that make up the stones buzzing, causing the stones to heat up, and in turn, bring the water to a slow boil. "Any particular preference for tea? I have just about every variety you can get between here and Rynvale. Except for Larketian Grey, there's a bit of a trade embargo going on there." Odhranos grimaces, not wishing to open the lid on that can of worms, before Iintahquohae poses her question. "Feel free to start wherever feels most natural. There's no rush, and I am intrigued to see anything you have to show. Not to mention, I have something of my own that I would appreciate an artificer's opinion on, so feel free to work away, I'll get the mugs ready as you do so."
Iintahquohae grins.”They could have crossed paths. We may have as well, though memory doesn't serve me well. It was a long time ago.” Pre-vampirism, she believes, or just shortly after her siring. “Satoshi was still Queen then.” The seamstress observes Odhranos' use of the river stones, admiring the action for its practicality. It seemed far more useful than her limited understanding of magical use that typically revolved around combat. Her head shakes in response to his question regarding tea. “Whatever you prefer is fine to me.” Being somewhat out of the loop with the goings on with the kingdoms of Lithrydel's politics, she makes no comment about the embargo, and instead gets to her feet to begin demonstrating the wands she has created. Unrolling the bundle of cloth, she reveals five wands. One is made of clay, another, a hollow reed with holes having been carefully poked along its length, the third made of blown glass and filled with water, and the fourth a sanded, tapered piece of wood. Each is painstakingly been carved or etched into with detailed sigil work for the respective element each wand represents. The fifth is a particularly thin looking bone, likely from a bird's wing considering just how thin it is, and that it is hollow. “Now, as my experience with magic is severely limited despite how many books I've read from Cenril's Library, Vailkrin's Black Library and Frostmaw's Frozen Library, I have fashioned these as a conduits of sorts. For example,” she lifts her bare hand and gives her fingers a few snaps. The faintest spark of flame emits itself from her snapping fingers, but it is hardly noticeable. She then reaches for the wooden wand and the glass wands. With the wooden wand in her left hand, she snaps her arm in a upward swing, pressing her thumb against a circular sigil on the wand. Instead of what one might expect with a wand bursts into flame and she quickly drops it to the floor. Tossing the glass wand from right to left hand, she changes her stance, lighter of foot and gentler in the movement of her arm, and arcs the glass wand out. As she does so, the sigils on this particular wand crackle along the glass surface without shattering it entirely, and instead water from Odhranos' kettle flows out, following the wand's arc to extinguish the flames. “I will wipe that up,” she says, looking over at the mage briefly before reaching for the clay wand. Her movement is much more rigid with this one, along with a more flatfooted stance. Given the wards and magic that must be woven into the stone work of the tower, the wand does nothing. She had intended to wriggle loose a stone with it, but to no avail, while the reed-looking wand, simply emits a puff of air akin to a slight breeze, and briefly floats when she lets it go from her hands before clattering to the floor. Finally, the wand made from bird bone is picked up. For this one, she sinks a fang into her thumb, and allows a bit of her blood to drip into the hollow end of the wand. The crude etchings she managed to carve into bits of the bone are stained with it, and hardly anything results from it – simply a terribly faint stench of death, the source potentially being the bird the bone came from. Once she is done with her demonstrations, she grabs the cloth used to wrap up the wands and cleans up the burnt wand ash and water she spilled on the floor. While wiping it up, her head pops up over the edge of the desk to make eye contact with Odhranos. “Like I said, I am not terribly skilled at this at all. I can put heat into material, the sense of fluidity, the lightness of air, and well, I can jostle a rock or two if I'm lucky, and I suppose make dreadful smells.” She chuckles lightly, then returns to her seat. “Everything that I do is terribly weak. I do not know how to strengthen it, or even if I can. I can feel the magic in things,” Iintahquohae explains, “I can surmise a rough idea of what's making an item work, I suppose, and I can pour faint amounts of magic into them too. I just...I don't understand it. It doesn't help that I am mostly self taught, I suppose.”
