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Dead Leaves, New Seeds (Winston)

Posted: Thu May 30, 2024 10:45 pm
by Kasoria
Image


"It must be torture for you."

"Dun' start again."

"I'm just saying-"

"No-one ever 'jus' sez', s'like a fuckin' law a' nature."

"Not upset, are you, Kas?"

Kasoria reminded himself that killing the diplomat was absolutely, completely, irrevocably not an option. No matter how much provocation the bastard was giving him. Of course it wasn't really as bad as all that: he'd willpower to spare and had mastered the art of filtering out distracting annoyances long ago. But oh, oh how this fancy little shit was pushing his luck. And deservedly so, he almost thought! Two arcs ago the man was barely capable of meeting his gaze. Cowed and intimidated and stuttering his confusion when confronted by Kasoria, Great and Terrible Raggedy Man. Now the ambassador was sipping at his tea and needling him with a smirk plastered on his face, fearless and amused in equal measure.

I should be proud of the bastard.

"m'sure I'll get a chance anuvver trial."

"True, but not this one-"

"Aye, that's what fuckin' 'annuver' means."

"Temper, temper, Kas."

Kasoria took a deep, grateful inhale of the atmosphere and let the flavors replete ease his attitude a wee bit. Aside from the obvious, this place was a goldmine for teas, coffee, hot drinks of all kinds. He was sure there was food available, too, but didn't want to occupy his hands overmuch. But the sheer variety... it was intoxicating all by itself. Kasoria knew that was the intention, because beyond the beverages, there was "the obvious".

Books. Of all stripes and species'. In nooks and on tables and shelves and stuffed everywhere. Waiting for him.

Kasoria sighed again and remembered himself. Were he meeting with the Cadouri alone, he would indulge a book or three, maybe a drink or three... and a scone. But he was in an official capacity that trial. He was guardian and watcher, and everyone who got within knife-throwing range got the same flat, steady look from him. Along the same lines, no drink that could be poisoned, removing him from his role. No book that would distract him, although Fagan was likewise not bothering with a read while waiting.

Probably because he knew he could, and did not, whereas Kas could not, and wanted to even more. Refined sense of irony, did these pricks have.

Manclin hid a smile behind another sip and decided to let leave it there. Kasoria was finally coming back to himself, after all the trouble and tragedy with Maxine. For a while, the leader of the Etzori delegation feared he might not. Losing someone so close to him, practically his own flesh... it was terrible to see so ferocious a man stricken and lost. All he had was his duty, the muscle memory of murder, and even that frayed to the merest hair. But they had not given up on him, much to Kasoria's own shock. His countrymen, from jittery clerks to his handpicked killers, were there for him. Trials then tentrials then a whole season, and they'd coaxed him out of his funk.

It had been humbling, though the grouchy old fuck would never admit it. But Fagan Manclin was well-versed in seeing the unseen and unspoken in people, and he understood that-

"Ah!" He said suddenly, raising a hand and waving at a figure Kasoria had picked out a moment before, ducking and weaving around legs and chairs and tables. "Our visitor has come to rescue you, it seems."

Fine, maybe one more dig.

"My bloody hero."

"Such causticity, Kas. That means-"

"I know what it fuckin' means," Kasoria managed to growl, just before Winston reached them.

Re: Dead Leaves, New Seeds (Winston)

Posted: Mon Sep 16, 2024 10:43 am
by Winston
Image
High as a kite!

In the bustling Scholars' Nook library, Theodore "Flea" McNulty and Maz found themselves witness to a most peculiar spectacle. A ferret, seemingly
possessed by the spirit of flight itself
,
zipped through the air with reckless abandon
, leaving rainbow glitter in its wake as it seemed to propel itself with the power of air itself.

Flea, his eyes wide with a mixture of wonder and confusion, turned to Maz. "I say, my dear compatriot in literary servitude, do your ocular organs perceive the same aeronautical anomaly as mine? For it appears we are in the presence of a mustelid that has forsaken its natural terrestrial inclinations in favor of a more... shall we say, stratospheric lifestyle."

