Playing to the Deaf

[Woe]

Date: 12th of Cylus of the 717th Arc

Bard's Corner

There were places for Bards to play all over the city, even in Low-town. Woe heard the very poorest and least skilled of the buskers sing for their supper just blocks away from his house at one of the assigned Bard's Corners. Of course, he didn't bother entertaining that block this time. He was in the mood for a more relaxing time than the previous trials had afforded him. From getting tarred and feathered by a pack of wild children, to trying to pry a snake off of its potential lunch. Woe decided he'd had enough to walking through the thick of Low-Town on his way back from whatever business took him out of there. He preferred the outskirts of the wall, which could be more easily navigated back to his home.

Just about six blocks from Warrick's Watch and the gates of the city, within the outer perimeter of Mid-town, one of the more traveled bard's corners stood. There was nothing special about it at first glance. Just a small raised dias raised above the rest of the street, for buskers, singers, and poets to ply their trade in hopes of garnering some attention from those carrying coin or other goods to drop at their feet.

A lutist played but didn't yet sing at this corner. Woe stopped when he saw the musician, and listened for a while. After a few breaks of music, he said to the person next to him, genuinely deaf to the virtuosity of the notes being played, "Is this bard any good? I don't have much of an ear for music myself. There ought to be more storytellers at this corner."

[Doran]

Doran had just returned from Hannah Yavich’ herbal shop where he had gathered information regarding certain substances as well as placed an order for a few rare alchemical ingredients. There were certain potions that he needed to make before he began to execute the next step of his plan that would involve a visit to the City of Stones as well as an island that floated in the sky high above Rynmere, Haakon’s Isle, the home of the Forsaken of the Stars.

He was near the edge of Mid-town as the music reached his ears, a somewhat melancholic lute melody that reminded him of his childhood, almost four centuries before. His mother who was long dead now had sometimes played the lute. She had said that the music helped her calm down and relax, that it helped her forget. She had been a diplomat in the service of the king, and she had experienced some of the horrors of war firsthand.

Sometimes he wondered what she would think of him if she could see him now and if she would understand why he had had to do what he had done. She had always been somewhat blinded by her love for his father, the Immortal of Winter even though he had left her like he had left all the women that had come before or after her. He found that hard to comprehend.

He approached the musician despite the fact that he was somewhat pressed for time – there was a fellow alchemist that he needed to consult before the trial was over - and stood there for a few bits, listening. It was cold, as it always was in Cylus due to the absence of all sunlight, but despite the fact that he was freezing slightly he held himself completely straight.

As the man next to him addressed him, he raised an eyebrow – he had not expected anybody to try and engage him in conversation - before he answered in a somewhat cool tone, “He is better than a lot of others, although his style is somewhat old-fashioned. As for storytellers, I have little love for them. They have a tendency to stretch the truth or lie to their audience. The other trial I heard somebody claim that he had stood on the battlefield in Oscillus and single-handedly decided the outcome of the war.”

“Tell me though”, he continued and turned around to face the other man. “Why does somebody that claims not to have much of an ear for music listen to a bard?” As he awaited the man’s answer, he studied him closely. There were several things about Woe that caught his attention, the brand on his cheek and his relative thinness that hinted at a hard life and the strange necklace that he wore that made him think of a certain Immortal. He decided that it would be a good idea to try and find out more about him then. Maybe there was something to be gained from the encounter. The alchemist would have to wait.

[Woe]

OOC

Still open if anyone wants to hop in. Just wanted to post a quick follow-up for Doran.

The notes played dully on the air, to Woe's ears. If there were lyrics or poetry being read alongside the bard's music, he wouldn't have cause to complain. He wasn't totally tone-deaf, mind. He could tell the bard's song was meant to be mournful, which was reflective of the dark, sleepy season of things losing their lives. Perhaps the bard always played such songs, this was certainly as appropriate to war-torn Rynmere in this season as any other. Woe's ears weren't skilled when it came to critiquing music. He had a preference for words.