Odhranos frowns with thought. "Hmm, it's likely that was before my time then. I keep finding myself reminded that my time in Lithrydel has still been relatively short, in comparison to some similar life-spanned individuals, not to mention some of the more longer-lived that I have had the good fortune to meet." Odhranos taps his chin in thought. "Back then I was likely…" The terramancer doesn't finish the sentence, and the thought is truncated similarly, before it dredged up unnecessary and unwanted memories. "Nevermind that though, these look fascinating." Odhranos leans over the desk to inspect the wands as they are revealed, absentmindedly opening the tea-case, though he is distracted immensely by Iintahquohae's handiwork. When she launches into full display, Odhranos is startled, to say the least, when the flaming wand is dropped to the wooden floorboards, but he is confident enough in his guest's intentions that he isn't immediately worried. Though when the water erupts from the kettle in front of him, he does jump slightly. When Iintahquohae picks up the clay wand, Odhranos' attention is fully drawn, and he smiles as she settles into a stance that is immediately familiar to the terramancer. Though no obvious effect is elicited by the clay wand, Odhranos is able to feel the exertion that is placed on the flagstones by his guest's feet, revealed in a slight flexing of the stone that would be invisible to most, but to a stone-mage in his own office, so much as a pebble a hair out of place is as blatant as a hole in a wall. The aeromancy wand is appreciated with a smile, though the necromancy wand is greeted with a pinched nose and a wafting of the air away from Odhranos' face. "Phuaaa, let me open the window a smidge." Odhranos honks through his pinched nose, hauling up the sash window to let some air in to purge the smell. Once the air has been cleared, Odhranos closes the window, shutting out the afternoon chill that the Xalious range brought, and he smiles broadly as Iintahquohae's head peeps over the desk. "They may seem weak, but they display a strong understanding of the principles of imbuement. You have no issue with defining the action of the instrument, it seems more like a case of refining the transmission, so you can increase your output. Perhaps trying to..." Odhranos devolves into esoteric rambling as he inspects each of the wands in turn, lingering particularly long in studying the sigils carved into the surfaces. "I'm intrigued by your sigil work. You say you're self-taught?." Odhranos picks up the clay wand and points his golden eye down the length of the rod, studying the depth of the carvings, then the penmanship of their carving. "Where did you pick up this particular system of sigils? If you don't mind me asking, of course." Odhranos smiles kindly across as Iintahquohae, placing the clay wand back down beside it's brethren.
Iintahquohae is grateful that Odhranos thinks to air out the room. Clearly she hadn't thought as far ahead as she typically does, and didn't think to bring something along that may counter the stench of death. Her display seems to have yielded positive results, which pleases her. While applying pressure to her thumb to help stop the bleeding, she tries to keep up with Odhranos' rambling. It's entirely foreign to her, and she thinks a few snippets of his words make some sense, but she cannot help feel lost. This is both frustrating and exciting, as she is hungry to learn new things but detests being unable to get a grasp on something right away. Impatience is usually a feeling, but she chalks up the feeling with her irritability as of late. Thankfully, that all can be quelled for now, as she has the terramancer to focus on. Nodding, she explains, “Yes, though with a lot of help from reading to at least try to understand what I want to do. My mother is a mage. An elf. Their script...Sylvan, I think,” she pauses for a moment, as if double checking her memory to ensure she said that correctly. Mother hardly spoke it when she was a child, and she didn't understand a lick of it herself,“Influenced me, I suppose. The way characters flow into each other...I just applied that, I suppose flowing effect, for lack of a better word, into how I create them. Frankly I find it easier to work with fabric, where I can make them larger it's a little less time consuming. Circles within circles with bits branching off and twining with others. I enjoy the structure of it all, finding the bits of the puzzle that fit and just...work. Or should work. As you can see, the idea is there, but the execution is poor.” She pauses in her explanation, and adds, “I have tried just using my hands to work, but that ended in one of my arms being set ablaze. I seem to be stuck on either extreme. Subtlety, or entirely out of control.” She looks to Odhranos with a smile, an unusually sheepish one for her. “It is somewhat embarrassing to me. I would love to learn how to improve it, but I'm at a loss of where to even begin.”
