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An undead citadel created before the cataclysm, Sahova is devoted to all kinds of magical research. The living may visit the island, if they are willing to obey its rules. [Lore]

A Poultice for the Pores (Rayage)

Postby Keene Ward on January 31st, 2015, 3:32 am

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The fortieth day of winter, 514 AV

He arrived at the Vestibule's doors about a half bell earlier than he had thought he might. Over his time on the island, he had been back and fourth between the citadel and the cavern enough times to get very familiar with the unmarked path that connected to the two locations. His strength too had increased slowly over the course of his time spent training, making the journey less and less of a hassle, though there was only so much he could do to cut down on the length of time it took to go from one place to the next. He had moved at a comfortable pace, moving with purpose but not so much that he broke into a sweat, making the walk almost pleasant. His mind, however, was filled with thoughts that occupied the entirety of his time up until he arrived at the massive portal. He stopped before the doors, turning to look back at the way he'd come. It had felt like a very short walk, though the strain in his legs and elevated breathing told him otherwise. He found it strange that time could pass quickly or slowly, yet it could not be stopped. His lips turned down into a pensive frown as he considered it further.

If time could be stopped, the practical applications for it were near endless; unless they weren't. His eyes wandered over the space before him, seeing but not truly absorbing anything that met his eyes. If time stopped, did he stop as well? And if that were the case, even if time could be stopped, how would it be started again? Time was the key component to life. As time moved forward, so too did life. Nothing could be accomplished outside of time, as anything outside of time simply... wasn't. He blinked. Were things outside of time nothing, or were they something more. Keene hadn't the foggiest idea what sort of something more something existing out of time might be. The gods, perhaps? He felt a subconscious shrug as he approached the matter of the divine. There were some things he supposed just weren't meant to be understood. The nature of time was something he believed to be graspable, but the nature of timelessness was, perhaps, a bit out of his abilities to understand. Turning to the doors, Keene stepped through, his boots tapping against the chilled stone and bouncing off of the massive sculptures that lined the walls.

He had been called upon to escort Master Rayage through the Testing Grounds, a request for him specifically. Atziri had seemed to think it an interesting thing, but she had warned him to remain alert. The nuit were their charges along with the island itself, but neither were to be trusted. It was something Keene had not given much thought to until his master had reminded him. The island had been, as strange as it seemed, a relative haven for magic; a place where secrecy was not required - but perhaps encouraged. He had failed to grasp that concept, and still struggled with it as he made his way down the hall towards the TAR. He was well aware that magic made wizards dangerous, but those he had interacted with, however duplicitous, had proven to be interesting sources of information. To remain guarded was to deny the chances of learning, and while Keene wasn't particularly intent on divulging the darkest secrets of his magical past, there was quite a bit he was willing to part with should it mean a greater growth of knowledge. There was no point in hoarding knowledge when it could be used to gain more, though he supposed there was merit in caution. Information was easily falsified, and it was certainly worse to know something wrong than it was to know nothing at all.

Master Rayage had suggested in her missive that they meet at the decomissioned TAR, something Keene had learned of after his interaction with the animator Thomas Cosa. Keene still had difficulty imagining the silent golem as a sorting tool of sorts. It was so still and lifeless, it was hard to picture it as anything else. Keene stopped near the metal beast, the resulting stillness of the vestibule broken only by the occasional squeak of a follower golem on its way out of or into the Synchrography. As Master Rayage had not yet arrived, Keene contented himself to stare up at the statues around him, never haven taken much time to truly study them beyond their basic features and the fact that they were present. They were interesting, well sculpted, but none of them were familiar aside from them appearing relatively human. He was not well versed in the races of Mizahar, but he was quite familiar with the general appearance of humans. He had yet to travel to the mudpools as well, and wasn't certain what they might run into. As his eyes scanned the face of a stern looking woman holding a twisted staff, Keene wondered what Master Rayage wanted from the pools at all. Mud, he supposed.

