A Matter of Poetry and Prose (Corum)

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Center of scholarly knowledge and shipwrighting, Zeltiva is a port city unlike any other in Mizahar. [Lore]

A Matter of Poetry and Prose (Corum)

Postby Kendall Saarinen on November 20th, 2010, 4:38 am

Timestamp: 67th of Autumn, 510 AV

It was a quiet day in Zeltiva, Kendall's hometown. Although it was technically his "home" he wanted to get as far from the place as possible. A glance at the docks brought about dark looks from the sailors while a walk past the university held too many memories. Things used to be good and this city used to be everything he wanted. That time was over now and he was slowly moving on. In truth he was not able to do it alone. He had help although it was unseen and unheard by everyone else but him and the few people who shared the marking that now graced his skin. Although Kendall was alone in Zeltiva he knew he was not alone in Mizahar. There was someone out there silently watching from unknown heights within the mountains.

There were slight signs that Kendall needed to move on. There was no place left for him at the University for one. The classes promptly ended when he was no longer… who he was before. He walked through the city moving his hand up and down his forearm. This action was not to keep him warm, he had not need for that. It was more of a nervous habit he had taken up over the past season. The warmth he now held was the only connection he had anymore to anything other than himself. There was a person… It was a ridiculous thought though. It was not even worth thinking of.

Soon Kendall had settled on making a stop at the Kelp Bar. The cravings for alcohol were coming back again. He was not sure if he even liked the devious drink, he just craved it like a drug. The workers at the bar knew of him, he came in almost daily. He never remembered even wanting to drink before the accident. Now he made his pilgrimage to the bar almost daily. Kendall made his way to the back of the bar and sat down. He was not going to order a drink yet. He wanted to write for a while. He pulled out his worn notebook and flipped through the pages. The pages were covered in his writing from over the past season since life had changed. Most of the writing was poetry but on occasion it was just random accounts of his daily life scribbled in his messy handwriting. The words never seemed to hard to read before. His handwriting had once been beautiful and fluent. It was hard to write with new hands though. Even after a while of trying to get used to his new situation his handwriting never returned to it's former glory. All those classes in calligraphy that he had hated so much had been a complete waste.

A few chimes pasted and Kendall finally decided on a page to write on. He ran his hand through his hair and stared down at the page. It seemed the longer he was in his situation the more his literary abilities seemed to wain. This was why Kendall wrote so much. If he did not write he was sure he would lose his only connection to his old life.

Home is naught but memory
In solitude I find peace
Now there is no such thing as family
All I have is their sweet release
Reflections hold nothing more
Then the lies that create my life
No more embraces that I adore
There is nothing to help me through the strife
In this absence I have found
An ally so unexpected
But now there is something to keep me around
For now I am protected


Mismatched eyes glared down at the notebook and he slammed the pages shut. The words did not seem right like they had once been. He felt disconnected from everything except the fire that now seemed to guide him through this new life. He looked forward and focused on a flickering lamp giving some light to the room. "So even now you are here with me…" A weak smirk graced Kendall's face for a moment but quickly faded. There was still so much rushing through his mind. Even though he was now in control of his emotions he was still lost in them. All the control in the world would not bring him back to his family. All the control in the world could not take back the looks of aversion. For now Kendall only had three things. Himself, Ivak, and his writing. The last of the three seemed obviously to be slipping away.
"I'm burning and I'm blacking my lungs.
Boy you know it feels good with fire back on your tongue."
-Ryan Ross

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A Matter of Poetry and Prose (Corum)

Postby Corum on November 21st, 2010, 10:07 pm

67th of Autumn, 510AV

Corum moved as a wraith among the living in the township of Zeltiva. Slow and steady, he would take his time to walk the streets. It seemed he had nothing but time. It seemed to be getting dark, and he did not wish to bother those he wished to impress. As much as social interaction annoyed him, he needed the resources of the Zeltiva University to become strong. The death of his “father” had left him weak, unable to further his studies in the arcane...

