Closed [The Silver Sliver]Drinking but not Drunk[Imass]

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde smiled back at the blue man, named Garonn. Even though he was drunk, at least to a degree, he still seemed more or less able to continue on with a intelligent conversation. Clyde had worse conversations with people who were totally sober. So to get a decent argument from one who was not sober, was a bit interesting. "True. Words can only carry you so far. Words do not make a man, his actions do. And it is true, that honeyed words or even lies will only get you so far, if a man has no real value to back it up." Clyde smiled once more, pausing for a moment, before he continued. "Be my ally, or don't. Like me, or don't. It is up to you, and I cannot force it one way or another. Neither will I make some grand display of my power just to appease someone, not even you. I have it, and I know it, which is good enough. I do not throw it around willy nilly like some mages, I use it when it is needed. Know that for a mage, that is a treacherous slope to be avoided at all costs, that of casting magic for no true purpose, only to inflate ones own sense of importance. Down that path leads to madness, death, and destruction. Mostly of oneself." "And I never said it was good to be a mage. I did not choose this path that I am on, that of being a mage. But I was pushed onto it, and here I am. I cannot change it now, and so I have embraced it. But I never said it was good to be a mage. I know Magic far to well to think that, like some upstart magic user." "I suppose I am of the type that once I have already fallen into the water and am drenched, I see no purpose in avoiding the rain falling from the sky. In that same fashion, have I ended up as I am now in regards to magic."

[Imass]

Garonn listened to Clyde's response. The gangling man suddenly seemed strange and incomprehensible to the drunk Akalak. His mind couldn't conscienceless analyses what was said, but somehow he still understood what he was saying; such was the way the drunken mind worked. The mage spoke without a doubt that Garonn's words rang true, but he turned around said just the opposite. He said that words don't make a man, but all he could offer were mere words. He wouldn't use his magical powers nor would he attempt to use force on the Akalak. His mind had to give Clyde some credit at least for this fact. The lanky man also went on about how he did not choose his path down magic on purpose. He tried to explain it to the Akalak with an analogy, but the whole point that Clyde was making didn't make any sense to the knight. The Knight responded

"Look, Clyde," the Knight removed the dagger from the table once more as he stared at the mage, "I am not trying to convince you of anything and it's obvious that you want something from me. I mean you want me to be your ally, but for what? You come to ME and try to claim you are a powerful mage while I sit here with a blade,"

The Knight held the dagger up edge pointed at Clyde, "This is all I know, so stop beating around the bush and tell me what you want from me? You want to trade services? I can't believe you just wanna be my friend,"

The Skeptic held the knife in the air for a moment longer, then slammed it on the table again after he finished his piece.

[Clyde Sullins]

What Clyde said was true. He knew of the slippery slope of being a mage. He knew as few others could, the constant urging to do more. Urging from everyone... From the people around him... From his allies and "friends"... From his city... From the own urgings of his mind, all trying to convince him a little more magic would not hurt... A little more, and nothing will go wrong. A little more, and you will grasp that power, and have your desire... If having the power Clyde had taught him anything, it was choices were what made a person, and choices were what kept you a person. Kept you from turning into a mindless animal or slave, a husk of a human. He knew if he gave into the urgings of everyone around him, quickly enough that would be exactly what would happen to him. Magic was a dangerous slope. And it was his choice to take it slowly down the slope, instead of diving over headfirst, hoping to land on a bit of soft grass and not have every bone in his body broken by the rocks of failure and overgiving. Clyde looked at the blade that Garonn was playing with, and possibly attempting to intimidate him with... But it simply brought a smile to his lips... He had seen many torn to shreds by yukmen, seen others carried off by Zith for who knew what fate... Had seen other mages and ghosts powerful beyond all reason, and all manner of creature most foul. And he thought a simple little dagger would put fear into his heart? "What do I want from you? To be frank with you, as you have been with me, I don't know. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps a small favor. Perhaps a big one. Honestly, I don't know." Clyde looked at the blade, and decided to attempt another metapor, perhaps one he would understand better being a warrior. "Allies are like a extra blade that you keep in your pack. Perhaps you will not always use that blade. Perhaps you will never use it. But when the time comes and you need another blade to wield, it is good to know that you have an extra in reserve. Perhaps you will only need it for something trifling. Or perhaps that extra blade will mean the difference between your life and death. I am no diviner, I cannot say what it will be." Clyde paused for a moment, and took another sip of his ale, before continuing on. "But you seem like you might be a good blade to keep in reserve, should one day I need it. As such, I don't know what I could do for you. And I don't doubt that there is quite a bit I could do for you. After all, it is never a bad idea to have a master mage indebted to you. So if you did end up aiding me, I would be bound to aid you in turn. I think the real question you should be asking, is at yourself." "So then Garonn, what do you want of me? What quest or mission do you have, that a master mage assisting you might help in? Somehow I find it hard to believe, that you, as you are, would have nothing which might be aided by my help."