Maz, her brow furrowed, watched as the ferret narrowly missed a towering bookshelf. "Flea, I swear by the Great Tree, if you don't start speaking normally, I'll give you something to be verbose about. That flying ferret is making a right mess of things!"

The ferret looped around a chandelier, as it shot across the room like a pea from the straw of a child. Flea winched as the velicitouse creature barely managed to dodge another pile of books on it's way to the Immortals and Celestial Beings section.

"Ah, but Maz," Flea continued, undeterred, "is it not a marvel of mammalian mutation? A veritable violation of the very laws of nature that bind us mere mortals to the ground? One might even say it's a..."

"If you say 'evolution,' I swear I'll forget all about my meditation exercises," Maz growled, as she considered how to explain that Saiore's favorite ferret had been banned from a library.

The Cadouri, as if sensing the mounting tension, decided at that moment to divebomb the pair. Maz, her brawler's instincts kicking in, prepared to swat the creature out of the air.

"Wait!" Flea cried, his arms flailing in a manner not dissimilar to their airborne adversary. "Perhaps we could reason with our furry friend? Offer it a selection of our finest tomes on the art of proper ground-dwelling etiquette?"

Maz rolled her eyes. "Right, because nothing calms a crazed flying rodent like a good book. Got any titles in mind? 'The Grounded Gopher's Heavyweight Guide to Sitting'?"

As the ferret whizzed past once more, Flea's face lit up. "Actually, I believe I recall a fascinating volume on the migratory behaviour of birds in our Natural Sciences section. If you'd be so kind as to provide me with a boost, I could perhaps..."

His words were cut short as Maz grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down just as the ferret zoomed overhead, trailing a banner of loose papers in its wake.

"How about we focus on catching the little menace before it turns this place into kindling?" The woman suggested, her patience wearing thin. "I know he said he'd provide us with some writing equipment, but enough is enough."

''Writing equipment'? You underplay this arrangement my dear Maz. He's going to provide us with pens that write by THEMSELVES, Maz. Can you imagine?" The man insisted pleadingly.

The woman looked him squarely in the eyes as she replied. "Self-writing pens. Just what we need. More flying things to chase after. Look, we have to have some order or this place is going to the dogs. Do YOU want to re-alphabetize the Chronicles of Cassion's Passages through Idalos when he finally fails to evade the loose board on shelf D-14?"

Flea nodded, a bit sheepish. "Quite right, quite right. Though I must say, this whole affair does bring to mind a rather amusing anecdote about a flying fish I once encountered in a particularly lively dream. You see, it was wearing the most darling pair of spectacles and..."

As Flea rambled on, Maz sighed deeply, wondering if perhaps she should have paid more attention during those meditation lessons after all. The ferret, meanwhile, continued its aerial acrobatics, blissfully unaware of the havoc it was wreaking on both the library and its keepers' sanity.

"Winston...!" She demanded finally before remembering herself for a moment, reluctantly adjusting her tone. "Mr Miller. I'm going to have to insist you stop flying. This is, as of this trial, a strictly no high speed flight zone." She insisted, without a single ounce of irony.

Winston spun around a look of desperation on his face at the idea that he'd have to just WALK from one shelf to the next as
Smokie
followed him. "Uh... Oh... Yus... Af carse..." He began to drift towards the floor, a little deflated. "Sarry. Yus, me will try tuh keep me feet an de ground far naw." He replied, apologetically with a cheeky little grin.

Flea let out a little sigh. "Awwww... You made it saaad." He complained as they watched the ferret scamper off towards a table with some foriegn-looking people sitting at it.

"Better sad then slippers." She replied with a sharp smile, much to the mans playful shock.