As to storytellers, which the stranger gave his opinion on, "Well, that's the difference between good and bad ones. The unimaginative and unconvincing ones can be terrible, as per your example. The good ones mix some truth between their exaggerations and invented facts. It's also important to face your audience, and try to guess what they will accept as true if you can't shock them into silence. Of course, you can't please everybody when it comes to that sort of art, but there are many gullible people." As a proponent of the soft science of psychology, perhaps Woe was better qualified than some to comment on storytelling. At least he liked to think so. Maybe he was just deceiving himself.

When asked why he personally stopped for a few moments to listen to the music, he shrugged. "I was a bit bored, and hoping someone like a jester or mummer's group would take his place and give us a real show, but I suppose that's what the theatre is for. Unfortunately I couldn't afford to get into the playing house. That right is reserved for those more influential, powerful, and rich than myself. Not that I'm complaining. Those who take on the bulk of risks in society should reap its rewards, I suppose."

He turned to meet the man's eyes and nodded swiftly, offering his hand to shake, "I'm Woe, by the way."

[Doran]

“That is true“, Doran agreed as Woe stated that there were many gullible people. In the time that he had walked the world of Idalos he had found an astonishingy large number of people that were incapable of independent thought - or perhaps unwilling to think for themselves. They believed what they were told, they were comfortable with information from a second-hand source for the most part and adored those that fed them lies, from the bards and storytellers to the Immortals that sent thousands of them to a frozen wasteland to die, claiming that they did such for the greater good and because they cared about them.

“I prefer to get my information straight from the source though rather than listening to somebody that tells stories at a street corner, although I have to admit that some of those people do have talent”, he continued before he looked at Woe once more, considering him.

“And what about you?” he asked. “Are you one of those that believe the words of a bard – or another person with a talent for telling stories and manipulating the masses – or do you prefer to find out the truth yourself?”

He found Woe’s statement that the threatre was for the rich to be somewhat odd. Tickets were not that expensive. The man had to be even poorer than he had thought which made him wonder if associating with him would really be worthwhile. But then again, money and appearance weren’t everything. Besides, the man seemed to be comparatively intelligent, especially for somebody that might have been somebody’s possession only a short while before.

“If you want to visit the theatre”, he thus spoke. “I might be willing to arrange something for you. I’m a professor at the university here. Money is not much of an issue for me”, he explained. “In return I would like to hear your story and how you acquired this necklace though.”

He had finally realized exactly which Immortal it reminded him of – Sintra, the Immortal of Manipulation, Entrapment and Arachnids. Was it coincidence or was the man one of her servants, with a strange and somewhat risky penchant for displaying the symbol of his faith openly? And would he admit the truth if he asked him about it?

“You may call me Doran”, he replied as the man introduced himself and shook his hand nearly without hesitation. He decided that there was no harm in telling him his real name – or at least the name that he currently went by. His role in the war that had taken place so many miles away had not become common knowledge yet and maybe never would. Most in Rynmere, apart from an Eidisi that had joined him on the battlefield, only knew him as a professor of chemistry and former soldier from Ne’haer and had no idea where his real allegiances lay. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Having said that, he withdrew his hand again. The human would notice that he wore gloves made of fine leather and a suit of coal and crimson that was comparatively elegant and supported his claim that he was a professor and well off financially.

“Why were you named Woe by the way, if you don’t mind the question?” he asked. “It seems strange that a mother would give her son such dark and ominous name.”

[Woe]

"The truth?" Woe pondered the question a moment. It was a difficult one, because people in general had all kinds of obtuse thoughts, feelings, and answers toward what they believed to be true. It wasn't a phenomenon limited to priests, who believed their dogmatic rites, texts, and inherited ideas held the truth. Or to academics, who believed empirical observations led them to the truth. Then there were the sheep and gnats, who believed the truth behind whatever they happened to believe was self-evident in all the cozy warmth of everyday moments. "I don't think one person, if they held the truth in their hand as an object, could get every angle on it. You can try and find the most flattering viewpoint, or the most revealing one. Although whatever angle I take from it, whatever is learned from that perspective is seen through one lens. I don't think the truth is for one person, but for many people to yell at each other about their own angle on it. And believing nothing of what the others say, because it isn't what they see."

