Winds of Change: Dorian Drake Samheen 18

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Dorian Drake did his best to soothe Maranda. "It will be all right," he said, with the calm conviction of a Drake. Change happened, and he accepted it. A bright day with a good prospect of fishing might turn into a storm where your life was at stake, that was just how things could be out on the water. He also could not understand why the attack had happened, but since it required a lot of thought, he shelved the matter in his mind to wait until he had the time to spare to think on it. Such things for Dorian, not the best brains in the world, took a while. Sometimes a very long while. Fretting over it wasn't going to help, so he didn't.

He slept holding Maranda, hoping if there was anything in the woods - those squirrels were pretty flighty things, for instance - that might trouble them, that he would awaken in time to send it running off. For now, they were warm, fed, and resting for the next day, and that would have to be enough.
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More of the flying lights gathered round the two, the abundance of wings creating a very soft pleasant hum, as the dark of night was driven away by the soft radiance. Hundreds of them took up station in the small glade, perched on branches and leaves, watching and whispering. As the dawn approached, they began to disperse and as the light of morning began to lighten the sky, the few remaining blots of color retreated into the surrounding shrubbery.

Waking from another troublesome dream, Maranda got up quietly, trying not to disturb her husband and began to look for wood to rekindle the fire. Her night had been less than restful - the ground hard and her dreams full of monsters of fire chasing her across the lake. Soon she had teased the few glowing embers into a small fire of twigs and dry branches. Overhead, the skies were mostly clear with only a few high wispy clouds.

Once she had a good fire going, she moved to the riverbank and knelt down. Pushing up the sleeves of her chemise, she washed her hands and face before cupping the cold water in her hand to drink. Drying her hands on her skirt, she hurried back to the fire to warm up again wondering what they would do for a morning repast.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
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Dorian slept hard, wrapped in dreams of the rocks and the sea, a spur of stone and sand that ran out into the waves, where his family was singing and sunning themselves, the oldsters with grey muzzles, the cousins and closer kin playing and barking, dozing, slipping into the water for fish. It had been more a memory than a dream, and he wondered if he would ever see any of them again.

He awakened slowly, hearing Maranda moving around, smelling the strange scents of the forest. They were on land...away from the water. On a quest to talk to a man who knew about war. Finally, these thoughts settled in his mind, he opened his eyes. "M'randa," he said sleepily, and sat up.
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Sitting with her hands fanned over the fire to absorb the heat, the sound of her husband's voice produced a smile on her face as she rose and moved over to him.

"Morning my love," she kissed him softly, smoothing a lock of hair back off his forhead. While her dreams had been troublesome, the heaviness that had oppressed her yesterday had lifted. As long as she had Dorian, nothing else mattered for the two of them could make a home anywhere though she did worry about her aunt some still. Thankfully her brother had gone to live with her uncle and was far away from the troubles.

"What shall we have for our morning meal?" she mused playfully. "Flat cakes? Eggs? Roast hog? Ohhhh, I know," she grinned. "Let's have fish," and she kissed his sleepy eyes with a soft giggle.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
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"Didn't we eat it all last night ?" Dorian asked, for as far as he was concerned, fish was about the best thing you could eat, at any time, and best of all fresh and raw. He looked in their bucket - it had become their bucket, and was merely carried by him because, well, those muscles were good for Something after all. As for what one could eat in the forest, that was a mystery to him. You could probably eat squirrels....but how to catch them ? But the fond smile to see his wife looking happy, that could not be overlooked.

"What do squirrels like to eat ?" he asked, thinking of the coil of line he had. He was a fisherman, and everything he knew related to bait, hooks, lines....and suchlike. Maybe you could fish for squirrels.
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All the blonde could do was sit and blink at her fisherman husband start talking about squirrels. His question drew a brief shrug from her as she wondered why he wasn't thinking about catching fish out of the river instead.

"Squirrels? Nuts... acorns," she replied slowly as she thought about it. "Not sure if they eat berries or not but trappin' one would take awhile I'd think," she added, not entirely sure what Dorian had planned.

And indeed there were squirrels in the woods. A pair played above their heads, scampering about and chattering to one another.

"We could dig some worms by the river," she added softly, almost as an after thought.

