55th of Summer, 515 AV, 20th Bell
Today had been an exceptionally long day, but it was coming to a close. Judging by the setting sun, the time was probably around the twentieth or twenty-first bell, by Caesarion's estimate. Unfortunately, he had no actual idea as to the sort of disposition of the people in this city, especially at night. From what he'd heard of Zeltiva, he knew it to be a philosophical and maritime city, but not necessarily a safe one. Still - going through every neighborhood and finding them to all be exceptionally beautiful, well-maintained and gentrified made him question whether this city had any real crime. Also - knowing that there was a College of Djed here before it apparently got destroyed, he figured that magic was probably not so loathed . . . or maybe it was more loathed after the destruction? Pah, he didn't know, but he didn't really want to waste time doing nothing so as he wandered around the city that would soon be veiled by night - he transmuted small amounts of Res in front of him, practicing the heating and cooling properties of Reimancy. He didn't seem to be able to do much in the way of cooling his air reimancy, but with the tiniest addition of his fire, so absolutely minimal that you would barely notice a difference . . . its Res spread out across and within the length of his cords of Air Res, he noticed that the air was a fair bit hotter than when he simply transmuted it regularly. He had no idea if that would help him at all, but being a curious little innovator, the Ravokian did things like this to pass the time.
Of course, he was in this area called East Street now. Everything here seemed as pleasant as everywhere else, though he did notice that it seemed less packed along the streets going through the little town within Zeltiva. In other parts, there was noise, music, food, laughing and all sorts of wildness that he wanted to be a part of yet feared to linger around. He wondered if maybe this area had submerged into that area, all of them going near central Zeltiva during the night to have fun. Why else would it seem so much more devoid of people? He had no idea. The thought did cross his mind that this was potentially a sort of urban stain on Zeltiva's otherwise gentrified society, and that there may be criminals within this area. The reason for that was entirely due to the sort of evasion he'd noticed the people of the city make whenever they hit a crossroads to go through this area and others. They very naturally avoided it, even though going through might actually have helped quicken the travel to whatever intended destination they had. He decided that he would keep his presumptions away and simply travel through this area normally, dearly hoping that it wasn't full of super-assassins or something that can actually kill mages such as him.
His waist was packed with items, from the scabbard and longsword on one side to his coinpurse on the other . . . hides from dead Gibbat Dogs on the back, a pouch that contained dozens of letters to Gallagher for when he made it to Syliras. His attire was fairly relaxed, with well-fitted linen pants and a fancy white buttoned shirt covered with his Scale Mail. He wore thick boots obviously meant for going through dense forestry and similar areas . . . and his appearance was exceptionally robust, athletic and tall. He did look like an imposing man that could and would kill you if you tested him, though his demeanor was less sure and one would certainly notice him nervously peering around as if he had no idea where he was. He didn't know just how cautious he had to be . . . and in order to remove his nervousness, the man went back to practicing heating and cooling of Air Reimancy, so that he could eventually completely mix fire and wind into an airborne blaze or potentially cool water to the brink of ice. He could only guess the possibilities . . . as he began to focus, calm himself, and channel his Res, his palms in front of him as he created a fancy little showing of heated wind.
Today had been an exceptionally long day, but it was coming to a close. Judging by the setting sun, the time was probably around the twentieth or twenty-first bell, by Caesarion's estimate. Unfortunately, he had no actual idea as to the sort of disposition of the people in this city, especially at night. From what he'd heard of Zeltiva, he knew it to be a philosophical and maritime city, but not necessarily a safe one. Still - going through every neighborhood and finding them to all be exceptionally beautiful, well-maintained and gentrified made him question whether this city had any real crime. Also - knowing that there was a College of Djed here before it apparently got destroyed, he figured that magic was probably not so loathed . . . or maybe it was more loathed after the destruction? Pah, he didn't know, but he didn't really want to waste time doing nothing so as he wandered around the city that would soon be veiled by night - he transmuted small amounts of Res in front of him, practicing the heating and cooling properties of Reimancy. He didn't seem to be able to do much in the way of cooling his air reimancy, but with the tiniest addition of his fire, so absolutely minimal that you would barely notice a difference . . . its Res spread out across and within the length of his cords of Air Res, he noticed that the air was a fair bit hotter than when he simply transmuted it regularly. He had no idea if that would help him at all, but being a curious little innovator, the Ravokian did things like this to pass the time.
Of course, he was in this area called East Street now. Everything here seemed as pleasant as everywhere else, though he did notice that it seemed less packed along the streets going through the little town within Zeltiva. In other parts, there was noise, music, food, laughing and all sorts of wildness that he wanted to be a part of yet feared to linger around. He wondered if maybe this area had submerged into that area, all of them going near central Zeltiva during the night to have fun. Why else would it seem so much more devoid of people? He had no idea. The thought did cross his mind that this was potentially a sort of urban stain on Zeltiva's otherwise gentrified society, and that there may be criminals within this area. The reason for that was entirely due to the sort of evasion he'd noticed the people of the city make whenever they hit a crossroads to go through this area and others. They very naturally avoided it, even though going through might actually have helped quicken the travel to whatever intended destination they had. He decided that he would keep his presumptions away and simply travel through this area normally, dearly hoping that it wasn't full of super-assassins or something that can actually kill mages such as him.
His waist was packed with items, from the scabbard and longsword on one side to his coinpurse on the other . . . hides from dead Gibbat Dogs on the back, a pouch that contained dozens of letters to Gallagher for when he made it to Syliras. His attire was fairly relaxed, with well-fitted linen pants and a fancy white buttoned shirt covered with his Scale Mail. He wore thick boots obviously meant for going through dense forestry and similar areas . . . and his appearance was exceptionally robust, athletic and tall. He did look like an imposing man that could and would kill you if you tested him, though his demeanor was less sure and one would certainly notice him nervously peering around as if he had no idea where he was. He didn't know just how cautious he had to be . . . and in order to remove his nervousness, the man went back to practicing heating and cooling of Air Reimancy, so that he could eventually completely mix fire and wind into an airborne blaze or potentially cool water to the brink of ice. He could only guess the possibilities . . . as he began to focus, calm himself, and channel his Res, his palms in front of him as he created a fancy little showing of heated wind.
