• Solo • The Black Crow

[Doran]

Ymiden 33, Arc 720

The sun was just about to set when the son of Ziell entered his salon that was filled with tasteful furniture made of dark wood, for the most part. His servant, Elias, had told him that Namira, another employee of his, had decided to pay him a visit and that she had brought something for him, and he had to admit that he could not help but be curious.

It had been almost a ten-trial since he had last seen the Naerikk – on the 22nd, she had brought him a ring that rendered the wearer immune to all diseases and infections, among other things which was an extraordinarily useful item for a doctor and alchemist like him to have.

Whereas she had been dressed in velvet and fur during her last visit, when it had been much colder, Namira wore a floor-length dress of silk that was so deep a red that it almost seemed to be black now, and her dark locks were in a complicated updo and decorated with silver hair accessories.

She was sitting in one of the two armchairs in front of the marble fireplace where a small fire burned – there was a heatwave in Viden at the moment, but the evenings still tended to be on the cooler side. In her hand was a glass with fine red wine, and on the table in front of her was a porcelain plate that was filled with different kinds of canapés, small pieces of bread that were topped with thinly sliced fish, cheese and relish.

Doran had asked Elias to serve her food and drinks while he finished the letter that had been working on.

“Professor”, the heavily tattooed woman greeted him when he noticed him entering the room and smiled at him. “Give Elias my compliments, please. He’s improved quite a bit since Etzos. These little things here are quite delicious! I heard that you have begun to practice unarmed combat, by the way? I have never seen you fight without a sword”, she admitted and took a sip from her glass as she regarded him.

“Menochoros”, he replied and took a seat opposite of the Naerikk before he lit a cigarette and offered her another one. Smoking was a bit of a vice, he supposed, but life would be a rather dull affair if you didn’t occasionally indulge in a vice, besides, it reminded him of pleasant times, and a young man that he had last seen several seasons prior.

“An unarmed combat style that puts a heavy emphasis on meditation, discipline and understanding yourself. Menochoros allows you to adapt your fighting style rather than forcing you to adhere to a strict set of rules which is something that I find quite appealing”, he explained in a calm tone of voice, smiling very lightly before he abruptly glanced at the large package that was leaning against Namira’s armchair.

He had to admit, he had not expected it to be quite that big. Most of the time, the things that the Naerikk acquired for him were small, rings, alchemical ingredients, and gemstones, although she had also acquired a sword for him once (the Grave Gold blade had become one of his preferred weapons, mostly due to the fact that it was quite durable and did not rust rather than because it absorbed blood; he did not care about flashy effects particularly).

[Doran]

“Ah yes”, Namira remarked when she noticed how he eyed the package and grinned – there was something slightly cat-like about it, he decided. “Do you want one of these as well, by the way, professor?” she asked and gestured towards the canapés. “As delicious as they are, I’m afraid that I won’t be able to eat them all. Sometimes, Elias means too well!” she remarked before she finally set the glass of wine down and picked the package up in order to open it and reveal what looked like an excessive amount of …

… feathers?

His dark eyebrows rose slightly for a moment as he looked at it as he had not expected her to bring him something like that. A moment later, he stubbed out the cigarette and gestured for her to hand whatever that thing was to him. As he removed it from the package, he noticed that it was an exquisite cloak of velvet that was decorated with countless shimmering black feathers. It was quite elegant, but somewhat more extravagant than the clothes that he usually wore.

“The Black Crow’s Cloak”, Namira explained when he looked at her somewhat questioningly. “The man that created it called himself The Black Crow which is a somewhat uncreative name, considering the fact that it’s made of crow feathers, a cloak and black, I suppose. Once per trial, it turns into a pair of wings and enables the wearer to fly, much like an Avriel, when activated. I thought that it would make an interesting addition to your collection of magic items, and besides, it will without a doubt come in handy if you ever decide to leave your icy laboratory again and take part in an expedition.”

The Mortalborn’s eyes widened (he had not expected to hear such a story) and he smirked a little when Namira talked about him leaving his laboratory. He had spent a lot of time there in recent seasons – he had been conducting research for his thesis that involved the creation of an entire new branch of Blood Magic. A part of him actually found the prospect of going on a field trip again quite appealing, perhaps after he had defended his thesis.

“How are your studies of the Ancient Language going, by the way?” Namira asked him while he inspected the cloak and let his hands that were lined with crimson markings, one of his Awakenings, run across the feathers, as if he were trying to feel the magic contained within. When they had last met, they had talked about his desire to familiarize himself with the Ancient Language – he wished to be able to read the texts in the Prime Atheneum in their original language rather than having to rely on translations.

“They are a bit slow”, he admitted somewhat curtly before he abruptly raised a hand and made a few quick signs. A more skilled user of sign language would without a doubt have considered his attempt at Common Sign to be quite crude – a lot of aspects of its grammar still escaped him, and he did not always know the correct words – but Namira who did not know anything about that particular language seemed to be quite intrigued.

