New and Old [Open to All]

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

55th of Fall 511AV

Was this what ascension felt like? His entire body felt almost completely weightless as his legs carried him up the stone stairs. Without an idea of what he was doing here he was more than a little lost to his purpose here. He looked up and at the top of the stairwell was a large darkwood door. As he approached it he noticed the fine details, it had golden accents throughout it that were accented further by the flickering candlelight in the stairwell. He gently placed his hand on the brass doorknob half expecting the door to be locked. However it turned and he was allowed access. He pushed the door open and inside was a room…what else would be on the other side of a door? He walked into the room and looked about. The room was well lit by three rather large bay windows that were situated on the two opposing walls and the wall in front of him.

The darkwood furniture stood out against the elaborately paneled walls that were done in the very same color wood. It was wood laid over stone but the effect was still rather handsome when combined with the rest of the furnishings, tapestry and décor. Outside he could see mountains of some kind, and out of another window he could see an endless beach. And out of the third he saw endless rolling grasslands. He walked over and looked out of one. And to him it would seem that the scenery of the beach encompassed the entire room he was in. But how was this possible? He backed away and walked to another window, and again it would seem that the mountains surrounded this building he was now in. Again he walked up to the bay window and saw the scenery of the rolling grasslands again they seemed to surround this very building. It was an odd sensation. But it seemed like every window represented something. The beach to him was Mura, that’s what he took it as. But the mountains he had never seen before and the same went for the rolling grasslands. Maybe they held meaning for someone else?

He looked through the room again, were there going to be more surprises like this? Immediately to his right was a square darkwood table, likely made of cherry that was accented on the edges with silver. The legs seemed to almost be alive as they reached down and long taloned hands gripped small wooden balls that stabilized the table on the ground. The chairs matched this table perfectly and had deep crimson cushions so that whoever sat down wouldn’t be sitting purely against hard wood. There was another sitting area that was set apart in the room as well. It had three couches two of them the same size meant to hold maybe two people and the third was a much larger couch likely meant to easily hold three. To the side of each sitting arrangement was a small end table much like the table he had just seen with the chairs. The sofas and couches were wood as anyone would guess and the cushioning was leather and upholstered by someone who obviously knew what they were doing as it was flawless in every imaginable way.

This was indeed an interesting place that he planned on enjoying while he was here. He took a seat on the larger couch facing the door he had entered. He felt almost as if he was here waiting for someone; or something. It was an odd phenomenon but he shook it off as he looked across the room at a lit fireplace. He had no idea where this place was nor what he was doing here, but it was a nice peaceful place to be. He caught himself every now and then looking out of the windows again in awe. Wherever this was he had never been here before.

Floorplan :

[Cara]

Cara found herself upon a stairwell. Much like the one that led from one portion of her hold to another. She found herself seemingly pushed forward, by the hand of an invisible force. Tugged, by an ethereal string of air. The Vantha kept on climbing. Higher and higher, raising her legs, and then setting them down on the short platforms, until she had come to the top. A space in front of a door. This is where the invisible string had led, the push. The spot it had told her to cease her movement. For this, is where she need be. Taking a deep breath, Cara raised her right hand, moving it towards the doorknob. But before she could reach it, the door creaked open, as though, of its own accord. For the knob didn't seem to turn, which would have indicated to her that it had been opened from the other side. That's strange, Cara thought, as the door swung open just enough to invite her in. The Vantha turned to the side, and slipped through the door. Her stomach hugging the frame as she turned into the next room, the one with the windows, and the couch. The door creaked shut behind her, the tumble lock clicking into place as she turned to take in the room in all of its glory. Mangy little place, she thought to herself, unable to be easily impressed, after having set foot in Morwen's palace. In Zintila's home. Cara stepped further into the room, closer to the fireplace. She remembered fires like this. From when she was a little girl. From when her sister was still alive. Her mother... Cara lifted her hands and held them out to the fire. That which sprouts from the tips of your fingers is hotter than this, she told herself, as she turned to face Serrif, after a time, long after his eyes had been given the chance to bore into her side. "And what are you looking at?" Cara growled.