OOC: Btw... I love the idea of Dorian trying to "fish" for squirrels. I think it would be fun and funny. This is just how Maranda would respond to his musings, not my attempt to direct the story. :)
Last edited by Shaeliana on Sun Dec 12, 2004 11:42 pm, edited 1 time in total.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
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Dorian blinked. The River....well, there was a reason why Maranda was the Boss, because she was the smart one. He nodded, smiling. "All right, I won't try to fish for squirrels just yet," he said. "But it does seem like it could work." It would be like fishing eels...you had to smack them as soon as you got them on the hook, or they'd let go and snap at you. They looked pretty fierce. How you got the fur off once you caught one, that was well beyond his ken, and he didn't puzzle on it. There was only so much he could concentrate on.

He looked around under stones and in the river mud for bugs and worms, baited up a hook and cast it in, winding the line around his calloused hand. Then it was just patience, and Dorian had buckets of that.

OOC: Squirrel fishing - it's a hoot and I'm going to try it myself. So far I've trapped 8 of the buggers as they like to get into our attic and chew things.
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Post by Shaeliana »

Dispite the clear skies and rising sun, the fish didn't seem very hungry. Occasionally the fisherman felt a slight nudge in the line as something nibbled at the bait under the water. Each time it was only a testing nudge and not a serious bite that could be set. Finally, some quarter of a mark into it all, something claimed the bait in earnest and the fisherman found the line jerked taunt in his work-roughened hands.

Weighty, the hapless prey pulled and struggled against being drawn in, but finally the fisherman managed to drag it up onto the bank of the river, a turtle larger than his cooking pot. It had swallowed the hook and the line, stained with blood, now dangled from a formidable mouth. The brown shelled creature sat watching Dorian, its mouth open threateningly. However, as soon as the line went slack, the creature began to scurry back to the river.
Last edited by Shaeliana on Sun Dec 19, 2004 5:58 pm, edited 1 time in total.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
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Dorian wasn't about to let breakfast escape. He seized the nearest item of blunt force, either his gaff or a stone, and smacked the thing as hard as he could with it. And kept on smacking it, until the shell was broken. Feisty thing, and no doubt the reason why there were no fish here ! So he whacked it hard, as if it was a shark. Grabbing it to flip it upside down might have been an idea, but he'd seen the thing's jaws.
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Post by Shaeliana »

Old, the shell was thick and tough but the fisherman's arms were strong from hauling nets and pulling oars and soon the protective casing of the turtle cracked. Behind him, a soft sound of unease escaped from Maranda at the sick wet sound as the gaff sank into soft flesh. Thrashing wildly at first, the creature soon slowed and then stopped, eyes glazed over in death.

Keeping her eyes averted from the carnage which made her skin crawl, the blonde busied herself with finding more wood for the fire. While she knew this was necessary it didn't make it any more pleasant to watch... or hear and so she kept busy. By the time the beast was prepared to cook, she had rounded up a good armfull of dead branches and before long, breakfast was ready.

Back on the road again, headed north, the spectre of the wood carrying boy from the Laughing King stood in the middle of the road ahead of them shaking his head, right hand lifted out from his side pointing west. The road here clearly drove on northward and perhaps in a more northeastern direction as it followed the river which came down from the elvin lands of the far north. To the east lay the river and to the west lay forest. Though it wasn't thickly wooded here, there was some underbrush and there certainly was no path to follow.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
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Dorian could not help but be jubilant. Turtle flesh was succulent and the fat was a pleasant green colour. They had a lot of meat, but would have to eat it quickly before it spoiled...so they had about a day's worth of food. He had not thought to look in the smokehouses, but then the leviathan meat would not be done curing yet...he hoped someone kept to it, lest all that work and food be lost. "That was as tough as a big shark," he said to Maranda, "But turtle is very good meat !"

He viewed the spectre of the boy with something like aplomb, and nodded. "The boy-spirit from the inn's out on the road," he said, as a conversational topic, "He's pointing us into the woods. Ermmm.....those squirrels, they don't run in packs, do they ?" There were a few of them...maybe more...and who knew about land animals. Rabbits, he wasn't so worried about, but how to catch them - that was beyond his ken. The other things, what were they called, the furry ones with the horns...He supposed if he had a bow and arrows, and the skill to use them, it would be handy. He had his gaff, the bucket, the blanket and a few odds and ends.
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Much different than she anticipated, the meat was good and the warmth helped take away the chill out of her body from the early autumn weather. Actually, so far the fall had been mild if somewhat rainy but then the rain was something she was growing used to. It had been a very wet summer, a fact that ruts in the road gave witness to.