Meanwhile, the ferret had spotted his companions-to-be, seted and apparently bereft of reading material in this cornucopia of the written word. Smokie was trailing behind him, with a tower of books, selected by the Cadouri, from the library's volumes.

"Yay! Mr Mancline Sir, can me call yuh 'Mannie'? Masta Kasoria Sir, me 'ope yhu don't mind me callin' yuh masta, afta all, nat lang naw an we'll be masta an' student." He said with an excited squeek whether that prospect seemed appealing to the mage or not.

Winston reached the table and floating up and onto the table-top, leaving a little trail of rainbow-coloured glitter and a puff of air as he did. At this range, ti was clear to see he had some kind of armour attached to his hips, thighs and hands. They were delicately designed and gave off little puffs of air that maneuvered him around until he pressed a button and dropped firmly to the table's surface again.

"Et's soh gud tuh see yuh again... Dis place es AMAZING..." The word 'amazing' was spoken the way a child might grind out the words through the gritted teeth on the night before Zielmas. "...me simply cannat believe me didn't even know et existed. Saiore es soh cheeky some times, esn't she? Did yuh know yhu cun jost SWAP books far odda books! An my cun jost take cappies." He whipped a pen from his cap and let it loose into the air, channeling just a little ethar into it to activate it. "Me 'ope yuh don't mind ef me take some notes while we talk. Me just gat tuh write down de books me need." He suddenly looked a little dejected as the pen began to write all of its own accord. "Dem wud only let me choose 5 books. FIVE?" He said gesturing to the area around them as if such a thing was an impossible choice.

"Me 'ope yuh are all well?" He said to them all, managing to make them all feel both individually valued by what was a collective question. "Yuh don't want any books? Me share dem gat some really gud ones far yuh! Per'aps sometin'... Oh! Me did find dis one..." He said as he gesture for Smokie to hand over a descrete volume to the bodyguard. The title read "Cursing Without Borders: A Globe-Trotter's Guide to Colorful Profanity". If the ferret's body language was to be believed, he was not mocking the mage and hoped quite genuinely that Kas might find it an entertaining read. "Et's gat an entire chapta an de correct use af... Uhhh..." He glanced at the diplomat, suddenly remembering why they were there. His voice dropped to a bit of a whisper. "...page thirty seven." He concluded with a sage nod of recommendation.

Finally he addressed the diplomat directly again. "Es Scalvoris treatin' yuh well?"

Re: Dead Leaves, New Seeds (Winston)

Posted: Sun Oct 27, 2024 12:52 pm
by Kasoria
Image
It was difficult not to be enchanted by the Cadouri. Much as Kasoria tried tor resist, whenever they met.

It wasn't difficult for him to maintain a fundamentally negative opinion of the world. He was a part of why it was thus, after all. The circles he moved in, the work he specialized in, the company he kept... with few exceptions, they were men as amoral and driven as he. Guided either by ravenous self-interest or ironclad belief (both were equally destructive, in his experience; it all depended on how they were directed). The last couple of arcs had put him into contact with the Great and Good of Idalos, to a degree, and his opinion had not changed much. Selfishness and hidden agendas were the same no matter the language or terrain. If anything the delegation had only confirmed what he'd already suspected.

All are false. All deceive. All are enemies in the making, no matter the friendly words of totrial.

And then... there was the Cadouri. Whom he was still struggling to figure out and, he suspected with greater worry every time they met, was completely sincere.

How the fuck has he lasted so long?

He still smiled as he shook his head; what else could one do, seeing a tiny ferret in a jacket and goggles, floating through the air and yammering away like he was taking a morning stroll? The bodyguard remained silent as Winston got comfortable, nattering and badgering (wonder if he takes issue with that word?) in his usual breathless fashion. It seemed to Kasoria as if there was just too much in the ferret's head, all the time, and he struggled to get it out. Some of it came out in his inventions, the rest was in words... but it was never empty for long. He took the proffered book and flipped to the page in question, out of curiosity...

"... huh. Always wondered how t'say dat properly."

