trans_9 | Spellcraft? Or Knowledge (arcana)? Who knows? [Open]

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Spellcraft? Or Knowledge (arcana)? Who knows? [Open]

Having given warning to the crew as they asked -- and regretting the days in his own lands, where massive ground-shaking detonations would earn no more notice than a peddler with delicious folded bread -- Aibghalien stepped into the sensorium. With a wave of his hand he bade it produce the image of his former laboratory -- much like his current one, save the outer walls were constructed of massive blocks of stone, testament to its position in the tallest tower of the castle he once dwelt in.

Then, with more painstaking care than it seemed worth, he began forming duplicates of each of his magical items, pausing to laboriously inspect each one before setting it to one side, next to its actual twin.

This promised to be a fruitful night.

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This shift of topics caught him off-guard, still wrapped up in his thoughts as he was. He made a mental note to return to it later; if he didn't, he knew he'd end up regretting it.

"To be honest it isn't terribly different from home, these past few years," he admitted. "I stay in my lab and experiment. The only difference is the purpose towards which I'm striving. But then, I'm a wizard, not a warrior-type; I imagine our experiences must be very different in that respect."

Ronnae smiled cheerily. "Yup! I tend to explore or sleep or train or sleep or relax in the green areas.... and maybe sleep." She giggled slightly quickly covering her mouth. She rubbed the back of her head absentmindedly a slight blush creeping on her cheeks. Good job ronnae! Showing your age. Shut up!

"Errr so yeah, I don't mean to take your time away from your experiments!" She said a bit hastily.

"I'm certainly not short on time," he said, amused. "I have very little to do besides experiment. It's probably a good thing for me to occasionally spend some time talking with someone who isn't a magical theoretician or otherwise completely absorbed in their own discipline."

He waved reflexively but unnecessarily as he used the sensorium to form a pair of chairs. "Besides, the crew as a whole is probably tired of hearing me explode things, and entirely unconvinced of my usefulness anyway, so it isn't as if I'm depriving anyone of anything."

That came out a bit more bitter than he intended...

Ronnae frowned a bit, having experienced similar feelings in the past. She sat on the chair, taking her time to at least remove her pauldrons, armor wasn't made for relaxing afterall. With that off she moved her long twin ponytails behind her and smiled at the elf a bit awkwardly.

"I know I just popped but I feel somewhat of the same. I mean, I'm a fighter. But it looks like we're not constantly engaged in battle. I want to feel like I'm contributing something outside of combat...." She sighed and looked up in thought.

"That's not a bad trait to have," he said. "I think it's better than constantly locking yourself up to train, as if your only value was your sword-arm. Or, axe-arms, forgive me." He smiled a bit sheepishly. Swords were the accustomed weapon of elves, along with bows, after all.

She smiled, she took a moment to unsheathe two very elaborate and deadly looking twin swords from her sides. She looked at them adoringly before looking up to the elf.

"They... they were my mother's. She gifted them to me when I first joined her platoon. They had been hers since she became an assassin." She laid them on her lap next to each other, the impressive craftmanship clearly apparent. "They where meant more for her line of work. But they have served me without fail... got me out of a couple of binds. And just...." She looked away, a distant look. "And just having them with me has always felt like she is looking over me."

He had already been willing to allow a great deal of tolerance towards an orc; it was easy enough to tell that Ronnae wasn't quite like the orcs on his own world. Now, however, she was completely shattering any preconceptions he might have had anyway. He couldn't help but smile (even if her mother was an assassin, which kind of put an odd twist on the story).

"This ship must be lonely, for you."

Ronnae got taken aback momentarily. Her face turned a light shade darker as she looked away.

"Ah... y-yeah... a bit..." There was a moment of awkward silence before she piped up again. "But! At least there's someone I did know from my homeworld. He's a bit of a clutz at times but he's a good friend." She tried her best to give a warm smile, even if the comment had made her remember what she had lost back home.

"Well... I suppose this makes me into a terrible hypocrite, but don't be afraid to make new friends here," he said. "There are a lot of people here who seem to be well worth knowing, and -- especially if you just came out of a nasty war -- it's important to remember that you are more than just your weapons.

"And have faith that somehow, we will gain back what we have lost."

Her smile brightened and she gave him a cheery nod. "I hope we can. The people I've seen from afar seem friendly enough, sans a few scumbags that seem to have snuck unto the ship unless this 'Stacy' doesn't really care. Which is fine, I don't judge on background!" She laughed lightly, her young voice contrasting starkly the heavy dark and red armor she wore.

He couldn't help but laugh as well, finding her somewhat infectious. "You're certainly easy enough to like, in any case. You shouldn't have any problems."

Ronnae smiled. "Well that's good to know." She looked away a bit embarrassed. "It would be unpleasant to be in a ship with people who don't like you. Or at least mind you." She laughed a bit awkwardly.

"It's not so bad if you spend most of your time in your lab experimenting," he said with a grin that verged on the playful.

