Rezo the Red Priest (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
redprayer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
voidtreckernet2022-05-07 06:02 pm
redprayer) wrote in voidtreckernet2022-05-07 06:02 pm
voice | rabbit 4
[Sometime after breakfast on the fourth day of Rabbit, a voice message plays over the network.]
Hello. My apologies if I am interrupting anyone in the midst of something important. Some of you may already know me, but for those who do not, my name is Rezo, and I have a favor to ask of you.
In my own world I devoted much of my time to researching magic and since being recruited by the train I have heard a few things about the abilities that some of you have. While it seems magic, or some concept thereof, is quite common among the various worlds, the way it works and the extent of what a person can do varies considerably.
I confess I have found myself rather curious about all this. Thus, if any of you are willing to speak with me about your own abilities and the magic systems that you have experience with, I would appreciate it if you would contact me. I will be staying near the ICP in the standard coach for much of today, if you would prefer to speak in person.
Of course, I understand that some of you may wonder what is in this for you. Worry not. I have rewards prepared for anyone who is willing to indulge my curiosity, and I shall compensate you accordingly.
[[ooc: since lore dumping and technical talk isn't necessarily everyone's jam feel free to do some handwaving if you think your character would respond to Rezo's request but you don't feel up to going into/making up a bunch of weird details.
and if you're wondering what the reward will be, it's a sticker.]]
Hello. My apologies if I am interrupting anyone in the midst of something important. Some of you may already know me, but for those who do not, my name is Rezo, and I have a favor to ask of you.
In my own world I devoted much of my time to researching magic and since being recruited by the train I have heard a few things about the abilities that some of you have. While it seems magic, or some concept thereof, is quite common among the various worlds, the way it works and the extent of what a person can do varies considerably.
I confess I have found myself rather curious about all this. Thus, if any of you are willing to speak with me about your own abilities and the magic systems that you have experience with, I would appreciate it if you would contact me. I will be staying near the ICP in the standard coach for much of today, if you would prefer to speak in person.
Of course, I understand that some of you may wonder what is in this for you. Worry not. I have rewards prepared for anyone who is willing to indulge my curiosity, and I shall compensate you accordingly.
[[ooc: since lore dumping and technical talk isn't necessarily everyone's jam feel free to do some handwaving if you think your character would respond to Rezo's request but you don't feel up to going into/making up a bunch of weird details.
no subject
"What's white magic based on then?" If aether is elementally charged, white magic seems to be yet one more branch of it that Esteban is missing. But curiosity is both a boon and a bane, and he has to remind himself that Rezo's asked him a question himself before he gets distracted once more.
"Me? Nah; they're not really convenient out of a city's mana fields." He shrugs an easy shoulder as he finally sits down across from the priest, twisting to settle one ankle at the crook of his opposite knee. "An' anyone that has the money t' get a stashing stone's more likely t' get a rider to deliver th'n a regular traveler."
It's safer, and more reliable, and couriers are actually registered nowadays, as opposed to the entertainers that have no precise schedules. Esteban himself has used a few, but those were special circumstances, and more a matter of connections.
"Sometimes, I get a single-use one, 'f I'm carryin' somethin' fragile, like potions, but that hasn't happened in a while." Not in at least four years. That's a bit of a pang, but he brushes it off, not wanting to focus on that loss right now.
no subject
“Are you sometimes hired to make deliveries?” Rezo asks. It occurs to him that he doesn’t know much about what Esteban did or who he was in his original world. Which he really should when the whole purpose of today is to find anyone who may be able to help with Rezo’s little situation.
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"Hun. Did I tell y' I'm an entertainer?" It's a pretty good step to start at, he thinks, if he's not mentioned it already. "Travelin' between city's part of my job, so I get deliveries t' carry sometimes. Mostly news from far off families, really." It's part of the many, many things he does to fill in the gaps between the festivals.
"I told you 'bout the Moon Mountains," this one is a confirmation, "an' the floods, right?" The latter is more of a question as Esteban doesn't remember off the top of his head what he'd touched upon with Rezo. The gods being dead, yes, the Naming Trees... uh, briefly? He's lost track of the rest. Does Rezo even know they have three moons?
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“Yes, you have told me about those,” Rezo confirms. The mountains, and the floods that make the mountains the only habitable environment. Rezo generally has a good memory, so he can recollect what Esteban has told him well enough, even considering the circumstances of their first conversation.
“But I didn’t know about your career. What kind of entertainment do you provide?” There’s various sorts of traveling entertainers, after all; theater troupes are popular, but there are also musicians, acrobats, even swordsmen who prefer to ply their trade in front of an audience rather than in the midst of an actual battle.