In order to pass the time, Corum made his way into a local bar. His crimson robe pulled tight about his form, his hood pulled over his head to hide his face, only his pale hands could be properly seen. His boots made no sound as the talk of the tavern’s patrons continued, undisturbed by his presence. He set his pack down, taking a seat in the corner. Silently he stared from under his scarlet hood, having no need to blink. When the serving wrench came to ask his order, he simply did not reply, and she eventually left him to his own devices. He silently sat, half meditating, half thinking about his dealings on the morrow. He must make himself valuable to the mages of the university...

The cold one then noticed a man at the bar. He seemed different from the rest. This one seemed like him, with no love for others... a kindred spirit, if there ever was one for a thing such as himself. Perhaps this person would be interesting... The rest of the living had stopped being so for the past three decades, as far as he was concerned...

It was then, while the man wrote, Corum saw something on his arm. He knew this mark well, because it was a sign that his god had blessed this man. Followers of his faith was rare, and he was in the presence of a man who actually met the mighty lord. Moveing quickly, for once, Corum rose from his seat and collected himself, making sure he was missing none of his few posessions. He walked twards the bar, and upon getting there, broke his usual silence...

" Greetings, dear friend... i can't help but notice your arm across the bar... if i am not too much a bother, could you tell me when you met him?" Corum was a bit hesitant to talk to the man. Much like he had never met one of his own kind before, he had also never met one of the Azenth...
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A Matter of Poetry and Prose (Corum)

Postby Kendall Saarinen on November 23rd, 2010, 3:21 am

Although Kendall did not seem as though he paid much attention too the happenings around him he always kept an eye on his environment. He had paid the price for not being careful before, he would not make the mistake again. Everything seemed calm enough around him in the bar. Most people just drank their beer and made the best of dreary scenary they were in. Kendall continued to scribble in his notebook but out of the corner of his eye their was movement. He was sure no one would try anything here in the Kelp Bar. It was public and besides, he was sure word had gotten around about his fiery predicament. Who ever it was was moving quite fast, a speed never seen in the bar. Mismatched eyes darted up from Kendall's weathered notebook to the approching person. At first glance Kendall could tell the person was male. The man was exceptionally pale though. Being a man of the book he knew how easy it was to lock oneself away all day and start to gain a palid complextion. This man seemed a bit more pale than a simple scholar though. Kendall would have brushed the man's apperance off and went back to his writing but the man was walking toward him. It was strange and Kendall truely did not know what to do. He did not talk to people too much. The occasional trade of words with a bookseller or two was the most he would get on a good day.

The man stopped at Kendall's table and too his surprise started talking. He spoke of the mark that graced his arm and the God that he held so dearly to his heart. Kendall mulled over answers in his mind. He was usually scared to speak. The feeling of the low masculine voice still chilled him a bit when he heard it coming from his own vocal chords. He looked up at the man and focused his brown and blue eyes on him. "I have not met Ivak. I have only heard his voice and felt his warm touch upon my arm." Kendall's nervous habit kicked in immediately sending his palm to rub against the red marking on his forearm. He raised an eyebrow and looked harder at the man. He was certainly not normal, not in the slightest. He looked almost... dead. "Now... my friend, if I may ask a question. Why are you interested? It is to my understanding that people do not take kindly to Ivak or his followers." He was intrigued. This man had been the first to treat him like a normal human being since the accident. Since then he had been cast from his family and been treated like a plauge. "This mark seems to keep people a good distance from me. Why does it bring you closer?" Although he would never admit it, Kendall did have an odd way of talking. On top of the fact that he was still a bit awkward with his words and their deeper timbre he had been brought up by parents who always spoke with perfect grammar due to the fact they were scholar. Naturally he would speak the same. He would not admit to the odd maturity in his words because he simply did not notice it. The thing was, Kendall never had to talk much until now.
"I'm burning and I'm blacking my lungs.
Boy you know it feels good with fire back on your tongue."
-Ryan Ross

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A Matter of Poetry and Prose (Corum)

Postby Corum on November 25th, 2010, 8:20 am

Corum noticed the strange way the young man was staring at him and pulled lower his hood, as not to show his face. The robe around him was well worn, it having come before his... second birth. Truth be told, Corum did not like people. Once he had awakened he had talked to only one person for almost four decades, and that only because he had to. This person, however, was different...

