Knowing

Shops, street merchants, taverns, brothels and inns situated along the busy Main Street that runs through the middle of the city.
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Alyson Rolfe
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Knowing

Post by Alyson Rolfe » Tue Aug 17, 2010 8:26 pm

Continued from http://www.tharshaddin.com/rp/viewtopic ... 375#p25375

Spring, 122 PW

It had been a long day, and despite Alyson’s fear of the dark visions her mind reproduced she managed to sleep – albeit fitfully – through the night. Just as dawn broke across the horizon Alyson awoke fully, at least somewhat rested and timidly ready to face another day of “freedom”.

After washing and dressing Alyson sat on a small stool before an ornate mirror and table. She barely recognized herself… a clean, well-dressed, young woman who should not have had a care in the world, yet with eyes that spoke volumes beyond their years. It would seem, Alyson mused, that though she could bathe, change her clothing, and in all appearance seem a gentle-woman, it did not change who she was. She wondered if she would ever see herself as anything more than a homeless, family-less, waif.

Alyson had decided to spend the morning looking for Metarie. The woman had mentioned being at the hospital often – which would make her search much easier. Even though she no longer had any financial needs, Alyson still needed to find something to do other than sit alone in her room at the inn. Also… Metarie might be able to help Alyson figure out why she experienced unusual “feelings” around certain people or things. Perhaps there was some medical reason for it…

Opening the door to her room, Alyson started to walk out when she stopped abruptly, her eyes wide with alarm. There was a man there waiting for her. Completely forgetting Bela’s promise of a protector, the young woman could only mumble, “Wh…who are you?”

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Metarie
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Re: Knowing

Post by Metarie » Sat Aug 28, 2010 4:54 am

Dinner together had been nonexistent. She’d eaten alone, left to her thoughts about the two girls, what she’d felt in Shim – especially the graveyard, and about Camulous. The next day brought the return to her usual routines brightened only by a brief exchange with Cam, when they’d taken lunch together.

The following day there were babies to deliver, arms to set, and illnesses to treat. One shift led into another and those led into paperwork. The news trickled in from Shim, giving her pause for a moment. The Old One had not taken kindly to the baker’s indiscretion and left a note for all to read. Metairie hoped the two girls were doing well, but her moment’s reprieve was taken away quickly. A gnomish device gone awry had caused serious injury to a shopkeeper and her customer. The shopkeeper gratefully accepted the magically enhanced treatment Metarie offered, but the customer insisted on ‘clean’ medicines. Metarie nodded and proceeded to treat the man with an aloe mixture designed to reduce the blistering and pain associated with burns. When things finally slowed down, Metarie crawled into an open bed and promptly fell asleep, hoping to get a few minutes rest before the next shift began.
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Belatucadrus
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Re: Knowing

Post by Belatucadrus » Wed Sep 01, 2010 8:26 am

Willow was a short, thin man with dark brown skin and simple clothes that hung off him like robes. He was not intimidating and had no look about him that suggested he was anything but an average man, save for the way he looked at Alyson when she made eye contact. He didn't have the dead eyed look of a killer, but it was immediately apparent that he knew something. There was some intellect behind his stare.

At the time that she exited her door, he was standing beside it with his hands casually folded in front of him. He stepped up to meet her, and even offered a polite smile.

"Hello Alyson." His Eyropan was perfect, like someone who was schooled at an academy. "Do not be alarmed. My name is Willow. I am your escort."

In a gesture of chivalry, he stepped aside and half bowed. "I have been instructed to act as your aid in whatever capacity you ordain, the primary design of which is your well-being and protection.

Please, do carry on. If you have need of me, you have but to ask."

How such a meek looking man could provide physical protection was a mystery. He carried no weapons, but knowing his employer, he probably didn't need any.
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There are only tools and liabilities.

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Isaac Arcott
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Re: Knowing

Post by Isaac Arcott » Wed Sep 01, 2010 7:47 pm

Standing in a little stall located in the heart of Marn's busiest marketplace, Isaac's perusal of the shop came to a sudden halt after coming across an antique dagger. The curvy blade was old and worn, but still sharp enough to pierce skin, which is why Isaac stopped to consider purchasing it. It looked old enough that he could claim it was merely an heirloom, and deflect any suspicion that might come his way.