And because it’s what he’s supposed to be looking into: “Do you use magic in your line of work? Or perhaps to defend yourself while traveling?”
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"Magic's not really useful out of the mana circles 'round the towns, unless you're a mage per say; and then towns are very insistent on keepin' their mages around. Moon Mountains technologies rely on runescripts an' mana mages t' provide the mana to handle pretty much everythin'. Only a desp'rate mage would be travellin'." It's not impossible but Esteban has never seen one himself. Other than one, specific special case.
"Herbs 're more reliable 'gainst monsters, an' my father's a botanist, so they were always available to me, an' I can recognize a few in a pinch. Some scents they don't like, and such. He also had the best herbs for potions, which is how I'd end up carryin' some around, sometimes." Not so much in the last few years.
But anywho-- Rezo's asked him a question, and Esteban is more than happy to start rambling about his main line of work, always eager to share it with others after all!
"As for me, I'm a fire dancer! Fire spinner an' Flow artist are other names for my line of work. I spin with the poi, the rope dart, an' the staff, an' I know some party tricks like fire swallowing an' fire breaths." It's a true pity that Rezo won't be able to see his trade, because Esteban is really quite good at it!
"I don't have mana to use durin' my shows," he admits, and there's a slight pause, a tiny hesitation, before he adds readily "I do have a slight resistance though, so not as much to fear from a bad move." He has that much of an advantage, but he grins and presses a finger to his lips. "Don't tell anyone though-- it's less impressive if they know."
And despite the lack of danger, it does not mean that Esteban is casual in his workline. Even on the train, where the occasions to spin fire are very, very few and far between, he practices almost every day, and his stamina and grace are both testaments to how much work he pours into his craft. Hence, how soft his steps are, for how tall he is.
no subject
Unfortunately, from the perspective of someone seeking a powerful enough sorcerer to destroy a Dark Lord’s fragment, it seems very unlikely that Esteban will have any Shabranigdubane herb up his sleeve.
Rezo, perhaps surprisingly, knows some simple ballroom dances, from times he’s been expected to hobnob with the upper class. Fire dancing is somewhat outside his realm of experience though, both in terms of doing and in terms of being an audience member. So he’s not sure what poi means in this context, or the rope dart- although he does at least know what Esteban means by fire eating.
“I shall keep it under the strictest confidence,” Rezo agrees solemnly. “But what do you mean by ‘a slight resistance?’ That seems unusual.”
no subject
"Ev'ry d'vide had to fall down-- they had to for anyone t' survive. So of course blood mingled, an' it's gettin' so much more frequent that people have mixed heritages! I used t' go 'round with a group that called th'mselves descendants of a fire elemental! They're the ones that taught me fire spinnin', actually!"
"It's created fusions of cultures an' knowledge that c'ld never happen in the thousands years of history we've got! Landmass's shifted, countries broke an' were rebuilt, b'liefs were burnt to ashes an' raised anew, art, in all its forms, had to be reshaped. All that change that happened in almost just a blink b'cause all the walls came crashin' down all at once!"
"The Moon Mountains were Elven settl'ments before; but now, more th'n half of the population's human, an' a big part of th'm has Elven heritage som'where in their line! Our musics merged, our dances merged, an' we've been sharin' the joy of festivals an' the beauty 'f people's creativity ever since!" Oops, he is getting quite a bit overeager at this, isn't he? His smile never fades, but he's content enough to pull back at his enthusiasm to more manageable levels, at least for his companion's sake.
Where was he going with this?
"A lot 'f Immortals're unhappy 'bout the changes; says the world is changin'. But a world without change 's rottin'-- it's death 'f another measure." Seriously, where was he going with this?
no subject
And also that Esteban, Rezo thinks, is something of an idealist.
“Likely, they’re unhappy that the world is changing faster than they can,” Rezo says with a wry smile. “That is usually the way between the old and the young.” He has been on either side of that; the idealistic young person determined to change things for the better, and the tired old person who is vexed by the rules and expectations that went and changed behind their back.
“So you’re of mixed heritage yourself, correct? What can you tell me of your personal background?” And why it gives him a resistance to fire.
no subject
"Well, not much that isn't pretty normal. Mom traveled 'round a lot with me, so it's not like my wanderlust came outta nowhere. My father was more stable, an' kept tryin' to get me to sit still an' listen to my lessons, but that didn't work super well," he snickers, completely oblivious that Rezo hadn't meant this kind of background. Aren't they getting really sidetracked though?
