Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

Doran had just returned from Hannah Yavich’ herbal shop where he had gathered information regarding certain substances as well as placed an order for a few rare alchemical ingredients. There were certain potions that he needed to make before he began to execute the next step of his plan that would involve a visit to the City of Stones as well as an island that floated in the sky high above Rynmere, Haakon’s Isle, the home of the Forsaken of the Stars.

He was near the edge of Mid-town as the music reached his ears, a somewhat melancholic lute melody that reminded him of his childhood, almost four centuries before. His mother who was long dead now had sometimes played the lute. She had said that the music helped her calm down and relax, that it helped her forget. She had been a diplomat in the service of the king, and she had experienced some of the horrors of war firsthand.

Sometimes he wondered what she would think of him if she could see him now and if she would understand why he had had to do what he had done. She had always been somewhat blinded by her love for his father, the Immortal of Winter even though he had left her like he had left all the women that had come before or after her. He found that hard to comprehend.

He approached the musician despite the fact that he was somewhat pressed for time – there was a fellow alchemist that he needed to consult before the trial was over - and stood there for a few bits, listening. It was cold, as it always was in Cylus due to the absence of all sunlight, but despite the fact that he was freezing slightly he held himself completely straight.

As the man next to him addressed him, he raised an eyebrow – he had not expected anybody to try and engage him in conversation - before he answered in a somewhat cool tone, “He is better than a lot of others, although his style is somewhat old-fashioned. As for storytellers, I have little love for them. They have a tendency to stretch the truth or lie to their audience. The other trial I heard somebody claim that he had stood on the battlefield in Oscillus and single-handedly decided the outcome of the war.”

“Tell me though”, he continued and turned around to face the other man. “Why does somebody that claims not to have much of an ear for music listen to a bard?” As he awaited the man’s answer, he studied him closely. There were several things about Woe that caught his attention, the brand on his cheek and his relative thinness that hinted at a hard life and the strange necklace that he wore that made him think of a certain Immortal. He decided that it would be a good idea to try and find out more about him then. Maybe there was something to be gained from the encounter. The alchemist would have to wait.

“That is true“, Doran agreed as Woe stated that there were many gullible people. In the time that he had walked the world of Idalos he had found an astonishingy large number of people that were incapable of independent thought - or perhaps unwilling to think for themselves. They believed what they were told, they were comfortable with information from a second-hand source for the most part and adored those that fed them lies, from the bards and storytellers to the Immortals that sent thousands of them to a frozen wasteland to die, claiming that they did such for the greater good and because they cared about them.

“I prefer to get my information straight from the source though rather than listening to somebody that tells stories at a street corner, although I have to admit that some of those people do have talent”, he continued before he looked at Woe once more, considering him.

“And what about you?” he asked. “Are you one of those that believe the words of a bard – or another person with a talent for telling stories and manipulating the masses – or do you prefer to find out the truth yourself?”

He found Woe’s statement that the threatre was for the rich to be somewhat odd. Tickets were not that expensive. The man had to be even poorer than he had thought which made him wonder if associating with him would really be worthwhile. But then again, money and appearance weren’t everything. Besides, the man seemed to be comparatively intelligent, especially for somebody that might have been somebody’s possession only a short while before.

“If you want to visit the theatre”, he thus spoke. “I might be willing to arrange something for you. I’m a professor at the university here. Money is not much of an issue for me”, he explained. “In return I would like to hear your story and how you acquired this necklace though.”

He had finally realized exactly which Immortal it reminded him of – Sintra, the Immortal of Manipulation, Entrapment and Arachnids. Was it coincidence or was the man one of her servants, with a strange and somewhat risky penchant for displaying the symbol of his faith openly? And would he admit the truth if he asked him about it?

“You may call me Doran”, he replied as the man introduced himself and shook his hand nearly without hesitation. He decided that there was no harm in telling him his real name – or at least the name that he currently went by. His role in the war that had taken place so many miles away had not become common knowledge yet and maybe never would. Most in Rynmere, apart from an Eidisi that had joined him on the battlefield, only knew him as a professor of chemistry and former soldier from Ne’haer and had no idea where his real allegiances lay. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Having said that, he withdrew his hand again. The human would notice that he wore gloves made of fine leather and a suit of coal and crimson that was comparatively elegant and supported his claim that he was a professor and well off financially.

“Why were you named Woe by the way, if you don’t mind the question?” he asked. “It seems strange that a mother would give her son such dark and ominous name.”

“I agree, almost everybody has their own truth”, the Mortalborn replied. He was somewhat surprised by the turn their conversation was taking. It greatly reminded him of a meeting with a painter and former courtesan named Yrmellyn Cole a few seasons earlier that had turned into a discussion about good and evil and the intricacies of human nature. It cemented his belief that social standing only had a minor influence on traits such as intelligence and the ability to see below the surface at the best of times.