His hand trembled as he reached for it, and he realized what it meant. What am I doing? He stood away from it and his eyes wandered around the room. After catching the eye of the grumpy old merchant sitting behind his desk, eager to make a profit, Isaac decided to browse the rest of the shop. He had no interest in any of the other trinkets or antiques, he simply stared through them as he thought of the dagger, and why it beckoned to him. He cycled through several dishonest explanations before settling on the truth. Perhaps the dagger was magical, engineered with a curse to lure wealthy prospects, or perhaps Isaac was a true capitalist, with consumerism programmed into his very subconscious. It was most likely, however, that he wanted the dagger because he had every intention of using it.

Isaac began to sweat. His dark grey vest did little to relieve the heat, nor did the long white sleeves that extended from beneath it, but it was not the temperature that stimulated Isaac's eccrine glands. Never before in his life had such a thought crossed his mind, except perhaps when he found out about Katryn's fiancée, but it wasn't at all serious then. It was the first time since he began his quest that he seriously considered murder, and envisioned it, as a plausible outcome.

The old grump seemed to grow impatient. He made no effort at small talk, he simply grumbled whenever Isaac walked away from an item after gazing at it for minutes. Before leaving the shop, Isaac picked up a fancy white handkerchief and bought it so as not to seem like he was wasting the owner's time. In Keltaris, some merchants would have a fit if you loitered in their stall without buying one of their useless products. He also thought it might make it easier to ask him for information as a customer rather than a browser. "Excuse me sir, you wouldn't happen to know about a girl living around here: Alyson Rolfe?" The merchant offered no reply besides an annoyed stare and more grumbling. "No?-very-well-thanks-goodbye." Isaac rushed out of the shop with the handkerchief in his breast pocket, beneath which his weak heart panicked. Simply inquiring about the girl was enough to put him into an anxiety attack.

Standing outside the stall, in the busy Marn street, Isaac noticed a gruff and shady figure staring in his direction. He began walking away from the man, trying to ignore the fact that he was now being followed. He hurried his gait, keeping to the well populated street, looking over his shoulder every few seconds to see his pursuer matching his speed. The man reached under his rough leather jacket for something, a weapon perhaps. The further they walked, the emptier the street got, and Isaac found it more difficult to walk straight. While looking over his shoulder, Isaac accidentally bumped into a fully armored guardsman and apologized routinely. Though he raised his visor slightly, his eyes and face were still concealed by the glare of the sun behind him; Isaac could only discern that the man was bearded and blonde. "Careful now," He smiled, "you must be in a rush; don't let me stop you."

"Um, sir, I believe I'm being followed." Isaac turned to look at the street behind him, but the shady figure tailing him was nowhere to be seen in the crowd. "There was a man a second ago, and I'm quite certain he was following me."

The guard seemed to fake concern for Isaac's supposed situation with standardized questions. "Did this man threaten you at all?"

"No, not really, though he was quite threatening. You have to believe me, I'm not generally a paranoid person. I sincerely believe there was someone after me." The more he spoke, the more he felt like he might've overreacted. It was possible someone simply mistook Isaac for a friend, or they just happened to be late for work, heading in the same direction. "Well, maybe it was just my imagination, I'm not sure."

"Are you new in town?"

"That would be an understatement," Isaac replied, "Until a few weeks ago I didn't even know this place existed."

"Marn isn't the most popular city, I imagine, but we do pretty well. I take it you're from Eyropa? What business do you have in Marn" the guard inquired, trying to make small talk in an attempt to calm Isaac down.

I've come to kill someone. "I'm just passing through." He nodded too much as he spoke, making him look nervous and uneasy. He hoped the guard would assume he was just spooked.

As the conversation dwindled down and Isaac's eyes began to search the crowd again, his first acquaintance in Marn came up with an idea to relieve his suspicion. "It may have been a pickpocket; they tend to prey on foreigners, especially ones with clothes like yours. They use the crowd to hide and pilfer as much as they can. If they're really desperate, they'll even follow you to a secluded area to mug you. If someone really is after you, then that's likely what they'll try to do. Here's an idea; see that alleyway there?" The guardsman pointed down the narrow space between the market shops, leading to a network of alleyways. "The buildings overlap and close in on each other; it's useless as a shortcut. No one would head through there unless they were lost, or they were following someone who got lost. Just walk to the end and I'll know if someone tries to follow you."