“What did you say?” she wanted to know. Both the Naerikk and he had a certain interest in languages, although they focused on different ones – they had met because of that, all those arcs ago in Ne’haer where he had been working as a doctor at the time, and become something almost like friends.

“I started to learn sign language though”, he explained before he proceeded to change the topic. “How do I know if it works? Did you ever try out the cloak?” he wanted to know.

“I heard …” she began, and he narrowed his eyes a bit as the Naerikk was not normally that trusting.

“No matter”, he decided before he swiftly rose to his feet and gestured for her to follow him. “I can try it out now. Since you fond the cloak for me, allowing you to see it in action would be appropriate anyway”, he told her, his tone of voice softening a bit.

Most people would consider the size of his apartment in the Obsidian Prism excessive, considering that he lived there alone with his servants – it could easily have housed several families – but it was not suited for flying exercises regardless. There were too many expensive things in it, and the ceiling was not high enough; besides, flying through his apartment, in front of the servants, seemed questionable and childish to him.

His private training room was big enough in order to see if the cloak did indeed turn into a pair of wings though – and perhaps hover a bit. That would be enough, for that trial at least.

[Doran]

Once he had closed the door behind them, he draped the cloak across his shoulders while the Naerikk inspected his equipment, a training dummy, a mat, and a table filled with various objects that he used for his magic practice, among other things. When she saw him, her eyes widened slightly before she remarked, “The cloak suits you, professor.”

He had to admit that he agreed. The cloak fit well, as if it had been made for him (the man that had owned it once had to have been of a similar size and build which was quite astonishing, everything considered – he wondered who exactly he had been), it was comfortable, and there was something quite interesting about the way that the feathers shimmered when the light fell on them.

“How do I though …?” he asked. In the end, he did not care about looking good, he cared more about the magical effect, but he was not sure how to trigger it -he couldn’t find the trigger. The items that he imbued with alchemical effects usually had triggers, at least.

“Here”, Namira remarked. While she had apparently not demanded a demonstration, she had at least learned how one activated the magical effect which was something that he appreciated it.

The effect was, as he discovered, not instantaneous. The cloak began to change over the course of a couple of bits, so slowly, that he began to have certain doubts, until finally, a pair of feathered wings appeared on his back (he was amazed by the fact that a cloak could turn into something that did not look entirely out of place on him; he would have to study it later on, he decided, in order to try and figure out how it worked).

He had never wished that he were able to fly before – although being able to fly would without a doubt be useful when it came to his field trips, as Namira had said – but he could not help but smile now, the kind of smile that was rarely visible on his face. He wondered if it had been like that for Llyr, when he had first gained his wings (although Llyr’s wings were a mutation and thus a permanent part of him).

He began to try and move them, only to discover that whatever magic the cloak contained did not come with the knowledge on how to use it properly. It seemed as if he would have to learn (which was not something that he minded, of course – on the contrary, he enjoyed learning new things, it made life worth living in his opinion). He tried to get the wings to move again, and slowly, ever so slowly, his body lifted a few inches off the ground.

It pleased him that the wings were apparently capable of supporting his weight. He remained in that position, hovering a few inches off the ground, for a few moments, with considerable effort (getting the wings to move at all was something of a challenge) before he landed, somewhat inelegantly, and blinked a couple of times as that had been quite unusual.

He had seen a lot and done a lot over the course of his exceptionally long life, but he had never experienced the sensation of his feet not touching the ground when he moved.

There were some things that even surprised him.

He would need to try the cloak out again soon, in a place that allowed for actual flying, he decided – and find an instructor. In spite of his age and his background, he was not so arrogant as to assume that he would be able to learn to fly on his own – and do so safely. He wondered if there were any Avriel in the city, or at least Half Avriel, like that young woman, Ari’sora, that he had taught when he had visited Scalvoris the season before.

He would have to ask around.

For the time being, he decided to talk to the Naerikk some more though, about the cloak as well as a number of other things.

There were, as always, a wide variety of topics for them to discuss.

[Pig Boy]

Doran

Experience: 10 no magic xp

Knowledge:

Discipline x1
Etiquette x2
Flying x2
Linguistics (Common Sign) x1

Renown: none

Skill Usage: Appropriate to level.

Loot/Losses: The Black Crow Cloak

Injuries/Conditions: none

Consequences: none

Comments: Namira seems like such a useful and elegant lady. I really enjoy her appearances in Doran's threads, and wouldn't mind getting a npc like her myself.

The crow cloak sounds very stylish, and suits Doran well. I hope he finds a good use for it, and it was an interesting thought, to go to Ari'sora to learn how to fly!

At any rate, maybe an avriel will be willing to teach him, although he'd best look out for their arrogant attitude and jealousy toward other creatures presuming to share the air with them!

Great writing and enjoy the rewards.

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