Well, not that he minds.
"It was more fun to hide in his sunroom. He had a bunch of plants from all over the world in there, an' there was a potted tree that had droopin' branches, an' I loved hidin' underneath there, 'specially while he worked."
He'd never learned what the name of that tree was, but it had been his safe place when he was young, watching his father's shoes pace across the stone floor from underneath the brilliant leaves. It had taken him years to realize that he'd been found out within his very first attempt to hide there.
Distracted? Esteban's never heard of it.
"Anyways-- lots of my skills were taught by a bunch of 'xtended family members. My grandfather taught me the stories 'f our world. Some of my aunts taught me to swim." He narrows his eyes, daring to think for a moment of the woman he'd hated as a child; for how vile she was, she'd still taught him something.
"An' my father's sister taught me that people are important. No matter how small, or how brief their lives are." It had been his defiance at first. Now? Now Esteban knows himself better, knows who he is, and what his worth is. No matter what she might think.
no subject
Esteban’s last statement isn’t of something that most people would consider a skill. Still, it gives Rezo pause. He’s quiet for just long enough that Esteban may notice.
“Ah,” Rezo says. “Your aunt sounds like an optimistic woman.” With emphasis on ‘sounds.’ He gets the feeling Esteban is leaving a few things unsaid.
Speaking of things left unsaid, Rezo should try to get back on track to potentially-useful information. Prying into Esteban’s heritage hasn’t gotten him much of anywhere, so he moves onto another thing he’s curious about.
“Oh yes, to return to an earlier subject. You’ve mentioned a few times that most of the gods in your world have died. ‘Swallowed’ as you put it. Can you tell me what was responsible for that?”
no subject
Esteban's glad for the distraction, leaping on it as he curls more comfortably in his seat, switching ankles to tuck under his knee. There's a hiss when he feels the pins and needles that assail his dormant leg, but he shoves the thought aside, rubbing at his calf while he speaks.
"The God Eaters?" There's a curious lilt to his voice as he ponders that, but he doesn't know much about them. For someone who collects stories, even Melchor hadn't told him much, beyond the first few broad strokes of an event, and he's not entirely sure he believes that narrative anymore; but he doesn't know where else the truth might lie. "I've heard it said they broke out of Hell when the Demons ripped their way out of it."
He shrugs lightly, before going on, trying to think. "Ev'ry story describes them diff'rently. There can be three, ten or even just the one. Some of them are silent, some of them have them scream out in the night. It depends on the legend." Each storyteller had their own myth, each city had their own monster. He ponders a bit, lost as to what he means to say, but ultimately decides against it.
Melchor hadn't told him much about them, and likewise, he won't repeat the grand stories he'd heard before.
"Accordin' to what we do know, they appeared outta nowhere, seven h'ndred years ago. They were swift an' vicious, an' the gods didn't get a chance to rally, that they'd been split apart, an' fell; one by one. The only two that made it out are Eriat, goddess of the night, an' her sister Iiyeta, the goddess of darkness, who fled t' the sky an' became our third an' fourth moons."
"They vanished as quickly 's they appeared. Some say they're waitin' for the next gods to be born. Some say they lurk, an' Eriat's last protection for her people is that she chased them away from the mountains. I guess there c'n be some truth to that, since the floods don't make the plains easy to navigate. I've heard more than one tale that says they linger in the darkness an' swallow any unwary trav'ller." There's a bit of smugness to his tone as he shares that last one; no doubt some spooky story made to frighten children into sticking close to the villages.
no subject
The word Hell stands out. Rezo’s world does have a concept of hell, in the classical sense of ‘a place where evil souls are tormented eternally after they die’ but it’s not the standard belief and Rezo has never counted among the number who believe in it.
In any case, it sounds as if nobody knows for sure if Hell is even involved. In fact, very little information, according to Esteban, is certain. Rezo frowns, considering the few facts they have.
Seven hundred years is a long time by most standards, especially those of humans, but not by everyone’s. In Rezo’s world there are still a few individuals, mostly elves and dragons, who were around for the Kōma War a thousand years ago, and can give firsthand accounts of what happened. Although of course, they are elusive beings.
Still, considering some other things that Esteban has mentioned, it begs the question:
“Did the Immortals not witness these creatures?”
no subject
"I-- I don't know." He seems to stumble for a few minutes with this, a piece of the puzzle that never had been placed before in his own narrative. The God Eaters had been long gone by the time he'd been a hatchling, as far as anyone could tell, so he really didn't know much about them at all. But his mother would have been there. Young, but she would have been there. His father. His grandfather.