The blonde guard's voice was strong and confident; Isaac felt safer around him than anyone in Keltaris' constabulary patrol. With no desire to look over his shoulder for the rest of his stay, he followed the Guard's directions into the alley, until it split into two directions. To his relief, he saw no one enter the alley behind him.

He gasped, nearly wetting himself, when he saw the same pickpocket waiting for him around the corner. Another fully armored Guard was blocking the other route, grinning at Isaac. His recent acquaintance came strolling down the entrance to the alleyway and pulled Isaac out of sight from the street. "What's going on?" he whispered, his breath eluding him.

"This man here is a detective" the blonde guard declared, "he was following you to investigate some alarming accusations made about you."

"Accusations? Nobody even knows who I am here!"

None of them seemed to notice Isaac was even speaking. "Search him" the officer instructed his two associates. Holding him down, the shady 'detective' and the other guard went through Isaac's possessions. His journal was removed, sifted through, and then tossed away into the fork of the alley. They stopped once they found his Bishani purse, and the second guard eagerly counted the coins. "Is it enough?"

Smiling, the guardsman tossed the purse to his apparent leader, and nodded. "It's more than enough."

"Hey, give that back!" Isaac attempted to break free, but his failed attempt cost him a fist to the stomach. Keeling over, Isaac coughed.

"Resisting arrest is just proof of your guilt. These Bishani are clearly counterfeit, and they must be taken to Justice Hall to be examined and disposed of." Isaac tried to respond to the absurdity of the charge, but any attempt to speak was silenced with more fists. The blonde guard, who's presence was once so comforting, now lifted Isaac's head up by the hair, to speak face-to-visor. "We don't tolerate criminals here. If I see you in Marn ever again, it'll be your head that we confiscate." A heavy fist to the cheekbone sent Isaac to the ground, face bloodied in the gravel.

Staring at his journal, which lay open on the dirty ground barely 2 metres away, Isaac only heard the footsteps of his assailants as they strolled casually away. He couldn't decide whether or not to call for help; an act that would surely bring him more punishment from the guards. Instead, Isaac used his remaining strength to crawl towards his journal. The right side of his ribcage would sting every time he moved so much as a finger, but he made it just far enough to reach his hand beyond the corner of the alleyway. Nausea and dizziness took hold, and Isaac fell unconscious, bleeding on the ground.

From the busy street of the market, the pedestrians passing by saw nothing but the white pages of a book lying open at the far end of an alleyway, and something small and pink sticking out from around the corner just beside it.

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Alyson Rolfe
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Re: Knowing

Post by Alyson Rolfe » Fri Sep 03, 2010 7:08 pm

Alyson let out a slow breath of relief, allowing the rush of adrenaline that had shot through her at the sight of a stranger outside her door to abate. She smiled uncertainly in response to the man’s greeting. It was going to take some getting used to… having someone follow her around with no other purpose but to keep her safe. However, the man was so polite and well-spoken that any qualms Alyson may have had were easily brushed aside for the moment.

“I plan to go to the hospital,” she offered. “There is someone there I… I need to speak to,” Alyson continued, not wanting her escort to be concerned about her health. She only took with her a bag made out of heavy cloth containing. The strap was long enough to be worn across her body, allowing her to keep the bag close and protected from all but the most determined of pick-pockets. Inside, she only carried the purse of Bishani Belatucadrus had given her. The money, she mused wryly, was the only thing she had worth protecting at the moment – her old clothing was not likely to be disturbed by any dishonest maid.

As they walked down the street Alyson’s gaze was downcast – a habit born of years under Tomas’ heavy handed instruction. It would take time for her to build the self-esteem necessary to meet the eyes of strangers. It was this downward view, however, that caused Alyson to notice the fluttering of white paper in an alley. Curious, Alyson paused half-kneeling to better examine the item. It was a book, leather-bound, with many blank pages. Of those that were filled, the handwriting clearly spoke of higher education than would be expected in a journal of the average Marnian. Rising, Alyson slipped the book into her bag so that she could look at it in more detail later.

It was then that she saw the finger…
which led to the hand…
which led to the arm…
which led to the body of a man lying prone in the gravel.

Gasping, Alyson quickly moved to kneel by the obviously hurt man, taking no heed of the dirt which would mar her newly purchased clothing. She quickly ascertained that the man was breathing, faintly, and she motioned frantically to Willow.

