RP:Spooky Support

From HollowWiki

Part of the Agitation Arc


Summary: Xersom introduces himself as an acquaintance of Skylei's and asks Josleen about her political beliefs. He agrees to support her in the mayoral campaign.

Town Well

Xersom ambled along the road from the eastward and rocky path and toward the center(ish) of the village that was marked by an intersection split between the town well, the inn, the Mage Tower, and the Xalious Ranges from whence he arrived; he was garbed in old, worn, and weathered gray robes like some homeless hermit or roving madman that might think himself a prophet of some false idol or god, and the aesthetic of his attire was marked in a juxtaposition of old and young. The former by those old robes, equally weathered traveler's boot, and a gnarled wooden cane that aided a limping gait. The latter was made apparent by the youthfulness of his faux face, those luscious black locks, and the vitality of the skin that was (other than the mask of his face) covered in the carvings of tiny manuscript of infernal litanies, like sacriligious verses which blanketed every inch of his skin. It made more evident that the man with intense, almost vivid green eyes wore a mask, as it remained with eerily flawless skin. It was toward Josleen, who was doing something either important or arbitrary in order to look busy, that the man made a slow approach, his lack of haste due to that 'limp' that was supported by his cane. He had seen her before, not met her as far as he could remember, but she was described fairly accurately by his wife during the retelling of the affairs that happened when she (and his children) traveled in his stead.


Josleen keeps busy these days to deal with the stress, both political and personal. She just finished her shift at the local clinic and is still dressed as a nurse as she stands in the square talking politics and dark magic with a few like-minded neighbors. A scar along the side of her neck peaks out above her scarf. Its redness suggests a recent wound. A sickly quality afflicts her complexion and energy, but her focused stare and fast-spoken opinions and facts reveal her mind is unaffected by whatever it is that ails her. She spies the approach of a peculiar stranger, and as self-appointed member of the Xalious Militia (combat skills still lacking), intercepts him with the signature faux cheer of a Xalious native. “Hello! May I help you, sir?”


Xersom was a dominant source of dark magic; having practiced it for eras than mere lifetimes of more mortal beings, it wasn't any exaggeration to say that the former general of Arrecation completely mastered, even found advances, in that particular study of magic. Thusly, the more attuned to magic one might be the more they might sense that particularly dark aura of power that emanated with such constant radiance from the ancient, whose approach was intercepted and challenged by the very woman that he sought. For several moments, the faux-faced former demon scrutinized in silence the afflicted woman, before a voice that was terrible came forth; it was both sinister and soothing, like a madman's lullaby. "Josleen, if I am not mistaken?" A hand thrust out in offering toward her, the one not occupied by the cane, "I am simply called 'X'. I am acquainted with Skylei, whom I believe to be a friend of yours?" At least, as far as he knew -the knowledge on both of them were just beneath the surface, at best.


Josleen shivers in his presence. His voice turns her stomach. She wants to run, and would, but something keeps her feet firmly planted, perhaps a love of home. “Yes.” To all of the above. He doesn’t inspire her normally chatty nature just yet. Seeing as how both half-elves currently reside at Josleen’s parents’ house, the bard concludes that Skylei did not send this boogeyman to her today. “What are you looking for?” Her friends approach to ask Josleen if she is alright. She waves off their concerns, and after some hesitation they move away to watch from a polite but protective distance, not that any of them could do much to oppose X if it ever came to that. Josleen crosses her arms before her chest defensively, an uncommon posture for the social butterfly.


Xersom 's hand, left untaken, dropped to join its brother atop the gnarled cane which was positioned just before him and centered between his shoulders, which let one hand fold over its scarred twin as another few moments of contemplative silence came from the ancient being. "My wife, Emilia, came here with my children, but I'm afraid there was an interruption?" The voice was both dangerous and intoxicating, like some poisoned wine, and foreboding as if offered when it wasn't a secret that the drink was poisoned. "It has taken my attention, especially in such a place of magic. I have not been among these ranges in a long, long time. Perhaps you might be able to fill me in on what, exactly, is going on?" Especially with dark magic -a scent he easily picked out among the others.


Josleen is screaming on the inside ‘This is Emilia’s husband?! WHAT?!’ On the outside, her smile turns into plaster and starts to crack. “Gladly,” she says with no gladness in her voice. “But… and forgive me for being rude… but… I don’t know you, and this is village business. I like to trust people, see the good in them, but I don’t want to be naive either.” That, and it’s hard to trust him, largely thanks to his dark aura. “How can I be reassured your intentions are pure?”


Xersom lofted his faux eyebrows with that question; ironically, it was one that was so seldom asked so directly. It certainly inspired a bit of amusement that rumbled forth from his chest and throat in a low, quaking chuckle that was just as unnatural as the voice that it heralded. "Forgiven, trust is not something so easily given. Reassurance can only be given in word, from myself and those that know me. Consult Skylei, Hildegarde, Emilia -any who know my name." He opened a hand in a gesture of invitation, "In the meantime, I will tour the town, learn of this culture. So we shall both have time."


Josleen narrows her eyes at the list of references which include two of her closest friends. How has someone connected in her social circle escaped her notice — especially looking like that? “Very well, I will ask them. But if in the meantime you plan on touring my home, I ask why. Why are you interested in what is happening here? ...Again, forgive my rudeness, but I suspect you understand my hesitation?” There is a crater behind Josleen, likely caused by the dark magic recently assaulting the village.


Xersom 's gaze left Josleen in order to peer around her idly at the crater, which was due to the recent dark magic assaults and terrorism that plagued the town. "Magic always interests me," he said, which wasn't entirely a lie, but certainly not the entirety of the reasoning behind his interest in the events surrounding Xalious. But it was enough of a reason for any mage to make their trek back toward the Tower and investigate what might be the cause of the incidents that plagued it. "Especially how the people coexist with such a center dedicated to magic-users. I had not known such to exist beforehand -did not think would be anything reasonable, at least."


Josleen shakes her head, though she is agreeing. “No, you’re right, it is difficult for non-magical folk to coexist with ‘the’ bastion of magic.” She steps to the side, turning 90 degrees, and waves a hand for X to inspect the crater at his leisure. “The result of dark magic colliding with chaos magic, I am told.” She explains. After a few moments of silence she continues the political angle, “I am hoping to change the area’s political dynamic. The village will have elections in two months to appoint a mayor not involved with the tower. Hopefully we can convince the Guild to let us plant a non-mage liaison in their upper ranks to ensure transparency and better coordination.” Her gaze sweeps his attire for any signs that his is a guild member. Nothing. “Do you belong to any mage’s order?”


Xersom shook his head in denial to the question from Josleen; he had no tabard, no markings on his clothing. His flesh, however, told a different story; it was laden and covered with those archaic, tiny verses of infernal litanies. "The order I belonged to is long gone now. I've no need for another. A mayor, yes? Surely the people will rally behind that idea to convince the Guild." But how to keep the guild from saying no? Already he was formulating ideas for his own personal benefit. "Well, I should be touring. Please, consult with your friends and get back to me. I will not impede you any further."


Josleen narrows her eyes in squirrely suspicion at X’s declaration the he belongs to no sect. Right. At his dismissal, she nods politely enough. “I will.” She asks how she can keep in touch with him, and offers her own contact means via The Dancing Destrier. He’s still too scary to earn her home address. “Take care.” And out of trouble, she would add if she had the guts, but she doesn’t.