Fated Paths [Hadrian]

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc's usual cant filled the tavern with heavy footfalls. The rambunctious chorus of the crowd hid the sound though, instead replacing it with a subtle sort of music; unintentional, but lyrical in the way voices lifted against one another. Some sang jumbles of bar tunes while others protested the music, some yet carried a melody on naught but their words, filling the stale, raw air of the tavern with a heavy mysticism brought upon only the alcohol driven inhabitants. Rhuryc always enjoyed his little observations. Even when he sat with Hadrian, his chair slid quite a distance away from the table, he first glanced about at the other occupants, his attention torn between the old codgers and their young protege. While one man spoke on the toils of the Ironworks another commented on his boring ventures patrolling the city, all intermixed to find the true heart of the city. Knights be damned, civilization lay in the ability for men to talk at their leisure over a pint.

"I don't much think this city has changed in a hundred years." Rhuryc said, his thick baritone cutting through the idle banter like a blade. His voice was most definitely meant for a field of conflict. "We just see different sides to it, is all. Hell. If it did change I think the Knights would declare a state of emergency." He chuckled at that and grabbed a hold of his mug, raised the drink in toast, and proceeded to partake in a rather large, hearty gulp. By the time he was done he had taken a quarter of the liquid in a single stride. Not bad.

"Granted, I wish I had grown up somewhere along the way." He smiled and set his mug back on the table. "I just got bigger."

[Hadrian]

Hadrian's answering smile was self-deprecating as he sipped his own drink, watching the people. Was this not anthropology too? Here they studied people in an environment, the liquor, food, warmth, and company lowering inhibitions and letting out what was normally pent up: frustration, joy, sadness, belligerence.

"Perhaps not growing up, but growing different from what I was before. Certainly, I have learned quite a bit, but I don't know that I have become wise. There is a difference. Even some of the most brilliant minds at the University of Zeltiva were not wise, merely quick and studied."

He paused to consider the crowds, wondering what Professor Rochlas, his last teacher of anthropology, would say here. Syliras was founded by the Dyres brothers and their Order. And order was the keyword to Syliras; order and civilization pitted against the chaos of Ravok. The theological debates were known to him. He had even read treatises by theologians of Rhysol that were on record in Zeltiva where they might have been burned in Syliras.

They were strange people, humans. Sometimes Hadrian felt like he wasn't one, though of course that was silly.

He smiled and drank more, not meaning to fall too far into a reverie and irritate his drinking companion.

[Rhuryc]

Rhuryc found his attention scattered. While Hadrian seemed lost in his own meanderings he was lost in his. Their observations were vast in difference. The student appealed to the more educated questions, factors of anthropology and study, but Rhuryc was akin to simple observation, watching expressions, movements, and unimportant bouts of conversation. None of it mattered much. He acknowledged his companion's words with a nod, but his attention was more focused on the tavern than anything. That and torrent of gear he carried with him. The pack, sure, but both the sword and shield made for a few queer stares, those that Rhuryc was quick to remedy the cause. He deposited the solid bowl of iron beneath his chair and edged his various equipment beside his legs, hiding the display of military equipment before he engaged again with Hadrian. He was no Knight, carrying such items.

"I don't really know much about that." Rhuryc said, his attention shifting to his magic wielding companion. "Wisdom or whatever. I guess it's just more common sense? Pah." The man did not really seem to know what he was saying. A lift of his mug brought the total contents of his liquor to no less than half the original. The earthen ware clinked against the table when he brought it back down, the casual ease of his motions no obvious as he grew more comfortable with the company.

"Zeltiva though, I know almost nothing about. What's it like out there?"

[Hadrian]

Hadrian considered, then nodded. "I suppose common sense and wisdom are kissing cousins if not siblings. Ah, Zeltiva... it's nice. It's mostly made up of the University and the harbor. Lots and lots of trade, and then the scholars. Most of the University is built up in the pre-Valterrian buildings that survived. That's the Old Quarter. Gets cold in the winter, though, with crazy winds from the sea, and food shortages, but if you're smart, you stock up on non-perishable foods and learn to like the taste of kelp beer, which can take a little while."

He wasn't sure what other details to go into with broad questions like that, so he waited for more specific questions to come.

"I'll probably go back next season. Once the family business is taken care of, anyway. Unless something better comes up, but I'm not going back to Sahova for a while. My luck would probably run out and you'd see some Nuit running around in my body."

[Rhuryc]

Kelp beer? Out of everything Hadrian said that was what stuck out in Rhuryc's mind. That and about a thousand other questions. Already the smith could feel the gears in his head turning, determine to seek out and satisfy this new slue of curiosity. Valterrian? That was some world event years ago, or something similar, really Rhuryc had no idea. Sahova, Zeltiva, he knew very little outside his realm of experience, which consisted of hitting things, whether they were metal or flesh. Huh. He never realized that before. It was almost sad.

