Closed [Prairie]A meeting of old...[Noaru]

[Clyde Sullins]

5 Summer 514 Clyde let out a sigh as he gazed upon the harsh environs before him. Cha rested in his grip, her skin touching the sand he stood on. Focusing for a moment upon her, he willed his djed downward, and sent out a low level usage of Auristics, opening up the staffs senses. However only just, not delving in deeply or expanding the sense. As he did he could feel the rough, loose, grittiness of the sand, could feel the occasional bit of plant matter as it was crushed, could even feel the occasional hard mass as it brushed up against her. A hard mass of bone, marking the remnants of some long dead being. But then, the prairie was used by many as little less than a dumping ground, a place to do whatever. Which made it a somewhat good place for himself. Continuing to feed the light trickle of djed into Cha, opening her up, he felt about, keeping on walking until he found a nice open space devoid of masses or rocks. He checked this by poking about in a small space with Cha, checking for anything she might touch. It was much safer than using his own flesh. That might result in some creature nipping off a finger or two. Cha however was strong and reinforced magically, so likely had little to fear. Finally having picked out a spot, he began a small bit of working, drawing in the loose sand with the bottom end of Cha. It was simple enough, sketching out some basic symbols used in summoning. Circles and lines. He didn't need a big one, since he only planned to summon a memosite. He drew a small circle, large enough for him to fit one fit in, but the edges of his toes and the back of his foot would likely be grazing its edges if he did. Just outside of that circle he drew a second slightly wider one, not touching the first. This was to be the edge of the portal. Next he drew a cross across it, an X crossing over from one side of the inner circle to the other, the pair of lines forming said X. That was the basic layout. Next was the smaller circles, inside of which he would draw out the numbers in a moment. For now he focused on spacing out the circles well, drawing four, one at each of the points were the X touched the edge of the inner circle. Then he drew four more, equally spaced between each of the first four. Then finally another 8 tiny circles, each equally spaced between the other 8 circles. He ended up with sixteen circles, exactly the number needed, each more or less spaced equally. “Now... Just need to add the numbers, and a drop of blood and... Summoned... Now what were those numbers.” Clyde spent a moment pondering, wondering also if he would need to drag the book held within the pack on his back, the book on summoning where he had learned the basics. It held the various commonly known coordinates. But first he tried to recall it without looking, testing his memory.

[Noaru]

Summer 5, 514 A.V.

The presence of the harbor was greatly missed. So was the water which flowed and concealed his movements and fog that blanketed the eyes with a veil of white. Sahova had all the aspects he needed in order to remain hidden, it was a place made for him, surely. Noaru flows through the air, maintaining the silence he was so fond of—it gave him time to think, to reflect on things present and to come. Plans he had formulated and plans long conceived were all done in the presence of silence, and darkness.
However, this place was different: harsh sunlight beams on the earth, and no large structures that could cast shadows were present. Life was scarce here.

The little he did see was mainly insects; no birds, wolves, deer’s or owls graced Noaru with their presence. Only the skeletons of long deceased creatures were his company. From chime to moment he would see craters he presumed were from battles of the past and magical runes in ancient tongue he would not bother to touch. All these intimations of death and desolation only prove one thing: that this place could not become his home.

The air was too heavy with what he felt was djed—he could not rest here. But, despites its faults, Noaru could not deny this place its beauty. If given some trees or stone structures, he would stay here and make this land his resting place. Yet, he would not have company, or see a curious traveler holding his backpack. Noaru continues his journey through the prairie, wondering just how far he had gone. When he turns, he sees some semblance of buildings in the distance.


“Lingering further would not be wise,” Noaru thought


If he needed to return to the harbor, he’d simply turn around and linger there to stay hidden. The idea of roaming near the harbor was better, and before Noaru could turn and leave, he heard something. It was similar to a person’s voice, Noaru wasn’t entirely sure, his attention was elsewhere. Upon looking in the direction he believes the voice had come from, he sees someone doing something on the earth. The first thing that came to Noaru’s mind was a question—was this person holding a staff real? There were heat distortions that played with ones sight on the prairie, distortions that looked exactly like water.

However, this one looked real and was solid—not fluctuating with the heat. Noaru decides to approach this figure, but all the while, expecting it to disappear or extend further out into the distance for him to follow it. But, in case this illusion turns out to be a living being, Noaru remained invisible; his form half submerged in the earth to prevent casting a shadow.

