Solo Point to Point

[Caesarion]

22nd of Summer, 515 AV

Priskil,

I do not know if you think it preferable - or at least tolerable - that I lead the person I am leading to you, to me too. That I have become closer friends to him than I expected, and that honestly my heart beats a little bit quicker when I see that I've brought him a smile. I do not know if you seek that I guide him professionally and at a distance, or that I become his dearest friend. All of these things are so curious to me, but sadly there is little to nothing in Sahova I can use as a tool to discover the way you wish that I operate. Considering you are as kind a goddess as you are a loving one, I simply hope that the path I have taken is the right one, and that Ameer and I may be friends as well as we are light-bringers; bringing hope to one another, like you might expect us to.

I would like to tell you of some things that I have experienced in the past few days since I started to actively try to serve your purposes.

Two days ago, I contemplated what I might do in the face of great adversity. I wondered - I suppose - if I should ever resort to killing someone that brings great peril to their surroundings. When I was younger, in Ravok, schemes would begin at the hand of Rhysol's followers - schemes to murder innocent people outside of Ravok, entire households, young and old and innocent . . . for dark rituals and the purpose of amusement. These things were practically tolerated, which made me wonder how such a society could function. I wonder, actually, if you think a person like that - who would do such a thing - deserves to be treated with scorn and death? Or should I try to reason, and to save them from the darkness that has consumed them? Is there ever such thing as too late? I know that you can guide anyone out of darkness, but as a mortal with limited means, am I so capable? I keep hoping that I'll find an answer somewhere, but I just can't. And if the day comes by where I'm strong enough to make important decisions like this, I can't guarantee that I will always make the right choice. I apologize, and wish that you know that I will always try to do the best I can to be a good person. That is the way I have always lived, always wanted to live, and always will live.

Thank you, my friend. I'm sorry for yet again writing a letter - as if you could possibly hear it - but you know how I am. Always the trying man, always the failing one.

Love,
Caesarion and Sometimes "Vox"

The young man finished his scribbles, then he looked to the sheet of paper so that he could read these words allowed - as he prayed - so that maybe the Goddess might hear him. He knew that in such a dark time there were many thousands that needed her, but he prayed nonetheless, because he thought that maybe a little bit of love and recognition would go a long way to giving her the strength she needed to carry on, even in these dark times.

After his daily devotions, the man figured he would continue the more long-term act of devotion he had towards Priskil: bringing hope to the man that was Ameer Milab, and guiding him to a path of capability, just as Caesarion was currently doing for himself. The young mage wandered the house to find Ameer, until eventually he ran into him in Telemaran's personal library, cleaning the desk. "Hello," said Caesarion. "Would you like to be relieved?" He asked, implying that he would justify that he simply stop performing his daily duties. The man had a way of getting Ameer to perfectly lag behind, then always clearing it up with Telemaran afterwards. The other slave laughed and shook his head. "No, I shouldn't. I'll just have to do this later, and you know how I hate being forced to binge clean." He gave Caesarion that look, though, like - I really want to.

So, he did. It only took a stare, and then he was back in another part of the lab with his fellow slave. The two men were laying against the ground, both of them prepping up to do some sit-ups like Caesarion had been recommending they do together. He instilled self-betterment in all their conversations, and sometimes he also added the enjoyment of sport to it all. Anything to bring a smile to a sullen face. "How are you feeling, Ameer?" The older man asked, pulling his abdomen up with the rest of his upper body and performing his first sit-up. He exhaled deeply as he went up, then breathed in as he moved his head back down to the floor. "I'm good," the young man simply said. He didn't really know what to add - he was bad at conversation when it was actually natural. Sort of the same case with Caesarion. They were better embellished than they were in honesty.

"That's good to hear," the older man said. "I was attacked by some crazy Wizard two days ago. Luckily I managed to at least go head-to-head, or I'd probably not be alive or doing these sit-ups with you." He smiled slightly. The truth was, he knew she went easy on him, because her movements were sometimes extremely quick but sometimes very slow. She let him react, he didn't simply react out of consequence.

Of course, Ameer was very interested in what the man said. He grinned excitedly, and poked him on the shoulder. "Tell me about it, Vox," he requested. The other man smirked. "Sure, if you tell me more about you."