[Rorugir]

Weightlessness. A queer feeling, but one that enjoyable as well. At the beginning, Rorugir could neither feel nor see anything. There was only that feeling of weightlessness. As though the whole world was gone, and it's pain and horror with it, leaving nothing behind but pure bliss... ...And then, too soon, it ended. He took on matter, shape. He could feel. Smell. See. A million senses came back to him, flooding his once-blissful body with the feelings of a new world. Rorugir opened his eyes, to the sight of a stairwell, not unlike that found in Sultros. But then, all stairwells are the same, aren't they? Constricting and oppressive. Something compelled Rorugir to ascend. An invisible thread, tugging at his heartstrings. It compelled him to move forward, to move upwards, to be more exact. Which is what he did. The stairwell took him to a door, elegantly edged in gold and brass. It was here that the invisible thread told him to go. Out of pure instinct, Rorugir stretched down for the handle. Caution, ingrained in him by the wilds of Kalea, made him stop. What was he here for? What was this door here for? And what lay ahead. Rorugir hesitated, biting his lip. Did he dare go in? Ah, to hell with it. Rorugir's hands closed around the metal doorknob and pushed it open, and the door opened quickly, as though it too wanted Rorugir to enter. Beyond lay a room, as ornate as the door. Rorugir had seen opulence at it's finest in Sultros, in the decorated halls of the Pitrius citadel and inner chambers of it's nobility. But the beauty this one room held was of a different kind although - while Sultros was a hard sort of beauty, more inspiring of awe than wonder, this room was softer. Gentler. Furniture of a dark wood Rorugir had never seen before complemented the paneled walls, and three large windows (which were almost entirely new to one having lived in a mountain all his life) looked over stunning and incredibly different vistas. At one point in time, Ror might have wondered how it was possible to see a mountain out of one window and a beach out of another, but right he didn't care. He was not alone. Two others stood in the room, as different as two come be. One was male, the other female. He had brown hair and tanned skin, she had black hair and even darker skin. The man was casually lounging on one of the couches placed around the room, an epitome of relaxation. She, however, seemed upset with their surroundings, or at the very least unimpressed. "What are you looking at?" the woman said in a threatening undertone to the man, and Rorugir stopped in his tracks. Now, this was strange. Obviously the two that stood before him were strangers, and he himself had no recollection of meeting either of the two personas before him ever before. So then, why were they all in this strange room together. "Someone whose walked in on his relaxation, I think." Ror rumbled, responding to the woman's question. It hadn't been directed at him, but he answered it all the same, a shrewd eye taking in the man's countenance and deducing as much. He stepped forward in the light of the fire, so that both of the figures in front of him could see him. "Which seems to be a trend here, as I'm afraid I've interrupted the little part as well." Light played over the isur's face, illuminating dark orbs of eyes that seemed filled with a ironic light. "Greetings to you both. I am Rorugir."

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

A smile of curiosity came across his face as a lithe looking woman slinked her way into the room. He hadn’t ever seen her before and by the glance he got of her she seemed to be human in race but a different kind of human…He didn’t know how to explain it better than that. She seemed to ignore him all together. Which was really fine by him, they were the only two here she would say something eventually. He would just have to wait for her to take her time.

In the meantime he relaxed some on the couch and looked out the windows…they were interesting. Fooling him as to this places location. It was possible that this place existed. Just as to where or what trick was being used was the question. He figured that there could be a mage or artist that was versed enough to create the illusion before them. Or maybe this place existed in the space between spaces…Like a halfway point between two plains of existence or something like that. And these places shown through the windows were significant to those that would show up here. If this were true the beach belonged to him. But as to which window belonged to this woman….he didn’t know nor could he really speculate on her behalf. He didn’t know her, and by the way she growled at him she was obviously somewhat hostile. An interesting change from what he would have guessed she would do.

“I’m now quite sure yet.” He said in response his tone lice and level, smooth and clear.

A man entered the room; again it seemed there would be plenty of people directed toward this house for one reason or another. But as to the reason they were brought here…he still didn’t know. Was there really a reason for everything? There couldn’t be, some things just had to happen. And this man’s appearance was one of those unaccounted for events. He was interesting looking to Serrif. Again humanoid in look but he again looked like a different ‘kind’ of human. He was shorter than Serrif was, and had a very interesting looking arm. It was dark and grey and looked massive in weight and mass. He was an interesting looking man; a race Serrif had never encountered before.

