Guild interview with a Nightmarish visitor

Rashar

You have emoted: Rashar is leaning against one wall, studying the shields overhead. As Coryn arrives, he separates from it and steps forward, watching him with bottomless blue eyes and an unreadable expression. Coming to a halt nearby, he bounces up onto his toes and then - wearing no uniform - returns the salute with a simple fist to the heart. "Relax," he says, sticking his hands into the pockets of his plain leather pants and turning to the display.

Relaxing as per the Knight's request Coryn's lowers his saluting hand, having it fall to his side. He glances towards the shields for a brief moment then sets his burning gaze on you. The Aspirant attempts to find a comfortable position to stand in and then just decides to lean against the wall by the shields. "So, what're we discussin', Sir?" he asks, his normal drawl a bit more slow than usual. "Guessin' it's 'bout my knightin', yeah? Reckon I'm close, just waitin' for the call."

You have emoted: Rashar inclines his head. "It is," he confirms, glancing over at Coryn. "The call will come when I have placed your name before the Pentarch for consideration. And this conversation is typically held so that an Advisor might make the final decision on whether or not the student is ready. That is all."

The heat within the area begins to build slightly as Coryn's wreath of flame flares slightly, either because of nervousness or anticipation or both. "Ah. I see. There any questions I should be answerin'?"

You have emoted: Rashar tilts his head. "You've complete most of your tasks," he says. "And you do not waste time. I appreciate that in a man. Of the requirements, I think the only thing left is for you to hold some sort of guild meeting - unless you prefer writing a report or some shit." Wandering off down the row of shields, he continues in a deceptively mild, conversational tone. "Why do you want to be a Knight, Coryn?"

Omei purses Her lips thoughtfully as She watches from behind the looming, tempestuous Knight. Her hands are folded behind Her back, and the braziers that bring the chamber to light cast dancing shadows of Her form across the dais.

"I have two reasons, I've found." Coryn answers, the crackling aura of fire subsiding to a barely visible flicker about his body. "To protect me and mine... those that cannot do so themselves, and to serve Enorian, the Templars, and our Patrons." The Aspirant nods slightly to Omei.

You have emoted: Rashar's eyes crease nearly shut, the depths of those cerulean orbs temporarily obscured by long lashes of dark gray. He looks first to the shadow and then turns, inclining his head before Omei in as respectful a gesture as any he might direct. "Lady," rumbles the man.

"Protect protect protect," Omei remarks as She places an elbow upon your shoulder, leaning slightly sideways so that you bears some of Her weight. She clicks Her tongue against the roof of Her mouth in idle thought as Her gaze trails Coryn's form from top to bottom. "I hear that a lot in these questionings... so much protecting, such little attacking." Her gaze narrows and Her head cocks slightly to the side as She regards Coryn fully. "You've power at your hands. -Real- tangible power - does being the predator as opposed to the prey not strike you as a priority?"

"Protection comes from attackin', Lady Omei" Coryn responds curtly, though with respect. The aura of fire seems to nearly snuff out within Omei's presence, leaving only a charred figure clad in armour. "Through my life, I've done lots o' attackin'. Lot'sa killin'. Innocents, the guilty. Children, men, the elderly. The Pit was my hunting grounds and any who were unlucky enough t' be put against me fell." His eyes dim, their intense light decreasing as he speaks, "Guess my need t' protect stems from 'at. Too much attackin'." he drawls.

You have emoted: Rashar stands beneath the weight without complaint, bearing the proximity of the Nightmare with the relative calm of a man who is no stranger to Divine presence. Beneath his flesh, the beating of his heart is fast and furious. His chin dips slightly, but the look he directs upon Coryn is not accusatory. "It is a common thing to hear," he agrees simply. "Probably, they feel obligated to say it." Weathering Coryn's words, his head tilts faintly to the right in a distinctly lupine gesture. "As you can see, Lady. There is more bite in this one than most. It is not often I take a student at all, You know."

The violet in Omei's eyes flares brilliantly in response to Coryn's words, Her lips quirking at the corners into some semblance of an approving grin. "Yes, wonderful," She retorts with a quick nod. "Good good good - too many are reactionary. Wait for trouble to strike - react - Duiran." The very name of the Council draws a sneer to Her countenance. "No, no I will not see that sickness spread." The Nightmare shifts Her stance, a clawed finger trailing down the length of your arm to land upon the armband you wears. Her lips purse here for a moment, but She waves away whatever thought She may have had as She elects to instead circle Coryn in a slow stride.

Slowly, carefully, Omei says to Coryn, "Yes... there is potential in this one."

Then, abruptly,, Omei says to Coryn, "Why do you fight? Why do you attack?"

"Before?" Coryn pauses, the orange-red orbs behind the helm flitting over to focus on Omei. "Glory and entertainment." he answers, the voice tinny from vibrating against the metal. "Now, I attack because there is, as You and others have said, a sickness. I'm one o' the many cures."

You have emoted: Rashar offers no protest as Omei resumes Hers questioning. Instead he clasps his hands behind his back and settles in to watch, swaying slightly with the ceaseless motion of a man whose mind is very rarely still. Rather than focus on the Goddess, his fathomless eyes instead are fixed upon the man who would become a Knight. On Coryn. Each word of answer is measured and fixed to memory.

A laugh that slices through the air bursts forth from Omei's frame as She stands behind Coryn, a hand placed upon each of his shoulders. "Where do you find these ones?" She regards to you from over Coryn's shoulder. Her hands clasp tightly as She takes in a deep breath through Her nostrils, Her eyelids fluttering shut for but a moment. "Yes... I see them. I see YOU," She remarks as Her lips are contorted into a savage sort of smile. The tattoos that wrap around Her form start into a series of hushed chants, the voices that make themselves audible from within a dazzling myriad of varying tones.