“We have to help this man,” she said in a voice that was less convincing as it was ill-used to giving orders. “Help me… we can take him to the hospital… we were going there anyway…” Her last words were more pleading than directing. Alyson, despite the harsh treatment she had endured at the hands of Tomas, could not help the waves of compassion she felt when seeing another being suffer. It was, perhaps, due to the love that had been lavished on her during her young childhood – before that love was ripped from her in a horrific tragedy. To some, such sensitivity was only a weakness. Indeed, it had kept Alyson from turning in anger on her abuser or trying to escape the life of a slave. It even prevented her from hating her parents’ murderer…

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Metarie
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Re: Knowing

Post by Metarie » Sat Sep 04, 2010 12:59 pm

Metarie came to alertness quickly as a hand shook her awake. Her short reprieve was over and it was time to go back to work. The hospital staff worked well; efficiently sorting patients in order of need and preference.

Each doctor took a full day shift, sun up to sun down; sun down to sun up for three days in a row. Licensed doctors with healing abilities were few. Those with healing abilities had to declare their abilities, seek registration, and undergo training at the University. Even then, authorization to use magic was not granted automatically. To gain a license, one went through extensive scrutiny and interrogation and once gained, a license could easily be revoked.

Consulting the clipboard Michael handed her, Metarie glanced to the waiting people. The Marnian government ran the hospital, which meant anyone received treatment for free. Citizen or not, medical services were available to all, which made Metarie wonder more than once why so many chose to go without help.

“Joshua?” Metarie looked around expectantly then smiled gently at a woman whose son had apparently broken his arm. Two hours later, quiet settled in the room as she reviewed the most recent case paperwork with Michael and signed off on it.

"There. And now our paperwork is current until the next wave comes through." Standing, Metarie put her hands and her hips and arched her back, stretching out the taut muscles. "Speaking of paperwork, I have something for you." She moved to her satchel and reaching in, pulled out an envelope. A second envelope fell to the floor, which she quickly picked up and placed on the desk. Covering the addressee with her hand. Holding out the other to Michael, she said,

"Your recommendation, Michael. I hope your licensing exams go as well as your University ones have." Metarie and Michael shared a grin.

"Thank you, Dr. Sehkhara!"

"You deserve it and I look forward to working with Doctor Michael Shea. May the Lady keep you in her heart. When is your exam?"

"In two weeks."

"Not soon enough!" The two settled into easy conversation about the examination and what to expect. Before long, Michael's stomach grumbled.

"Go eat, it looks like we have a quiet day today."

Metarie watched Michael as he walked away, before lifting her hand to stare of the second envelope. The paper was of rich material, the richest she could find, knowing as most did the rumors of artistic temperament possessed by the intended recipient. The script on the front was elegant, Elvishly flourished, and addressed simply to:

Belatucadras
Kaledin Manor, Shim


After the … incident… with Lucien, Lanya, and Idonir, after the visit to Shim and the events and things she had felt there, after the revelation of Camulous… after all those things, Metarie finally realized that she could feel nothing of Lucien. Where there had been an overwhelming, bigger than her skin connection of life that seemed to fill the house and the world around them, now there was stillness. Metarie thought that if he had been killed or had died, she would have known. She would have felt the connection sever and been affected by it. But this, this was as if Lucien had never existed at all. She was still confused and a little ashamed by what had happened and how it had happened. Whatever it was, it had been bigger than both she and Lucien, and it was tied wholly with the Dreaming.

Metarie had searched through all her books, spending a sleepless night, scouring references to the Myr Taeser effect. All she had found, though, had been romanticized. She had searched the University library, finding even less. Nothing spoke of the mechanics of it, how such things came to be and what one should expect. Nothing spoke of managing it, owning it, using it… And these were all things she needed desperately to understand. As an elf, she straddled both the magical and the mundane. Lucien represented everything magic and Camulous everything …real. Metarie could not deny the existence of either, or the feelings and experiences. Both appealed, but… there was stillness and there was reality. There was inner conflict and it affected the balance of her life and sent echoes of chaos and disarray across her life that she did not want to pursue. She felt tainted and guilty. She craved stability and balance. She needed something solid and real. She needed to understand. So, she had finally come to the decision to petition use of the Old One’s library.

Certainly, the rumors of his extensive collection of books were exaggerated, but if He had even a quarter of what was rumored, Metarie might just find what she needed to know. The letter itself held a subtle scent of sweet grass and sage and even more subtly, the scent of sun-warmed skin as it brushed across the page ahead of the flowing script. The contents were formal and simple.