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A Poultice for the Pores (Rayage)

Postby Rayage on January 31st, 2015, 4:35 am

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Rayage had walked with a pace knowing that she had all the time in the world. Slow and steady her feet fell with the importance of knowing time had no bounds for her. It was with an immortals grace that she allowed herself to walk. A carefree and happy pace in her demeanor. Her head was filled with thoughts, no, not about experiments, but about the young pulser who escorted her into the caverns. He was so barbaric in his thinking, simple in his attitude, but she saw in his eyes something more. He was a diamond in the rough, something that could be worked with, and with enough effort his true greatness and worth will shine through. After all, a diamond unworked just looks like a useless stone. You need to know what you are looking for, and Ray thought she knew what she saw in the boy. She believed in herself to act upon her first instincts. She could feel it in her very soul, change, and it was coming.

Her thoughts about the young man were interrupted when she spotted him waiting for her. He was so peculiar with how he conducted himself. Part of her wanted not to make her presence known, to just watch him for a bit longer, but her more rational mind wanted to get on with the real reason she had called him to escort her. It wasn’t because of his reimancy that was for sure, but even thinking about that made her smile. She felt slightly more human when she was around the boy, and that made her want him even more.

”Ah, good,” she called out to him, waving her hand in his direction, ”you’re here.” she said giving him a smile as she walked up to him and gave a curious glance up at TAR. She was wearing the same steel-cloth cloak that she wore at the expedition into the caves. Its signature mark upon her back, the cloth seeming to slow her movements, but not tire her. At least she didn’t appear tired. Her hair though was tied back loosely removing most of it from her face and sides. It was nice to have it out of the way every once in a while. In fact it was preferred when in the middle of an experiment. And today she wore gloves. The leather was soft to the touch and felt nice on her hands, and their appearance was simple.

”The mudpools have always been places Ive wanted to visit.” she said, looking from TAR to Keene, ”But I never found the time to actually go. Nor is it exactly safe out there for someone like me.” she said, ”I can barely defend myself.” she told him, laughing a bit at her own comment like it was a bad joke. ”Its why I asked you to come with me.”

She kept on walking, expecting Keene to follow. If he did she would slow her pace until he caught up with her and then she would do her best so they could walk side by side, ”I don’t really get much time for ventures such as these.” she told him, ”The Citadel keeps me busy with my work, always asking for more, more, more.” she half vented to him, ”Not that I don’t enjoy what I do, but there are other things on this isle that interest me.”

”Like the Mudpools, and you.” she said with a venomous smile, ”You are the other reason I asked you to join me. You are a talented wizard, but your knowledge of magic in general is quite lacking.”

”From what you’ve told me, you are just a brute going around with Reimancy, wielding a magic you think you understand the fundamentals of.”

She paused, thinking for a moment, ”Keene,” she started, ”if you let me, I want to teach you what it means to be a real wizard. One that is worth respecting. One that has actual understanding. One that is like the times of old, a pulser the nuits cannot sneer at. One that they would gladly invite to join their own ranks, with talent, knowledge, and power that shouldn’t be allowed to be just thrown away by death.”

When Rayage offered her own teachings to Keene she made sure that they were away from the citadel. ”Do you recall what we talked about on our last trip together?”
x
“Method is more important than strength, when you wish to control your enemies. By dropping golden beads near a snake, a crow once managed to have a passer-by kill the snake for the beads.” ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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A Poultice for the Pores (Rayage)

Postby Keene Ward on January 31st, 2015, 6:09 am

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He did not have to wait long before Rayage arrived, and he turned to greet her with a nod. She appeared nearly identical to how she'd appeared the first time they'd met, though her hair had been tied to free her face from the locks. She seemed glad to see him, something Keene was wholly unused to. Even Risabell, with her snorting laughter, didn't have quite the gleam in her eyes when she looked upon him as the spark that danced in Master Rayage's gaze. As he had come to expect from her, the woman continued on to explain why their destination was what it was. It was a mission similar to the caverns, though this time it seemed there was nothing in particular they were seeking. She also spoke again of her inability to defend herself. While he knew she was indeed a rather pathetic combatant, Keene found himself wondering just how helpless she truly was. The way she carried herself with such authority and poise made it difficult to fully picture her as defenseless. Perhaps that was part of it: she seemed capable enough that others might mistake it for true strength, true power. Even Keene, despite knowing the minimal extent of Rayage's reimancy, still viewed her in a light of one who was far more capable than he, though he supposed combat wasn't something that one measured capability by alone.