A frown creased her forehead as Dorian announced the presence of the boy from the inn as she strained her eyes trying to see the ghost. Why would the boy from the inn be here she wondered and why pointing them to the woods. Then again, it was when Dorian saw these ghosts at the inn that he decided to make this trip. Perhaps the ghosts had told him something then and were still guiding him. A lopsided grin curled her lips at the fisherman's supposition about attacking squirrels and she latched onto his arm, hugging it snugly.

"I think we've got more to worry about should we meet a bear or wolf," she kissed his cheek. "But unlike sharks, most generally the forest creatures fear man and will run unless cornered. I think finding a path through all the bushes will be a greater danger than any small wildlife," she mused softly as she looked down at her billowing skirt, wishing she had a pair of trousers to wear. Any brambles or thorns were going to make slow going with all this fabric waving about.

"Lead on my love," she sighed determined to make the best of it. Not far into the woods, the girl snatched her skirt away from a stubborn clutching branch and stopped for a moment to hike the skirt up so to make it less accessible to snagging flora though it left her legs victim to the brambles and branches. Meanwhile, the figment of the boy appeared periodically pointing directions to the fisherman. By now, Maranda had reluctantly given up her quest to see the spectres.

Slow going without a path to follow, about a mark and a half later the woods began to thin, the forest floor less dominated by undergrowth and within a quarter mark they found themselves out of the woods and onto a fairly wide road running North.

The clearing widened out and well off the wide dirt track sat a wooden cabin nestled back in a nest of trees, tall and stately their leaves beginning the transformation from green to yellows, oranges and reds. While the cabin had a feeling of the ancient, it bore no marks of the wearing of time or natural hazards. Out front of the small sturdy building was a garden, now adorned with wilted and dying blossoms though there was a line of short colorful blossom lining the walkway up to the house that had prevailed against the frosty nights. Behind the house, a vegetable and herb garden sat with fall vegetables growing ever ready for harvest. Both gardens had signs that they were meticulously tended.

A porch stretched across the front of the house with an unusual, elaborate and ornate fencing across the front. None of the wood was painted but had that light creamy look of newly cut wood. Puffs of smoke drifted out a chimney that sprouted from the back of the roof and more wisps of smoke floated out from the porch, emanating from a pipe clenched in the delicate hand of a man who sat on the porch watching them approach.

Unruly blonde hair was pulled back off his face not quite concealing long pointed ears, the tanned skin creased around the eyes and mouth with age. Bright blue eyes full of mirth studied Dorian and his wife as they approached the elf who sat still save the pipe in his hand.
Last edited by Shaeliana on Sun Dec 26, 2004 7:58 pm, edited 1 time in total.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
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Dorian had gone along in his ungainly on-land stride, not much faster than Maranda, with all her skirts, could manage. He followed the lad's ghost and had made no further comment on it. It was one thing to be led astray by a water spirit, but he reckoned this one didn't want to drown him or muck him about.

It was odd enough walking along away from the water, and he'd fallen down a couple of times, since land was not his element. Thank goodness Maranda had the bucket. It was all he could do not to kill himself by accident. She was here, though, and here was better than being in the city right now.

He paused to look at the Elf, but since fishermen did not bow when they met people (it was a good way to fall out of your boat) he did not bow. He mentally ticked off the information: Cabin, woods, north of the city, and the name, Aldebaran. Everything fit so far, he just had to check on the name. The last horse does eventually finish the race, and so Dorian came to the equation's last variable, in his own time. It was a considerable pause. "Would you be Aldebaran, sir ?" he asked. "Or, if you're not, do you happen to know where he might be ?"
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Not entirely sure where they were going or why, other than to escape the danger that had swallowed up the city, Maranda was only slightly surprised when they found the house and Dorian bluntly asked his name. It had been a difficult trip for her husband, one she knew he wouldn't have undertaken lightly. Curiosity peaked, she watched intently as the adheil on the porch studied the two of them, still puffing on his pipe. Finally, he gave a slight nod of his head and frowned.

"Might," he offered, his voice deceptively deep for the thin fragile looks of him. "Who is that inquires and why?"