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde pondered for a few moments, trying to recall, trying to remember a set of coordinates. But alas his mind drew at straws, and found nothing. Giving in he went into his things in his pack, and drew out his book on summoning. It was a very basic tome, actually the notes of an apprentice who'd copied it down into said book, but served well enough for general basic knowledge. Drawing in the sand once more, he wrote in the coordinates for swalden, 8492841047291777. He wrote them in one by one, making sure to do it as needed, counterclockwise. He used his fingers for this, drawing in the small numbers in the sand within each little circle. Going into his bag again, he replaced his book, and took out a small dagger. He carefully drew it, and held it above his hand. All it would take was a single drop of blood, a small prick, and it'd be open and connected to him. The tip of the dagger would be good enough for this, the blade coming down to a fine point. Gathering up his courage, Clyde poked himself slowly in the tip of his pinky finger on his left hand, and then drew the blade away. Quick enough a drop of blood welled, sitting on his tiniest of fingers. He quickly wiped off the blade with his sleeve, and then put the blade back, doing so carefully. As he began to bend down to thrust his finger onto the outer circle, he felt a cool chill run down his neck, a odd sensation considering the warm sunny day. He paused, looking about, but did not see anything. But he could not help fighting the impulse that something was amiss, perhaps that he was being watched, or something... But he could not say for sure by what. Letting out a huff of breath, Clyde finally reached down, and touched the outer circle, doing so directly with the injured spot on his finger with the drop of blood. The sand absorbed the bead of blood, and as it did there was a flash of light. When the light faded, Clyde looked down, peering into the once mundane circle. Now he did not see sand, instead he saw a window, or as it was properly called be believed, a gateway. Everything inside of the outer circle he had drawn was now gone, replaced by a sight into another world, stretching out down below him through this small opening. Now it was open black space, populated by small gemstones glittering in the light. “Glitter and glittering, as far as the eye can see. At least, through this little window...”

[Noaru]

Summer 5, 514 A.V.

This was the finest hallucination he had seen in his life. Noaru did not know how to respond, and went with his usual silence. “ Clyde Sullins? Noaru thought; his mind not entirely sure if this being in front of him was living, of flesh, and real. “ Lhex, you are cruel and unpredictable,” he continued within his thoughts, not understanding the purpose behind the mages sudden appearance in his long, and tempestuous existence. Noaru flows closer to Clyde; memories from their last encounter, so many years ago, becoming fresh and vivid—they were saddening, and disgusting to look back upon. Noaru could only blame himself—since he was the one who corrupted the visage of said memories with his actions.

“ Is this to atone for my transgression, against this person? ” Noaru thought; pensive in nature. How could he talk to this soul, who was innocently delving in magic? Who was looking at a portal? Noaru backs away from the beautiful doorway to what he believed to be a doorway to another world, and displays the suspicion which had kept him alive for so long. He did not trust magic, but he felt in time he would have no choice but to succumb to the allure of power, and djed. Noaru switches his attention back to Clyde, whom he owed an apology to. Yet, how would he explain his actions that were driven by hate, sadness, darkness, and madness? Noaru could not find any words to say, how would he respond?

He tried to trick the young mage for no wholehearted reason; it was only to sate the desire to cause mischief. However, the crazed mind of then was gone, long so, and dead. But it still haunts him, carrying with it the memories of all the harm, and death he caused.

“ What to say to someone you’ve threatened?” Noaru’s thoughts were filled with apologetic meters—poetic words that perpetually housed themselves within his mind. And for years he had no problem composing them into sentences, and phrases others enjoyed to hear. Those moments of insanity, and those centuries of darkness only enforced his tendency to linger within the perplexity of tetrameters. And now he found difficulty: like an artist who has lost his muse.

There was no subtlety in truth.

Noaru knew, during his quest for completion, that he would come to face his sins, and those he’s caused conflict with. But out of the many souls he’s encountered—of the numerous living begins he could have met—Clyde appeared from the fog of the ages as calm as he was in that time ago. Noaru felt the words within come into formation; they were steady, calm like a stream that was seeping slowly from a rock.

“A meeting of old, Clyde Sullins—we meet again to greet one another in a different setting,” Noaru spoke this time, feeling better now that he has overcome his block. He appears, shedding away his invisibility, and avoids relying on his power of materialization. It seemed better to simply manifest than to consume soulmist with materialization

[Clyde Sullins]