She set off, and Keene followed a half step behind and to her left, listening in silence as she continued. He preferred others to speak, allowing him time for comprehension and philosophical contemplation. While he had arrived in Sahova with the intent of studying as an apprentice, fate had shifted his purpose to that of a Warden. He imagined those within the stony confines of the citadel lived a much different life than he, one filled with restrictions, regulations, and deadlines. It was, in a way, similar to his understanding of the college of Djed back in Zeltiva, though with far fewer protocols involving safety. There was a small bitter quality to her voice, giving him the impression that life as a wizard was as difficult if not more so as the demands of a Warden. They were similar in that they were both bound to their duties, yet both had a fierce curiosity for things beyond the limits of their roles. They differed in that where Keene was content to follow, Master Rayage seemed to desire to lead. It was a characteristic he had noticed in the caverns, and even more so as he walked along side her. Atziri had been correct that he exercise caution, as the woman beside him perhaps was weak in strength, but she was anything but meek of mind.

At Master Rayage's statement of interest in both the mudpools and himself, Keene blinked, his face blank and unsure how to handle the information and Master Rayage's impish grin. It was true he knew little of magic. His lack of knowledge was something he had come to the island to rectify, yet even over a season, he felt he had only come to realize the great depths of that which he didn't know. Her compliment regarding his talent - however backhanded - made him uncomfortable. Praise was not something he was accustomed to, and though he chose to simply ignore it, Keene kept her words in mind. One who thought highly of him in any regard was either foolishly short sighted or not to wholeheartedly trusted. Still, he couldn't deny that though he had grown in strength both physical and magical, there was still so much about the magics he wielded that he knew so little about. She compared him to a brute, a mindlessness to his spells that he was certain one of Master Rayage's wisdom found incredibly crude. While he had never thought of himself as the most elegant of mages, he had thought he conducted himself with a sort of efficient finesse. Being told otherwise, Keene chose to ponder over what a true reimancer from ages past might have been like.

As Master Rayage spoke his name, Keene turned his attention back to her, his face still expressionless as his mind was unsure what it should project. What she offered, Keene frowned at. She offered him two very different things, in the deceptive form of a single proposition. She offered knowledge, the one thing that Keene craved beyond anything else, yet she also offered a power he wasn't sure he desired. There was something to be said for being one that was not looked up to, considered equal. He had spent his entire life beneath those greater than him, and nothing about being above held much appeal. There was a danger to it, an unbalance. Rain could only fall once the clouds reached their saturation point, but if he rose above the simple precipitate to that which control the rainfall, decided when it would or would not, Keene wasn't sure he could trust himself. He was a tool. Tools were not meant to control themselves, they were meant to be controlled. To place the reigns in his own hands was to give him a power far beyond his knowledge, an ability to destroy without thought. She had warned him against it, yet now she offered him that which she had cautioned so strongly against.

They had traveled a distance from the Vestibules doors, and he had yet to reply. His pensive silence was broken once again by Master Rayage's voice. He had come to the island to expand his understanding of magic, to build upon the foundation laid by Mella, and to push the limits of his abilities. Knowledge, like all things, did not come without risks. If he risked his own destruction by pursuing that which had become his purpose, so be it. "I do." He had yet to reply to her proposition, but the firmness of his soft, cold voice sufficed. While Atziri was his master in magic, Master Rayage would, should she follow through upon her offer, become his master in knowledge. The depths to which her knowledge expanded were far too tempting to pass upon. He fell silent once more, unsure whether she spoke specifically of the balance between wisdom and power, of if she meant to remind him of something else.

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A Poultice for the Pores (Rayage)

Postby Rayage on January 31st, 2015, 6:47 am

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”Then you know how much weight I place upon wisdom. Power must be balanced by a strong mind, a strong foundation of knowledge, else it will grow wild and uncontrollable.” She said after Keene answered ‘I do’. He sure wasn’t much for words, but the wizard had come to expect that from him. ”My teachings mostly wont be of magical technique, but of magical balance, of finding control. Not that you don’t exert control already, but I want to help you find a deeper meaning to your practice. Knowledge, they say, is power.”