“Ah don’t worry about interrupting anything, I got here only shortly before she did.” He said referring to Cara as he shrugged.

“I’m Serrif, pleasure to meet you Rorugir, I am curious you appear humanoid yet…that arm of yours. You aren’t simply human are you? I haven’t traveled much and I haven’t heard of your people, who are they?”

[Cara]

Cara turned to face Rorugir, her eyes blazing as they raked over his body. Took in the sight of his short stature, his heaviness. His muscles. His dark hair, similar to her own, but cropped, kept close to the scalp. His dark skin, a few shades darker than her own. His dark brown eyes. So typical. So human. His over-sized grey arm. The left one. It reminded Cara of a rock set aglow. "Did I ask you?" Cara growled, as she balled her hands into tight fists. For once in her life, thinking that it would do nothing. For the man could easily snap her neck in one fluid motion, if he wished it. But then again, she could always encase him in a rocky tomb. Or burn him alive... The Vantha gave the man one last, cold stare, before turning back to Serrif. "You can't be serious," she growled. "Everyone knows what their kind is, can tell just by bloody looking at them... considering how difficult it is to overlook those oversized arms of theirs. A gift from their pathetic little god, no?" Cara asked, as she glanced over her shoulder, and smiled. "Like the Vantha, you are each marked by birth... given something that may be of use, but almost always, proves to be of little practicality. Although, supposedly Morwen's snowflakes do help us keep warm." Cara smiled mischievously, knowing that she didn't need it. Knowing that her fire could keep her warm enough. Cara turned her head back around, slowly, allowing her hair to splay into her face. To obscure a large portion of it from view. Her eyes had settled on Serrif again. "Love, as long as you have set foot in a smithy, at least once in your life, you will know what he is," Cara continued, her voice smooth as silk, yet icy around the edges. She took a step closer to Serrif, the fabric of her dress billowing out around her slender form. "So tell us, now do you know?" Cara asked, as the fire danced across the length of her face, making her seem strangely innocent in one moment, and frighteningly sinister in the next. OOCOh, don't you just love my slightly hypocritical and cranky pc?

[Rorugir]

Rorugir simply watched as his two companions watched, one hand idly tracing the back of a couch. His eyes danced from between the woman and the man as they talked, a ghost of a smile extending outwards as words filled the once-silent air. Each seemed relieved to talk, if not exactly happy with who they were talking with, in the girl's case. The first time Rorugir felt the need to talk was after the man greeted him, although that was only to courteously extend the rest of his name - "Fll name's Rorugir Steelrune, a pleasure" - in return for the other man's name. Serrif. What an odd choice. The second time was when the nameless woman mentioned his god. "Please," he said, tone cold. "Like you're one to talk, strange eyes. Feel free to say what you want about me, but don't talk about my god in such a way. Your gift might not be useful - I don't know, I haven't had the pleasure - but mine is very useful, thanks. Take your derision elsewhere, my dear." Rorugir crossed his arms, allowing the extent of the Isurian one into full view. His smile had disappeared from his face, and his eyebrows were jutting down viciously on his eyes as he watched the Vantha girl opposite. Rorugir kept still and watched as the girl moved, now approaching the other man in the room. She still spoke with words of veiled sharpness, the poison hidden by her extraneous usage of "love" and seemingly innocuous questions. "She's a bit harder to guess," Rorugir growled. "Though if you've heard of Taldera and it's inhabitants, it's not much of a stretch." Apparently, Ror had forgotten the woman's use of the name only several bells beforehand, or chose to ignore it. In any case, both sets of heads were turned to Serrif, waiting, almost comically, for him to identify the other's race. OoCOf course we do. And, wow, Izurdin is a touchy subject for Ror, isn't it?