Odhranos beams eagerly. "Aha, so it is Sylvan then. I thought I recognised it, but I wanted to check to be sure." Odhranos flicks through some of the pouches of tea leaves in the case, before selecting one, a spicy masala chai, and tips a generous helping into the kettle, prompting a warm cinnamon scent to suffuse the room, chasing away the last bits of dead-bird-smell. "There are as many runic dialects as there are languages, and each has it's own specialities and weaknesses. Take Sylvan runes, for example. Perfect for precise and subtle work. Some of the more impressive runic relics I've seen have been of the Sylvan variety, they are as intricate as they are beautiful, and their functions benefit similarity. The one drawback if they often lack raw power. The elves have a history of preferring peace to war, and their runic system reflects that. Sylvan sigils are to runic script as a ballad is to music. Delicate, to be appreciated, artful." As he continues, Odhranos stands and reaches up to one of the high shelves, taking down a large iron bracer, encrusted with sharp angular runes. He places the bracer down on his desk, and it looks distinctly odd in comparison with the wands, almost ugly and violent in it's harsh angles. "In contrast, this is a bracer I received from the armory in Frostmaw. As you can see, the runic system is very different in its nuances and emphasis. Frostmawian enchantments are primarily designed for war. As such, they excel in channelling brute force through their runes. But they lack the subtlety of the Sylvan runes. Ask a Frostmawian artificer for a sword that will burst into flames, and you'll have one that can cut through ice like it's not even there. But ask them to make you a diadem that will make your speech more eloquent, and they'll hand you a horn instead." Odhranos smiles as he seats himself again, pouring two mugs of steaming spiced tea, passing one across to Iintahquohae. "The point of this long winded explanation being, I would suggest you branch out and look into other types of runic script. Some of the systems play nice together, others don't, but they each have their strengths and weaknesses. Once you get a feel for what those are, you can begin to combine them in ways that increase the overall strength and mitigate the weakness of your sigil work. I highly recommend experimentation, it's the mother of all invention." Odhranos chuckles, raising his mug in mock-toast before supping the warm tea with an appreciative sigh.
Iintahquohae strongly prefers the scent of cinnamon over the scent of bird corpse, as anyone likely would, and is grateful for the mug offered to her while listening intently to the mage's explanation. Huh, so her imitation Sylvan actually -was- Sylvan, just runes. It didn't dawn on her to call her designs runes, but this just further bolstered her opinion that she was a novice and had a whole wealth of knowledge to look into. His explanation of different kinds of runes makes sense, especially when he sets the Frostmawian bracer down on the desk. It explained the precision and delicate nature of her measuring tape, but it didn't explain the thread she created from that strange rock Kasyr tossed to her. A piece of it still at on the desk beside her self-recording measuring tape, but she focused her attention on the bracer the terramancer presented her. With a tentative hand, she reaches out to press her fingertips against its surface and visibly flinches, yanking her hand away. That felt powerful, like it could bite, far more than the work she had done. She holds the mug on the desk, warming her hands on its surface as it is a little too warm for her to drink yet. “This is truly eye opening, Mister Kerrigan. Thank you.” Experimentation of course, was something she fully intended to do. She raises her mug with him, then sets it down again before taking a small sip. “I don't think it would be too far of a stretch to assume this tower has a library, and if so, is it accessible to anyone or guild members only? I would love to delve into any information regarding different runic systems and I would imagine this is the only place in Lithrydel that would house information on the majority or even all of them.” The words are for the most part unspoken, but it is clear the seamstress has a clear interest in joining the guild, should it be permissible, but her eyes widen with the realization that she had forgotten something. “Oh! Forgive me. I recall you saying you wanted me to look at something as well in your letter. Was it this bracer, or something else?”