”Magic is more than brute force, but magic is also more than philosophy. Magic contains both in equal amounts, force and philosophy, but it take knowledge and understanding of the depth of it all to truly wield magic.” She continued, talking and walking just like she did when they first met. She seemed to care little what verbal response she got from him taking comfort in the fact that she knew he was listening. She had hooked him from the first time they met. She had instilled within him sense enough to listen to her. Perhaps it was curiosity that drove him, perhaps it was something else, but what it was did not really matter as long as he listened.

Even outside the citadel she walked with an air of authority. Her steps no slower or faster than before, perfectly content in what and who she was. Or at least that is what she tried to project. Her confidence was her first and finest shield, it was her unyielding confidence along with her sharp tongue and knowledge of Alchemy that had kept her alive all these years. The power of presence and words is not to be underestimated, that she knew all too well.

”However, I am told the Mudpool is quite… fragrant.” she said told him leading them deeper into the wilderness at her own nuit pace, ”But it is also good for relaxation and rejuvenation of the body and soul.”

”Can you see why I’d like to visit it?” she asked. ”The mud is supposed to be good for you.” she explained herself, but her reasons for visiting wasn’t quite as simple as she would let on. Though being less serious and more ‘friendly’ has gotten her far in her book, at least where this pulser is concerned. Besides, he really didn’t need to know the exact reason of her visit to the pool. If she would take a long hard look at herself, she would find her own actions rather unnerving. Being all serious one moment and then light hearted the next was sure to set off some warning flags, right? She would come off as being an illusion… though she had to! Keene surely could not be allowed to see the vast darkness that lays inside her being, the very darkness she is trying to replace with light. No, no, that surely would not do.

Instead she needed to work on becoming favorable in the youths eyes, and she would do that by dangling carrots in front of his face. These carrots would be knowledge, wisdom, and restraint. Control was the greatest gift a wizard could ever hope to accomplish. Many a good wizard have died, fallen to their own inhibitions. It was almost a sad cycle, being consumed by ones own hunger. Sad, but ironic too, Ray supposed. She would make sure that this youth is not consumed by his own hunger, eaten by his own shadow.
x
“Method is more important than strength, when you wish to control your enemies. By dropping golden beads near a snake, a crow once managed to have a passer-by kill the snake for the beads.” ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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A Poultice for the Pores (Rayage)

Postby Keene Ward on January 31st, 2015, 11:37 am

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As if his thoughts had been entirely open to her, Master Rayage continued on to address Keene's concerns regarding the proposed arrangement. He listened carefully, eyes kept forward as she spoke. She offered control through understanding: the knowledge to balance power. It was much of what they had discussed before, and it painted the idea of her teaching him in a much more appealing light. If power was the result of the training, Keene saw no better way to handle it than to be equipped with the knowledge to do so. While the potential still existed for him to rise towards a more autonomous position, Keene chose to disregard it for the time being. Meaning and understanding were two things he constantly strove for, yet with no guide he often arrived at conclusions he felt were entirely arbitrary. With instruction, Keene couldn't even begin to imagine what sort of advances in his personal understanding of his magics he could make. Philosophy, while a peculiarly subjective study of the objective, did not deal entirely in unknowable, fluid abstract. When it came to magic, there were immutable laws, boundaries and limits put into to place. These things, however, were only whispers of ages past, knowledge that he had not had access to.

His eyes were drawn to the woman's neck, parts of it moving slightly as she continued to speak. He had not had a source of knowledge to tap into before, but now he followed behind it as it offered him a chance to delve deep into a wisdom far more ancient than he could truly understand. The more he thought about it, the more he desired it. It was strange to feel so strongly about something after so long, but it was similar to the sensation of hunger. At first, it had started soft and muted, plenty of opportunity to convince himself otherwise. Yet, with each step, it grew more and more into a craving that could only be satiated by the ingestion of sustenance. Knowledge was power. Keene had read many poems on the subject, and the greatest of strengths often resided in those who were the most wise. While he desired power, he craved knowledge. It was something he simply couldn't control, perhaps because it was the one thing he had been encouraged to pursue from a young age. Whatever game Master Rayage wanted to play, Keene found he was more than enough of a willing participant.