Coryn's shoulders jump slightly at the god's touch, prompting an immediate flare of heat to burst throughout the room as his form engulfs in flame once again. The Aspirant's eyes narrow as if he's smiling behind the obscuring helm. His aura becomes hotter and hotter with every passing moment as something seems to course through his head until finally the cloak of red and orange ceases and leaves the charred man once again. "Reminding me of that... even though it is something I would wish t' forget, makes me want t' amend my previous answer." he says, voice crackling with fire, "Within the service of Enorian, the Templar, our Patrons. I wish to attack. I wish to cure this land. Through flame and blade."

Mm. I quite like this one.

You have emoted: "Be wary," Rashar murmurs, his rumble firm enough to cross the distance and fall easily upon your ears. "Haven Locke said much the same, Coryn." To reduce any sting his comment might inflict, the Idreth grins - revealing a pair of subdued white fangs - and continues, "The Templar are absolutely a weapon, though many have forgotten it. And a shield." One empty, long fingered hand comes up and taps at the man's temple. "So long as you temper it with wisdom, that fire of yours will serve us all well."

Rashar thinks: I do as well. He is the first student I have taken in.. longer than I can recall.

Coryn nods slowly, "I am not him. I will learn wisdom from you and others, learn how t' control and direct the sword and how t' place and hold the shield."

"You will do just fine," Omei whispers into Coryn's ear as She offers an encouraging squeeze of his shoulders. She releases the man and steps to his side to once more approach you. "Locke took a blow too many to the head," She informs as She pivots on a heel at your side to face Coryn again. A hand lifts to gesture towards the Aspirant as She adds, "No, no no no. This one will unleash the nightmares of his enemies with every piece intact." The Nightmare straightens, chin jutting upwards as She notes, "He is a wolf - like you."

Her violet eyes glowing almost ominously, Omei says to you, "Do not think that I have not seen the nightmares you unleashed upon those that leveled so much as a leer towards one of the Maelstrom's."

You have emoted: Here, Rashar's lips twitch. "Maybe look to the others," he adds quietly, wryly. "I am not known for holding my blade, or my tongue." As Omei speaks again and then crosses the distance, the Knight listens in silence and then nods his agreement. "Perhaps," he allows. "Maybe sometime soon, we will hunt. It has been too long since I embraced my other form." And then, a glance sideways at Omei. Another nod, but the man doesn't seem to find it necessary to confirm with words.

"I learned how t' hold my blade... but for lengthening suffering and for the entertainment o' those who watched." Coryn drawls, crossing his arms to his chest. "Though, I'm not one t' hold m'tongue, either. Reckon I'll learn that from the Pentarch."

"And you," Omei regards as She levels a finger towards Coryn. "Great things are coming your way, child," She affirms with a slow, solemn nod. "Find Me if you seek an extra avenue to channel that... productivity," the Nightmare remarks with a knowing wink joining the last word that escaped Her lips.

Rashar thinks: The words in his mind stir him, and he considers them deeply, in a reflective way that would have been absent even a handful of years ago. He creates images from memory and scours them like the pages of a book, searching for the truth in Her comment.

Omei's form dissolves into a myriad of violet-colored moths that take flight towards the ether.
"He helped make you into who you are. Helped to channel that feisty attitude of yours into something grand. You did work, yes, yes of course you did. You'd lay on a blade ten times in a row if He'd asked you to and it meant anything. But that piece... that piece is still missing."

You have emoted: Rashar's brow furrows almost imperceptibly, but he relaxes quickly. "Your Pentarch is well versed in talking," he allows in a flat tone, stepping away from his position and into a restless pacing. And then he stops, halting in place and tilting his head sharply as if listening to a far-away voice. Remains silent for a while, contemplative. And then remembers Coryn. "I am working on your shield," he informs him. "Hold your meeting, yeah? And then we will hang a cloak over your shoulders, and you can truly stand beside me."

"And Coryn?" Rashar holds aloft a simple band of midnight leather, pierced through with a glowing metal spear. "This is waiting for you, when you decide the time is right."

Coryn nods silently, turning towards the training courtyard, "When I am a Knight, get one prepared for me." He chuckles, "And make it flame-retardant."

Coryn leaves to the south.

Rashar thinks: Would that I could gather up all the pieces of me that have chipped away over the years, Lady. I often wonder what kind of man I might fashion from them. Alas, I have not yet learned where they all went.

"Sometimes you forget the old pieces. Let them sit where they are, and then... then you make new ones."

You have emoted: Standing alone in the center of the Assembly, Rashar considers the words. "Probably the best approach," he agrees with a wry, crooked smile as he once more begins to walk, idly inspecting each shield to hang upon the wall. "I'm not convinced some of those pieces need to be found, yeah?"

"Not all of them. But some. Some can help you, make you stronger."

You have emoted: A flush of pride suffuses the man, crawling up his spine. He turns, continuing on to the next bit of wall as he rumbles, "How much stronger can I become, Goddess?" Rashar's step falters, though, as his ego is met and stung by an overwhelming sense of failure and regret.

Rashar thinks: Not strong enough to return with the Pentarch.

"Precisely."

You have emoted: Rashar's eyes are narrowed with anger now, and he presents his back to the shields on his way towards the wide, arched entrance. "I am trying," he mutters half to himself, rolling his shoulders to release the tension between them. "I am doing what I can, not only to strengthen myself but this city. If you've got a suggestion, Lady, then I welcome it. I do not intend to fail again."

Silence meets your words. You speak only to the shields around you as your words resonate across the spanning chamber.