Through the blood he had given to the gateway, Clyde was bonded to the circle. Just as with his own res, he could sense it, sense his connection, and feel it through an exertion of his will. Focusing on the circle before him, he sent out a thought at one of the tiny glimmering objects, a memosite, and willed it to move closer, to travel through the gateway. As he focused on this, he ignored the cold prickle on his neck, excluding it from his attention so at to not let the distraction weaken his force of will. All that he focused on was himself, and Cha in his hands. The two as one, working in unison. If nothing else holding the length of blue wood was a comfort, and added to his strength of will. When nothing happened, he sent another urging at the circle, into the gateway, calling for the memosites to travel through, even one. Of course, there was the chance, he thought to himself, that he was doing it wrong. He was still new to summoning, unlike many of his greater magics, and so could be attempting something that did nothing, or in some other way failing. It was trickier than many magics for him, as unlike a personal magic a world magic could not simply be explored and gotten better at by simple instinct. It took more purposeful action, and trial and error. He was just preparing to make another attempt to pull a memosite through the gateway, when his attention was broken by words spoken close to him. Words spoken while no one was there, or at least while he had not noticed anyone approaching. But then, perhaps he'd simply not noticed, as he'd been so focused on his work? “A meeting of old, Clyde Sullins—we meet again to greet one another in a different setting.” As he heard the words, he spun about to face their source, Cha still held in his hands, but now in a two handed grip before him. An offensive hold, as if he might step forward and bash someone over the head with her if need be. Standing before him was a person, but not a person. They were clearly insubstantial, and not truly alive. Of course, on the isle of the nuit, there were many kinds of undead. This was one that Clyde was more familiar with, that of a ghost. A spirit. He continued to hold the staff before him defensively, as he looked at the spirit. For a moment he was half certain he knew him, or had met him before, but the specifics eluded him. He had not met too many ghosts over the years, but this one vaguely reminded him of Ravok. But the fact that the ghost knew his name, and that he had a feeling he had met him before, made Clyde wonder all the more who this spirit was. But better safe than sorry, and so he continued to hold out Cha before him. Cha was of course not a normal staff, but a strongly enchanted one, a True Magic Staff. Beyond that though, it was also enchanted against ghosts, using the soulmist of a powerful spirit, and so was permanently as solid to a ghost upon a strike, as a well soulmisted mundane weapon would be for a time. “Yes, I am Clyde, Clyde Sullins. Who are you? Do I know you? And how do you know me? And what do you desire?”

[Noaru]

Summer 5, 514 A.V.

Noaru didn't know what to be glad for; the fact that Clyde was still alive, having him be in one piece was good, or for the fact the young mage hadn't sent a spiritist after him, since that last encounter they had was, aforementioned, bad. Though, his behavior and actions were terrible, driven by insanity controlled thoughts—he was glad the young mage had not come after himself. The land was a treacherous place, but vengeance would compel one to travel all sorts of places and distances, and hatred aiding to fulfill thine desired, heinous actions.

He suspected the mage held a small grudge against him; if not a grudge, resentment in some minor or grand form. It would have been rather unsettling to be forgotten entirely, causing one to suspect that some form of fowl play was afoot. However, Noaru noticed the way Clyde reacted to him; he had forgotten about him, since he hadn't mentioned his name to Clyde, but the young mage probably sensed a kind of familiarity surrounding him. The mind may have forgotten, or has the tendency to forget, but the body and soul recalled things through infinitude, and even through death.

“We have met before, on an exceptionally dark night... in Ravok,” Noaru was trying to refresh the young mage's memory; he assumed Clyde Sullins had forgotten him, and was going for the subtle approach. Noaru felt that the mage was a bit uptight; stiffly conventional in his manners and attitude, he believed Clyde would catch on to his efforts as he was well aware of the mage's uncanny perceptiveness. Noaru hadn't moved his eyes away from Clyde; although, they remained constantly on the young mage, Noaru felt his attention steadily begin to flow to the enchanted staff he possessed.

“Why does that staff feel so familiar? It's strange to say, at least, since this is my first time witnessing and meeting the object,” it was probably one of the many tools a spiritist used with their spiritism arts. Noaru never did like the nature of the dreaded world magic, but since his encounter with that insanely powerful, mansion dwelling entity and later Kouri—he understood its importance now and his inevitable learning of the art.

“I desire reconciliation, to reconcile; to make peace with you, Clyde Sullins,” Noaru expected Clyde to tell him no, and then fireballs would start raining upon the earth he levitates over. And he would not be upset by the young mage's action—penance for ones actions, and or, sins wasn't particularly soothing to begin with.