As they neared the end of the slope and started across the Prairie towards the mudpool that shimmered in the distance against the backdrop of the Forest and the Bloodhills, Master Rayage fell into thoughtful silence, allowing some time for Keene to further consider. He chose to approach it from as negative a viewpoint as he could, not wanting to disregard Atziri's advice. At worst, Master Rayage was not the paragon of timeless wisdom he figured her to be; she would prove to be a false prophet, a temptress set to fulfill her own unspoken goals. While Keene found it to be a unappealing potential outcome, it also did not strike him as incredibly likely. She spoke with authority on that which he knew little about, and even her comments regarding that which he was knowledgeable in were more than simply intuitive. There were far more things that supported Master Rayage's claims than disproved them, and Keene was hardly one to shun the facts. Whether she was truly what she presented herself to be or not, it was highly unlikely that she was not the highly intellectual and wizened individual she claimed to be. To what extent and of what qualities, however, were up for interpretation.

When she spoke next, they had walked quite a good distance across the grasses. Keene wasn't sure what she meant beyond the obvious statements. He had never been good at picking up on implied meanings, and while he had become slightly more adept at realizing something was meant to be inferred, he was about as good at inferring as he ever had been. Her question seemed rhetorical, even more directed at herself than her companion, and he kept quiet. He had no idea why she wanted to go to a fragrant pool of healing mud. From what he could tell she was as healthy a being as he had seen. Whatever the mud might do for her was minimal enough that he couldn't imagine they were taking the trip for the restorative qualities alone. Perhaps she required reagents for some sort of healing magic or poultice, but it was nothing more than idle speculation. Keene was content once more in the silence after nodding his understanding of what he decided had been a combination of a disclaimer and a warning. Master Rayage also seemed rather preoccupied with her own thoughts, enough that there were few words passed between them before the distinct scent of rot met them head on.

It was sudden and so starkly different from the near pleasant breeze of the grassy plain that Keene physically choked for a few breathes, having to pause in his stride to blink in surprise. When Master Rayage had described the pool as fragrant, Keene had not expected it to be so strong. Only requiring a few quick, forced breaths, he was able to catch up to the woman with a few longer strides, deciding it was best for him to breath through his mouth. It minimized the scent, though he could slightly taste the rancid scent on his tongue. He felt a bit queasy as they continued, drawing in deeper - though furtive - breathes when the wind would run over them to dispel the stench for a few ticks. Though powerful, the scent eventually saturated the air for a long enough time that Keene became partial accustomed to it, no longer feeling as though his lungs were being filled with the gaseous representation of dead animal. Though quiet had been comfortable, Keene spoke up, his tone soft and quiet, sounding a bit louder for lack of any other sound besides their boots against the ground. "Fragrant is not the first word to come to mind."

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A Poultice for the Pores (Rayage)

Postby Rayage on January 31st, 2015, 6:16 pm

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The silence between them was contemplative, or at least that is how Rayage took it. She had given the youth a lot think about, to consider, and being young, but not jumping on her words like some dog… it showed some form of restraint. That she liked already. How deep the youths thoughts about her went were unnoticed. She could speculate, she could present herself in a certain way in hopes of gaining a certain light, she could do a lot of things to influence perspective of her. Though she would try not to come on too strong. Talent would be surely wasted in the wilderness without some formal guiding hand. That she was sure of. What secrets could the pulsers of this place know that the undead of the citadel could not? It was simply unfathomable that he would get a good education in magic out here.

Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a gagging sort of noise behind her. Having been caught up in her thoughts she did not notice the smell of the air around them. It was putrid, but luckily for her she didn’t need endure inhaling it. She just had to live with the stench wafting in, refusing to not be noticed. It was enough to curl her hair, but she tried her best to keep a composed and neutral nuit expression on her face. However disgust was hard to disguise. Though she quickly reminded herself that she had smelled worse.

To Keenes soft words the wizard only nodded, ”Indeed.” she agreed with him about her choice of words. She believed that the entire sentence Keene spouted was the most he had said all day long. It wouldn’t surprise her.

”This mud, although quite putrid,” she corrected her word choice approaching the pool. The ground under her feet got softer and squishier the further towards the hole she got, ”Is supposed to rejuvenate the skin, relax muscles, and ease the pain of the weary.” she listed the muds rather impressive properties. Although she did not know how it did so, as she assumed mud was just mud, this mud was special if she were to believe the rumors about the pools.