Had none of them seen these monsters?
"Some of the Immortals chose to die when the gods did," he scrambles, trying his best to remember what he knows of this short period of history. But so many things had moved all at once; new moons in the sky, Amarilys draining the lands away, Catrionis falling to the seas-- and yet, why had no immortal recorded the monsters? They'd been a threat. Were still a threat.
"They didn't cope with the changes." He'd always found them silly before; dying simply because the gods had been taken from them. But now, it makes him wonder. There's a short pause as he tries, for a moment, to piece things together, not entirely sure if that might be the full picture; a shard of the puzzle that is a different colour, a different shape than all of the rest. He's not sure how to read it.
Wonders why his grandfather has never delved into the legends deeper, even at his insistence. Melchor collected stories, collected legends and myths and the words of mouth that people recalled, from before the Naming Trees were planted. He would have known. He would have known.
So why did he not share it?
"I think--" He pauses, uncertain, still wondering if he was on the right track at all. "That they got scared." Bury the truth. Bury it deep. Never call these monsters back from the burrows where they sleep.
no subject
And yes- if there was a force that powerful endangering the world, fear would be an understandable response. Rezo hums, still frowning slightly.
“Ah,” Rezo says at last. “Fear is an effective way of silencing a person. Grief may also be playing a role.”
Rezo may not be an immortal being, but he is an old one. And grief is part and parcel of growing old. He thinks he can imagine the feelings of the Immortals who chose to die rather than struggle onwards towards an uncertain future, in the midst of all their losses.
“Still, it is a shame that information was not made available. Forewarned is forearmed, as the saying goes.”
And as unlikely as it would be to find one, these god eaters could have been a lead, if they were truly that powerful...
no subject
A sigh interrupts him, and Esteban shakes his head.
"Anyways-- didn't we get pretty sidetracked there?" He asks instead, good humor returning as quickly as sunshine once the clouds drift away. "Though I guess it's only fair; I'm pretty curious too!" His grin is practically audible as he asks brilliantly.
"I know y're usin' white magic yourself. It focuses on boostin' the person's natural healin' abilities, yeah?" That's what Rezo had said just earlier, right? "D'es your magic have... a source? Wait, that's not comin' out right." He knows that sorcerers from Rezo's world use sources, but he's not asking quite about this. Hmm.
"I absorb aether; I can't turn it into mana, but that's 'cause I'm a bit weird as a mage. But aether's just... the energy of the world 'round us. I can only absorb so much at a time-- I guess I'm tryin' to ask where your mana comes from, or how you manage it? D's it require you t' make it y'rself? D'you need food, or to drink 'f you've overused y'r mana?" He was worried after all, when Rezo had healed all those people on Ossiga. Wondering if he should offer something for the mage to recover from his spellcasting.
no subject
The matter of the god eaters, it seems, is shelved for now; probably for the best, since it seems Esteban has provided all the information he can on the subject. Rezo waits for Esteban to sort out his next question; it seems he’s curious about the cost of magic, in essence…
“Every individual has their own level of magical capacity,” Rezo says, “Which is linked to their stamina levels, and the effects of expending it are mostly physical. Rest, and taking a break from using magic, is very important under such circumstances. And of course, food and drink is helpful for replenishing one’s energy as well.”
With a sly smile, he adds, “I have known a few magic users whose appetites were impressive.”
no subject
"Pretty much the same for me, at least for Mana mages. Wyldling mages don't-- use their own energy, so they don't really get 'xhausted the same way, but they c'n only work with what they have. Runescripts don't use mana or aether th'mselves at all; but they do study a whole lot t' get the skills they're goin' for, so--" he trails off there for a bit, shrugging easily, and the gesture is accompanied by a slight hum.
"Plus, studyin's one thing-- they gotta craft their runes, which is its own skill set too. But it's pretty nifty. Of all the mages, Runescripts're the most adaptable, an' the most creative." As well as the most persistent, too.
Esteban would never have the patience to learn the scripts himself; nevermind the combinations of them and the interactions between scripts. But it does make magic readily available to anyone with the time and tenacity to research them properly. A vague thought for an old friend drifts by, but Esteban pushes it back to focus on the priest again.
"Alright, y' mentioned the first Shinzoku was a Dragon. Flare Dragon." He-- doesn't remember the name, unfortunately. "Or was that the first god?" He is... fairly confused at this. The concept of Dragons and Gods is very distinctly separate in Esteban's world after all, and though dragons have immense powers, they were never creators for the other races. Gods were.
