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(Ashar) Aoren and Ashar meet for the first time.

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Built into the cliffs overlooking the Suvan Sea, Riverfall resides on the edge of grasslands of Cyphrus where the Bluevein River plunges off the plain and cascades down to the inland sea below. Home of the Akalak, Riverfall is a self-supporting city populated by devoted warriors. [Riverfall Codex]

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Where The Wind Takes Me

Postby Aoren on May 9th, 2015, 11:36 pm

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40th of Spring, 515 AV
Early Morning

Aoren walked among the tall reeds of grass just beyond the walls of the Sanctuary. He wore white robes that while simple in their design were of fine quality. The earth beneath his feet was cool in the early morning dawn. This was his habit as of late. He rose with the sun to greet the new days as they came. Sometimes he trained his body. Other times he simply began the daily chores that were his duty around the Sanctuary. On that day his mind was preoccupied with tending to his meditations. In recent days his thoughts had become heavy with the weight of new knowledge. While he did not regret all that he learned, Aoren sought a return to something familiar. For that reason he walked barefoot among the grass, into the wilderness where he could safely pay homage to an old friend. With hands clasped behind his back he recalled fondly the memories of his first steps into a world beyond the mundane.

Drawing upon his djed, Aoren took hold of his spirit extruding it from his palms. Taking hold of the essence of his breath he made a downward forceful motion with his hands. He planted one foot forward and with a focused exhale he transmuted the collective res to wind, flattening the grass around him. With that motion done, Aoren walked around the perimeter of the small clearing that he’d made. He pressed down the edges where some grass still stood tall then removed his outer robe and shirt. He undid the sash around his waist folding each article of clothing with care before returning to the center of the clearing he’d made.

Grasping the strings of his djed once more, Aoren brought a cloud of res outward and winding down the length of his forearm. He took a forceful step forward thrusting his fist in front of him. As he did this he propelled the res forward transmuting it to air. The air was thrown forward into the grass carving a path through the stalks. Aoren twisted on his heel calling upon his res once more repeating the forward thrust sending a current of wind billowing out in front of him. The Drykas man brought both hands up above his head twisting his palms downward as if pressing against a rising force. He spread his feet shoulder width apart drawing in a breath as he did so. He made a forceful kick up into the air that was accompanied by a roundhouse kick. Simultaneously he drew upon his djed once more pushing it toward the sole of his foot to be expelled and transmuted as a forceful gust.

This was familiar to him, the refining of a fighting technique that he had not visited in some time. It had begun when he was a younger man just beginning his venture into the realm of hand to hand combat. He had been inspired to create this method of weaving his reimancy with his fighting skills upon seeing a great windstorm. It had made even the heavily armored knights unsteady on their feet as they ushered people into the gates of Syliras. The element of air was perhaps the element that he preferred to use the most. It was not his first element but it was his most used.

Aoren stepped to the far side of the clearing. He took off at a sprint then pushed down with his legs jumping into the air. Following through with his forward momentum he pulled the weight of his legs over his head. Again he pushed res out of the roles of his feet as he brought one leg out in a kick. As his leg swept through the air he jettisoned the res forward transmuting it into wind. The corresponding slice of air cut through the stalks of grass. He landed stumbling slightly falling into a kneel, the residual res resting at the sole of his opposite foot he billowed outward in a circle around him forcing it out as a gust of wind. It rippled across the surface of the grass as Aoren rest there for a moment. With a heavy sigh he reached up rubbing at the back of his neck. He turned his face skyward breathing in deeply closing his eyes.

As he stood there, the feeling of being watched crept along his spine. He opened his eyes slowly returning them to the earth. Steady on his feet he made his way over to his folded clothing, disheveled as a result of his practicing. He picked up his shirt bunching the hem up so that he could pull it over his head. He spoke over his shoulder.

It is rude to stare.

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Where The Wind Takes Me

Postby Ashar on May 10th, 2015, 1:54 am

40th of Spring, 515AV
The Kabrin Road, Just North of Riverfall


Once more within the span of a quarter season Ashar found himself galloping north along the Kabrin Road, leaving behind the walls and vineyards and mines of Riverfall. His bent knees bounced rhythmically in the stirrups, his crouched torso hunched over the back of the mighty warhorse as the two shot forward like an arrow let loose from the gates of Riverfall. The fierce wind blew back both the mans of both the horse and the Akalak, hair rippling as the air rushed through it.