She crouched down, placing her arms on her knees, holding herself steady as she looked into the pit of slick mud. ”I know I could use an application or two.” she said, talking mostly to herself before craned her neck to look over her shoulder, ”What about you Keene?” she asked, ”You’re here, might as well experience the mud with me while we talk about your future.”
x
“Method is more important than strength, when you wish to control your enemies. By dropping golden beads near a snake, a crow once managed to have a passer-by kill the snake for the beads.” ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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A Poultice for the Pores (Rayage)

Postby Keene Ward on January 31st, 2015, 7:35 pm

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Keene blinked, the stench of the pool pressing against his eyes. Master Rayage, however, seemed relatively unaffected by the smell. She simply walked on, amending her previous statement to a more appropriate adjectival application. Immediately following, however, she offered the intrinsic properties of the bubbling mass that spread out before them, small wisps of vapors drifting from within the depths of the sludge. His frown deepened as his mind shifted from the smell around him to the supposed properties of the material that the smell came from. He had never known much about healing, medicinal or otherwise. Reimancy was not something that could heal, and storms were often destructive forces rather than helping hands. Nothing in his studies had ever contained much about "healing mud", thus he found it difficult to believe. It wasn't so much that he couldn't believe her words, only that it seemed unlikely. Mud was wet dirt, and Keene had found over his experiences that dirt made things dirty and grew things. It had never appeared incredibly dynamic.

If Master Rayage was correct, however, the mud's stench made a bit more sense. It was rare to find anything of great merit that didn't have some sort of equally massive flaw. He supposed it was much the same with the both of them, though in his mind "merit" was simply replaced with strength. He was strong, but he was young and wild - as Master Rayage had observed. She was strong, but she lacked the ability to protect herself. They were flawed, near equal to that which made them desirable in terms of power. The mud then, became a more and more likely source of the abilities she spoke of. Still, there was not way to know for sure exactly what the mud was capable of just by staring at it. His eyes moved from the mud to his now stooped companion, his frown growing. It seemed there was more to her even on the surface, something he couldn't see. From what he could tell, the properties of the mud pit weren't very useful for a woman who never appeared to be weary. A small raise of the brows shifted his face slightly as he supposed Master Rayage could simply be acting, though whether she feigned her need for the mud or the inherent strength she exuded, he wasn't sure.

Kneeling down, Keene joined her beside the pool, staring into the murky mass of the putrid, viscous liquid with a pensive frown. She had given him no hint as to how to experience the mud, and if it was through ingestion, Keene wasn't entirely sure he would be able to palate the taste. If it was application, however, he wasn't opposed. He waited for a few ticks, contemplating the mud before turning to her, his blank stare regarding her features with a hint of confusion. "How?"
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A Poultice for the Pores (Rayage)

Postby Rayage on February 1st, 2015, 1:37 am

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The nuit smiled at the pool from Keenes question. She was glad that he had joined her, ”That is simple.” she said rising to her full height once more. As she rose her right hand grabbed on the tips of the left glove and gingerly pulled it loose finger by finger. When it was loosened by all five fingers she gave a sharp tug pulling the glove free from her hand. She placed the loose glove on a shoulder before she did the same with the other glove on her right hand. Placing the gloves together she walked some paces away from the mudpool before she set them gently on the ground.

”We cover ourselves in it.” she announced, ”Easy enough, uh?” she asked taking off her steel-cloth cloak and setting it on the gloves as well. Not bothering to fold it, but just laying it there. Under was rather simple clothes, clothes that she wouldn’t mind if it got a little dirty or damaged. Simple leather pants with a worn looking cotton shirt. The garb seemed out of place on her, for someone that held the illusion of greatness to be caught wearing such common items… She sat and removed her boots, freeing her feet. She placed her boots by the cloak.

”It will be fun.” she reassured him, ”And relaxing. A great space to be in to talk about magic.”

She stood up and watched Keene, ”So, what do you say?” she asked ”Care to get covered in mud?”

”Regardless if you do or not, Im going to experience the rejuvenating properties of this mud.” she nodded at him, confirming her own words with the physical gesture.