A falcon, deep chestnut brown in color with a creamy white breast, flew in noisily and landed on the railing at the end of the porch furthest from the strangers. Tilting it's head to one side, it quietyly observed Dorian and Maranda. A twinkling of color darted by to the right of Dorian. The blonde stepped closer to her husband and took his hand, her small cool hand trembling slightly.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
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"Dorian Drake, fisherman of the Mer de la Luna," Dorian said, plainly, since that was the sort of man he was. "This is my wife, Maranda. I want to ask Aldebaran questions about the war, and the shadows, and what to do about them." He had eyed the bird, determined it was not a gull - though it did have similar wings, and since gulls were only mildly troublesome to a fisherman, did not worry about it.

There is something to be said for having less intelligence and a Drakish upbringing; one's imagination does not go quite so wild. He was not remotely concerned with twinkling lights or strange birds, and merely watched the old Elf with the patience of a fisherman, awaiting his reply. He held Maranda's hand and gave it a light, comforting squeeze, planting his feet a bit wider to allow for the change in balance, an issue with a land-walking Selkie.
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Long and hard, the man studied them both, eyes steady and unwavering, hardly blinking. Next to him, Maranda squirmed, uncomfortable under the staring scrutiny they were receiving. Finally, he slowly reached up and removed the pipe from between his teeth, stood and moved to the edge of the porch where he upended the pipe, dropping the smoldering remains into the damp dirt.

“So you are the sent one,” he commented to no one in particular, eyes busy on his task, not on Dorian or his wife. “Don’t just stand there looking askance,” he barked and then smiled at Maranda.

“Come on up. There is much we have to discuss before this day is over,” he added before turning and going inside the house, not so much as looking over his shoulder to see if they followed or holding the door for them.

Inside, the same lovely detail was evident in the wood, lovely and fresh looking. There was an abundance of windows, more than Maranda could ever remember seeing in any house rich or poor. Lovely yellow streams of sunshine danced in through the clear panes, bringing a wide smile to the blonde’s face. A window on the far side of the room had a deep ledge that was full of plants, some with blossoms. Otherwise, it was a simple room, save for the decorative woodwork that was established in the grain of the walls as well as the way the table and six chairs were cut. A small stone fireplace was on the back wall and had the appearance that the house had grown up around it.

In front of the fireplace, the man was filling a teapot with steamy water from a kettle over the fire. He ambled over to a side table with a hutch of shelves containing an assortment of tins and jars, taking out a dark blue glass jar with a fitted lid. After he measured out some of the dark leaves, he returned the jar to it’s place, and casually moved back to the table, sitting the pot down as he sat.

”Do sit,” he motioned to a chair and winked at Maranda. “I don’t bite,” he smiled and looked at Dorian, studying him again.

“You’ve been seeing shadows?” he asked his playful manner suddenly replaced with a dead serious tone. “Please tell me about it. Where was this? How long ago? And what do you know about dark magic and demons?” the questions shot out one after another without pause until he had voiced them all, then sat back and watched Dorian again as he waited for the answers.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
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Dorian nodded, once, accepting this. He seated Maranda in a chair first, then sat down himself.

"I have fae blood," he said, simply, for he was a simple man. The calm blue eyes, blue as the deep water, returned the Elf's gaze, for Dorian was a direct sort of man as well, having been raised by the most direct man in the world. "I saw shadows, and I can see ghosts as well. One of them mentioned your name and how to find you. The city was attacked by airships just lately, but for weeks before there were Orcs attacking, and a fire, and then the shadows moving around, haunting places, like a burnt-out building in the city. I don't know anything about magic or demons. I asked some of the older Men if they knew what was happening, and they spoke of the shadows and the darkness, but only the one spirit spoke your name and told me how to get here. So here I am, and asking for the ways to deal with them."

Dorian was not a clotheshorse, though his appearance since Maranda had been selecting his clothes was markedly improved, by the elven-weave shirt, though he still wore his patched canvas breeches and the rope-and-tar sandals. The webbed toes did not take kindly to the confinement of shoes. He somehow liked the house, though it was big compared to the shack, but would have to think on it to consider why.
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Post by Shaeliana »

Though long winded for Dorian, the elf seemed surprised when the fisherman stopped and sat staring for several flickers before leaning forward abruptly.

"Fae blood you say?" he snapped back, his tone sharp with irritation. "And you know nothing of magic or demons?" he jerked to his feet, volume growing louder as he talked.