[Amaya Whitevine]

It had been a considerable while since Amaya had had a good dream, a vivid one that encompassed more than her mind of plants and medicines could comprehend. She had not yet, as far as she remembered, dreamt she was in an unfamiliar Hold. Or, as it appeared to be just one room, some kind of cabin. And it was a large cabin, decorated with wood of an unfamiliar grain. The windows showed athree different views, but Amaya became aware that showed something familiar and inviting to her. The wintry tundra lay bare as far as she could see, causing her eyes to go red in gladness before dimming into maroon-green in worried curiousity. Softly, she padded through the house. She was barefoot, something virtually unheard of back in Avanthal, and wore a simple gown she had never seen before that contrasted with the dark, colourful strands of hair that tumbled upon it. She couldn’t even feel her piercings, and assumed that they must had disappeared in this strange building. She wasn’t aware that she was even dreaming any longer, although a subconscious part of her mind tugged at the waking part like some nagging hen. She passed by a window for a sandy beach and halted, awed by the golden colour embodied in the image. It moved, seemed so alive, and caused her heart to flutter in longing before she looked away. She suddenly, at the sound of voices, realized she wasn’t alone, and jumped, whirling around to face the room at large. Inwardly, she rued at her curiousity. One day it would get her killed, and then where would she be? Buried under the frozen ground, of course, or warmed up in some dire wolf’s gullet. In the room, other than her, was a man seated in a chair, totally at ease with himself and the world. It occurred to her that this could be his cabin. The other man was shorter, larger than the Vantha back home, and one of his arms was massive and unlike anything she had ever seen. It looked as though one hit could snap her neck. Despite his size, he was obviously strong. And the third, the other woman, was like Amaya. She could recognize it in the hair, in the posture, in the accent tipping the syllables of her words as she snapped for some unknown reason. A frown wrinkled the bridge of her nose and she lingered at the fringe of the meeting. Such strange people this man had invited into the cabin. Her eyes settled on the man and she wondered at the veiled anger in his words. She thought to speak, but for now held her tongue. She wouldn’t have been much use here until she learned what was wrong and why she was invited. Maybe the man would address the topic.

oocYeah, I totally just hopped in, but I love Serrif's dream threads.

[Serrif Von Chatlyn]

“I have not had many traveling luxuries in my lifetime.” Serrif said as he stood and pointed out one window…the one with the beach in it.

“My extensive knowledge extends to the Konti and the White Isle they live on. I have encountered other races here and there. But none of Rorugir’s kind, nor yours darling.” He said as he stood.

His figure was quite tall for a human. Cara would notice this as would Rougir. It was funny when one sat down how perceptions of how large or tall someone was could be easily distorted. And how all those perceptions could be thrown aside in an instant when the individual stood. He looked into Cara’s fire lit face with a slight smile. “You….are different as well. Not quite human now are we…or rather not the same as any not marked by this Morwen you named. So are you like the Konti? Marked by birth by your patron god or goddess? Just like Rorugir?” All this was interesting to him in more ways than one. He had never really had any interactions with either of these individuals races before.

“It matters not if I can identify an individual of a race, what matters is the person of that race. We are all individuals and I would stretch to say that I am not the same as every other human you have met, so the same would be true for each of you.” He stated referring to each of his two ‘guests’. Although….they all seemed to be guests here. Serrif let ought a slight laugh and then shrugged.

“Well if we are all here we should in the very least enjoy ourselves…I haven’t had much time to explore this place. But there are cabinets over there maybe they contain something useful.” Serrif stated as he made a passing glance at Amaya….she was new.

“And it seems we have another guest. Welcome…to wherever this place is.” Serrif said with a level and inviting tone as he walked over to the wooden cabinets in the north western corner of the room. He opened the doors and low and behold were exquisite beverages from all over. Some with markings he couldn’t identify, but others he could.

“A well stocked cupboard…imagine that.” Serrif said removing a fine bottle of Konti wine from the shelf. He knew from the markings that it was a rare but exquisite Vian Honey wine…he had never sampled one before…but he had heard wonderful things about it.

OOCOk now in the cupboard is a bottle in any shape size or configuration of a drink that means something to your culture or character. Like a strong Isur whiskey or so on and so fourth. Make it up and run with it.