"I don't know much about Nuits." Rhuryc flicked his full attention back to Hadrian now, interested in the course of their conversation. "Or Sahova. Honestly, I think I'm better off not knowing. The one Nuit I do know is a little, ah. Well. She's unsettling." That was the ease of it. At least Rhuryc was polite in his wording. Or maybe he just wanted to drink some more. A third lift of his mug emptied what remained and he made an effort in flagging down the barmaid and ordering a second ale. Thirsty bastard.

"I really don't know about much of what you said at all. Pre-Valterrian buildings? How, ah, old does that make them?"

[Hadrian]

"They are that," he said. "Unsettling, I mean. The longer they are undead, the less like humans they seem. Although I did meet one who was originally an Eypharian. I wonder how long it took him to get used to fewer limbs." He grinned. He also ordered another drink; any excuse to stay away from home, but he was enjoying himself here too. Rhuryc asked questions and actually listened to the answers.

"The Valterrian was 510 years ago, hence the year is 510 after Valterrian." He said it in as polite a tone as he could muster, though he wondered how long Rhuryc had lived in Syliras not to know that. The details of the history might not be known to your average person, but surely an apocalypse such as that had not been completely lost on someone who lived in Mizahar's most populous city.

[Rhuryc]

Eypharian. They had four arms. Or six. Or something. Rhuryc really had no idea; his knowledge was confined to Syliras. And Sunberth. But the latter of the two was not much of a help, especially in this situation. Hadrian was smart. At least smarter than Rhuryc, but his responses were not so much as what he was looking for. Too short. Or maybe the the intricacies were lost in the details. Whatever it was, he seemed dissatisfied, like an eager schoolboy shorted a lesson on his favorite subject. The motion did not last for long. As Hadrian continued to talk Rhuryc moved with him, keen on the conversation at hand and brimming with one question after the next.

"That long?" He blinked. Rhuryc knew what the Valterrian was, he was just sketchy on some of its finer points. "I didn't think anything that went through something like that could last that long." Was that amazement in his voice? As a craftsmen there was a great deal of admiration in something that stood so defiantly. He saw items like horseshoes last for no longer than a week with a sound structure, for something so precarious - like a building - to last through such devastation and remain upright was a point of awe. In any case, Rhuryc's words revealed that he did know at least a little of which they spoke, if nothing spectacular.

"And these buildings are in Zeltiva?"

[Hadrian]

"Oh yes," Hadrian said, a bit of borrowed pride coming into his voice. Though Syliras was his hometown, he felt more at home in Zeltiva any day. That was why he had embraced even the kelp beer and the sailor slang when back in the harbor city. "There is some debate on whether they survived out of some sort of insane structural integrity, divine intervention, luck, or something else, or a combination of factors. They are beautiful, though. Stately. It's like visiting another world, especially in the twilight, when it's easier to imagine that it's six hundred years ago and everything is just fine. It's a harbor city, so trade by sea is huge. Lots of fish and seafood, though they tend to have food shortages sometimes. And they boast you can learn just about anything at the University, which may or may not be true. I haven't tried to master everything. Yet."

He had ambition, but it was mostly quiet. To know. Everything else was details.

[Rhuryc]

More questions. Rhuryc felt his wanderlust grow with each answer. Every new fact was like a luring siren, a calling maiden; what greatness lay beyond the bounds of Syliras? Magical cities, giant universities, sea trade? Syliras was by the ocean, sure, but he was sure that the merchants of Zeltiva were some rare, impossible breed, traveling the waters in order to peddle goods of unheard standards. As they continued Rhuryc felt his poise become uneasy. He leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on the tabletop, all but forgetting the mug of liquid that now lay discarded. Forgotten.

"Huh. Luck, probably. I find it easy to chalk up most random happenstance to it." He gave Hadrian a grin, somehow able to retain his heavy, thick demeanor over his boy-hood curiosity. Rhuryc was very much the definition of a "man", he never lost his masculinity and kept a solid confidence about his manner, sure of himself and ready to defend whatever it was that came from his lips with reckless abandon. "What's, the. Ah. How do they take to foreigners there? Or, what's the distance? To be honest it sounds like one hell of a place to visit."

[Hadrian]

"You're probably right," he agreed. "The same sort of luck that spared Lisnar, a suburb, when Treval, the city proper, went down in fire. And I would really like to take a gander at what the Lord of Council keeps in the Archives. Or the Sailors' Guild or the Board of Regents, who seem to have more of the de facto power.

"The Zeltivans are friendly with outsiders, even non-humans. They only get really insular when there's a food shortage, but hopefully there won't be one this winter. And it's about thirteen hundred seventy-five miles from here. A bit of a trek. Takes about two weeks by horse, assuming you don't run into any monsters, bandits, or bad weather, but the road is fairly well traveled. I'll probably tag along with a caravan when I return next season."

He liked talking when someone wanted to listen, and listening when someone had something interesting to say, but he did not lose track of his drink. Alcohol was one friend he could count on no matter what.[/frame]