[Imass]

The magician continued on with his bullshyke. The drunk classified Clyde's words as such, because he didn't give the direct response Garonn wanted. Instead he tried to explain with an analogy of blades. This explanation stung a little, because there was a condescending tone. The way the gangling man talked reminded him of the Akalak's in Riverfall. The mage's droning would complement any Tukant gossip-circle. The Skeptic hated this type of speech and he assumed it was all fake rhetoric to get a certain response from him.

The Knight took a hold of the tankard next and took a long drought. Streams of pale foam dripped down his shaven neck; he cared not for mannerisms of Ravok. He would simply drink his fill when he was thirsty. Suddenly the drunk started to trip out on Clyde's face. The way he questioned him was strange. The Akalak couldn't put his finger on it, but it changed his mind's distrust of Clyde. Staring at the mage into the eyes, he began to hesitate with his words. Perhaps Clyde was testing him? Perhaps he was fishing for information? Perhaps he was just as incompetent as an other human? Whatever it was, Garonn wasn't in the correct mental state to make the right judgement.

"Clyde..." the Knight stared into the Mage's eyes unwilling to divulge crucial information about himself, "I am not trying to bullshyke. All I am trying to do right now is business, so don't patronize me. It is as simple as this: my blade is for higher"

The Knight grabbed his knife again, shifting his gaze to the blade, "It's that simple. I need money and I have no problem with danger.... Flirting with death is my specialty!"

Garonn burst into drunken laughter at his own personal joke. He unwittingly began to scratch his burned face, as the sub-conscience remembered the duel with Murdock, "Hahahahaha -- So, when you need a blade --or a body-- contact me and I will get your dirt done. I take pride in my work reputation-- HAHAHAH"

[Clyde Sullins]

Perhaps it was just inherent in his nature, the way Clyde answered questions. He simply felt like it was the only way to express himself truly, and to explain what he was truly trying to say. Perhaps others might be able to say the same thing with much fewer words, but Clyde would feel like he was not getting the true message across if he did so. Analogies were also something he used quite often, especially when really trying to make sure the other person understood. He almost always did it when teaching, when explaining a difficult subject. Another oddity of Clyde, was that he tended to do some things unconsciously, even inadvertently. Often he would ask leading questions, or try and get the truth from people, without realizing at times he was doing so. He simply went along with what his mind said was best, what he was urged to do, in such social situations, which in general confused him. He just was not good at such situations, he was much better at dealing in his magics, and magical theory. In those cases of discussion, he truly came alive, and could speak fluently. But talking of people, and such? That was much tougher, and less fluent for Clyde. He had issues understanding at times other people reasoning, when his own reasoning seemed so logical and straightforward, and based in logic. Whereas theirs was not. "Your blade is for hire?" Clyde said, questioning the man. It seemed a rather generic statement. Was he then a mercenary then, to work for whomever paid the coin? He had been almost certain that their was more to the blue man, than just a hired muscle to slit some throats. "If all I wanted was a simple mercenary, to go slit some throats, I could find them elsewhere. And likely for cheaper. Petch, I could likely offer a few gold mizas to half the people in here, and they would jump at the offer to go off half prepared and bash some head in." A small smile cam over his lips, as he looked at the man. "Don't forget, those that flirt with death, are often kissed by her. And you do no one any service, least of all yourself, by being reckless and getting yourself killed before your time." "So then, it comes back to the question, why are you so reckless? Why do you not value your own life? Do you have no purpose behind you, no greater goal? No reason to live? I cannot fathom how one could get into such a situation, were their is no way forward, and were they see no reason to continue but to earn some money, get drunk, and get their selves killed. Or perhaps I simply value my own life more highly, than you value yours. Have you nothing to live for? You still have not answered most any of my questions."

[Imass]

The Akalak listened in disgust as Clyde mocked him openly. Garonn had made it clear that he didn't wanna hear some bullshyke, but that is all this Mage did. To the warrior he sounded like a typical Ravokian, "Enlightened in some narrow fields of specialization and brainwashed to fuel Rhysol's agenda...what a sobering man..." If this gangly arsehole was going to make assumptions, then Garonn would make presumptions in response. Even though he was still feeling the buzz slightly, his mind was racing in annoyance, he was too drunk to be angry though. Question after question spewed from Clyde's mouth like a hail of arrows. Garonn fumed on the thought for a moment and decided to explain the situation.