[Cara]

Cara's lips curled ever upwards, denoting her level of amusement. Testy, testy, she thought, as she watched Serrif get to his feet out of the corner of her eye. He was taller than she had imagined. Not that it truly mattered. Such a thing was rather trivial, after all. "We're human enough," Cara growled. "Although, you're wrong to think us marked at birth. Our parents, typically, take us to our ice queen shortly after we rid ourselves of our mother's wombs. It is then that she places her mark upon our flesh. Her snowflake." Cara paused and turned back to the Isur, setting the iciest glare she could muster upon his flesh. "We're nothing like them," she hissed, as her eyes flashed dangerously. Puffs of smoke seemed to seep through the space between Cara's fingers as she hardened her gaze. As she turned for but a moment, to give Amaya a cursory glance. Another Vantha... but she doesn't seem familiar. She must be from one of the lesser holds, the sorceress thought, not that it truly mattered. She considered all the Holds less than her own. Hated them all fairly equally, for one reason or another. The Whitevines because they always poked their noses where they didn't belong. Trying to care for people and animals they knew nothing about. The Coolwaters for bordering on Frostfawn territory. The Snowsongs for always playing their petching music late into the night, keeping everybody up. The Winterflames for burning the things they tried to create, or undercooking it. Feeding the Holds their poison. The Skyglows and Iceglaze too. The people in the Watch. Cara didn't want to think of them. She simply, could not tolerate the lot. Finally she turned back to Rorugir, as the light of several sparks swirled her fingertips. As small teardrop shaped bursts of flame hung over them. Cara could see the fire being drawn to her magic out of the corner of her eye. She could see them wafting towards each other. Their smoke swirling. "Enjoy ourselves?" Cara growled. "How is that to happen when you're all so bloody intolerable and pathetic?" She turned to Serrif. "When you wish to drown the thoughts of such things away with a cheap wine? Which will only dull your senses for a time, and leave a bitter taste on your tongue. A taste that will linger for all eternity." Cara flicked her wrist, hurling the flames she wielded into the fire, causing it to roar anew. To grow, and then return to its previous state. "You forget human, that not everyone is like your precious blonde bimbos. That we are not friends," Cara growled, as she willed the fire towards him. To consume him. It didn't budge.

[Rorugir]

Rorugir had noticed the second woman step in quietly, but did not say anything. Her form and figure was so like Cara's that he couldn't help but draw the conclusion she was a Vantha as well, but she seemed much calmer than the latter. So he proceeded to say nothing, only keep her fixed in the corner of his eye. Then there was a clash of more words between Cara and Serrif, and Rorugir couldn't help but cringe as ask if Vantha and Isur were alike. It didn't come as to a surprise when that set Cara off again. But, despite himself, Rorugir couldn't help but laugh derisively as Cara glared at them. "Them? Is that really the best you can do?" he scoffed, "I've heard worst insults from my grandmother. Now there was a creative old lady." He shook his head in mock disappointment. "Darling, you really need to calm down." Rorugir chided using the human's nickname for the woman. "We're not all here to kill you. Trust me when I say the effort would make me lose more than what the outcome would achieve." Rorugir's eyes flickered over to Serrif, who seemed to have found a cupboard of some sort. "And while alcohol does dull the senses," he continued even as he strode over to stand next to the human, "It does have it uses. Let's see what else is in here....ah." Rorugir muttered satisfactorily. From the recesses of the cabinet he pulled a bottle with some sort of silvery liquid sloshing within. "Ladies and gentleman, feast your eyes on Silverwine...a delightful concoction found only within the mountain kingdom of Sultros. It gets it's color from the silver dust that is added to the wine, or so I've been told. And, while quite delectable, it's poisonous to non-isur." Rorugir grinned. "As it is, one cup is potent enough to make a isur keel over..." Rorugir paused a moment to look around the room. "...and I would really like to know how something that can only be found in a Sultros Citadel tavern is here, but I'm too giddy to be having one for that. Well - bottoms up, eh?" And with that, Rorugir popped the cork out and took a long swig from the bottle itself. As he dropped the bottle back into the cupboard, Rorugir shook a couple of times and sneezed. "Powerful..." he shuddered again, cutting off his words, "...Powerful stuff!" he finally said. Even in his state, Rorugir noticed an angry Cara motioning to the flames and saw them roar up. He frowned, noticing the act of reimancy as only another practitioner could notice. Something...something seemed to be going wrong with her magic, though. The flames didn't move an inch from the fireplace. "Looks like not everything is going to your little plan, is it?" he said.