Odhranos smiles and shakes his head. “Please, don’t mention it. It is always a pleasure to discuss my research with others, I find it often offers unique perspectives and reveals things that I may have missed or overlooked.” Odhranos places his his mug aside and stands to return the bracer back to its resting place on the high shelf. “There is indeed a library, and as you mentioned having visited Cenril, Vailkrin and Frostmaw’s libraries, you’ll understand the sense of scale if I say that it dwarfs them all by comparison with respect to its breadth of arcane texts.” There is a distinct note of pride in Odhranos’ voice, as there would be from any member of the Guild. The Mage’s Library is the most prized asset of the Guild, and contributed significantly towards how the Guild amassed its standing on the political and national scene of Lithrydel. “Unfortunately though, it is restricted. Certain portions of the library can be accessed by visitors, provided they are accompanied by a chartered member of the Guild, but you would find much the same material there as you would have done in Vailkrin or Cenril. The vast majority of the library is for the use of guild members only. Though…” Odhranos strokes his chin in thought, glancing down at his desk and the array of wands displayed across it. “With what you have shown me already, applying to the Guild would simply be a matter of paperwork at this point. If you are inclined, that is.” Odhranos shrugs, leaving the option open to Iintaquohae as he sits on the corner of his desk, reaching for his mug. When Iintaquohae recalls what he had said in his letter, Odhranos has a similar moment of recollection. “Ahh, yes, indeed, it had slipped my mind. Hold on a second.” Odhranos gets up from the desk and crouches behind it, out of sight. A slight raspy click can be heard, then moments later, Odhranos returns into view, holding a large spherical object in his arms. Constructed from golden bands of metal, the artefact seems for all the world like an ornate cage, its surface embossed with large bold runes, while at the centre of the cage’s spherical domain, a swirling vortex of sand wheels and hisses as it spirals, like a trapped sandstorm. “This is, and has been, the subject of my studies for the past two years. In fact, studying this is what led me down the path of artefact analysis in the first place.” Odhranos places the relic down on the desk, turning it for Iintaquohae to examine. “If you take a look at the runes, you might see some small similarities with the sigils you’ve been using. This system is an extraordinarily old predecessor, native to the Robelous Tribe of the Sage Forest.”
“I'll be happy to sign what ever paperwork is needed to join,” she says. Iintahquohae absolutely would love to join the guild, but puts the notion of signing anything aside when Odhranos retrieves the item he had wanted to show her. Initially she is unsure what to make of the strange looking cage, and out of morbid curiosity, likely similar to others and possibly the terramancer himself, she wanted to reach her hand between the bands to touch the sand spiraling in place. She didn't make a move to do it however, thinking it may not be a wise idea. Instead, she scoots her chair closer to the desk and the relic, leaning forward just a bit to examine the runes. “This is remarkable,” she murmurs. “I admit that I don't really understand what I am looking at, but it is fascinating.” The markings did look familiar, but she couldn't decipher their intent apart from, and really she is simply gleaning this from the way the cage looks, containing a minuscule sandstorm. Her hand lifts, and similarly to how she touched Odhranos' bracer, she wanted to place a hand upon one of the cage's golden bands, should he allow it. Feeling the magic seemed to work best for her, oddly. “May I?”
As she reaches towards the cage, Odhranos has a flashback of a similar situation, one that did not end quite so well. He rolls the cage back slightly and gently stops Iintaquohae’s hand with his own. “Ah, I’d… recommend you hold off on that just for the moment. This one is a bit different than most. I’ll explain why, then feel free to decide if you still wish to examine it, but it does warrant an explanation first. For...precautions sake.” Odhranos drums his fingers on top of the cage as he frowns, contemplating the best place to start his explanation. “The Robelous were a tribe of elves from the region we now call the Sage Forest. They lived in the era of the Saurian Wars, long before any semblance of humanoid civilisation existed in Lithrydel. In order to survive in an era dominated by dragons and colossal beasts, the Robelous had to develop a system of magic strong enough to put them on par with the monsters of their time. So, one of their number, a genius by the name of Haladavar, discovered what we now know as the Robelous runic language, the predecessor to most, if not all runic systems we use today.” Odhranos lifts the cage from the desk and holds it in the light streaming through the window, so that the metal reflects the light, projecting the engraved runes onto the ceiling and walls of the office. “Robelous sigils are a magnitude more powerful than any Frostmawian runes, and immensely more intricate then Sylvan runes. They were a weapon for an era far more violent than ours, where the only options were to dominate or die.” Odhranos turns the cage, until a particular set of runes is projected on the wall behind his desk. “In order to go toe-to-toe with monsters that lived and breathed magic, the Robelous needed immense magic of their own. So they planned to steal it.” Odhranos turns to face Iintaquohae and grimaces. “Robelous runes specialise in tapping into the innate magic of living creatures, magnifying it or even allowing others to use it. With it, the Robelous could bolster the innate magic of their warriors, until they could take on the likes of dragons. And with every victory, the magic of the subdued would be incorporated into their arsenal.” Odhranos places the cage back down on his desk and stares into the whirling sandstorm at its core. “What’s amusing is that with all this potential, they fell to infighting and disappeared into obscurity. Scrubbed from the footnotes of time, when they could have been masters of dragons.” Sinking back into his chair again, Odhranos rubs his chin as he studies the golden relic. “Their runes similarly disappeared into obscurity, reappearing once or twice during the intervening centuries, but never with the same coherency. It was the subject of study of my fri - eh, my former colleague, Lanlan. In fact, it was on one of these investigations that I first encountered him and the Guild. Hunting down a runic crystal in the Eternal Forest. But all of these were minor relics, each only unveiling one or two new runes to us, not near enough to decipher the whole system.” Odhranos pauses, then glances across at Iintaquohae. “I hope I’m not boring you. This must seem like a long-winded history lecture, but the story is somewhat relevant to why I advise caution around this relic. Would you like me to continue, or?” Odhranos’ expression is open and inquisitive, curious to hear his guest’s take so far.