"I suppose you're right about going near the source of the fact. It's appearance changes ever so slightly as it goes along from ear and eye to mouth and again. But even then, you're putting your faith in your own bias, which for all anyone knows is as skewed and tainted as the source. One can rely on witnessing something first hand, but will we know better for having heard it from the horse's mouth? Or does the horse's tongue lie as well as our ears?" He probably sounded like a madman at this point, so Woe stopped talking about the truth. He could get lost in thought about such things.

When the man mentioned a trip to the theatre, Woe did perk up a bit. He had little in the way of resources, it was true. As a slave, taking into account that he'd earned 100 golden nels in ten years before being granted full autonomy, he'd have to have saved for almost five seasons just to afford seating in the regular seating at that pace.

But as it was, he was a free man and a jailer now, the situation was turned around though not completely, "It would take me four days or so to come up with the funds for admission and regular seating at the house. I just started a job at the Dungeons as an assistant to the jailers and interrogators there, you see. But I expect I'll be able to afford it eventually, at least I hope. As for your offer..." Woe smiled in gratefully. "Well I already told you I'm a jailer, and you can tell from the brand on my cheek that I'm a former slave. I'll spare you my life story for now, unless you want to freeze your ears off out here while we listen to this nancy pluck strings and moan wordlessly."

He then looked down his neck at the chain and pendant around it, not expecting that the man would show an interest in that small trifle. "About the necklace, suffice to say I tried to give it to a girl I fancied back when I was still a slave. I don't know whether it was for the fact that the necklace was bronze, or because I was a slave, but she refused. I only keep it because I like to be reminded of my failures for future reference." The story was true, but not complete. He had tried to give it to a girl he liked back when he was fifteen, but the token came from his former master.

The only reason he had it now was because Erastus had given it to him on leaving his service. Whether to remind Woe of his allegiance or else his failure to manipulate another, or some other entirely unfathomable reason. He couldn't say, and neither could Erastus. Webspinners were very tight-lipped about their reasons, although Woe preferred to be more open about what he could afford to tell, just for the sake of appearing to be an open book. It was probably an ill-crafted lie, given he was better practiced at telling why someone would lie rather than telling lies himself. "Now, I'll be wanting a box seat. That's where the real show is. The commons get to be a part of the show at times, but you get the best angle from above. You know, when the mummers can be seen better as they involve the audience, as the best one's often do."

He glanced at where the bard was still singing, and sighed, "Sometimes you see them set up makeshift stages in warmer weather and better lighting around these corners or in the Carnival grounds, and they pull a deus ex machina to end the play once they've decided they've had enough contributions from their lookers-on. Nobody with any sense likes to be a mummer's fool, standing in the commons. But I only jest, I couldn't impose on your generosity. And to be fair, I didn't tell you everything about the necklace, so you're under no obligation to give me anything."

Then the man introduced himself, taking Woe's hand and shaking it, "Well met, Doran. Pleasure is all mine. We can take this meeting someplace more agreeable, if you'd like. I have a house not too far from here. Although it's hardly suited to entertain a man of your obvious wealth, there's a fire with fuel to feed it and walls to keep the cold out."

"Well, I can't say my mother named me Woe, because I never knew her. I don't believe she's dead, but was very poor and forced to sell me into slavery. Luckily I ended up with a kinder master than some. Of course, no master is kind all the time, but perhaps he took a shine to me. It wasn't all bad. I think it was him that named me Woe, though I never asked. I just took it for granted that that's what people called me, so it became my name." He twisted his mouth a bit as he thought about it, "Kind of a silly name, and I got grief for going by it from many people. I might've changed it later when I earned my freedom, but a man that gives way for what people call him, will give way for most anything, I believe."