The nature of Ashar's rush was not goal-oriented. He wasn't speeding down the Kabrin in order to escape anywhere or anyone's influence, neither was he hurrying towards some destination. Instead, the ride itself was his reason for rushing.

Ever since that day that Ashar had surged toward the Sanctuary, every time he took this route on this patrol he felt the swell of that emotion as he sped recklessly and carelessly, him and his steed bursting with energy down the causeway. The pumping of his heart, the rushing of the wind through his hair, the coursing of power through the warhorse beneath him. With his knees, Ashar could feel the strength of the horse's muscles, each working seamlessly with the next to propel the mighty beast forward. Like a bullet from a slingshot, the steed bounded gracefully over the road, carrying with it Ashar who got to experience the power of the wind.

The Akalak made sure to bounce himself in time with the warhorse's strong gallops, careful to not repeatedly bash himself against the saddle. Though his hands held the reins, Ashar had not used them since coaxing the mount into its full gallop. Seemingly as young and brash as its rider, the horse was happy to vault forward on his own, leaving the Akalak to enjoy the ride.

It wasn't until the horse began to breathe heavily, air expanding and decompressing his chest rapidly, before Ashar used the reins to influence the horse once again. He reined it in gently, letting it slow down at its own pace in order to catch its breath. First to a canter, moving forward at a steady pace, then to a slow trot as the horse recovered. Running his hand along the horse's neck, Ashar sat back down on the saddle to give his own legs some recovery from the intense ride. As enjoyable as it was to be at the height of the journey, these restful lulls too had their appeal.

A sea breeze seemed to be coming from the cliffs, so Ashar turned to look at the Suvan Sea, which peaked over the top of the grass only slightly. Waves, indistinguishable from this distance, rolled over the horizon, further relaxing the Akalak's mind. Nearer too was another kind of wave, the ripples of the tall grass caused by the breeze, nearly perfectly synchronized along a parallel with the cliff.

Not all of the grass, though, swayed in unison. There was a disturbance out near the cliffs, not far from the walls of the Sanctuary which was along Ashar's route, where a circle of grass tips were missing and those that remained were swept erroneously from the surrounding grass.

Unsure of what was causing the anomalous miniature windstorm, Ashar allowed himself to be curious. It being so close to the Sanctuary, yet clearly not moving toward or away from it, the Akalak wondered whether it was one of Kavala's unique features, or if not perhaps she knew about the source of the disturbance. Regardless, the Akalak wasn't about to leave without first inspecting this abnormality.

Clucking the tongue, Ashar adjusted the horse's course slightly so their trot would be through the tall grass rather than the road. The horse, unfazed by a little sod, pushed onward into the wild grass and continued resolutely forward, holding its head above the green obstruction. His hoofsteps were now accompanied by the sound of rustling grass, and the tips of the grass irritated Ashar's legs a little. Drawing closer to the anomaly, the Akalak noticed finally that there appeared to be a figure in the middle of the gentle windstorm, dancing around in the clearing made from the force of the gusts. At first there was nothing to really connect the two, but as Ashar continued to watch he saw that, as the person within the clearing made a thrust with a hand or a foot, a blast of wind would cause a ripple across the surface of the tall grass.

Magic, Ashar thought to himself. That would explain the anomalous breezes.

The Kavran continued trotting forward, his horse wading through the grass until they reached the edge of the clearing made by the man's magic. His body twisted and vaulted, leaped and bent, each gust of wind bursting forth from an accompanying physical strike. The power to command the winds combined with a combat style Ashar was so familiar with made the occurrence seem almost natural, as if the gusts of wind were mere extensions of the fighter's body.

With a flourish, the mage-fighter finished, landing on the ground and sending out a wild sweep that knocked down the nearby tall grass. After that, he began to redress his torso. It was now he also acknowledged the Akalak's presence.

"Rude to stare, yes," Ashar replied, "but when strength of the wind is practiced are stares surprising?" His Common was far from perfect, but he was able to use his meager vocabulary to knit together at least something similar to what he meant. If only the world spoke Tukant.