“There is not just one way to see the world and live your life – where the mind and the soul are concerned, there are very few absolutes – but there are some things that only have one truth. Science is, at its heart, objective and unbiased and follows clear rules that cannot be bent or changed, no matter what some people claim”, he continued, recalling the arguments that he had had with certain colleagues of his with some measure of contempt. There were some people that still insisted that the world was flat and not a disk, despite the discovery that Helia Veke had made almost a century before and even denied the existence of gravity.

“As for one’s own bias”, he spoke and inclined his head a fraction. “Of course. Everybody – even an Immortal – is biased, no matter what they say. But I do at least know myself. I’m familiar with my own way to perceive the world and those around me, skewed as it might be, and thus I tend to trust myself more than a stranger.”

He had to. He had to trust himself and believe that he was doing the right thing or that it was at least better than the alternative, that Xiur had had to fall and that he had had to ally himself with Syroa. For a moment he was extremely aware of her mark and how she had changed him, but then he was confident that it had been the only way again. He rarely questioned the decisions he had made for a longer amount of time these trials.

So Woe was a jailer and interrogator. That revelation surprised him – he had not thought that a former slave, a man that had likely been treated like an object would have such a violent job - but he did not show it. The expression on his face remained one of careful neutrality. The story that the man told him – that the necklace was nothing but a reminder of past failures – didn’t satisfy him in the least. He almost called him on his lie and asked him if he worshipped Sintra and Labrae, but what were the chances that he would admit it? He needed to know though. He needed to know who the players in this game were and be aware of all the factors that could possibly influence his plans.

There was only one way to find out who he was dealing with for sure, but if he touched Woe and read his mind now it would seem strange and might make him suspicious. He needed to wait, for another handshake or an exchange of items, money or the theatre ticket that the man was so keen on.

“You will get your box seat”, he assured him. “I made a promise, and I intend to keep it, no matter if you told me everything or not.” He found it strange and somewhat illogical that Woe admitted that he hadn’t been telling the whole story. If you wanted people to believe your lie it was best not to admit that you were keeping things from them. Was the man not as intelligent as he had thought after all or merely inexperienced?

He furrowed his brow as Woe told him how he had received his name and that his former master had taken a shine to him. That could be interpreted in a number of different ways, some of them rather unpleasant and questionable in the eyes of man and the law.

“I teach chemistry and alchemy most of the time as you have likely already guessed by my remark about the objectivity of science”, he informed him as he asked. What followed was the story that he had told everybody he had met so far. Nobody knew the truth about him these trials, apart from Syroa and the Immortal that had sired him.

“Before that I was a warrior, a soldier in a service of a city that you may never have heard of. I left in favour of academic pursuits. I’m afraid there are no great tragedies in my past unless you count a father that was absent for most of my life. My mother’s family were comparatively well off though and I was never wanting for anything.” If Woe listened closely he would notice that the tone of Doran’s voice grew sharper as he mentioned his father, a sign that his absence had affected him more than he wanted to admit, although the expression on his face changed very little.

That was the thing that he disliked the most about his existence, that he was just one of many bastards of Ziell, the Immortal of Peace, when he could have been so much more. In his opinion he was at least as deserving of worship as his father, despite his impure blood, perhaps even more so. He had risked his life on the battlefield while Ziell had remained at home where he would be safe, and he had done what no man before him had dared to do.

He looked at Woe intently for a moment as the man invited him into his own home, wondering if his intentions were genuine, before he replied, “Thank you for the invitation, Woe, but I’d hate to impose on your hospitality. Let me invite you into a tavern where we can share a glass of wine or two and continue our discussion instead.”

“Let us go there then“, the Mortalborn replied as Woe informed him that Ye Olde Inn wasn’t too far. It wasn’t one of the places that he usually frequented, but it would be more than adequate for what he had in mind – although he couldn’t help but wonder about the name. It was rather bland, besides Ye Olde Inn probably wasn’t the only old inn in Andaris. The proprietor, he decided, was probably uneducated, uncreative or both.

He took off his coat and draped it across the back of the chair next to Woe’s before he sat down as well. He didn’t slouch, but sat with his back completely straight. Posture and good manners were important to the Mortalborn, as much as to any nobleman in Rynmere. “Alchemy is interesting”, he agreed. “But dangerous at the same time, especially once you begin to handle explosives or magical reagents. I have only been teaching it for a few arcs. If you have any specific questions about it, let me know.”

Having said that, he paused for a moment to order a drink, a glass of Acripae. “If you would like to drink anything, please let me know”, he informed Woe and took a sip before he continued, “There’s something else that I wanted to talk about besides our respective jobs. I found your outlook on life and the way you see the world rather interesting. I had certainly not expected to have a philosophical discussion with a jailer. Tell me, how did you acquire such a worldview?”

“By the way”, he added and reached for his purse. “I promised you a theatre ticket. I don’t know if I’ll make it to the theatre on time today, besides you may not like the play I’d buy you a ticket for. As far as I remember the most expensive seats cost ten golden nels.” Without further ado he handed Woe the aforementioned amount of money. As he did so, his hand would brush against the mortal’s, briefly so as to not seem odd and make Woe suspicious, but hopefully long enough to reveal at least something about the man’s past.