But then maybe the SCA had translated the terms in something Esteban would have understood when they'd first had this discussion. And that's besides the point.
"Are there a lot of dragons in your world?" He has to admit, he's biased, just a bit, in his question there.
no subject
“Flare Dragon Cepheid. The shinzoku are… Well, one could consider them Gods. Cepheid and Aqualord Ragradia are still worshiped across the continent, particularly Cepheid himself. Originally, four worlds rose on a staff out of the Sea of Chaos, each world coming into being along with a mazoku who sought to destroy it, and a shinzoku to protect it. Or at least, so the legend goes.”
The staff and the Sea of Chaos are a little complicated to explain, as they exist outside of the physical, three-dimensional world; the description of them as being a staff and a sea are closer to analogies than a true description. And on a similar note…
“It might be more accurate to say that Cepheid and his subordinates are not true dragons, but they merely tended to take on the forms of dragons. As for the actual dragons, there are not as many as there were before the Kōma War,” Rezo says bluntly. “The dragons- the intelligent ones- traditionally served the shinzoku, and most of them were slaughtered by the mazoku during the war. The few that remain are either unintelligent beasts, with as much in common with the dragon people as apes have in common with humans, or are reclusive to the point that some believe them to no longer exist at all.”
no subject
Immortals are not a good thing, in his opinion. The world changes around them, and they cannot keep up, stagnating parts of it and letting their cultures and thoughts rot as it wavers around them. But Immortals are also the keeper of the past-- the storytellers, the legends hoarders. Their vision is too large and too narrow, both at once, and while Esteban has issues with immortal kinds in general, he still feels sorry for the lives lost in the wars, for the violence that put an end to them.
It's a complicated outlook, the same way that life gets all tangled up into details, and Esteban nods slowly to indicate he's heard his companion. He lingers in this silence for a little longer, before tripping onto something his companion's mentioned.
"Hang on-- when did the wars happen?" He asks curiously, feeling rather callous to have been discussing these terms in sort of vague happenstance when this could easily have been within Rezo's own lifetime. Esteban hardly knows any wars after all; and though there were some rather pointed tensions when he was just a hookling, they had ended far too quickly for him to remember much. But the Moon Mountains overall had not forgotten, and tension still lingered between them and Amarilys after all.
no subject
He’s a little surprised when Esteban asks for clarification on the timeline, but the question is an easy one.
“The Kōma War was about a thousand years ago,” Rezo says promptly. “And there have been various conflicts within the barrier since then, of course, but none have quite managed that same level of upheaval.” Just squabbles over resources or leadership, nothing that quite so fundamentally altered how the world worked.
He wonders if a thousand years means the same thing to Esteban that it does to most people from Rezo’s world. Even to Rezo, it’s a borderline mythic span of time, but to someone like Lioriley, maybe not so much; and then Esteban, to Rezo, seems to be quite young, so perhaps a thousand years is hard for him to contemplate?
no subject
"Dragons hatched from the first moon in my world." Has he told this to Rezo yet? Has he not? It's starting to get difficult to keep track of who knows what, as he's been more and more chatty about his world and cultures as time lengthened with him on the train. Not that he'd ever held back either-- it's just that Esteban tends to dominate most of his conversations, and he's always been ever so curious after all. Greedy. He's always been ever so greedy after all.
"Melchor-- my grandfather's told me that the goddess Eriat sang the moon into orbit, 'cause she was scared of the dark, but the dragons inside it heard her song an' awakened. They hatched from it; stumblin' out into the sky and stretched out their wings wide--"
There's movement on Esteban's side as he describes this, hands splayed out as if he were one of them, stumbling from an egg perched up into nothingness. "-- as they fell, caught by the wind an' the night, cradled into the sky. Ev'ry dragon will say that the price to learn how to fly, was that first, they had to learn how to fall."
It means so much to him after all; and no matter how many times he repeats it-- or how many people hear it-- Esteban will always delight in recalling it for anyone who asks. For anyone who doesn't ask. He's not the smartest, he's not the strongest, but Esteban takes this story to heart regardless. He will fail, and he will fall. But he will always get back up, and try again.
"It's my favourite story," he admits readily, grinning openly at the friend he's made. "It's also still how they learn, ev'n though there's not been many newborn dragons since." He shrugs lightly, letting the matter rest.
"Just fly up in the sky an' toss any sproutling down from their back. Usually at night. At least wyverns, y' do it durin' the day," he snickers, completely changing the subject yet again. Can anyone ever keep up with Esteban? It seems a doubtful question on the best of days.