My Lord Belatucadras,

Many years past, my parents presented me to you. With this letter, I hope to present myself once again.

Many have spoken of the extensive library you possess, which far exceeds the collections available to the citizens of Marn. If it pleases you, may I please visit your library and make use of it?

Ná Elenath dín síla erin rád o chuil lín*,

T’Sekhara Metarie


(OOC: translation- May Her stars shine on the path of your life)

Metarie turned the letter over and over in her hands. The fear of a small child facing a nightmare still clung to her subconscious like cobwebs. She recognized her hesitation as cowardice. Sending the letter was making a choice. Sending the letter would bring His focus on her once more.

Metarie worked to rationalize through the moment. When last she had seen the Old One, she had been all eyes and ears. She was a woman grown now, no longer skinny and long-limbed with eyes and ears too big for her face. Sending the letter did not mean she had to visit the library at night, when he would be awake and roaming the halls of the manor. Nor did it mean he would care to see her, having already seen her and assessed her. She could go in the morning, spend the day, leave a note of thanks, and be gone before he awoke. Everyone knew he slept through the day. Besides, He probably would deny the request out of principle. Her worry was probably for nothing anyhow.

Metarie gave a wry, self-deprecating smile and shook her head. The need to know, to seek information outweighed childhood fears. On her next day off, she would venture to Shim and deliver the letter.
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Belatucadrus
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Re: Knowing

Post by Belatucadrus » Thu Sep 09, 2010 6:36 am

Willow made no initial move to help Alyson. From the time that she stopped to pick up the book, until she was kneeling in the dirt to tend to the fallen stranger, the small, dark-skinned man did nothing but observe.

His attention was first drawn to obvious suspicions. Belatucadrus didn't tell him why he wanted her protected - only that it should be done. The presumption was therefore that someone would try to kill or kidnap her. The alley being a perfect candidate for such a trap, he spent his attention ensuring that this wasn't the case.

There was no magic about that he could sense. Nobody was watching. This being the case, the next thing he paid attention to was her. His only technical obligation was to keep her safe, but Willow was no tool and the vampire knew it. It was implied in their arrangement that Willow do more than just protect her.

“Help me… we can take him to the hospital… we were going there anyway…”

He was still standing back at this time, inquisitively studying her demeanor. The girl was curious and soft-hearted. She was going out of her way to assist someone she didn't know, but was she really that naive? What would Bela want with someone like that?

"Yes, of course." He said. His tone and the he had no impulse to aid the man gave something away about him. He was nothing like Alyson, and only helped her out of politeness.
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There are only tools and liabilities.

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Alyson Rolfe
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Re: Knowing

Post by Alyson Rolfe » Fri Sep 10, 2010 2:36 am

It was fortunate that the unconscious man was more of a scholarly build than an athletic one, making it easier for Willow and Alyson to drag him out of the alley. Proceeding in this manner all the way to the hospital was out of the question, however, and Alyson’s eyes darted up and down the street for a solution.

Such was found in the flagging of a carriage, although the owner grimaced at the thought of having blood damage his cushioned seats. A little extra Bishani and a rough blanket the carriage owner used to rub down his horses solved the problem. Alyson and Willow took the seat opposite where they laid the injured man, and sat silently as they were whisked down busy streets toward the hospital.

Alyson’s silence differed greatly from that of Willow’s. She was thinking about the man, wondering how hurt he was and if they had found him in time to be of help. His clothing, though torn and dirty, appeared to be of finer quality than she had been used to seeing in Shim. She was not certain if it was abnormal for Marn. Remembering the journal she had picked up in the alley, Alyson reached her hand into her bag and fingered the leather spine. Should she read it? It might offer some explanation as to the man’s identity… but… Alyson hesitated at intruding on the man’s privacy.

Soon enough the carriage pulled up at the hospital’s main entry. Orderlies approached questioningly, and Alyson informed them they had a hurt man with them who needed attending to immediately. “Is… is Metarie here?” she asked one of the men who waited while the other went to retrieve a stretcher, hoping she remembered the woman’s name correctly.

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Metarie
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Re: Knowing

Post by Metarie » Sat Sep 11, 2010 3:42 am

Michael put down his sandwich and looked up as two people entered carrying an injured man between them. He moved quickly around the desk and helped take the weight of the man from the woman, The second assistant, Keris, went for a gurney and wheeled it toward the trio. Once there, she relieved Willow of his duty. The pair worked like two parts of a whole, efficiently lifting and positioning Isaac onto the bed.