Whether Doran agreed to accompany him anywhere, Woe would ask him, "Well you know quite a lot more about me, I suspect, than I know about you. I know I'm hardly in a position to give you anything in return for information, but what can you tell me about you? What do you teach at the University?" Woe didn't know much about anyone, even in Rynmere, not knowing the name of the King himself. He'd been sheltered most of his life in a way, taken with work most days and study in his idle time.

[Doran]

“I agree, almost everybody has their own truth”, the Mortalborn replied. He was somewhat surprised by the turn their conversation was taking. It greatly reminded him of a meeting with a painter and former courtesan named Yrmellyn Cole a few seasons earlier that had turned into a discussion about good and evil and the intricacies of human nature. It cemented his belief that social standing only had a minor influence on traits such as intelligence and the ability to see below the surface at the best of times.

“There is not just one way to see the world and live your life – where the mind and the soul are concerned, there are very few absolutes – but there are some things that only have one truth. Science is, at its heart, objective and unbiased and follows clear rules that cannot be bent or changed, no matter what some people claim”, he continued, recalling the arguments that he had had with certain colleagues of his with some measure of contempt. There were some people that still insisted that the world was flat and not a disk, despite the discovery that Helia Veke had made almost a century before and even denied the existence of gravity.

“As for one’s own bias”, he spoke and inclined his head a fraction. “Of course. Everybody – even an Immortal – is biased, no matter what they say. But I do at least know myself. I’m familiar with my own way to perceive the world and those around me, skewed as it might be, and thus I tend to trust myself more than a stranger.”

He had to. He had to trust himself and believe that he was doing the right thing or that it was at least better than the alternative, that Xiur had had to fall and that he had had to ally himself with Syroa. For a moment he was extremely aware of her mark and how she had changed him, but then he was confident that it had been the only way again. He rarely questioned the decisions he had made for a longer amount of time these trials.

So Woe was a jailer and interrogator. That revelation surprised him – he had not thought that a former slave, a man that had likely been treated like an object would have such a violent job - but he did not show it. The expression on his face remained one of careful neutrality. The story that the man told him – that the necklace was nothing but a reminder of past failures – didn’t satisfy him in the least. He almost called him on his lie and asked him if he worshipped Sintra and Labrae, but what were the chances that he would admit it? He needed to know though. He needed to know who the players in this game were and be aware of all the factors that could possibly influence his plans.

There was only one way to find out who he was dealing with for sure, but if he touched Woe and read his mind now it would seem strange and might make him suspicious. He needed to wait, for another handshake or an exchange of items, money or the theatre ticket that the man was so keen on.

“You will get your box seat”, he assured him. “I made a promise, and I intend to keep it, no matter if you told me everything or not.” He found it strange and somewhat illogical that Woe admitted that he hadn’t been telling the whole story. If you wanted people to believe your lie it was best not to admit that you were keeping things from them. Was the man not as intelligent as he had thought after all or merely inexperienced?

He furrowed his brow as Woe told him how he had received his name and that his former master had taken a shine to him. That could be interpreted in a number of different ways, some of them rather unpleasant and questionable in the eyes of man and the law.

“I teach chemistry and alchemy most of the time as you have likely already guessed by my remark about the objectivity of science”, he informed him as he asked. What followed was the story that he had told everybody he had met so far. Nobody knew the truth about him these trials, apart from Syroa and the Immortal that had sired him.

“Before that I was a warrior, a soldier in a service of a city that you may never have heard of. I left in favour of academic pursuits. I’m afraid there are no great tragedies in my past unless you count a father that was absent for most of my life. My mother’s family were comparatively well off though and I was never wanting for anything.” If Woe listened closely he would notice that the tone of Doran’s voice grew sharper as he mentioned his father, a sign that his absence had affected him more than he wanted to admit, although the expression on his face changed very little.