Iintahquohae listens intently to Odhranos' explanation, interest clearly apparent more and more as his history lesson goes on. Magic that absorbed the magic of the defeated, she had boiled it down to. Something she would likely become familiar with, thanks to Kasyr passing of whatever serpentine blade into her. His description is similar to Odhranos' description as far as how the thing growing within her behaves. Her hand reaches upward to the little serpentine tattoo hidden behind her left ear, covered by a mane of curls and rubs at it with a slight shudder. This cage seemed much more preferable to anything relating to the thing that possessed her or from what little she knew of regarding Gospel and its kin. The thought of reaching out to grasp the cage, and potentially pass whatever was within her on to it, likely ending her as well, is a curious one, but she opts not to. Disgusting serpents and their strange swords can wait for another time. The terramancer's mention of Lanlan causes her eyes to light up, then peer at the runes on that golden cage with a bit more scrutiny. “Lanlan came to me to create a jerkin of sorts...Covered in runes. Very specific ones. I don't know if they are similar to these.” A brief pause in which she chews on her lip, attempting to recall them exactly. The design was on a bit of parchment at home so she could work them into the leather as precisely as possible. Her shoulders rise and fall with a shrug. “I can't remember, unfortunately.” When the terramancer pauses, she quickly shakes her head. “No, no! Absolutely not. Please continue. This is actually something of interest to me, though not entirely by choice. Do you know of any other relics that behave similarly?” She gestures to his cage, deciding it would be best not to touch it. Her explanation for her interest is worded carefully, to dance around the fact that something is in her that behaves similarly, but to the seamstress is virtually an unknown as she hasn't really felt it, or seen it yet. “I suppose this is a terribly foolish sounding question, but do you believe that this is sentient? That it acts on its own, I guess, 'hunger' after it was created? Its design is fascinating and golden, so it is quick to draw the eye,” she makes a very pointed look at his face without settling specifically on his golden eye, hoping her words aren't misconstrued into a pun. As most likely are, she is curious about his eye. “I think that's intentional. Perhaps it was made to continuously gather power even after its maker perished, like a capsule...or perhaps an egg that will eventually 'hatch'. My mother and father have made things that are very clearly not sentient, but designed to trick shoplifters. Mannequins that move a little bit. They don't have any of this resplendence.”