"What is that strength? What is that magic?" Ashar asked, remaining on his horse. Atop his steed and adorned in armor, it might seem to one unfamiliar with the Kuvay'Nas that Ashar was a mercenary or bandit or some similar profession. At the least, he didn't appear to be the kind of person who was interested in any kind of wizardry. Yet he remained so that he could satisfy his curiosity. Not only his curiosity, but there might come a time when knowing about such magic would be the key to keeping the peace. "Explain it to me, please."
Ashar is being renovated. Be patient!

"Do not try to fight yourself. Such is the road to chaos."
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Where The Wind Takes Me

Postby Aoren on May 10th, 2015, 4:14 pm

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Accented Common found its way to Aoren’s ears as he turned to regard an Akalak astride a warhorse. By then he was fairly used to the Akalak people’s intimidating stature though it still made his a little wary. He inclined his head to the man hesitating slightly. Aoren wasn’t at all certain about Riverfall’s stance on mages. Syliras had been rather intolerant unless one was a member of the knighthood. Zeltiva had seen more than its fair share of delirious power made sorcerers. When he really thought about it though he had not seen many openly practicing mages in Riverfall. He knew that Xira had a rudimentary understanding of magic as a practitioner of Reimancy and now Shielding. Caelum knew that he possessed magic as did Kavala but few beyond that. But he couldn’t very well explain away what he’d been doing as a trick of the light.

Reaching down, Aoren began tying the sash around his waist before draping his outer robe over a forearm. He studied the Akalak in front of him plucking at the strands of his djed drawing upon the power of Auristics. As he spoke he gauged the mood of the man through the layers of his aura, searching perhaps for any hints of ill intent, dark emotions, or the echo of terrible things that had soaked into the fabric of his soul.

I do suppose that is not something one sees every day.” A small smirk tugged at corner of Aoren’s mouth.

Before I explain anything though, I must ask you if you intend me harm. I retreated to the seclusion of the wilderness that others would not be in danger and so I wouldn’t draw attention.” While it did make sense that a man would go into the Sea of Grass armed to the teeth, Aoren was still cautious. People did strange things when confronted with what they did not understand. Some people avoided it. Others sought to destroy it. There were the choice few who sought to understand it. From among those people there were those who sought it to understand the nature of the world and those who sought such knowledge in a quest for power.

Forgive me for my caution but one can’t be too careful.” He offered the man a smile though his eyes never lost their focus for any signs of trouble.

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Where The Wind Takes Me

Postby Ashar on May 11th, 2015, 4:50 am

The mage-fighter raised a valid concern about hostility. After all, magic wasn't widely practiced for a reason. The power it gave to the individuals concerned, as well as the taxing practices it involved, gave even the martial society of Riverfall a sense of hesitancy regarding it. Even in a city with a more liberal perspective on it, magic wasn't understood and thus it was feared by those who wished to not delve into it.

While the mage-fighter redressed, Ashar took the time to compose his answer as best he could. It was going to be difficult with his limited competency in Common, but he knew it could be done. The words and ideas were more important than being grammatically correct.

"Caution is good," Ashar began. "Magic not known well by many. People fear, and sometimes be violent. But I do not fear."

Ashar ran his hand down the side of his horse's neck which shook in response. His mind settled, a type of balanced peace that he rarely attained these days. Usually it would be Jek making the speeches, but for now Ashar's less compelling words will have to do. "I am Kavran. Kuvay'Nas. We make people safe. Protect them. My job, my duty, to protect. But magic I do not know. It is strong, dangerous, maybe hurt a lot of people if there is no..." For a moment, Ashar struggled, trying to remember the word in Common. It was the thing that was important in Riverfall, that which was held in the highest esteem. Then he recalled. "Discipline. I want to know magic, then I can protect people from it and also use it to protect people. Knowing magic will help many lives.

So no, mage-fighter. I do not intend you harm."
Ashar looked at the man, who had finished tying his sash. "You come to wilderness to not danger other people, so you are good person."
Ashar is being renovated. Be patient!