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde was uncertain why exactly this ghost that apparently knew him had decided to approach him. More so he wondered what it wanted. In his experience all of the ghosts he met wanted something of him. Either because he was alive and with a body, or was a spiritist, or simply his being a mage. Usually something was desired of Clyde. But then, similar things could be said about the living. “We have met before, on an exceptionally dark night... in Ravok.” As the spirit repeated Clyde's thought that he had met the ghost in Ravok, and informing him that it had been at night, Clyde recalled one meeting with a ghost. It had nearly ended up with him using his Reimancy to burn the ghost, as he had made a threat against his life. Something about ripping out his heart or some such threat. And here now in Sahova was the ghost again... Apparently though the ghost was now in a better mood. Though with all of the lying it had done last time, Clyde was not overly receptive to all that he said as being true. “I desire reconciliation, to reconcile; to make peace with you, Clyde Sullins.” Clyde smiled back at the spirit. Funnily enough, the words did little to assauge Clyde. Last time the spirit had been all to quick to threaten Clyde, up until he had shown his true skill. But when he had thought him weak, or a easy target, then he'd come after him. It was only after seeing his Reimancy that he fled from Clyde. Now, knowing his true ability, he was being much nicer. But that did not seem to indicate he wanted anything less. More so he knew what Clyde was capable of, and knew better than to go about things as he had done before. Clyde kept his gaze on the ghost, keeping a firm hold on Cha, his first line of defense in being a spirit weapon. “Words are nice, but I recall the last time we met you had nice words for me too. Up until you decided you'd rather kill me. A thing that kept until you saw my true strength, and you fled. What proof do you have then that you've changed, and truly wish to make up? I did you no wrong before, but you lied to me repeatedly and threatened to kill me. But now you say you wish me only well, and wish to make friends. What proof then do you have to show this? What proof do you have that what you say is more than just words?”

[Noaru]

Summer 5, 514 A.V.

“I cannot blame madness for the forming of my fault,” Noaru pauses, allowing the dark events of his early years to flow through his mind, and before his eyes. “But, it was not the form of your power that caused me to flee that night, ” Noaru continues, while still gazing through damning moments of darkness that seemingly occupied his memories the most. His eyes lowered slightly to the ground as though he was looking upon something in suffering and despair.“It was the memory I witnessed in those flames, and later the aftermath my mind did not consider,” Yet, that smile Clyde displayed was strange; its meaning unknown to Noaru.

Noaru did not seek friendship, but peace with Clyde. That possibility was nigh nonexistent in the current time, and Noaru had only himself to blame for that. Noaru changes his gaze from the ground unto the young mage before him, who was holding a staff in a defensive posture. The actions of the past really did seek to haunt you, once within the future. And Noaru realized such an old saying was true, and that regret was as heavy as fifty pounds of led. However, regret would not help him in the current situation, it only provided Noaru with the essence needed for him to correct his faults.

“My actions of that night show more than my words. And it will be the actions on days to come that will speak for my words, ” Noaru lowers his body to the ground, ceasing to levitate as he goes on to speak again “ Yet, there is no amount of proof that is equal to the deception and murderous intent I've given to you, ” Noaru continues; he was gradually reaching his point. “I threatened your life, and so, I must return a lifetime's worth of ¨effort¨,” This was the same as vowing to a life's worth of servitude.

[Clyde Sullins]

Clyde was uncertain how well he could truly trust the spirit, even with its words. Last they met it had plied him with sweat words, and so it was hard to not assume the same thing was happening again. Having had a bad experience once with this ghost, how could he now trust him? While he had known various ghosts, ghosts of different ability, strength, and temperament, not all had been bad. Not all had ended on a sour note. He had in fact made friends of several such ghosts, even ones he had initially not gotten along with too well... “I cannot blame madness for the forming of my fault.” “But, it was not the form of your power that caused me to flee that night.” “It was the memory I witnessed in those flames, and later the aftermath my mind did not consider.” Much of a ghost was a facade, a illusion made for appearances. Breathing, walking, existing, all a falseness and an act. Even such simple bodily motions and actions had much meaning, if not in their actuality, but in what the desired end result was by the one making them. Without a body who could say what came naturally, and what was simply done to make Clyde feel that this ghost felt certain ways about certain things. “My actions of that night show more than my words. And it will be the actions on days to come that will speak for my words.” “Yet, there is no amount of proof that is equal to the deception and murderous intent I've given to you.” “I threatened your life, and so, I must return a lifetime's worth of ¨effort¨.” Clyde paused for a moment, unsure of what exactly the spirit meant, or what it offered. His words were vague, and left Clyde almost as confused as he had been before the ghost spoke. “Your meaning is not clear. What exactly is it you are offering me?” “An ally? A companion? A means or a ways? To come with me and aid me? To help me in a time of need? Specifics. You speak with vagueness, and so I do not know what it is you offer, let alone what it is you have to offer.” “What skills do you have, what is it you can offer me that I could not do alone? I suppose that is the better question which must be answered. What is your purpose, and is it common with mine?”