"By the gods," he sputtered and looked about the room. "What do you expect me to do with him?" the elf growled, then paused as if listening. Sitting next to the fisherman, Maranda reached over and took his hand in hers.

"I KNOW he is the sent one but that still doesn't answer what I'm to DO with him," Aldebaran was pacing now as he talked seemingly to himself. The blonde squeezed her husband's hand, a nervous reaction to the scene playing out before them. Suddenly, the old elf turned his attention back to the pair of human, cold sky blue eyes stared hard at them as if trying to read their soul.

"What are you prepared to do or rather... how much are you prepared to do?" the adheil queried them sternly. "What is being asked of you will be neither easy nor safe and given that you have no skill now, doubly so," his voice softened as his eyes focused on Dorian.

"Your fae blood may help you and indeed perhaps the magic in your veins has already been awakened if you saw the spirits of the departed, but there is much you must learn and very few days in which to learn it," he explained gruffly.

"If you have no heart for adversity and sacrifice then best you turn back now. There will come a point where turning back will no longer be an option, only death."
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
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Dorian shook his head, about magic and demons. "No, I don't," he said. "I was raised by a mortal man."

He paused, surveying the temper tantrum placidly. "You're asking it of me, not my wife," he said, on another long-winded speech, for Dorian wasn't a great speaker. "I came here to find out what to do. I plan on taking what you tell me to those who handle this sort of thing, those who understand it. I'm a fisherman. I don't fight wars, I don't play 'hero'. I fish."

He paused again. "If you are saying I'm supposed to be a hero, and you are upset with it, you can stop with the temper. It solves nothing, it only shows your faults." That was an Old Drakeism. "Maybe you should start to explain what is going on, and I will be able to tell you if it's beyond me."

OOC: Second PC is homeless/modless again...I am giving up. He has been around for nearly 2 years and has done nothing.
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Post by Shaeliana »

Old as he was, the adheil was not used to being addressed so directly and sputtered at the young fisherman's words. Still, Dorian's tone was honest, his words made sense and he was the sent one. What he did with the information given to him was between him and those higher. As unlikely as it seemed, this one was here and time was of the essence. With a soft sigh, the elf sank back into his seat.

"What goes on could possibly be the end of the land as you and I know it. There are three levels of existence. Demons occupy the Nether, the gods occupy the Aether and we occupy the Tether. Long ago, they both had unlimited access to this realm, but those of the Netherworld became evil and greedy, desiring more than worship of mortals. They would make slaves of us. A war was fought and they were blocked from ready access to the Tether and have ever since sought a way out of their confines. Now, the only way a demon can enter this realm is if they are summoned by a mortal and their main avenue of entrance has been finding those who had greed for power and using it to their gain.

"Ten yahren ago, they found magics in our world they could exploit to produce holes in that barrier and began to enter our world unhampered. It led to great distresses and upheavals in the natural realm and ultimately to the great war where darkness was once again contained behind the barrier. Recently, the clumsy and incomplete efforts of mortals to summon creatures of the dark have produced rips in the barrier and darkness is once again slipping into this realm unhindered. They must be stopped, the barrier mended before stronger demons invade our realm.

"You have magic in your blood. I sense it, untapped for the most part but there and it is not just that you are fae. This is something different. There is a taint of Mer about you though I confess not to understand that part at all. To close the darkness and mend the portals will require magic, a powerful type of magic and we've not long for you to learn it. What would normally take months of training must be done in days, a single day if we can manage it. It will require absolute concentration and determination on your part," he paused a moment studying the fisherman and his wife.

"Your words thus far have not given me much hope. I think the gods have chosen poorly in sending you but it is not my decision to make, only my duty to serve," he bowed his head to Dorian.

"What else would you know before deciding which course to take?" he asked quietly, his earlier temper tantrum vanished as if it had never happened.

OOC: Sorry to hear you are feeling stalled with your 2nd PC. Your mod has had some very hard RL issues recently. He mods my PC as well. But I thought we sent out notes saying things were going to be going slower for a bit? If not, our apologies. :(
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
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"I can't even read," Dorian said. Fishermen didn't need that sort of thing. He mulled over the elf's words, considering them in the slow steady way of a Drake. "If it needs concentration, I can only do my best, but I'll tell you I don't learn fast. Though I don't really understand why a fisherman is better than a wizard for such things. The gods, well, that's their business to pick and choose; I don't have much truck with them. When do we start ?"

