Open Listen to the Stories of the Stones

[Shalir]

58th Winter, 512 AV Shalir made his way through the bustling streets of Zeltiva. After arriving on the docks, he decided to follow the main flow of people into the city, up what appeared to be a main thoroughfare. The smell of fish sat heavily in his nostrils, as if competing with the din assaulting his ears in the form of bartering and conversation all around him. Humans. They are as impatient and energetic as the stories lead me to believe as a child . While Shalir soaked in the oddities in the form of humans surrounding him, he noticed them taking in the oddity in the form of a clearly lost Isur. There were other Isur in the city to be sure, but the sighting of one of his kind must be a rarity, or so the glances would evidence. For all my years I have felt small and inadequate among my father and the great Isur of Sultros. While I am yet dwarfed by superior height, these creatures stand as sticks on the earth, thin and wispy. It is a wonder the great gusts from the sea do not render them all prone! Shalir chuckled, continuing his journey along the busy cobbled street. It was but a few paces farther when he saw it. Beyond him no more than a hundred paces stood the most beautiful site he had ever witnessed. Rising above the din as a silent guardian, a white tower reached toward the sky. It stood, monolithic and monumental, with but a few moments of fenestration breaking the white mass of the tower. It rose and rose into the air, coming to ornamental points at its zenith. As if possessed, Shalir moved unblinkingly toward the tower, weaving through the crowd with such precise movement to be guided by Izurdin himself. At the base, Shalir placed his hand against the cool white stone. Shalir knew little of Zeltiva, but of the Old Quarter he had learned much. Glancing around, he took in with his own eyes the fabled Old Quarter, one of the last remnants of Pre-Valeterrian architecture in existence. He turned westward, taking in the University of Zeltiva. This was his destination. The hours he could lose drawing and analyzing such magnificent buildings! He wandered onward, basking in the views of the Old Quarter, the din of the markets replaced by the recitation of poetry and the squabble of intellectuals debating.

[Reaver Riatal]

A tall young man standing at a full 6'6, thin and spindly. No older than nineteen with dark hair that was too short to be long and too long to be short. It flopped about his head as his confused gazed analyzed his surroundings. His sharp blue eyes darting around as he felt the cold draft striking his long thin form. Clad in a red coat that was buttoned with black gloves over his hands. His dark pants hidden behind the red veil of his long coat that reached past his knees his brown boots tromping on the cobble stone. The young man felt a cold breeze grace his skin he held his hands on his sides as he shuddered. This was becoming a more than typical routine with him. Reaver's usual start to a day was getting lost in the city he felt such admiration towards. The city had him lost, turned around, and confused. His sense of direction was as it had always been, impaired beyond belief. Fortunately he could do something about the cold at the very least, his sense of direction would be lacking for a long while more. Closing his eyes he focused and felt his djed lift from his skin and move outwardly. Slowly he began to let it weave around his body, its task what it usually was. Keep out the damn cold, with that the weave began to complete itself over the chimes. Once done Reaver was at last free of the cold.

With a new bounce in his boots he marched his way down the streets. His hands placed in his pockets as his shield rippled only occasionally when a gust of wind blew. His shield still varying in thickness, though he had gotten a little better with keeping his shields even. He still needed to improve his weave, perhaps make it a little more closely knit. Ah he'd think of something eventually. With his mind distracted his feet wandered freely to the old quarter. His mind flying away with thoughts on magic and the many things he'll be learning at the University he was registered at. Before he realized what was happening he hit something, unfortunately for him he was at just the right height. With his lengthy form he fumbled over whatever or whomever was there. Flailing his arms wildly he tumbled over landing on his hands though he didn't stop there. The rest of him came flying over him putting him on his back. Rather stunned he blinked, he had literally fallen to earth. Though it was his fault he had his head in the cloud he couldn't help but feel some antagonistic feelings towards the short son of a-

He looked upwards blinking at the, the Isur? The Isur! Holy gods that was a lot of muscle! But he was so short! But he had so much muscle! Blinking his sharp intelligent blue eyes up at the Isur examining the physical specimen before him. With the full extent of his mind he figured out the best possible response in a matter of seconds. Opening his mouth he spoke, "Right so I'll start this off before you step on my face, most likely in anger. But before you do I'd just like to say a few things. Hi, I'm Reaver Riatal, the guy who tripped over you. I understand that you probably want to hurt me right now. But the answer of if you should or shouldn't might surprise you." He gave his most charming smile and pointed upwards at the Isur. Hoping that the stocky little and not to mention very young looking man would turn him into wizard paste. His gloved hand slowly coating itself in res, under the material of course. The last thing he wanted to do was inspire unneeded violence. But he also didn't want to be unprepared in case things did go south. A gust of wind came with a chill and forced the shield around him to ripple into view. More sweat graced Reaver's brow, if this young fellow so capable of turning him to dust wasn't a fan of magic. He would definitely be screwed now.