That was the thing that he disliked the most about his existence, that he was just one of many bastards of Ziell, the Immortal of Peace, when he could have been so much more. In his opinion he was at least as deserving of worship as his father, despite his impure blood, perhaps even more so. He had risked his life on the battlefield while Ziell had remained at home where he would be safe, and he had done what no man before him had dared to do.

He looked at Woe intently for a moment as the man invited him into his own home, wondering if his intentions were genuine, before he replied, “Thank you for the invitation, Woe, but I’d hate to impose on your hospitality. Let me invite you into a tavern where we can share a glass of wine or two and continue our discussion instead.”

[Woe]

It was a laborious, though interesting conversation to be having in the current weather. It was freezing. So when Doran said he'd prefer to find a tavern or Inn, Woe was inclined to agree. He didn't have any refreshment to offer the man at his house, anyway. "Ye Olde Inn isn't too far from here." That was to say, they weren't on top of the Inn, but it was close enough that they could walk without developing frostbite.

The Bard left the street corner, going off to spend his gains on the brothel or some other place. Nobody seemed keen to take his place at the corner. Thus it seemed like the best chance to move on. The crowd, in the meanwhile, began to disperse.

Woe nodded and led him along the streets, heading up toward Midtown. He walked mainly in silence. Eventually they arrived outside a large establishment that rose several stories. It was an Inn mainly, but they did serve residents food and drink. Not the typical tavern environment, but the people frequenting it weren't of ill-repute as other establishments.

Rorom found a place in the middle of the room, and sat, gesturing for Doran to take a seat. "So, what shall we talk about? Alchemy must be an interesting discipline. How long have you been teaching it?" Woe stepped over the man's mention of participating in wars, thinking that it might've been a sore subject. But if Doran wanted to talk about it, he wasn't opposed.

Woe wasn't wearing any gloves, so if Doran wanted to get contact with him that likely would've been the best opportunity.

OOC

Another player has requested to join. Just thought I should let you know, Doran.

[Doran]

“Let us go there then“, the Mortalborn replied as Woe informed him that Ye Olde Inn wasn’t too far. It wasn’t one of the places that he usually frequented, but it would be more than adequate for what he had in mind – although he couldn’t help but wonder about the name. It was rather bland, besides Ye Olde Inn probably wasn’t the only old inn in Andaris. The proprietor, he decided, was probably uneducated, uncreative or both.

He took off his coat and draped it across the back of the chair next to Woe’s before he sat down as well. He didn’t slouch, but sat with his back completely straight. Posture and good manners were important to the Mortalborn, as much as to any nobleman in Rynmere. “Alchemy is interesting”, he agreed. “But dangerous at the same time, especially once you begin to handle explosives or magical reagents. I have only been teaching it for a few arcs. If you have any specific questions about it, let me know.”

Having said that, he paused for a moment to order a drink, a glass of Acripae. “If you would like to drink anything, please let me know”, he informed Woe and took a sip before he continued, “There’s something else that I wanted to talk about besides our respective jobs. I found your outlook on life and the way you see the world rather interesting. I had certainly not expected to have a philosophical discussion with a jailer. Tell me, how did you acquire such a worldview?”

“By the way”, he added and reached for his purse. “I promised you a theatre ticket. I don’t know if I’ll make it to the theatre on time today, besides you may not like the play I’d buy you a ticket for. As far as I remember the most expensive seats cost ten golden nels.” Without further ado he handed Woe the aforementioned amount of money. As he did so, his hand would brush against the mortal’s, briefly so as to not seem odd and make Woe suspicious, but hopefully long enough to reveal at least something about the man’s past.

[Mikhael]

Leaning against a wall, hands in his pockets, Mikhael would be watching the people of the inn chatter and cheer around him. Most of the time, someone would look suspicious just hanging around, but the gentle smile and occasional conversation made him seem more like a guy waiting for someone to arrive. In truth, the Hatchling was on a mission for information. Though people watching was a fun pastime, figuring out how to get closer to completing his final test was much more important.