He didn't have much doings with gods, for going to worship took time away from Fishing, and that was beyond all reason. Cussing, well, then the gods were convenient to recall, for purposes of blasphemy, a necessity for a fisherman. They might still exist, but were they concerned about one fisherman ? Probably not. Yet he did not question the Elf's words, because one didn't argue about religion - according to Old Nate, it was not a good thing to discuss.
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Post by Shaeliana »

Chuckling, the old elf shook his head. "Reading isn't a requirement and to a truth, I was expecting a mage, not a... fisherman," he eyed Dorian for a moment and sighed.

"There is some reason you were chosen while others... mages... were not and indeed we may never know why. However, you are here and there is no time to lose, we must start immediately though I must rethink the strategy. I had thought to have someone who already knew the basics of magicks," he rubbed his jaw, sat back and folded his arms over a narrow, frail looking chest.

"First, you must be able to see the stuff of magick for yourself," the elf began to explain. "Magick is merely the manipulation of the life force that flows through everything, but you cannot work with something you cannot detect. Close your eyes and settle your thoughts to a single focus, that being inside you. See if you can find your core, the center of who you are, the part from whence your life flows. I suspect you've seen this before perhaps in daydreams and the like. Each person sees it differently and there is no right or wrong way," he leaned forward, elbows perched precariously on skinny knees.

"Once you find it, tell me what you see," he advised.
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
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Dorian nodded. He had no trouble finding the core of himself; he wasn't a deep thinker, and he didn't lie, so there was no veil of illusion and misperception to be stripped away. No idle dreams or wishes, just the steadfast Drake way of life. He was simply Dorian Drake, settled fisherman, husband to Maranda, honest and forthright son of an honest, forthright man. He closed his eyes and devoted his attention to the matter.

"I see me," he said, after a moment of quiet consideration. "But I'm also a seal, and a man, at the same time." Looking much the way Dorian expected that he looked, also, not that Dorian would have been observant enough to notice that. The ripple of a changing tide, he would notice. That his hair was tousled, less likely. He watched the inner side of himself for a while, and the inner side of himself watched back, the shape that was two things at once, but never one or the other fully. Yet it was something he completely accepted.
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Post by Shaeliana »

"Good," the elder adhiel leaned back, placed his elbows on the arm of his chair and closed his eyes while Maranda sat watching both, eyes wide with awe.

"The stuff of life takes on different appearances outwardly, but inwardly all is energy. Much like the sea, energy moves in streams and not all move alike. Some energies ebb and flow much like the tides, others are more like the ever present currents moving at their own established pace that is only altered by the seasonal changes in temperature, slower in the cold of winter and faster in the heat of summer. Reach outside yourself to the energies around you, Dorian Drake son of Drake," the voice droned softly, hypnotically.

"I am channeling a stream of energy to surround you. I want you to attempt to divert that stream back from whence it came," he instructed quietly as a thin trickle of silvery light began to slowly shimmer and snake its way around the fisherman.

OOC: I don't know if you are interested in magic or not, Dorian. I was a bit surprised your PC agreed to undertake this, knowing how you are about "adventures". :) Some folks don't care for the mysticism and if you'd rather not delve into this... we can keep it simple and short. If you would like to explore the Selkie's magic side, we can do that as well. Just let me know. :D
[color=hotpink][i]The secret of success is sincerity. Once you can fake that you've got it made.
- Andolin
[/i][/color]
Guest

Post by Guest »

Tides and currents, that was something a fisherman understood, if he was any good at his craft. Water was the medium he worked to live, so he had learned its ways. But first, he studied it, in the slow careful way of a Drake.

The stuff was more viscous than water, and resisted being shoved, so he just channelled it and guided it as if it was a current and he was holding an oar along it. An oar was a simple tool, but Dorian knew how to use it, and applied it to turn the energy back. The stuff was sticky too, like the tar he used to seal up the seams in his boat, so there was only so much shoving one could do before it splattered and resisted. Patience had to be kept, and determination was very Drakeish. If this was how he would save the home he had, this was what he would learn.


OOC: I am sorry, I am not really interested in magic. I would appreciate it being kept simple and short. Adventures haven't played out too well for me in Tazlure, as a whole.
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