"Decisions are good now. Actions are right in the future... Paranoia dictated that avoiding YOU was righteous. Regardless of what you think I don't trust Mages, because all they have done to me is PETCHED me over in the past... I can tell you are young, because you think you know everything. No matter what you say you can't change my mind," The Knight let loose. His voice slowly got throaty and hoarse. His Tukant accent began to bleed through. He put emphasize and emotion behind his words. Drunken bravado ignorant Ravokians would call it, but the Knight was serious. Clyde had sobered him up and he meant every word, "Words are wind! HAA! You need to listen to what I am trying to tell you youngin,"

Garonn took a pause and took a drink from his mug. He paused long enough to give Clyde a moment to respond, but instead he continued this time with a softer tone, "Just listen to me Clyde, let me finish my piece," He looked in the eyes and give him a grim face, but showed no hostility.

"Despite everything, I am going to do what is GOOD... good for myself. I am going to tell you what you wanna hear, because I feel like it. I am going to tell you what I am all about, because that's what you wanna hear," Garonn gripped his dagger and slowly secured it into the sheath in his belt. The naked sword still glimmered on the table though, "First off, get this through your obsessive head. My line of work is anything but logical. The actions I take are all irrational to the likes of you. You are a human, so you have no idea what I must go through to even LIVE!"

The Knight put his hands up and nodded slightly, admitting to himself he was getting caught up again on simple details. He needed to just explain the Mage straight up, "Clyde, there are two Ebonstryfe in the Silver Sliver watching my every move and every word," Garonn pointed at one man at the bar, who was staring right at them. The rest of the room were all in their own world laughing and drinking. The Ebonstryfe wore chainmail under plain clothing. A longsword hung from his hip and a naked dirk tucked in his belt. The bearded swordsman grinned rotten broken teeth and nodded at Clyde, "Where is that other one... Ah he is probably outside, but no matter,"

Turning back to the mage, the warrior continued on his Tukantish accented rant, "I am a citizen of Ravok - HAHAHA!" He reached in his pocket while he laughed and produced his papers by slamming them on the table. He shook his head for a bit, but he didn't let Clyde respond just yet. The Knight suddenly began to trip out. His post traumatic stress disorder was acting up again, but Garonn was no Konti healer. He didn't even know he had an aiglment. His limited mind could not wrap around that concept.

"You would be laughing too if you understood Clyde," he said as he began to unbutton the collar on his ale-stained, white shirt, "Clyde, I am an Akalak born and raise Riverfall," a second later his shirt was off, revealing a mass of scar tissue on his right arm, back, and torso. It looked like hundreds of scratches engraved in his skin. It was apparent that a Rak'keli marked had healed his wounds, but so horrendous where the wounds that nothing could cover the evidence of his mauling.

Turning his shoulder, he showed Clyde his Sylir's mark, "My body was marked by Sylir himself, Clyde, I am a trained Knight Syliran," This one made a few heads turn, but the sight of the Ebonstryfe fondeling the pommel of his blade brought ease to the mind of the brainwashed crowd.

Next the Knight openned his palm and revealed to Clyde his Yahal gnosis, "My body was marked by Yahal, Clyde, for putting my life on the line for a completely IRRATIONAL idealogy."

Garonn triped hard now. He picked up the passport and held it up so Clyde could see, "I am a petching Ravok citizen and my body's purpose this whole time was to fight against everything that this City believes in! Doesn't that seem petched up to you Clyde?" he laughed then continued, "I fought in the Seige of Sahova, but not the side your precious Ebonstryfe did. I have endured more magical horrors than you have, just look at me!" The magic-shocked warrior lifted his arms and showed his scars to Clyde. He touched the left side of his face which was scared badly, "Don't go making any presumptions. I am just telling you about my life, so shove your analogies and questions in your arse..."

The Knight put a hand to his race for a moment longer as if in deep thought, then he continued his rant, "Even though paranoia dictated that telling you all that was a folly, I did it anyways so you could petching understand and leave me alone," he paused with his mouth open and stared at Clyde, "Now seriously. Don't bullshyke me. Don't trying to speculate too much, but answer me this: WHY AM I A RAVOKIAN CITIZEN? Why am I followed by Ebon lackies? How am I allowed to even EXIST in this city? What the hell is logical about that?"

"Can't believe I petching said that," He said silently, "How do you like that, Clyde, is it okay to barrage you with bullshyke?"