When the former slave and the professor walked in to the tavern area, the late teen was distracted by a few folks holding a toast in Illaren's name. But when his blues caught the slight glimmer of Woe's necklace, he would immediately perk up and do his best to discretely watch the two. His posture would shift from a slouch to standing up straight, his hands fidgeting at his sides. Whether he was noticed or not wouldn't matter- the man was too busy formulating a quick way to insert himself into the conversation and figure out if one-- or both-- were fellow Webspinners.

Finally, he would lift himself up from the wall and casually stride over to the two. Bits and pieces of their conversation were easier to make out as he closed the gap, though he still had no idea how the two knew each other. Filling his own head with pleasant thoughts, Mikhael would put his hand on the table. It was difficult not to be rude in this sort of situation.

"Hey, I've never seen a freed slave 'round here before," He remarked, looking at Woe. Doing his best to keep his eyes off the necklace, his eyes would crinkle in a coy smile. Though his gaze would briefly flash to Doran, his main focus was to watch the other man's reactions to his flirtatious tone. "You look like you're good with your tongue. Mind if I join you guys?"

ooc

Sorry it took me so long to post here!

[Woe]

The ex-slave removed his gloves and cloak as he entered the tavern, draping them over the back of the seat he took near the other man.

Woe nodded to Doran's statements about alchemy. "I just wondered if there were any potions or items that could alter a person's behavior, or make them more or less truthful. That kind of skill might be useful to some of the senior jailers. I may consider taking a course there if I ever manage to scrap together the coin."


When Doran drilled Woe about his worldview, he wondered for a moment, then replied, "A very broad question, perhaps there's one thing in particular you'd like clarity on? I suppose it all comes from my upbringing as a house slave and eventual freedom? But I suspect you want a less vague answer than that. Alright, I'll try: Being a house slave, I'm find I'm still very naive about the world perhaps, and freedom has given me some pause to reconsider my position on various outlooks on life. I try to keep an open mind. That's the best answer I can give to a question that isn't specifically targetted toward anything in particular."

Woe nodded at Doran's offer of a drink, and then asked the server for a mug of ale. He would've been happy with water, but that was more likely to get him knocked out than not. "Yes, you're right about the ten nels for box seats, but there's also a charge of three for admission, if I'm not mistaken." He said, taking the professor's money as he offered it.

If the man indeed had a talent for uncovering memories, he was treated to one as his fingers grazed the palms of Woe's outstretched hand. He saw through what he might've presumed were the younger man's eyes. They were in the middle of a dingy room, cobbled with rough stone and mortar. It was dark in the daylight in there, with a small ray of light shining through a tiny window.

The master had just lectured him his words dripping with mockery. Woe could feel his cheeks burn as the master's wife tittered at his misfortune, she standing nearby to him. "You've learned a valuable lesson today, child. Let that necklace be a reminder of your failure to Sintra, AND Labrae."

He, Woe that is, stormed away from the duo, making his way down the halls and into his own dormitory, slamming the door behind him. That done, he sighed, and sulked toward the seat that he knew was at the other end of the wall despite the relative darkness. It was then he heard the cry of a trio of crows, at the window. He turned to look at them, and they him. He turned to look at the opposite wall to see two jewel-like red eyes glowing in the darkness. Then the memory ended as Doran removed his fingers from Woe's palm.

Woe felt strange then, but didn't suspect anything. It was then that he noticed a man standing next to them, and took careful note of his words. Tongue? The man looked at the necklace around his shoulders. Woe really had to stop wearing it out. He wasn't a slave anymore, and perhaps he needn't a reminder of his failure. Did this man know anything about Lethroda, was that what his cryptic remark referred to? He almost didn't want to consider the alternative meanings. Woe was stricken silent, both by the tongue remark and being called a freed slave, and looked questioning at Doran. He'd allow the other man decide whether to let this newcomer sit at their table.