[Caesarion]

"Okay, so," he started. The man had a stupid grin on his face, as he loved telling stories like this - the exciting ones were always great. Plus, he needed to make sure he told this tale enthusiastically so that Telemaran might hear. "I was meditating and trying to train Reimancy out in the Prairie. Then, some lady with black hair and a really lame outfit came up to me and asked of my purpose. She already knew who I was for the strangest of reasons - like, as if she . . . was sort of spying on me, I imagine. I believe she must have been doing something that I won't quite like down the line." He had a weakness when it came to storytelling - he always changed the subject due to minor details and rarely ever got back on it. But, he noticed it this time, so he returned to the point. "So uh, anyway, she ended up attacking me. She desired to see my potential as a combatant. Thing was, I'm such a badass, I actually managed to fend her off." The two men were doing reps, this time squats, and the young mage stopped to smile stupidly and inflate one of his muscles to simulate alleged 'badassery'.

Of course, young Ameer was as stupidly impressed as he always was, so he clapped for Caesarion and laughed. "Congratulations, Vox, how amazing." He knew there was sarcasm, though. "I'll have you know that she was a pretty scary combatant. I must have possessed the fervor of the Gods at the time. I am still admiring my own achievement." He grinned, then, as he was counting his reps in his head - he realized he'd hit one hundred and fifty. Time to move on to weights. The man walked over to the shitty area he'd stored for his weight lifting needs, grinned, and picked up some stupid metallic looking things Emarus had given him. To 'borrow'. "I'm only on sixty-eight," Ameer complained. Caesarion laughed at him, but not to insult. "I already told you that slower is better. More calories converted. I just have a lot I need to do when it comes to shaping, so I need to go through everything quickly then do it again. Trying to look the part of a supersoldier, and all." The other slave rolled his eyes. He knew Vox was just vain - bodybuilding was so he could look intimidating and beautiful in one fell swoop.

The other slave decided to take a break once he hit seventy-five. He leaned back against one of the tables about the laboratory, the one that happened to hold his water so that he might drink. The one over was some cold Gibbat Dog meat, which was generally what Caesarion tapped into, doing his typical flame-y hand thing and roasting it. He also usually slightly overcooked it, being an amateur and all. "Vox, you've been unusually jovial lately. Especially around me. What's the reason?" His look was thematically stoic, but the other slave knew that he was truly curious. Ameer never wasted a word. So, he would be indulged.

"I want you to be happy," he said truthfully. Even though the purpose was also to make Priskil happy, Ameer too had a place in Caesarion's heart. Kind people were sacred, especially in a city surrounded by the unkind. They were a commodity and they needed to be guided, protected, and cared for. When he had the ability, his tendrils would extend to more than just Ameer. The man paused his weight lifting for a moment to take a breath and focus on his words. He grabbed his jug of water to sip from, then stared the Milab down. "There is so little happiness in this city, and for all of us, especially the good people. I need to be happy to bring happiness. So, I've come to appreciate the little things, you know... moving my body, going wild, improving myself, speaking to interesting people, slaying exotic beasts. I've embraced joy in everything I do. That's how I go on." He would never manage to live in a city like this while embracing the status quo. He needed to form his own sort of lifestyle. Now that he had done that, he felt comfortable again. Not at home, but capable of breathing freely and sleeping softly.

The young slave nodded, saying, "I see." He was often like that, asking questions without the words to say anything back. That was fine. All that mattered was that he listened to the words that he asked for. Although, a thought like that was baffling to Caesarion. He had craved intrigue all his life, but now he was fine with silence. He'd craved peace, but now he wanted to march forward and flash his blade to evildoers. In such a short span of time, he had changed, and most likely for the better. He'd grown calm as well as he'd grown courageous, and he learned. Somehow, he felt that perhaps Ameer was at fault for all of that. He saw himself reflected in the young man, and he didn't want to be like him anymore - the weak and the exploited, just moving on and surviving. He wanted to be the strong one, the dependent one, like Aoren was for him in Syliras, Rhaenon in Ravok, and sort of like the man named Keene in Sahova.

So, importantly, he did not require anything else of Ameer. He wouldn't say anything at all, just return to his lifting, and let the man make decisions for himself. Which he did. He rose his voice in some small form of excitement, and he asked - "Would you really like to know about my adventures?"