“ I am also a follower of the lord Ivak. I was not so lucky as to hear his voice yet... but i have forever to wait...” His speech would seem odd from such a youthful mouth. He spoke in a way that one would expect of the elderly, though he seemed barely a man. Corum had a liking for the looks of the young. He had been young when his master had found him, so long ago...

“ I have worshiped Ivak for a very long time, though through my travels i have not met any other then you who has his Mark... Tell me, if you will, why are you in Zeltiva? Are you here to study at the University as i am?” Corum thought this must be the case. To his understanding, the University was one of the most renown places of learning in the lands. He could think of no other reason one who is favored by the Gods would be in a port town such as this, except maybe to go to another, larger city. Corum still had much to study. He might even be sad to see this person go...
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A Matter of Poetry and Prose (Corum)

Postby Kendall Saarinen on November 25th, 2010, 6:28 pm

A fellow follower of Ivak? It was not every day that two people who thought kindly of Ivak met. When the man lowered his hood it was even clearer to see that the man was not an everyday human. He was not terrible looking he just did not look... normal. "Could he be a Nuit? I read about them at the University but I never thought I would ever see one." He imagined that a Nuit would be more apt to worship Uldr. It made sense if they did at least. He knew he was the last person who should be judging another's faith though. His faith was not the most social accepted after all. Although he found it odd to see a Nuit worshiping Ivak he welcomed it with a slight nod. "It is good to see the world still has some people who believe in change." Kendall did not expect that everyone would be as full of respect as he was for the God of fire. He only wished that the God who had saved him would get a second chance in the eyes of Mizahar.

"Trust me, his voice comes with a price." Kendall did not like to remember the events that led up to his interaction with the God even if it was as minimal as a voice in his mind. "I am forever greatful to Ivak but trust me, you would not have wanted to live through what I did to be in his graces." His voice was heavy with pain. It was time for a drink. He needed anything to push his mind out of this depressed state. He no longer went into fits of blind rage thanks to his mark but the pangs of pain still nipped at him when he got to thinking about how his life once was. "I am in Zeltiva because I was born here. I have never left sadly. I need to leave though. There is nothing left for me here anymore."

As much as Kendall prefered to sit alone he motioned to the cloaked man to sit down. He felt bad about making the man stand when he was comfortably sitting. "You may sit if you like. There is no reason you must stand while I sit." Kendall pulled his notebook off the table and slipped it into his bag sitting on the seat next to him. His eyes then turned to the man. "So, if it is not too much to ask, why do you choose to follow Ivak?" The question could either be taken as an affront or a simple interest in the man. "I mean, followers of Ivak are not well liked." Kendall looked at the man seriously. He knew why he personally followed Ivak but he was interested to hear why someone else would.
"I'm burning and I'm blacking my lungs.
Boy you know it feels good with fire back on your tongue."
-Ryan Ross

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A Matter of Poetry and Prose (Corum)

Postby Corum on November 25th, 2010, 8:45 pm

Corum took a moment to pull a chair forth and set himself down in it. He had not noticed he was still standing, too wrapped up in his own thoughts. It was nice to find such a person as he was now talking to. He kept his head bowed as he sat, with his hands folded in his lap. For a moment, he pondered as to what price this person had payed for his mark. Corum decided this man could be trusted.

