RO > call me out; a forever open RP post, version 2

[midvalley]

NEW OPEN RP POST

Comments

[spellbent]

[ Warren gives a derisive snort, glancing up from whatever notes he was reviewing. ]

Hardly. There's the door.

[ Granted, what waits outside is a very small and extremely cold and snowy little European town. ]

[cultivations]

[ he gives a little snort of his own, half earnestly, half mimicking. ]

As though I would want to go anywhere without you.

[ he pauses, then leans over, trying to read the notes upside down. ]

Anything I might assist with?

[spellbent]

Sweet of you to say.

Actually, I was wondering if you'd be willing to indulge me.

[cultivations]

Of course. How can I help?

[spellbent]

We never did get a chance to discuss the full extent of your abilities.

[cultivations]

[ he frowns, trying to remember the conversation in question, but it doesn't come readily to mind. ]

I can't recall. What would you like to know?

[spellbent]

Anything you'd care to tell. You've only ever given me the basics.

[cultivations]

Well, we warp the Veil -- the barrier that separates reality from the Fade, where spirits exist. We draw on a pool of energy we call mana, tapping into the Fade and warping reality to summon flame or ice or lightning or psychic energy.

We have specializations, of course, if one becomes skilled enough with the basics. Healing, for one. Shape shifting. Knight-enchanters, though they're rare.

I, myself, am a Necromancer. Pull spirits from the Fade to inhabit the bodies of the dead. Play on people's fears. Quite different from the Necromancers of your kind, as I understand it. We actually respect the sacrifices of the deceased.

[spellbent]

[ He knew there was more to Dorian’s magic than he was letting on. While seems regrettably true that the mage is no healer, his Necromancy may have merit. ]

What do you mean “play on people’s fears”?

[cultivations]

I draw on the Fade to summon spirits of fear, direct them to attack whomever I choose. The usual reaction is that the spirits make those attacked relive their worst moments, though I hear it causes hallucinations. I suppose it depends on the spirits' whims, that day.

[spellbent]

Huh. That sounds rather useful, actually.

[cultivations]

It's exceedingly so.

[ He pauses, head tilting slightly. ]

You took that in stride. I-- [ another pause and a frown. He presses the tips of his fingers against his temple. ] I seem to recall news of my being a Necromancer not being particularly well-received, here.

[spellbent]

Not everyone is as open-minded as me.

[cultivations]

[ He drops his hand to his lap. ]

Yes, well, hurrah for the both of us.

Was there anything else I could explain?

[spellbent]

That's satisfactory for now.

Was there anything you needed?

[cultivations]

Other than to see the light of day? Nothing, really. I think I'm feeling well enough now that I don't require constant supervision.

[spellbent]

I'm thinking it's about time we headed somewhere warmer, anyway.

Does your head still give you trouble?

[cultivations]

[ He frowns a little, mostly to himself. ]

Only a little. It's fading, I think.

[ He's quick to wave it off with a hand, and his voice takes on a dismissive, light air. ]

Nothing to worry about, I should say. It will pass. In any case, I think you mentioned something about going somewhere warmer?

[spellbent]

If it gets worse, I expect you to tell me.

Yes, warmer. Do you have a preference?

[cultivations]

Anywhere but here, if you're taking requests.

[spellbent]

I'll figure something out in the next day or so. In the meantime, gather your things.

[cultivations]

Yes, of course. And you'll let me know if I can help with anything?

[spellbent]

Ah, before you go, I did have one more question for you.

Do you have any thoughts on the Randall wizard and his companions?

[cultivations]

[ He pauses at the doorway at the question, frowning a little, trying to recall the names--

Detective Jacob Randall. Kara Makenna. Rathen. Madigan. Charles Maxwell III.

--no, not Charles. He hates being called Charles. Charlie. And he likes it so much better when Dorian calls him ama--

He winces when that noise comes back, a hand instinctively going to his forehead. It's there and gone in a flash, the only sign of its passing being the slightly confused look that crosses Dorian's face, as though he had somehow forgotten what he was doing in the last few seconds. ]

I-- no, I don't believe I do. [ And his expression is bland when he glances over at Warren. ] Should I have?

[spellbent]

Just curious. We have a tendency to cross paths.