[Calen]

Having resided in the city his entire life, Calen, like so many others, blinded by their youth and inexperience, felt Zeltiva held few surprises left for him to discover. He had tread its trails, badgered its beggars, pestered its producers and through all this, he felt he had gained a thorough understanding of his place of birth. Of course, as one would expect, Zeltiva was not a place to be so easily understood. So when Calen walked past the notably short fellow on his way to nothing in particular, he actually did a double take and stopped mid-stride, nearly bumping into the woman who, like he, had turned to observe the fellow. Turning around, ignoring the attempt at an apology the woman offered him before he practically shoved her out of his way, Calen began to follow the stout man. It was not that the fellow was so short it amazed Calen, he had seen men afflicted with dwarfism before. It was more that Calen had never actually seen an Isurian in person before. Though his father had told him of one of his acquaintances who happened to belong to that particular group of people, he had never introduced Calen to him and as such, Calen's interactions with Isur were nil; it didn't help that Calen rarely if ever left his home until long after any reasonable time. So, now, walking behind the fellow, hands tucked into the pockets of his tan leather jacket, eyes fixed firmly upon the man's back, Calen observed him with all the stealth and guile of a screaming toddler. Though he made sure not to veer to either side as he followed the man, so as to avoid appearing in his peripheral vision, Calen made no attempts to truly hide himself or slip into the crowd. Calen would have would have preferred if the man did not notice his presence, if only so that he could observe him as he was naturally, but otherwise, he really didn't care that much. 'They really are very short though, aren't they?' he thought to himself as he attempted to guess his target's height as he seemed to be molesting a wall. Following after the fellow as he set course for the University, Calen assumed he was making his way over to the university, considering his trajectory. Unfortunately, the hazel-haired youth never saw the tall man coming, and, it seemed, neither did the Isur. Truthfully, it rather surprised Calen when he saw a fellow seemingly trip clean over the man he had been following. 'Oh this is about to get interesting' he whispered to no one in particular as he simply stood there, a slight smirk on his lips and a glint in his eye.

OOCSorry to just barge into the thread like this; if you find any sort of issue with my post, please inform me via PM so I can change/delete it. Welcome, btw

[Shalir]

Shalir continued his aimless wander toward the University, taking special interest in a series of white columns in the distance. There were two rows, rising into the air and supporting an entablature with an intricate frieze. The quarter circle structure opened to a cobbled courtyard, busy with activity and the source of the scholarly squabbles. They were cloaked figures, as most of the people surrounding him. This was probably a result of the stiff breeze that howled through the city regularly. Perhaps it was his rough skin, or the result of living much of his life away from the sun, but the breeze did not bother him. He still sported his white button up shirt, with the first three buttons undone as per Isurian style. Talk about an easy way to draw attention to myself Shalir thought to himself, a smirk creeping on his face. I will have to don my cloak and at least make an attempt to present myself as an eager scholar, or else I am unlikely to receive a second look from the- Shalir’s internal monologue was interrupted as the feeling of someone walking headlong into the back of him became acutely obvious. The impact knocked him forward but a step before a flurry of red crashed upon the cobbles in front of him. It was a man, and it appeared he would be towering above Shalir had circumstances not otherwise placed him upon the earth. Despite his height, he acutely bore the wiry build he had noticed of the other humans. The man sent forth a series of words in the form an apology, or at least Shalir was pretty sure that was his attempt. He said something about stepping on his face, which amused Shalir. “I can tell you have not met many of my people…wizard” Shalir exclaimed as the wind caused the magical weave to shimmer about the man, “but we would not step on a man…when we have this arm of iron, Reaver.” Shalir “brandished” his arm, putting it out in front of him. He let his fun linger but a moment, considering a brawl would probably erupt if he let the jest continue too long, before he offered the man his hand in order to stand back up. “My name is Shalir, and although I would not like to make a habit out of it, I should expect such an occurrence to happen every so often in this land of giants. Especially, as I wander aimlessly through the city.” It was not in an Isurian’s nature to divulge much to a stranger not of his kin, but in truth he was hopelessly lost, and the man did seem somewhat terrified of him at the moment, which felt nice. Glancing around, he noticed a crowd of people staring at this awkward interaction. In particular, he spotted a hazel-haired youth with a most amused expression upon his face. “At the very least we have provided some amusement.” Shalir inclined his head toward the amused human.

OOCNo worries! I think we have a pretty interesting situation brewing. Thanks for the welcome!