“ I was born near here as well, though my travels brought me through out the lands. My master, as it was, was also a worshiper of Lord Ivak. Decades of speaking only with my master would have driven anyone slightly mad. Instead, i took to religion. When we stopped so that he could rest, he erected a small alter to Ivak, so that he could offer prayer upon waking. After my chores where done, and i had grown bored of reading my master’s books, i would simply sit before the alter and pray. This act helped me keep myself in check. Once or twice, i’d thought i heard a voice in my mind that was not my own... though i’ve not for quite some time.” Corum took a breath. It had been a very long time since he had spoken so much, and none of those times had he told others of himself.

Corum would sit very still, almost unnaturally so. This stillness was magnified as his position hid his face, making not even his mouth’s movement noticeable. “ It took a time to cope with my service, and... my death. I had to leave my wife and children behind. It would have shamed my family to know i have become such a being... It was better they just thought me dead. More then likely, my children live in this city still, grown and with families of their own. My studies and my faith are all i have left.”
Knowlage Is Power, Guard It Well.
Corum
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A Matter of Poetry and Prose (Corum)

Postby Kendall Saarinen on November 27th, 2010, 7:48 pm

"Maybe he heard voices because he is crazy..." Kendall's cynical attidude was slipping into his mind. He had never been a cynical man. He used to be the most possitive person but that was back when he was a female. He looked toward the man and gave him a small nod. "Well it is good to see that Ivak still has some believers on Mizahar. It is very calming to me to hear that." The man had sparked a bit of interest in Kendall. Since he no longer attended classes he could not learn more about the kinda of people past the edges of Zeltiva unless he left. There was a Nuit (or at least Kendall believed it to be) right in front of him. He was a trove of knowledge into the mind of the mysterious race. There was no need for long classes and reading books of the thing he wanted to learn about was right in front of him. "I am taking a guess that you are a Nuit, correct?" The man could have been just a very pale, dead looking man but Kendall was willing to go out on a limb for the sake of knowledge. "If you do not mind me asking, what is it like? It has been a while since I have attended classes and sadly all I know about Nuits is strictly hearsay. It would be interesting to hear it from someone who lives it you know?" Kendall tended to get a bit more passionate and talkitive when there were subjects to be learned. Especially now that he did not get many chances to learn new things. "Of course, it is all up to you. I do not expect there is much you can learn from me since I am meerly a human." There was not much that Kendall could offer to the man. All the money he had accumulated he had to keep in fear that he would need it for an emergency. If what he knew was correct he could not even offer the man a drink because Nuits do not consume food or drink.

The last question that Kendall wanted to ask was a bit personal. He almost did not want to ask it. It was not every day he got a chance to talk one on one with another follower of Ivak though. "I know you said that your master sparked your interest in Ivak but what draws you to him. I mean... I am drawn to him because... well for my own reasons. I am well aware of how personal this question is but what draws you to the God of Fire?"
"I'm burning and I'm blacking my lungs.
Boy you know it feels good with fire back on your tongue."
-Ryan Ross

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Kendall Saarinen
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A Matter of Poetry and Prose (Corum)

Postby Corum on November 28th, 2010, 3:04 am

Corum smiled as he looked at his friend from under his hood. He had guessed correctly that Corum was quite dead. long sleepless nights and far too much time to think might have left him with a bit of insanity, but so was the way of the world. One would be hard pressed to find a normal person who was old enough to be naturally dead.

“ Yes, i am one of the Nuit. It is not pleasant, but not without reward. Never do i tire, or want of food or drink. I never rest, so no one may kill me while i sleep. It is rather... testing, we’ll say. One is tempted to simply rot and end one’s life. this exitance is also not for the moralistic, the lustful, or those faint of heart. My last six bodies, including this one, are people i personally killed. You see, when you living sleep, and i need a body, i’ll go into a home and stab you once in the heart. Its easy to sew up, so its easy to use. Fresh bodies last longer, you see. Our most deadly enemy is time. We have too much of it, never sleeping. I’ve been a Nuit for the past fifty years...” It was strange, speaking of it so bluntly. His life played out in but a few sentences...