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde just smiled at the blue man, and shook his head. How silly his words seemed, after what Clyde had experienced and lived through... But he let him say his piece, and finish his words. But in response, he would have words of his own. "Righteousness... Good. Evil. Right. Wrong. They are all shadows in the wind, never truly possible to be grasped even if they might look it. It is all subjective, that much I know. Ask a dozen people to say which an act is, and you will get that many answers. Why try to be righteous, when the concept is subjective to each person and situation, constantly in flux. what seems good today, or evil, might have the opposite repercusions." "And as I already said, I don't trust mages either. Perhaps you have been wronged by them, but no less than I have." "I know I am young, and I know I don't know everything... In fact, the more I learn, the more I realize how little I know. In fact, it is impossible to grasp how little you know, till you have gained a bunch of knowledge, and seen how small it is in truth." Clyde let out a resolute sigh, and took a drink from his ale. It was nearly empty, and he pondered for a moment ordering another. But he drank ale more to re-leave his thirst more than to get drunk. He would need to drink far to many to legitimately get drunk... And a drunk mage would not be a good idea, he would likely get out of control, lose the small hold he had on himself, and his Magics. He was a bit surprised to hear the man was marked by Sylir, and vaguely knew who Yahal was, even if he knew little and cared little for him. Clyde grew a bit somber, and looked off into the distance, his voice growing quieter, it would strike the blue man as barely audible, barely more than a whisper, and yet while it was spoken quietly, it was said with force, and seemed to project right into his ears. "Magic. Mages. Wizards. They do like to petch with things. But then, the Syliran knights are little better. Perhaps you have seen them in a different light, have seen the good in them, but all I have seen is the dark, the persecution for my existence, ignoring when things are done by people they like... The worst of corruption occurs in the midst of those marked as good and pure. At least in Ravok, no one pretends to be good, and so it is a more honest dishonesty." "I was raised in Syliras. Born there also I assume. I was five, when right under the noses of the knights, in their city, and against my will, I was initiated into Reimancy. Perhaps you don't know much about Reimancy, or how you are initiated, but it is both painful, and dangerous. You feel like living snakes of flame are burning their way into your body through your veins, down your throat and nostrils choking you, your body thrashing and fighting it off the best it can, to no avail. It feels like it goes on forever. Many die in the process if done unskillfully, and even those that live are left altered. It is not something most forget, unless they are lucky enough to repress it as I did for awhile." "After that I was a mage. What could I do? I existed as I was, and for that I was persecuted and hated by the knights. For my very existence. I had not asked for it. I had not wanted it or quested for power. But now I had this new gift that was so wonderful, so splendid... How could I not use it? So from that tender age, I would escape outside when I could, to work my Magics in secret, to practice, carefully, methodically, and I found I was good at it... I got so good..." "Soon enough magic was who I was. I was defined by my magic, it was me, my abilities, my strength. It was such a large part of me, that without it I was but a stunted and hollowed shell. I could not give it up. And then it was taken away." "I was twelve years old, when outside of Syliras, I was attacked by a powerful mage. I did not provoke him. I did not even know he was there. He attacked me by surprise. Then he assaulted my mind with his magics. He wrenched my Magics from me, made me forget of them all, made me believe magic was fake and did not exist. That it had all been an imagined dream, fake, a lie. He destroyed me on that day, left nothing behind but a few fragments without purpose." "You think you have lost your purpose? That everything has been taken away? That who you are is gone, and destroyed? You know nothing of it. You are a warrior, that is what defines you. What if that had also been taken from you? Your strength of arm? Your ability to fight? What if you were forced to lose that part of you that makes you who you are? They were not touched. Perhaps you were damaged, but you were not broken as I was... You still have purpose, you still have a drive, you still have your skills. You are not so lost as I was for years." "So perhaps that answers your question, perhaps it does not. Why are you a citizen of Ravok... Perhaps you will come to understand yourself better. Perhaps you will come to see the world more for how it is. Perhaps perhaps, you will be forced to grow, and push beyond, to find who you will be. Or perhaps you will find a new purpose here, from someone in Ravok, from something. " "As I did when I came here, not remembering who I was, and was given the path to my own freedom. A path that has made me who I am, and that has returned me my Magics. And see how I have excelled since then. See how I have grown, and become a mighty mage." "Something that would never have been possible back in my home of Syliras. So who was good in that story? Who was bad? Who was righteous or right, or wrong? What was I? What do you say to that, my friend painted blue? Why are you blue anyways?" Clyde would then grow silent. His ending had been so odd, so unannounced and unrelated to anything Clyde had said before. But it had just struck him, and he had decided to ask him, why was he blue?

[Abstract]

Grade Awarded!

Clyde

Skills

~ Rhetoric - 2
~ Socialization - 2
~ Investigation - 1
~ Philosophy - 1
~ Persuasion - 1

Lores

~ Garonn: Blue Man Marked by Two Gods
~ Persuasion: Metaphors (Sometimes) Help
~ Garonn: Mercenary For Hire, Syliran Knight
~ Garonn: Despises Mages

Other

N/A

Notes

Eh What? That was a little confusing... something's seriously wrong with Garonn/Imass >.>