“Is… is Metarie here?”

Without missing a beat, Keris replied, "Dr. Sehkara is on duty today and your friend will be seen very shortly. Come with me, please.” The comment was followed up with a smile intended to comfort Alyson as the two medical assistants moved Isaac to a berth. Metarie appeared just as the bed was settled in its place.

“Alyson?” Metarie’s surprise at seeing Alyson was quickly forgotten as the healer focused on the injured man. “Is he opposed to the use of healing magics?” Already her fingers deftly ran over Isaac as she searched with her innate abilities to find the injuries he’d sustained.
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Alyson Rolfe
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Re: Knowing

Post by Alyson Rolfe » Fri Sep 17, 2010 6:48 pm

“Alyson?” Metarie’s surprise at seeing Alyson was quickly forgotten as the healer focused on the injured man. “Is he opposed to the use of healing magics?” Already her fingers deftly ran over Isaac as she searched with her innate abilities to find the injuries he’d sustained.

"I... I don't know," Alyson replied, flushing slightly. "I don't know who he is - I found him hurt in an alley and we brought him straight here - he was unconscious," she finished breathlessly. "Can you help him?"

Alyson was glad to see Metarie again, but the strange feeling that she had felt the first time she had met the woman - similar to, yet weaker than, the feeling she had encountered at Bela's manor - made her uneasy. The sensation refused to be ignored, like a constant buzzing in her mind. She could only hope that Metarie might have some answers for her... that is, after she helped the poor man before them.

In addition to feeling compassion, Alyson's curiosity was piqued - who was he and why was he injured, and alone?

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Isaac Arcott
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Re: Knowing

Post by Isaac Arcott » Sat Sep 18, 2010 7:18 am

Self-aware, but not fully awake, Isaac contemplated the existence of more than 2 levels of consciousness. He had encountered the concept once before, in one of Dr. Siendranar's articles, in which he proposed that all mortals could perceive the astral plane whenever they were unconscious, and that the use of magic simply relied on transcending the barrier between the conscious and unconscious mind.

"So to be lucid in a dream is like the reversal of that" he said to the bartender, who wore a remarkably familiar grey hooded robe. "Just as I can be awake in a dream, one can dream while they're awake, and thus tap into the astral plane!" The bartender did not reply. With his hood lowered over his face, he continued to clean the shattered pint in his hands.

Isaac was still unconscious, that much was true, but he was alert enough to know that he was more conscious than he was moments ago; his recollection of which consisted of abysmal blackness. It was dull, perhaps, but at least the void of a dreamless blackout was more consistent than the patron-less Keltarian tavern he sat in, which looked like it had been caught in a hurricane (or perhaps an epic brawl, as Isaac suspected). A rather large crack in the ceiling implied that the place was about to fall apart, which is why Isaac tried to finish his pint of liquor in exactly 3-and-a-half gulps. Gasping, he let out a burp, and immediately afterwards began to feel a deep pain in his cheek and the left side of his chest.

"Then maybe death isn't all that bad after all" Said Katryn, sitting on the bar counter with her naked legs dangling down into Isaac's lap. "Maybe it's just like entering another level of consciousness, that you haven't experienced yet. Perhaps it's like waking up from a dream". Drawing his attention to his journal, Katryn turned to a page filled with numbered dots. Isaac had seen a similar game in his childhood picture books. After dipping his quill into his ink-filled breast pocket, he began to connect the dots one by one, until the picture began to resemble that of a young woman, not unlike the one sitting in front of him. "You'll probably be doing her a favor," She said, eying the picture. "She lives in the middle of nowhere! How happy can her life possibly be?"

Suddenly Isaac noticed two beams of light in the shape of slender hands glowing from his chest, as though they were shooting through him. He could feel something his state of mind could not describe, a certain intangible energy that existed where the light shone the brightest. Are those your hands? Instead of speaking those words as he meant to, he merely thought them to Katryn, who he now realized was nothing more than an imaginary image lingering beneath his heavy eyelids. The hands to which he referred, however, were real, as he felt the slender pair move carefully along his chest, taking their time around the sore region of his ribcage. Given their delicate shape and movement, Isaac assumed they were that of a woman.