Odhranos’ eyes widen at mention of Lanlan commissioning a runic jerkin from Iintaquohae. Was this recently or a while ago? Odhranos knew that Karasu and Quintessa obtained some sort of runic pelt from the drow a number of months back, was this related or different? The terramancer was itching to gain any shred of information on Lanlan. Involuntarily traitor the terramancer may be, but Odhranos still has interest in the whereabouts, if not the wellbeing of his errant former colleague. However, he puts the urge aside for now, as he is greatly surprised by Iintahquohae’s alarming perceptiveness into the nature of the golden rune-cage’s abilities. So surprised in fact, that he breaks into laughter. “You have an extraordinary insight for one to makes themself out to be a minor artificer.” Odhranos glances towards the golden cage, watching the swirling storm as it hisses away within its vestibule, and if Iintahquohae payed attention, Odhranos’ golden eye would seem to gleam in response. “You’ve hit the nail on the head, if I can be so blunt. More than suspecting that this artefact is sentient, I know it is. Or, rather, it holds a sentience, though it is not of the relic itself.” Odhranos frowns, aware of how mystifying his answer is. “I came across this relic in the horde of the dragon Raiez, as I, along with a number of my colleagues escaped her captivity. When I found the relic, I immediately recognised the runes on it, and I knew that I couldn’t leave it behind. In my foolishness and haste, I attempted to attune to the relic under duress.” Odhranos rubs his jaw as he considers how to phrase the next part. “I woke up three months later in the wastes of the Nameless Desert, miles from any civilisation and on the verge of death. You see, this cage contains the soul of a dragon. A sand dragon, to be precise. After having been isolated within the void of the cage’s prison with no perception of time passing, the dragon-soul latched onto me like a drowning man would to one offering aid. I was possessed and driven south into the desert, as the dragon sought out its original body, in the hopes that it could return.” Odhranos grimaces, an obvious pain and regret in his expression spoiling the ending to that particular quest. “When I came to, I lay among the skeletal remains of a saurian. It seems that many hundreds of years had passed between the dragon’s imprisonment and my encountering it. Its body was beyond recovery, dooming S’erok to an eternity in a gilded cage. In the moment of horrific realisation, his control over my body and mind had broken, and I came to.” Odhranos scratches his forearm absentmindedly, causing the sleeve to ride up over his wrist, displaying the edges of what look like dappled burn scarring. A memento of the desert’s distaste for the unprepared. “Once we realised that in order for either of us to have any hope of escape, we would have to work together, we came to, well, an arrangement of sorts…” Finally, Odhranos gestures towards his golden eye, revealing the mystery at last. “S’erok would share his power with me, and I in turn would share my mind.”
Iintahquohae is a bit envious of Odhranos' understanding of the cage he has, along with the...symbiotic? Or was it parasitic? Relationship he seemed to have with his S'erok. Unfortunately for her, she had no idea what was gathering strength and growing within her, but felt no need to keep it a secret, considering the terramancer had confinded the source of his eye. She pushes back the curls from the left side of her neck, revealing the serpentine tattoo there. It's a small thing, tucked behind her ear, of a snake curled in an incomplete circle, prepared to consume itself. “Here is my..scar, I suppose. I would trade your eye for it, I'll admit. I don't have a real understanding of what exactly is in me.” The seamstress draws a deep breath, despite having any real need for it. “I mentioned in our correspondence that I know Kasyr Azakhaer. He was my sire, obviously before he became normal again, I suppose. He transitioned something to me from his sword, Gospel.” She pauses, briefly, partially because she knew next to nothing about Gospel and partially because describing the nature of the thing within her made her stomach lurch. She detested snakes. “Something...I believe sentient, much like S'erok there, is using me to help feed it and help it grow. I go through phases of terribly insatiable hunger – I do not eat humans, by the way, you're safe -” she quickly adds, looking up at Odhranos with a hopefully reassuring expression. Even if she decided to vault the desk and try to feed off of him, she imagined the Mage's Tower, why, every room likely, had some sort of defenses that members could activate in the presence of danger. “then...I suppose hibernation? Days of sleep at a time. It's a serpent, of all things. Consuming and shedding its skin and growing stronger. I have a terrible fear of snakes,” Iintahquohae admits with a frown, “But I think the best way of overcoming a fear is to rationalize it as much as possible. Understand how...whatever it is may work. Perhaps that is part of the reason why I've decided to delve further into understanding magic.” Her eyes fall to the golden cage again. “I envy you in a way, Mister Kerrigan,” she murmurs. “At least it...seems to communicate with you. I have practically no understanding of what is within me, or what may await me when it does make itself visible.” Her lips press once again into a thin line while she looks down at her hands that hadn't realized she had been wringing in her lap while speaking. Her lack of composure unnerved her. “My reasoning for wanting to join the guild is fairly selfish, but if I can dredge up anything in a book that may help me understand while also hopefully improving my capabilities, I would love to. That and well, I do run a business. Wands may be worth learning how to make in the long run. Another selfish reason,” she offers a sheepish smile, accompanied with a laugh. “A less dire one, at least.”