"Yes... well..." Fagan Manclin said, universal words of awkwardness paired with the equally universal Throat Clearing. He had been worried the Cadouri's innocuous question would dredge up some bad memories for Kas, but apparently the Raggedy Man had been disarmed by their visitor's manner. "I look forward to going over our literary tastes later, but to answer your question, Scalvoris has certainly been... eventful, for us. And this locale is one of many surprises!"

Kasoria listened without truly hearing. Focusing on the area around the table. Marking everyone who drifted into a circle he'd marked out in his mind. Eyes drifting back to the Cadouri and his ostensible master over and over again. Once the formalities and logistical questions had been concluded - taking the Cadour's whole laboratory and his workforce to a new continent was hardly a swift nor simple move - he sensed the shift in Manclin's attention, and looked sharply at him.

"I believe you had something to add, Kas...?"

The Raggedy Man drained the rest of his tea and reclined a little in his seat. Regarding the Cadouri like some shaggy old wolf, just as hairy, eyes black as coals and burning with something between curiosity, amusement, and hunger. He was here as more than protection that trial. Winston's accompanything them was contingent on education, not just trifling payment in gold or even favor with the High Council.

"How far along in yer Sovereign studies are yeh? I kow youse can... imbue, yer makins wiv' the stuff, but I mean youse. How's yer castin'?"

Re: Dead Leaves, New Seeds (Winston)

Posted: Sun Oct 27, 2024 4:32 pm
by Winston
Image
Me? Cast? Nope!

Winston was not mean or unkind, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he did have a mischievous streak that often got him into trouble; trouble that his boundless charm would usually get him out of again. It was however the main reason he'd moved out of the city... On account of the local gard having very poor senses of humor.

It was as such, he grinned with mild amusement as Fagan stumbled through the delicate politics of avoiding the topic of the book. It was not that he enjoyed seeing people uncomfortable. It was more that he enjoyed getting away with being cheeky for the sake of fun... and rude words were certainly 'fun'.

"Hehe, yuh cun say dat again. Me come fram a realm entirly made af de dreams af de imartal and the peopal dat live in et an' me never seen soh much craziness as when me first came tuh Idalas." He shared with quite genuine sentiment. "Yuh know, dis one time me wus invited by fairies tuh pick blackberries, see..?" He began, as he went into a story of misrepresentation, food and shenanigans, holding back the final reveal about the blackberry until the very end. "...turned out, de blackberry wus an actual PERSAN! Nat a friut!" He slapped his knee, apparently still quite tickled by this fact even now.

As the diplomat handed over to his cohort and the gaze of what Winston rather felt more like a wolf might give it's prey, he paused and looked curiously at the man.

The idea that he was in any danger didn't really occur to him, as they sat in the bussy public place, but even so, he had to suppress the urge to avoid the man's gaze as they waited for what he would say.

The ferret squinted at the mage, trying to decide if he was hungry or stumped...

"Oh? Me cannat cast." He replied, as if that was never an option. "Me cun only craft... imbue, yeah. Me managed tuh create dese gantlets dat cun use Reach, see? Bot Animate... Whaoh, det's still nat gan well when me tried soh far... bot don't worry..." He began to add swiftly, just in case the two began to doubt the arrangement. "Et's bot an glyph, a few draps af blood an' an explosion ar' two away an' we will be right dere." He insisted with determination. "Angela (me dattah) tells me dat Alchemy does not 'AVE tuh include exploshun. Buy yuh know, dat's nat been my experience af et. No sir. Bot she's adamant..." He shook his head slowly as he realised that he'd wandered from the topic somewhat and quickly set it back on track.

