Closed Escorts and Troubles (Ixion)

[Joris Mevelk]

20th of Spring, 514 AV An average day in the Fortress City of Peace, at least that was what Joris would have called it considering the patrol scheduled today for his Wing. The tall Mage Knight was currently occupied with preparing himself for today’s patrol in his own special way, one that involved flesh, ink, and a small brush. He was leaning against the main gate to the city at the moment, his gauntlets beside him as he awaited the arrival of the rest of his wing. His horse snorted and shook its head and he was donned in full plate armor, the single sword pin on his collar symbolizing the rank of Knight. The man dipped his brush in ink and started moving it across his palm, creating a swirling vortex symbol that was what made up his Focus Glyph. His strokes were careful and controlled with a mind for just making sure the Glyph was not messed up, as well as that he didn’t apply too much ink. From here he would begin to apply further Glyphs to the joints of his fingers and thumb, smaller swirls to channel the magic of his Projection and add focus. The next step was to add more of these swirls to the joins along his wrist, the last major join in his hand. The Knight’s assigned to the gate gave him a couple of looks, though magic being used in the Order was not exactly a foreign concept though it was still a rare sight. Joris was one such individual, and so long as his powers were used for the benefit of the Order and his brothers and sisters he was welcome to its use. The man also was not exactly the normal image of a Knight in shining armor, his dark hair short and messy rather like he had just gotten out of bed and contrasting his neat and well-trimmed goatee. Dark eyes were solely focused upon his craft, switching hands to apply the Glyphs to his left hand. Again the brush moved across flesh and brought the artful swirls into existence, dancing as the man directed it. The Glyphs were Joris’ personal design; such was the way of Glyphing that each wizard possessed their own distinctive style. The Mage Knight considered his to be rather simplistic though simple did not mean non-functional. As he Glyphed his joints the man knew full well that they would greatly assist in the process of detachment and reattachment. The dark haired man sighed as he finished his Glyphs, smirking as he flexed his fingers and looked upon his hands. Supposedly there had been sightings of bandits on the way to the Outpost, so his Wing was being dispatched to investigate and clear out any they could find. The man personally thought that the lowlifes had probably already moved camp, but it was better safe than sorry. Joris would rather have avoided a conflict but if they were to go into battle he intended fully to be prepared with his own personal edge against them. Satisfied the man stood and slowly locked his gauntlets back into place, the flexing his armored hands and nodding to himself. With this he spared a glance back down the ways, noting that he was probably still a little too early as his fellows had yet to show. He shrugged it off as he merely opted to lean against the stone wall, nodding to one of the Knights on gate duty. They would be along shortly no doubt, with his sergeant no doubt ready to lead them headlong in this patrol. Joris was not find of leaving the city limits often, but he would do as required by his duty. The Knight pulled out his dagger from his belt and started awkwardly trying to twirl its handle in his hand, succeeding a single rotation before he fumbled it and had it clatter to the ground with a clank on the stone. The man cursed, glancing up to find one of the Knights on duty smirking and looking away quickly. Joris growled and tried to rotate it again, this time doing the motion far more slowly and obviously he had to think about the action. Might as well try to get a better handle on his blade while he waited.

[Ixion]

*Clink, clink, clink* resounded every step Ixion made as he ran across the stone steps of Syliras' streets. Equipped from head to toe in fake knight armor over his regular clothes, this was not an easy task. He was tired, sweaty, and most of all late as he put in full effort into each step as he made his way to the city's main gate. The moisture on his brow threatened to engulf his face as he proceeded through the crowds. It didn't take long at all for fatigue to kick in as he came to an abrupt stop. Huffing and puffing, he slouched over with his knees barely supporting his arms as he tried not to fall over in exhaustion. In his right hand, a piece of paper crumpled under the weight of his hand. With an angry glare, the memory of this note reminded him as to why he started this whole endeavor. "Damn that old man." he angrily muttered in between breaths. "Why do I have to go running around for something like this." Not even an hour ago, Ixion had a meeting with the director of his acting troupe. It would turn out to be the worse meeting of his life. Forced to sit stiller than a mannequin, the director berated his skills as an actor. Topics such as: lacking substance to his characters, proneness to jeering at the audience, and an overall sub-par set of acting skills. All in all, it was a very large blow to his ego. Then, as to add insult to injury, his director actually started directing him. Another meeting was scheduled as a sort of training with actual members of Syliras' Knights. Ixion would go off with the knights on a routine patrol as he learned how they worked. The hope was that Ixion would learn to adapt a more chivalrous and brave persona that would become a future boon to the troupe. It was a very literal interpretation of putting himself in someone else's shoes. Figuratively beaten and betrayed, Ixion had little choice than to do his job and reluctantly go on this patrol. With a knight costume equipped, a time of the tenth bell set, and a note for the patrol's leader in hand, Ixion was rushed out the door to find himself in his current predicament. "Why couldn't he have planned this sometime in the afternoon!" Ixion yelled as he gasped for fresh air to fill his lungs. Time was his enemy as Ixion rushed to the main gates. No doubt his pride and, more importantly, his job were on the currently on the line. Fighting back against his fatigue, Ixion kept up a brisk jog as he wandered the streets of Syliras. The stone walls around him blurred as he kept his eyes on the goal that would soon be before him. Every moment would become increasingly valuable to his career. With blind determination, he was able to end his work out montage at his goal. Victory filled his heart as Ixion slowed his heavy jog to a relaxing walk. Taking a moment to catch his breath, it was a perfect time to actually read what was written on the note. He straightened out the page and held it at reading distance from his eyes. Skimming past the boring introduction and other pleasantries, it seemed that he would be meeting a sergeant as s/he led their unit, but more notably to Ixion was the name of the man he would be shadowing while on patrol, a Ser Joris. The goal of the patrol would be to capture dead or alive a group of bandits that were terrorizing travelers outside the walls. Ixion had no doubt that it was going to be a simple task, but he had to make sure he could make the most of it. Continuing his skim, a final important note took root in his mind. The meeting would be at the eleventh bell. "Oh, the eleventh bell. Currently, it's the ten... I'M A WHOLE HOUR EARLY!" he shouted into the heavens An hour of complaints later. Unsure of what to actually do with himself, Ixion was confused for a guard and ended up falling in line with the other guards at the Main Gate. It was a very dull use of his skills, but he welcomed the distraction. As to be expected of the main point of entry for the large city, there was little excitement as small waves of drifters entered and left the city in small groups. Although, there was one unusual exception to the tedious procedures, and that was the arrival of a lone knight. The sole knight was a very peculiar knight at that, for he as soon as he arrived, he began drawing pictures upon his flesh. At least Ixion believed they were pictures or maybe some kind of calligraphy. The neat images contrasted the man's messy look. Regardless of what they were, it was a very welcome break to watch something other than a cart of cabbages being inspected. No doubt it was rude to observe from afar, but he couldn't help feeling curious about this man. The man probably even noted his presence as he had nodded in Ixion's direction. Undeterred by the man's acknowledgement, the peculiarities of the man had only just began to reveal themselves. Grabbing a dagger from his belt, the man attempted to flourish the blade just to have it fumbling out of his hands and onto the ground. The result was simply comical to Ixion's simple humor. Quickly looking away from the frustrated man's glance, Ixion took a deep breath to conceal the pent up laughter. Not wanting to let the entertaining knight to become a simple memory, Ixion initiated conversation with the only tool he had, the note. "Excuse me, Ser Knight." he said trying to catch the knight's attention. "Would you happen to know anything about this message?" Ixion handed the piece of paper to the man and hoped for the best.