Odhranos leans forward to examine Iintahquohae’s tattoo, squinting to make out the black markings in the relative shade of her hair. “Time and again, I find myself returning to Azakhaer’s handiwork. Not out of any sort of preoccupation with dealing with them, just, they happen to all fall in the same areas of study that I’ve been following.” Odhranos laughs lightly, but there is little humour, more worry in the chuckle. “Have you discussed it with him? Or was the transference an accidental thing?” Concern is blatant in the terramancer’s expression as he examines the tattoo, then something strange occurs as he leans across. In a low gravelly grumble, a different voice rumbles from the mages throat. "Never trust the legless ones. They have little to say and what they do is often better off not heard." Odhranos gold eye glints as it turns to capture Iintahquohae's gaze and the terramancer grins toothily. "Good evening, Runeweaver. Your demonstration earlier was sublime." Odhranos slinks back into his chair with a casual air that differs drastically from the kindly, but proper mage. "I should introduce myself. S'erok Lamaar, of the Nameless Desert." S'erok extends Odhranos' hand across the table. "I'll be blunt, as Odhranos tends to dance around the subject for the sake of propriety. Join the Guild." S'erok arranges Odhranos' facial features into an expression of seriousness. "Selfish reasons or otherwise, you are unlikely to find another source of information on soul-transferance and the likes as up to date as Odhranos. He can help you, just as he seeks to help me." S'erok gestures towards the bundle of wands lazily and smiles. "Not to mention you stand to help as much as you'd gain. Old Grey over here will protest at me telling you, but he's struggling not to beg you to be his apprentice. Just an insight." Odhranos suddenly coughs, his voice returning to it's nornal. "S'erok! Sven blast it, we agreed no more outbursts during interviews." The terramancer's hand lifts of its own accord and a thick spiral of sand erupts from the cage. Coalescing into a pillar by the mage's side, the sand forms itself into a facsimile of the mage, albeit clad in a jacket, trousers and knee-high riding boots, and sporting an artfully sharp haircut. S'erok's proxy winks at Iintahquohae before leaning on the headrest of Odhranos' chair, fluffing the mage's hair to irritate him. "As you can see… we make for a delightful cohabitants." Odhranos sighs, a beleaguered look on his face. He recovers and fixes Iintahquohae with an honest and open gaze. "S'erok is right though. I implore you to work with us. I, we, would stand to gain so much from your insight, and I hope that from that cooperation, we can learn more about your predicament and how it might be mitigated."
It is a rarity that anything genuinely surprises Iintahquohae, entirely due to her experiences with Kasyr and his Coterie, but the abrupt change in Odhranos' demeanor catches her off guard just as she is about to respond to him. It was entirely too subtle for her to notice initially, judging by the blank expression upon her face when S'erok speaks from Odhranos' body. His words regarding snakes are ones she can say she agrees strongly with. Snakes are dreadful, disgusting creatures. And the name he offers for her, Runeweaver. Seemed more fitting than Stitch in this setting. There is a pause in which she examines the terramancer's body, particularly his natural eye, curious if Odhranos is still in there, able to listen or see what S'erok did. Would her fate with whatever is in her be something similar to this, she wonders. Finally her hand lifts to take Odhranos' hand again, the corners of her lips turning upward at his comments. “Well, I absolutely do intend to join the guild, and I would be more than happy to become our charming friend's apprentice. I think it would be beneficial for the bo-!” Startled by the cough, she yanks her hand free from Odrhanos' grasp, digging heeled boots into the floor just a bit to scoot the chair she sat in back. Her eyes quickly dart from the now....present, or perhaps fully present, terramancer, to the cage and the sand that swirls out of it. She gauges the mage's reaction to the spiraling sands, uncertain if S'erok was angered by the interruption or not. The form it takes is given a once over, similarly to how she looked over the mage's possessed form. Now this pair would be fascinating to spend more time with, especially if the two might be able to help her better understand what possesses her. Amused, though a bit understanding of Odhranos' plight as this behavior reminded her of the couatl she flew around on just a bit, she winks back before turning her attention fully to the terramancer. “Very delightful, I see. And I will work with you, of course. I wouldn't have paid the visit if I didn't intend to join the guild.” She smiles at him, then adds, “And I assume you could hear what your friend here said, but if not and if what he said is something that you want, I would be happy to become your apprentice as well. I would be pleased to work beneath you. It may benefit both of us. Besides,” she adds, grinning still much to her surprise, even if the following sentence is a bit dark, “If worse came to worse, and whatever I have in me becomes too much to handle, I expect you and S'erok here could...resolve it, to put it lightly.” Hopefully before the mage can respond, Iintahquohae continues, settling her gaze on him once more. "You said there would be paperwork to sign?"