....."Alyson?".........

Isaac stirred from his daze as he heard the gentle voice above him speak the name. Gradually opening his eyes, he saw a woman dressed in a white lab coat with her head turned slightly, speaking to someone else in the room. Her fair skin seemed to glow with a golden hue, and with her head turned away from him, Isaac's blurry vision noticed the outline of a familiar face.

"Katryn?" he whispered in a weak but audible voice, twitching his swollen cheek.

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Metarie
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Re: Knowing

Post by Metarie » Sat Sep 18, 2010 5:42 pm

As she explored Issac’s injuries through touch and through magic, Metarie noted he’d sustained heavy bruises and cuts, but nothing had been broken. She nodded as Alyson spoke, her mouth straightening into a tight line of disapproval. “He must have been mugged. Although our guardsmen do all they can, they cannot be everywhere all the time. And, some people in Marn would prefer to prey on others than earn an honest wage.”

Giving a soft sigh, she looked at Alyson. Metarie’s pupils were wide, leaving mostly gold with little green to be seen within the almond curve of her eyes; the evidence of using her innate magical ability to assess physical well-being making her Elvishness more obvious despite or perhaps because of the human clothing she wore.

“To treat his injuries we will need to remove his shirt. Since you do not know him, I have to ask you to step into the waiting area. I hope you understand. Please stay, though. I would like to catch up with you.” She gave Alyson a smile, to show she meant what she said, but the smile was fleeting; disappearing as she focused more upon her patient than the girl.

The attending medical students had already begun their duties. Keris, had moved away, wheeling in a cart filled with various items – disinfectant, bandages of differing lengths and sizes, gauze, and other medical tools of the trade appropriate for the situation. Michael stood to the side, holding open the curtain of the berth for Willow and Alyson.

“Don’t worry, Dr. Sehkara is an excellent healer. Would you come this way, please? We’ll need to get your report down for the guards.”

“Katryn?” A mew of sound came from Isaac’s throat as he stared blearily at Metarie. The doctor gave the young man a gentle smile in return.

“No, I'm afraid not. I am Dr. Sehkhara and you are in Marn Hospital. Can you tell me your name?” Metarie held out her hand as she spoke. Keris immediately put a disinfectant covered gauze in Metarie’s hand.

“Thank you, Keris,” Metarie murmured as she waited for Isaac to answer. While she waited, she gently swabbed blood away from the cuts and bruises on Issac’s face. The disinfectant mixture was intended to soothe away the pain as well as clean, so she could easily claim it as the source. The scent of the disinfectant was clean and crisp, like linen on a sunny day.

Keris studied the young man as Metarie tended to him. His clothes seemed rich and he looked as frail as an elf. He wasn’t ugly, but he wasn’t much to look at either – just an average looking young man who obviously must have spent more time in a Library than outside. By the looks of things, he hadn’t taken too many blows just enough to take him down and keep him quiet.

Physically, Keris was the opposite of Isaac. She was stocky, sturdy, not fat but thick. Her face was plain, but kind. She kept her straw colored hair up in a bun at the back of her head and looked at the world through light blue eyes. She had ended up as a medical student because she’d been a genetic throwback to a great grandmother who had carried magic in her. Not knowing what else to do with her, Keris parents managed to get her into the University. They worked hard to pay the tuition and she worked hard to earn grants, so they wouldn’t need to, and she did well at it. When, Dr. Sehkhara thanked her, Keris smiled a little and turned her attention back to what the doctor was doing. Anticipating the doctor’s needs was an important part of being an attending medical student. Doing so was a key indicator of her progress in her studies. Every patient was a test.
A story is like a tapestry; it is never finished until the final thread is sewn.

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Belatucadrus
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Name: Belatucadrus
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Re: Knowing

Post by Belatucadrus » Mon Sep 27, 2010 5:48 am

Willow knew of Metarie, although she probably knew nothing about him. The elven doctor was special. Among those with magical gifts, she stood out for reasons of simple reliability. She had potential, and the eye of the captain of the guard. Politically speaking, the doctor was among the upper tiers of Marnian society, and only lacking an official title to frame her status. She was an indispensable member of the community.

Willow remained generally unnoticed during Metarie's brief discussion with Alyson. A large part of the man's value lay with his inconspicuous appearance. Willow did nothing but stand off to the side, and was gone before Alyson turned around to leave at Metarie's request for privacy.