He sat back in his chair, appraising the girl before him thoughtfully. More seriously, he said, "If you'll allow me to compliment you... it's not many people who could go up against a lich of extreme power, using that weapon, and still seem as undamaged as you are. It speaks highly of you."

Ronnae blushed heavily this time. Looking away embarrassed she laughed a bit awkwardly.

"I ah... well yeah. Dad said it's because of my fighting style, in and out, fast strikes to weaken or confuse and heavy strikes when their attention is elsewhere. It's sort of like dancing... My grandfather said, in his homeplace it was called being a dervish, or a blade dancer." She commented trying to hide her face behind the reddish bangs that framed it.

"Oh, well." Now he was a little embarrassed. "I meant... spiritually. You don't seem to have become bitter, or cynical, or dark in heart, as many people would have become in such circumstances."

But then he smiled a little. "I'm not exactly in a position to pass judgment on how many scars you may or may not have, at the moment."

Ronnae mentally slapped her forehead. Good one Ronnie, way to look like a total ditz.

"Errr ummm ye-yeah... I don't know. Guess it comes from my family really. No point in being down over all the happenings and such. It's not like it'll help any right? 'Sides a cheery disposition does more for morale in our troops than being depressed and down throden right?" She smiled up at the elf.

Well, he HAD been unclear. And he found it interesting that she'd passed on a mild flirtation; something else to wonder about.

"Well then. This may be none of my business, and feel free to tell me so, but as a wizard and a sidhelien I have something of an interest in the matter, and I wouldn't feel right if I didn't say anything." Hopefully she believed him; he was, after all, speaking truthfully and as much from the heart as he could ever manage, these days. "Your axe... do you still use it?"

Ronnae blinked a few times before looking back at Shadowmourne. She looked distant before moving back to look at the elf with a nod.

"When nessesary. It's ... well it's difficult to explain... It's always there, and it's as much a part of me as a limb? It's the price of forging it I suppose." She bit her lip a bit uneasily.

He nodded, slowly. "My experience is that... over time, such a weapon always extracts a price of the user. Slowly, gradually, but nonetheless real. And, well, forgive me for being forward, but I rather like you. Enough that I wouldn't want to see you come to any harm."

He raised a hand to forestall potential challenges. "I'm not saying you shouldn't have used it for the purpose you did, mind! But, it did fulfill its purpose. Would you consider giving it a place of honorable rest, until such time as it might have a new purpose that only it can perform?"

It's a fairly outrageous thing to ask of a recent acquaintance, and he knows this. But the power it held -- the power had honestly, sincerely frightened him. Not so much its strength, but its nature, its source... The best he could do is try to be gentle and open about this offer and hope she understood it was sincere and heartfelt.

Ronnae looked down, and for a long moment stayed silent, yet when she looked up she had a sincere smile.

"I understand... and I thank you for your concern. But this is a burden I must carry. It wouldn't be right of me to have used the souls trapped within this weapon and then set them down to be forgotten till they are needed next..."

She sighed, a guilty look on her face. "I've wanted to... the whispers can sometimes be disheartening... But still I must endure. I get rest once in a while when I walk out to relax, or take a stroll around. Even best when I sleep..."

She smiles widely. "That's one of the reasons I like to sleep. It takes the heaviness off me for that time. But I owe it to them, when I train and when I go into combat. To give them the sate their bloodlust and their unsatisfied hunger." She looked away, a pained expression of embarrassment clear on the youths face.

He was silent a moment, considering.

"I won't ask you to set the souls free," he said, eventually. "And if you feel you must carry the weapon, it isn't my place to stop you. But if it's starting to drag on you, that weapon is dangerous. You need some sort of counterbalance, I see that clearly now."

He managed a smile. "It wouldn't be respectful to those who gave their lives, and whose lives you saved, to sacrifice your own soul."

She looked thoughtful for a few, it was clear this young half orcess had been through a lot in her lifespan.

"I know... I know... dad wanted me to destroy the blade as soon as the task was done. But he also taught me honor and respect for all things be them allies and enemies..." She sighed.

"I... I'll carry the burden on me till it becomes unbearable." She smiled solemnly at the elf.

Yes. Destroying a lich of any power whatsoever was a feat in and of itself, and worthy of respect.

"Well, allow me to make a counterproposal. What if you were to carry the weapon, use it as you saw fit, but let it share its duties with another blade?"

Ronnae raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Hm? Like my mother's blades? Or something entirely new?"

"That's a good question, actually. The intellectual part of me says that the most logical thing to do is make them into a counterbalancing force, given that they're already highly symbolic." He mused out loud, stroking his chin as he looked down at the floor in thought. "But emotionally I can understand that any enhancement or modification, even beneficial, could very well blunt that purpose."

He looked back up, sitting back in his chair as he spread his arms. "This is for your benefit, though. What would make you happy? What would lighten your burden?"

Spellcraft? Or Knowledge (arcana)? Who knows? [Open]

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