[Caesarion]

It was difficult to remember, when you wanted to disassociate with your past so badly. Tales - no matter how interesting - would simply pass you by, and you wouldn't know where to go from there. That was the sort of dilemma Ameer was having, trying to recall all the things from when he wasn't on Sahova. He decided to start by describing the people that were around him. "My master was named Ferdinand. He was a wise man, and not necessarily a cruel one, but he was extremely strict and harsh. I could never speak out of turn, I always needed to exhibit perfect mannerisms, and I wasn't allowed to make improper movements or ever emit feelings that were . . . unfortunate to his current predisposition. For example, feelings such as desire were strictly prohibited. During my early teen years where I was going through a stage filled with desire, I was very frequently beaten." So, that was Ferdinand. An interesting sounding man, to be sure. He was the type that simply liked his slaves very obedient, not necessarily interesting or productive. Caesarion's family was the other way - they liked productive, interesting, and kind of wild. Obedient, of course, but not cripplingly sterile.

"And what of his children?" Asked Caesarion. The other man shrugged, beginning to position back down to finish his squats. The mage returned fully to his exercises as well. He finished weights in one arm, now he needed to employ the same exercise to the other. Ameer shrugged upon being questioned about his children. He supposed he had mixed feelings on them. "Well, uh," he sighed. "There were two boys and a daughter. Diego, Rafael, and Kala. The oldest to youngest." He had mixed feelings on the children, to be sure, based on his hesitation when it came to speaking about them. Caesarion didn't make sure to point that out however, as he wanted for Ameer to simply speak the way he normally would. "Diego should be about nineteen by now. He was always a very attractive, intelligent, and patient young man. I think he will go far in life. One issue of is would be that he's extremely zealous in his worship of Rhysol. Ridiculously so. I can easily see him joining the Black Sun, leaving behind his family legacy." That was to say something of him. Ameer suppressed some of the truth: that he was such a zealot for such a dark God that the young man would probably do many evils in his lifetime.

As for the other siblings, he returned his thoughts to them. "Rafael was very sweet usually, but even now, he throws temper tantrums and is very picky and particular. He is not very skilled in martial combat, but he is very good at writing, speaking, making money, and learning of secrets. He's also very feminine, and Ferdinand often called him his first daughter. To be honest, though, I think he was more lady-like than his sister." That was simply a fact. Rafael was absurdly gentle, and somewhat soft-voiced, and his body type was not very manly. He was certainly not the pride of Ferdinand, but if the man was good for anything, it was at least the fact that he loved his children regardless of what flaws he found in them.

Now, for the last of them. Kala. "I absolutely despised Kala," he admitted. "She was just flat out evil. A mean, rude, cruel little girl that loved hurting things weaker than her. She was my primary tormenter, and not just me, but the other slaves as well. And animals. She once bought a puppy with her monthly allowance only to quite literally set it on fire. Also, she's now become a skilled mage over time so I expect her murder won't end with puppies." Knowing her, she'd probably end up in Sahova. Ameer certainly wouldn't put it past her - in fact, he was surprised she wasn't already here. "If she had any good quality, it was that she was at least skilled at what she did. All her evils were committed with such efficiency and calculation. A murderess with a talent for it." He nodded his head. Caesarion stared at him oddly, though he wasn't sure the description of Kala surprised him very much. There were lots of boys and girls like that in Ravok. It was a city that lived on evil.

He continued his exercises until they were nearly done. All of the weight-lifts had been finished, the squats, the sit-ups, push-ups. All that was left for today's regimen was the hour of running, and that certainly wasn't smart around the laboratory. "Sorry to sound like I'm interrupting you, but do you wanna go to the Prairie? I need to finish my exercises. You can tell me more there. And I'll share with you my family too." He smiled slightly. Ameer nodded his head, so Caesarion wrapped up his exercises, did some stretches, and the two men went out for the field.

[Caesarion]

Through the laboratories, then the Courtyard and Vestibule, they made their way to the Prairie as was somewhat usual for them since Caesarion had begun to reach out to his fellow slave. They rarely ever went farther, because the Forest of Thorns was a danger and farther beyond was a greater danger still. Once they'd gotten to the field, Caesarion stretched his upper body by holding his arms up in the air and forcefully moving his body, then by holding his arms to his side and twisting his waist. Finally, he stretched his legs by pushing them far outward and then lowering himself onto the ground. "Alright, I'm prepped, how about you?" He asked Ameer. The slave shrugged, implying that he felt sufficiently ready, although he knew he wouldn't be able to keep pace very well. He never could.