He waited until nobody but Alyson could hear him before he said a single word.

"The man was taken advantage of because of his naivete. I predict there were no witnesses and that he was alone. He is not from Marn, and looks like a scholar. The book you have is evidence of that." Willow had seen the book. Not much got past him. "If he had real enemies here, they would have killed him, so it is the work of low level criminals. It would be best to sever yourself from his situation and avoid involvement with this report. If he seeks retribution, you risk becoming a target."

Willow's advice was that which he would give to himself to avoid trouble. He knew, though, that Alyson was not like him. And so, he added, "if you choose to pursue this, I will protect you."
There are no allies, and there are no friends.
There are only tools and liabilities.

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Alyson Rolfe
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Re: Knowing

Post by Alyson Rolfe » Wed Sep 29, 2010 8:08 pm

Alyson flushed at Metarie's mention of removing the man's shirt, and readily allowed herself to be led into the waiting area. She looked forward to talking with Metarie later - seeing the woman again reminded Alyson why she had felt drawn to her in the first place. There was something warm and nurturing in Metarie's voice and movements. It reminded Alyson of her mother...

Willow's voice broke into Alyson's momentary reverie, jolting her back to the present.

It would be best to sever yourself from his situation and avoid involvement with this report. If he seeks retribution, you risk becoming a target. If you choose to pursue this, I will protect you."

Her face paled at the man's words. She had not considered any consequences - good or evil - in helping the injured stranger. It had simply been a reaction to seeing one in pain, perhaps a need to help someone the way she had been helped... And what would have happened to me, Alyson wondered silently, if the Captain and Metarie had chosen not to become involved and had left me in Tomas grasp?

Her tone was decisive, though fear lingered in a tightness around her eyes and lips. "I must stay to speak with Metarie. I... need her help. As for the man, I have done what I could for him - what anyone should have done for him - but..." she paused, her confidence fading. "I will remember what you said. I ... will be careful."

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Isaac Arcott
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Name: Isaac Arcott
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Re: Knowing

Post by Isaac Arcott » Wed Oct 06, 2010 6:04 am

When Isaac awoke, he was greeted by his five senses, which were far from pleased. There was a peculiar aroma Isaac wasn't too familiar with, but recognized all the same. It was the smell of sickness, of death, and of new life, all rolled in to one. Such a smell could never completely be washed away, not in a place that harboured it so frequently, but it was one some people learned to live with, as he imagined the doctor did. It was fascinating how something as beautiful as the human body could produce such wretched odours when taken to illness. All the same, it wasn't quite as bad as the public hospitals in Keltaris, which were often littered with the ill and malnourished lower classes. Isaac was grateful to have only once set foot in one, for wealthy families such as his own were entitled to the more luxurious private healthcare. Luckily, the taste of blood in his mouth helped take his mind off the smell, as it still lingered at the back of his dry tongue.

The bed he felt beneath him was flat and uncomfortable, but its design was for treatment, not relaxation. A hard bed gave patients all the more motivation to get better, and from what Isaac could tell, the hospital had more important things to spend their limited funds on than pleasantries. Opening his eyes again, he could see the doctor more clearly. Her hair was more reddish than he initially realized, and he saw that her radiant skin tone was more than just the product of his blurry vision. Whereas Isaac found most attractive women to be very trite, there was something quite interesting about this one, assuming she was even human. But perhaps his fixation on her resulted from the fact that there wasn't much else to look at. The curtains surrounding the berth blocked his view from the rest of the ward, and the white ceiling was even plainer than he was.

He heard the doctor mumble something to the other caregiver, whom he assumed to be a nurse. His eyes met briefly with the stocky young woman, who responded with a standard sympathetic smile before returning to focus on her work. "Can you tell me your name?" the doctor asked.

Slowly, he replied, "I-Isaac. How did I get here?" His wandering eyes gave no indication to whom he addressed.

"My clothes!" he tried to lift his head to examine his discoloured chest, but he ached more than he anticipated and fell back on to the pillow. "Where are my things?" he grumbled. As his weak voice slowly began to return to him, he realized he wasn't being the most courteous guest, and apologized. "Forgive me, I don't mean to seem ungrateful. It's just that when a man wakes up in a strange place next to two women with his shirt missing, he has to demand some answers!" He tried his best to seem humorous despite his injuries. "You should know, I have nothing with which to repay your services, unless grey is your colour."

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