[Reaver Riatal]

With a sigh of utter relief Reaver relaxed visibly, however his relaxed feeling didn't last long. Though the Isur had given him a good scare with the idea of being pummeled with that frighteningly weird looking arm. However when the stocky young man, apparently known as Shalir, introduced himself and didn't react violently. He offered only his powerful charming smile and a nervous chuckle. Under his black glove he began to reabsorb the res into his body immeasurably pleased he didn't have to fight. It wasn't something he really liked to do, some might call him cowardly. But those who would call him such where usually the ones who died in an alley way due to their 'bravery'. With his charming smile he looked around him, still laying on the ground. "Indeed, thank you for being understanding good Isur, I mean sir!" He gave pause for a moment then coughed awkwardly. "I meant Shalir, and yes some misfortunes do happen in this city. And as you've pointed out we have attracted quite the crowd." He was still laying on the ground as he conversed with the young Isur, though he was starting to take note of something. The uncomfortable cobblestone wasn't exactly doing wonders for his back. Not to mention this was his favorite coat and it was more than likely getting dirty for every second he lay here.

Groaning he placed his hands on the ground and sat up, looking at the crowd. Pushing himself up onto his feet he stumbled forward a little before gaining his footing. The chilled wind caught him, forcing his shield to ripple into view as it blocked the cold. He had gotten better with his shielding, however it still was only able to block rather than absorb the djed around it. To make a long story short, it wouldn't last very long if the wind kept up. "Well now that I've performed a public spectacle and thoroughly embarrassed myself. What do you saw we get indoors, out of the cold and perhaps have a drink maybe some food." He smiled his charming smile as he towered over the much shorter man. Since Shalir hand't acted negatively to him being magically inclined, perhaps they could strike up a relation on positive terms? After all there where only three reasons he was in Zeltiva. One was to learn as much magic as he possibly could, the second was to make friends, and the third meet other wizards.

Standing with his lanky form he rolled on his heels, his dark locks flopping about his head as his sharp blue eyes gazed down at the Isur. His attention caught for a moment as he looked around the crowd. Picking out a few people here and there, eyes settling on several individuals. Some of whom where still laughing at his antics. Reaver was rarely embarrassed but this did cause a faint blush to reach his cheeks, he was used to performing. Odd things in public however he often received applause for his acts rather than laughs. Trying to put it out of his mind he shrugged it off, so long as people where smiling then that would be all that mattered. His attention turned back to the Isur, with his mind drifting in its thoughts he could have missed what he said. Blinking he hoped not, he looked at him listening and watching intently. Trying to recall if he had said something yet or not.

[Calen]

Calen was honestly having trouble deciding whether or not he was relieved or disappointed; it wasn't everyday one was given the opportunity to watch a pair of grown men, men from very different upbringings and races, he assumed, at that. Unfortunately, or fortunately, the pair seemed to be far too diplomatic for the situation to dissolve into a fistfight. Deciding that he would have rather seen the two beat each other, though he presumed the Isur would've had a TREMENDOUS advantage, Calen sighed as he scratched at his cheek, his smile a now a mixture of mirth and melancholy. Things always seemed to either go awry or had already gone awry when he decided he wanted something done. 'World just ain't fair' he muttered to himself, slipping his hands back into the pockets of his tan jacket. They weren't particularly cold but he saw no point in waiting until they were to cover them up. Though he had not moved, the seemingly endless stream of traffic parting to continue on either side of him as naturally as river confronted with a rock. Standing within such a steady stream of pedestrians, Calen assumed he was all but invisible. At least, he did until he found himself making eye contact with the Isur fellow with, what he imagined, was a friendly if curt nod thrown his way. His smile only grew larger as he decided to interpret the nod as an invitation to conversation. Pushing forwards and towards the Isur man, which actually took fair a bit of jostling and an unfair bit of apologizing, Calen approached, hands still in pocket, smirk still plastered quite prominently on his face. Clearing his throat as he stepped into what he perceived as 'polite conversation' range, Calen swiftly moved so that he was well within that range and was now what he would consider 'inappropriate, please stop breathing so close to me with your sour breath' range. Extending both hands, all fingers extended and palms exposed, Calen was all smiles and careful consideration. 'Gentlemen, I couldn't help but overhear your....plans and was JUST thinking to myself what I wouldn't give for a fair bit of drink and a companion or two' He chuckled at that, more due to the hilarity of his own, rather uncharacteristic appeal to strangers than anything else. Sometimes Calen surprised himself. 'Let's say we turn this duo into a trio and grab us something alcoholic and quenching?'