The young mage began to jog at first, though it picked up in pace enough for it to be considered running. Ameer was still running besides him, but since he was practically dashing, he figured his stamina would run out in short order. "Come on, Ameer," he said between paced breaths. "You've gotta take it slow. Just whisper a word to me every time I pass you." He looked back to the young slave and winked, teasing him. The man simply rolled his eyes. He never took Vox seriously when he was intentionally trying to be an ass.

After about an hour of the jogging, the running, the running jog, the two of them halted and relaxed on the barren and broken ground. They had already grown somewhat used to the Prairie's stench and lackluster environment, so there wasn't the same disgust as when Ameer - for example - first debated whether he should even sit or not, allowing his legs to touch what seemed like dirt from Rhysol's ass. "So," the mage started. "I will tell you a little about me. Listen up, deary," he grinned. There was sort of a lot to go on about. He supposed he'd just talk about his family. "I'll begin with my mother and father, Mhaenies and Lyssa Panthos. Not Emarus Telemaran, though I'm sure he wouldn't mind me calling him daddy." Ameer laughed. Caesarion had a penchant for making Emarus seem like some old undead pervert. It was rather enjoyable. "Mhaenies is my father. I know it's a weird name, but it means something in some dead language that is rather complimentary. All of our names are fairly old school. Caesarion? What the hell does it mean? I don't know, but I've heard that it was common some undetermined years ago." Rambling, again, he knew.

Mhaenies, right. "My dad was kind of an ass, but I guess I loved him. He was a zealous worshiper of Rhysol, just like that Diego you mentioned. He wanted to become a Druvin really badly. Really badly. I'm sure he had the ambition to try and become the Voice too. Though I don't know if Rhysol likes a bit of masculinity in his bedchamber." He shrugged. Ameer just raised an eyebrow. "Of course, when his brother died unexpectedly, he had to take over the family name and he couldn't just do whatever he wanted. He needed to marry and lord over the slaves. And have children. At least one son. He got two." That was always an issue, considering Caesarion's competitive nature, and Rhaenon's desire to quash the men around him. "My mother, Lyssa, was an interesting woman. I haven't seen her in a while though. She was a fairly wise lady, very healthy, young and prosperous. She taught me a lot, including hypnotism. She also taught the slaves a lot." So much that some of them eventually got ideas of freedom in their heads, which caused a lot of punishment and cruelty on their peers that wouldn't have otherwise seen the light of day. It was unfortunate how slaves were often punished by association.

"What about your brother? You've mentioned him before, but not very in-depth." He leaned back into the ground, his hair brushing against the earth. "Rhaenon is an interesting fellow. He's exceptionally driven, very lethal. A master manipulator, a skilled mage, a devout worshiper of Rhysol. He's twice the man my father was, and three times the man that I was before I left. That's kind of why I left. I don't want to be overshadowed forever. I don't think I am still overshadowed, either. If I went back now, I fully believe that I would be an equal to my brother. But I won't go back." One day, if things went exceptionally well, he knew that he would want to go to Ravok to see how everything had become in his former household. To see the sort of man Rhaenon would have become. To see his mysteriously elegant mother again.

For now, he would take advantage of the magic of Sahova. "You all set to head back? I'm all sweaty and gross." He whipped his shirt, droplets of his sweat coming off and flinging at Ameer. The young slave sounded an 'ew', jabbing Vox lightly in the chest. "Yeah, I'm set." He smiled slightly. The two men would leave the Prairie together, though of course, they would come back a day not too far from now.

[Keene Ward]

Grades

“For there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought.”
-Edmund Spenser, The Faerie Queene

Caesarion

Skills

Acrobatics +1
Rhetoric +2
Socialization +4
Investigation +1
Subterfuge +1
Acting +1
Negotiation +2
Philosophy +1
Observation +2
Storytelling +3
Writing +1
Bodybuilding +2
Endurance +1
Land Navigation +1

Lores

Ameer Milab: The Family He Came From

Rewards/Consequences
-Severe soreness in his muscles from overexertion for seven days


Notes
I'm not sure if you've ever run for an hour before, but it's a lot of work. At novice, there should be some serious exhaustion. Without consequences and skills played at their level, I can't award you points for doing things that your PC should either be unable to do or should have serious consequences for. Also, Miziharians don't know about calories.
If you have any questions or concerns, please send me a PM!