As for the last question, Corum took a moment to answer. He thought of his years of worship, and he thought of all the times he had given prayer. Every day, almost, of his undeath did he pray. Finally, he spoke. “ I supose we are alike. For his rage, Ivak is an outcast. His fellow Gods deem him evil, and shun him. Very similar to the way most of you who are alive have shunned me over the years. I figure that we are of like fates, and thus i feel a slight connection to him. One such as me is not welcome to most places. It is why i only use human bodies. They are most common of the living in the lands. It is easier to hide...” Corum did not like hiding. Fear was not one of those emotions he liked to have. Mostly, when he thought of it, he was filled with a rage, that he is so discriminated against for something not his fault. He tried to tell his friend of the struggles, but one could not impart to the living what death is like. He would find out, one day. all who live now generally will.
Knowlage Is Power, Guard It Well.
Corum
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A Matter of Poetry and Prose (Corum)

Postby Kendall Saarinen on December 2nd, 2010, 12:44 am

Hiding, Kendall knew a good deal about that. The daily bouts of hiding in plain sight was a perfect example. He was always scared his mother or his brothers might see him and the whole fight he had tried so hard to forget. "You are truly brave to talk so openly about your past. I know I could not…" He looked down and bit his lip. Just the mention of his history brought pain to him.

Kendall pulled his notebook from his side and started to scribble in it. He was taking notes about what Corum had told him. He wanted to make sure that he did not forget what he learned. Kendall was not exactly a buff man so knowledge was all he had. It was not that Kendall was lanky. He actually had quite a good build even if he did not take advantage of it. He had been lucky to have been stuck in the body he was in. There could have been worse although he never dwelled on that fact. "Well whatever attracted you to Ivak it is nice to meet someone else who stares my thoughts on him." There was only so much a man could take when it came to people putting down the god he had such high faith in. "It is good to know not all hope is lost." Kendall gave Corum a small smile. "Just like the flames, the good graces of Ivak will spread. Faith of his magnitude cannot be contained forever."

Wanting to get off the topic Kendall changed the subject. "So, being a Nuit you must have seen a lot of places. I mean a man does not just go on living after death for fifty years just to stay in their hometown right?" Kendall was a bit jealous of the man. He wanted to leave home more than anything. He wanted to feel free from the bonds Zeltiva held him in. He dreamed of life beyond the edges of Zeltiva but sadly he lacked the ability to make that dream into reality. For now he would have to settle for hearing about another man's travels throughout he world he had lived in his whole life but never had a chance to see.
"I'm burning and I'm blacking my lungs.
Boy you know it feels good with fire back on your tongue."
-Ryan Ross

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Kendall Saarinen
Like John Allerdyce but hotter
 
Posts: 890
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A Matter of Poetry and Prose (Corum)

Postby Corum on December 3rd, 2010, 12:16 am

Corum smiled. It was no act of bravery that had allowed him to tell his tale, but it was simply that he had taken a long time to come to terms with his state of exitance. He had been to many lands, and had seen many things... But still he knew little.

“ I have walked many miles... The lands of this realm are truly beautiful, but quite dangerous... I almost met my second death many times, and if not for my companion i’d still have been young as i died. I mostly traversed the south lands, such as here, and only rarely have i traveled inside a city. I’ve existed in great distrust of the living. I had to return here eventually... I must gather knowledge. That, and there truly is no place like home... You’ll miss it some day, if you take to traveling. When you are old and worn, you may want to return. Sadly, i can not die here. My work is not yet done.

“ If ever you need me, i will be here for at least two seasons. If i am not, i’ll likely be at Sahova to continue my work... Due to that, i must wait a very long time before i finally rest. Where will you go after you leave here, friend? There seems to not be many interesting things for one so blessed as yourself...” Corum would bow his head to the mark on his counterpart’s arm. The fact that Ivak had chosen him held great sway over Corum. He was a religious zealot in all sense of the term. After this meeting was over, perhaps he would offer a longer prayer then other days.
Knowlage Is Power, Guard It Well.
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