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Where The Wind Takes Me

Postby Aoren on May 13th, 2015, 1:40 am

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The mist of this man’s aura revealed nothing more to Aoren than a measure of his mood. While that wasn’t a perfect way to gauge whether or not he meant him harm, it would have to suffice for the time being. At the very least he could discern no feeling born of a need to conceal or hide. That was mildly comforting. At the man’s statement about Aoren being a good person the Drykas shook his head.

I am just a man…” He observed the Kuvay’Nas from head to toe. “…but thank you.” Aoren gestured back in the direction of the Sanctuary.

You are welcome to join me. I live just there. We might speak on the way and I can tend to your horse.” The animal’s heavier breathing told Aoren that they’d just come from a hard ride. It was good to test the limits of what the great stallions could do. Where the Akalak were concerned, the horses had to be strong. They were not a small people. Turning his djed enhanced gaze to the horse, Aoren smiled. There were feelings of excitement and restlessness pouring forth from the animal. He could discern small amounts of discomfort but they were small in comparison to the general attitude of contentment he received from the warhorse.

Aoren released his hold on his Auristics turning his djed toward the grasping of a different magic. He caught the horse’s eyes. In that moment Aoren directed his djed to project a sense of calm to minimize the idea that he might be a threat. He felt the sluggish roll of his grasp over Hypnotism slide through his consciousness like a heavy weight. It was not so difficult that he couldn’t keep he magic but the hypnotic arts were still vastly unfamiliar to him. Stepping up to the warhorse still projecting the air of calm, Aoren reached out to touch the beast upon his muzzle.

He is a proud one.” Dropping his hand he began wading his way through the grass back toward the Sanctuary. As he walked he cast the Akalak a glance speaking over his shoulder.

Tell me, Warrior, what does the man who knows everything say to the man who knows nothing?” He let the silence drift between the two of them. Either the man would accompany him back to the Sanctuary, accepting his offer or he would not. In any case, Aoren had gotten the opportunity to refine a little more of his techniques in regards to combining reimancy with his fighting skills. It was a work in progress. It was one that he would likely spend several more years perfecting.

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Where The Wind Takes Me

Postby Ashar on May 21st, 2015, 6:23 pm

While Ashar acknowledged the modesty behind the human's decision to make light of the praise, he still did not think such people realized just how many people weren't willing to put themselves at even such a minor inconvenience in order to safeguard the well-being of others. Such people were more or less the reason why Kavran existed in the first place, so it was no surprise that Ashar had to deal with so many while keeping the peace. People such as this human were the kind that the Akalak actually enjoyed dealing with, as they at least tried to not make his job difficult.

Then the man did something more bizarre but no less interesting than commanding winds: he seemed to be investigating the horse. Perhaps this man was one of the Drykas Ashar had heard about, that he considered horses important beings as well, worthy of respect similar or equal to that of a man. This seemed to be the case, as the human acknowledged the warhorse's pride before turning away and beginning his journey to the Sanctuary.

The mage-fighter's question left Ashar something deep to ponder as he rode at a steady trot alongside. Indeed, it was a good question, and the purple Akalak spent some time pondering his slow thoughts over it. If Jek were still talking, then he likely would have been off spewing a thousand theories and coming up with dozens of correct answers. Merely the thought of his dark brother was enough to sadden Ashar slightly, but he pushed such thoughts away for now. If Jek were speaking to him, then he likely would be telling Ashar to not screw this up and actually learn the magic and its secrets. Trust the bookworm of a soul to want to learn as much as was available at any given time.

With the silence stretching between the two men, Ashar decided to break that silence with what he thought would be his answer. "Master tells novice how to start learning," Ashar replied at length to the human's query. "Master cannot teach novice everything. Not possible: both only have so much time. Master may not be around forever. So is most important that master teach student how to learn first."

Nodding in satisfaction at his answer, Ashar turned his attention to the Sanctuary. It appeared Fate had a tendency to bring him out here multiple times. Perhaps he had something to do here that the Akalak had not yet fulfilled. Though it was quickly seeming to be the place where the Kavran would get his first lesson in magic and what it truly was - and how to stop others who misused it.
Ashar is being renovated. Be patient!

"Do not try to fight yourself. Such is the road to chaos."
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Where The Wind Takes Me

Postby Faradae on May 13th, 2017, 10:33 pm

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