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
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.