She walked towards the mudpool while a hand worked at the leather breeches she wore. She paused for a moment to remove them before advancing towards the pool. She sat at the edge and dipped a foot into the smelly mud. She felt the substance ooze between her toes. The mud was warm, at least for her it was, and it seemed to cling to her skin, thick as the mud was. She would have to be the leader here, she would have to show Keene that nothing bad would happen to her or to him. She needed to have him gain some confidence in her words.

Sitting on the edge, one leg in knee deep, she brought the other one to the pool to submerge it. As the pool claimed her other leg she smiled at Keene, ”It definitely feels different, but not a bad different. You would think that it feels dirty, but…” she paused trying to find words for what she was experiencing, ”it feels nice.” she said, not sure how to explain her experience to him.

Leaning down she scooped up a handful of mud with her hand and started to rub her thighs with it. She applied the mud generously like it was another set of clothes to cover her nakedness. She went up all the way to the edges of her undergarments.

The smell of the mud could be improved, but it felt nice nonetheless. A little change from the norm was something to be treasured after all, and every experience is to be treasured.
x
“Method is more important than strength, when you wish to control your enemies. By dropping golden beads near a snake, a crow once managed to have a passer-by kill the snake for the beads.” ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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A Poultice for the Pores (Rayage)

Postby Keene Ward on February 1st, 2015, 2:18 am

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Keene blinked at her reply, his head turning to follow her movements as she took a few steps back the way they'd come to set her gloves and cloak upon the ground. He was well aware that the cloth was much heavier than it appeared, and the woman seemed to step with a slight more amount of bounce after little it tumble to the ground. In theory, simply covering oneself with the fetid mud was easy enough, but Keene wasn't sure Master Rayage was entirely aware of just how dangerous the Testing Grounds were. If they were to coat themselves in mud, it would severely hamper their abilities to defend themselves should the need arise. On the other hand, however, Keene had been watching the Prairie as they had made their way through it, and there had been very little activity. Still, he was hardly a supporter of unnecessary dangers.

As she made her way back to the pool, she employed the tactic of enticing with fun. It was, by far, the most human thing she had done, and was something that Keene had never understood. Pleasure and enjoyment were both fleeting feelings; if they were experienced in the pursuit of something greater, so be it, but he saw no reason from them to be primary motivators. There was no merit to "fun", only foolishness. His frown turned a shade darker as he thought about it more. He supposed it was possible Master Rayage had suggested the entertainment of covering oneself with mud in passing, but he found it difficult to stand behind that assumption. She was, in nothing else, deliberate. He wondered if she was simply trying to find the most enticing leads to drop before him, a series of trial and error, testing him to find what drove him. She had said part of their outing was due to her interest in him. How far that extended to and to what depths, Keene could only wonder at.

Her breeches were removed to allow her legs to slip into the pool, her frown fading as she grew used to the sensation. She tried to describe it to him, her face moving in an easy smile that only further served to pull at Keene's judgments. She was certainly dangerous, and if she were playing with him, Keene wasn't able to discern any one thing from another. In a way, simply knowing she had some ulterior motive in mind was enough. Keene was not an expert of the psyche, nor did he believe himself to be particularly gifted at it. Often, it was enough to be aware. And so he contented himself with that for the time being, letting his frown fade as Master Rayage began to coat her legs in the mud. She seemed well enough, and whether Keene believed the mud had rejuvenating properties or not, if he was to learn anything from Master Rayage as an apprentice of sorts, he had to prove he could follow orders.

Rising up, Keene stepped over to where Master Rayage had left her boots and cloak, adding to the pile his own clothes, stripping down to his small clothes before rejoining her at the edge of the pool. As he gazed down at the bubbling mass and, by peripheral, his legs, he noticed a distinct fade from the very subtle tan of his arms and feet into the stark white of the rest of his body. He was surprised to see that his skin had more color that it had ever had back in Zeltiva, and he regarded it for a few ticks in pensive silence before he eased his legs into the mud and rested the rest of himself on the safety of the shore. Master Rayage's words had been surprisingly accurate. The sensation was smooth, soft but still carried with it the stench, making the experience a strange combination of pleasant and disgusting. Keene imitated her motions, pulling the mud up and slipping it over his legs for a time. Once his legs had been covered, he paused, staring at the dark, wet mass that covered him with a small frown. He had had no apparent injuries to heal, and if the mud truly did have a regenerative property, there were better ways to test it than simply slapping it onto himself and seeing if he "felt better" afterwards.