He looked back at the Raggedy Man with an apologetic shrug. "Bot noh, casting es nat a ting me cun doh. Me only eva been able to work magic intuh tings. Me nat sure why. Might be sometin' tuh do wid nat 'aving a spark? Ar per'aps de way me applied me first Well tuh get Sovereign... Dat wus quite de encounta, let me tell YUH. Wus nat expectin' tuh need tuh do dat en soch a 'urry... Bot et all worked out in de end. Mar ar less." He concluded, in such a way that suggested there was a chance, just a chance that some foreplanning might have been beneficial in the proceedings that lead up to his acquisition of magic. "Maby yuh cun tell?" He said, suddenly quite excited that the mage might be able to see things he could not.

Standing up on the table, he held himself in a prostate fashion, arms outstretched as if to be inspected. "Cun yuh..? See anythin' me mean?" His hopeful little whiskers twitched as he looked up at the mage.
Winston's casting
This is a self-imposed limitation I have placed on Winston as a Player because it's more enjoyable for me personally not to simply be casting things and instead for him to have to craft items that then do it for him. :-)

As such, I'm not looking to 'solve' this limitation and the lore reasons behind WHY it might be so are undefined.

Please feel free to continue, describe things etc. and play it out (I'm not sure what your intention is :-)) but Winston will not be gaining the ability to simply cast. I plan for him to apply Abrogation when the time comes by using a form of circle magic, drawing circles around himself etc. to 'cast' the magic. Again, becuase this theamatically tickles my fanciful narratives. :-)

Finally though, feel free to challenge that IC, of course! :-) I'm just giving you the OOC info.

Re: Dead Leaves, New Seeds (Winston)

Posted: Wed Nov 06, 2024 4:24 pm
by Kasoria
Image
Kasoria's frown deepened as the Cadouri explained his limitations. Which was all he could think to call it. To have magic in you but not be able to cast it? Well, not in the way he was familiar with, anyway. Then again, he was familiar with Transmutation, and Hone. These were magics that didn't require flashy displays of power, hand-waving and commands barked into the air. They were expressed and cast through touch, and the mental intent shaping ether into a result. As far as he knew, Hone was practically invisible, until you stepped or touched or clanged against something marked by one who had carved the runes upon it.

Not Sovereign, though. That beastie wants to soar, wants to fly, wants to move.

"So... wadaya expect me t'help yeh with, den?"

That thought brought a new question to mind, and he asked it as Fagan Manclin decided to go over a few loose ends, parchment-wise. There was an endless array of issues to be handled, and as a lifelong bureaucrat he saw this as both burden and duty. Winston's offer to them would make shorter work of their return journey, though, so several trees-worth of paperwork could be happily forgotten. Yet there were still an ocean of memoranda, licensing forms, treaty-duplicates, trade agreements, and other, more empyreal notes of confidence and support he needed to organize. By his reckoning, they would be standing before the High Council by the end of the ten-trial. Two arcs of wandering and finagling and politicking needed to be ready for presentation.

And the rewards ready to be reaped, he added to himself, smiling softly as he dipped a quill in a nearby inkpot. This place really did think of everything.

Kasoria studied the Cadouri's paws, looking for any sign of witchmark or mutation. His own glove hands covered two of his own: the stars on his palms and the closed eyes sunk into the back of them both. He'd long since decided discretion was the better part of... well, discretion, and opted to leave them a mystery to all but him, and The Band. Especially since his newest mutation sent electric arcs crackling up his fingers every break or so.

But the ferret's own paws were... bare. They were furry and hairy, of course, but even his sharp eyes could see no trace of mutation marks. Just a handful of scars likely caused by an experiment gone awry, or faded back even more to reveal a juvenile accident. Kasoria kept the frown on his face. He knew the Cadouri could use magic. Yet while it was inside him, it was almost as if he had... caught it, like an infection, rather than bonding with the ether of another and birthing a Spark into the bargain. He shook his head and let the little hands go.

"So, do yeh have a Spark? Some... force, in yeh, when yeh use magic?" Then he blinked and cocked his head to one side. Remembering some fragment of jabbering that only now returned clamoring to the front of his mind. "'ang on... you come from where?"