OOCSorry about the delay guys, but my internet is down, so expect a bit less frequency in my posts

[Shalir]

“What do you say we get indoors, out of the cold and perhaps have a drink and maybe some food?” Reaver asked him. The man seemed nice enough, and it would be good to have some connections in this city. Who knew how long he would be here. It was a month out until he even began classes. More than anything, however, he was quite parched. “That sounds great to me. Got any favorite watering holes?” Shalir asked. Reaver, however, appeared to be quite taken by the crowd. Are humans also spacey? The Isurian glanced around, noticing again the human they had entertained previously. They made eye contact, confirming that he was in fact watching them. The human made his way towards them, quite unabashedly asking if he may join them. Nosey…and flighty. Humans are turning out to be quite the mess. There was no ill their tones, though, so he could appreciate these quirks of theirs for the time being. “It is a wonder we Isurians have guarded our secrets for as long as we have, with such curious characters around.” Shalir stated, his gaze intense upon the human. After a moment, he relented with a grin, replying, “I have no issue with it. In fact, it may be more comfortable to feed you conversation instead of having you pick up the scraps. My name is Shalir, if you hadn’t heard yet.”

[Reaver Riatal]

Reaver blinked and looked as another of his own race approached the Isur. A modest human, of modest height, of modest...well everything. Honestly he looked rather boring, in every way shape and form. Well perhaps this could prove more entertaining than it seems maybe? Why not roll with it for a little, this could work out rather well. He'd made quite a few friends so far, he's been signed up at the University, he's even met a few other fellow wizards. And all of such have been from, unsuspecting circumstances, yes those where probably the best words to describe it. Looking between the short Isur and his fellow man he realized just how oddly tall he really was. Shaking his head he felt the wind blow around him, his shield ate the cold but the breeze carried through. His red coat flapped against him as he thought up his favorite watering hole. What a curious choice of words, this was new and interesting. He changed his mind, perhaps this would serve to be interesting and entertaining! The short man had yet to provide entertainment but that could change. May as well give him a chance and show him some attention. The Isur though, good little stocky Shalir, he was really starting to take a liking to him already.

"I'm not sure about most of you but my favorite place to drink is the Kelp Bar. And say Shalir you must be new here yes? Even if your not!" He shouted the last part and took a dramatic stance. Leaning one way until he caught himself with his right leg. The boot making a clear clack on the ground as he leaned his weight onto it. One crimson arm extended with his black cloth clad hand extending, its brother pointing across his chest. The outline of the scabbard poking on his side of his waist giving away the position of his short sword. The pose was a little ridiculous but it pointed the way perfectly. To the only place he had ever managed to find no matter where he was in Zeltiva. "Lets head over to the Kelp Bar!" His fingers managed to point to the exact location of the bar. He was so impressed with himself! Namely because his sense of direction was so utterly terrible, he actually lost his way home dozens of times back in Syliras. Honestly it really was pathetic.

He took pause as he remained in his pose. Looking to the new young man he offered his charming smile from behind his dark locks. His sharp blue eyes gazing back at the young mans. "I'm Reaver Riatal by the way, that is unless those talented ears of yours picked my name up already. In that case my introduction is irreverent and onward with new Conversation!" He smiled shouting still holding his damn pose! "As to that niggling little issue of secrets, I find the pursuit of knowledge a noble one. Though it can be a little dangerous, and chances are you'll more than likely die. Usually from those guarding it, but once that secret is out. Then maybe someone can use said secret to a better or more intelligent purpose. Well that's my view on it at least, not to important. At least not in the face of beer! Seriously lets get a move on~"

[Calen]

Even as he finished speaking, Calen became painfully aware of just how awkward and rather curt his introduction and attempt at conversation had been. Normally, he would have simply turned and walked away, his intentions dashed, but today was most certainly not a normal day, and these two were most certainly not a normal duo. Where a normal Zeltivan would have given Calen little less to work with and then promptly left him to wallow in self-pity and his own social inequity , this Isur instead humored him. Pointing out Calen's now abandoned, attempt at stealth he drew from young scholar a sharp bark of laughter that tittered down into a series of chuckles. 'Well, can't deny that I was eavesdropping NOW, that's for sure' Calen muttered as he removed his hands from his jacket pocket and instead slipped them into the pocket of his trousers. As much as he liked his leather jacket, it was much more proficient at keeping heat in than it was at keeping cold out and Calen's hands were starting to feel a bit chilled. Turning to face Reaver and smiling at his antics Calen couldn't help but be reminded of the first time he had ever seen an actor perform. Though he was caught a few keywords of what Reaver was saying as he delved into a fair bit of introspection, Calen couldn't help but ignore the majority and instead contemplate the nature of his theatrics and the dynamic it built with the relatively stoic Isur, Shalir. 'One as steady and seemingly emotionally driven as a pile of rocks, and the other dramatic and excitable as a flighty bird' Calen suppressed the snort that he rose from his chest and instead began to walk on, guided both by Reaver's navigation and his own knowledge of Zeltiva. 'And if one is as steady as a rock and the other is a bird, what does that make me', as Calen mulled these thoughts over, he did his best to appear interested and invested in whatever it was Reaver was saying; he appeared to be just finishing up some sort of monologue involving knowledge. Calen decided not to throw any sort of conversation in his or Shalir's way.