Taking very little time, Keene allowed a small bead of res to form in his palm, no bigger than the nail of his pinkie finger. With a small exhale, he let the bead form into a sharp spike before transmuting it into ice and running his hand along his left arm, wincing as the small blade drew blood. Once an incision about two inches long had been left behind, Keene drew the small amount of res he'd used to keep the ice bound to his hand and let the small gem of frozen liquid disappear into the mud below. As the blood from the cut began to run, Keene slapped some mud on it with a few casual motions. The feeling of the mud as it pressed to fill the tear in his skin was not nearly as soothing as it was against his unbroken skin, making him clench his jaw as the initial pain passed. If the cut was healed or the process of healing had been clearly accelerated, he now had a way of knowing. Content with his little experiment for the time being, Keene continued to apply the mud to himself, finding his sense had already begun to grow used to the stench of the pool.

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A Poultice for the Pores (Rayage)

Postby Rayage on February 1st, 2015, 3:11 am

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The nuit continued to rub on her legs even after it was generously applied. It was as if she was rubbing it into the skin itself, trying desperately to get the mud to heal her. She had noticed the youths disapproval of her actions, that much was apparent in his frown. She could only wonder what his thoughts were. Truth be told, she was no mind reader, she could only guess with her knowledge, and so far, Keene was a hard book to read. Her stabs at his personality had been blind, hit or miss, experimentally trying to find the edge of his psyche. She concluded, so far, that the youth was either incredibly deep or quite lame. Which she hadn’t figured out.

However, words were not as expressive as body language. Of which Keene allowed to leak off in his face. No matter how hard he tried to stay passive some emotion would leak through, it was a human thing to do. Human… how she wished to be human once more. She wondered if he valued his life. She wondered a lot of things about him, but most were kept unsaid. Silent shadows swirled within her, the hundred years darkness was hard to confine.

Her eyes watched Keene curiously as he went over to the pile she started. He too started to strip, and she watched, a small smile appearing on her face. She had won this game, but had he let her? She noticed the color on his skin and the overall youthfulness of his body. It was something to envy, everyone who had life was to envy. It reminded her of exactly what she gave up over seven hundred years ago. Her negative thoughts however dissipated when the young man sat by her. She watched him mimic her movements, covering his own legs with mud.

Though he went a step further than she. He conjured a blade of ice, and with it Ray watched hopelessly as the man cut himself with it. She watched it sink into his flesh, making the cut. She grimaced at the act, and she looked at the boy speechless. However, when the mud was applied to the wound she connected the dots in her mind. This boy was lame, that was what she decided, but even the lamest duck could be a useful wizard. After all, he did have many redeeming qualities, one being that he aimed to humor people in a higher status than him. Always a good one to have.

”What are you doing, Keene?” she asked, noting the pained expression on his face when he applied the mud. She reached a hand out to touch just above the wounded arm, ”I did not mean my words in that way you silly boy.”

She frowned at him, ”This mud is good for the skin, good for the relaxation of the muscles. It does not mend wounds magically.”

”Please, don’t hurt yourself again.” she said, ”This is supposed to be fun. You are supposed to be learning something here, not injuring yourself. I would never do something to purposely harm you.”

”Now,” she moved her legs slightly in the mud, ”cover the rest of yourself in mud and enjoy yourself.” She removed her cotton shirt and grinned at him as she slapped more mud on herself, throwing the shirt aside. Her hands moved up her stomach to her chest, up her arms, neck, and face, avoiding the eyes and mouth. Soon enough she was a muddy mess. She slavered her shoulders with mud in hopes of being able to get her back. It dripped down her sides and back, but did not completely cover it. She frowned at her wasted efforts. She did not want to actually get into the pool.

”Keene,” she said, ”would you mind getting my back?’ she asked, looking over at him with a needy stare. ”I wish for my entire body to be rejuvenated and cleansed.”
x
“Method is more important than strength, when you wish to control your enemies. By dropping golden beads near a snake, a crow once managed to have a passer-by kill the snake for the beads.” ~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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