Words and Swords

Malik isn't hard to find. For all the man's unpredictability in other areas, his routine is fairly disciplined. It's too late for him to be at home, and too early for him to be at the training grounds, which leaves only one obvious place -- the library.

Just as before, that diagram is in front of him, Malik making little tweaks to the runes and the diagrams as it glows green-white in the air. He's been making some progress this time, it would seem -- the complex spell appears far more stable than the last time he had it up, and from the look on his face, it probably wouldn't even do anything terribly unpleasant.

There is relatively little commotion in the library at this hour, nothing more than the odd footstep or rustle of papers, and Malik has been able to work in peace for some hours now. When Seldan finally appears, looking around the stacks for someone or something, he looks very much like his usual self, except that he has pulled his cloak closely around himself, the hood up, and is visibly shivering, a very unusual state of affairs for the normally practical man.

Malik finds a stable point to leave the spell, for now, letting the arcane runes swirl in the air as he watches their interplay. That is, until Seldan turns the corner, that cloak up and shivering. Malik turns to watch him curiously, brow wrinkling a bit as he tries to work out exactly what's going on, though he does raise a hand in greeting. "I would ask if you were ill," he tells the paladin, "but I think that we both know you're not."

Seldan shakes his head, pulling the hood down to expose his face. "An Arcanist student was practicing dispelling effects, and I fear I am not precisely dressed for the weather. Worry not for me," he explains with a rueful smile. "I will warm quickly enough." He studies the energy setup that Malik has constructed, and the smile broadens. "It has improved."

Malik looks back over his shoulder at the construct. "It's -- more stable," he admits. "But right now it only lasts a few seconds. I need to figure out how to stabilize the energies in the longer term. But I think it works." Though he's clearly not letting a shivering Seldan go, looking the man over. "What do you mean you aren't dressed for the weather? Your clothes look plenty warm." He reaches out to take hold of the man's shirt, as if testing the weight of the fabric.

The wizard's fingers reach out towards the fabric, and encounter - nothing. At least part of Seldan's clothing is illusory, and the paladin chuckles around his shivers, leaning against a nearby bookshelf. "Have I not told you that I am learning to fly? Eluna's shield from the cold proves most helpful on those days that I fly, if I would not tear a proper shirt." Malik may remember seeing the wings - and hearing cloth tear when they emerged.

GAME: Malik casts Prestidigitation. Caster Level: 11 DC: 14

Malik looks a little surprised when his fingers go right through the shirt and brush against skin, blinking a bit as he pulls his hand back. "I -- can tell that you are, indeed, very cold," he chuckles, shaking his head. "Though I'm not sure that I would have taken a paladin of Eluna as someone that would have wasted magic on an illusory shirt." He moves to the table, rummaging through his bag until he pulls out a piece of paper, considering it for a moment as he makes a gesture and says a word. Giving the paper a good shake, it instantly re-arranged itself into a thick linen shirt, which he tosses Seldan's way. "It's not wool, but it's better than nothing."

Seldan grabs the shirt out of the air and undoes the cloak, laying it over a chair. When he pulls the shirt over his head, it vanishes into the illusion, leaving the same appearance as before. "My thanks for that." The remark about the shirt, though, drains all mirth from his face. "The magic has other purposes as well," is all he says on that. "But, I did not come solely to disrupt you, or beg of you a spare shirt." He returns to leaning on the bookshelf, arms crossed. "I have found a Dylan Hunt."

"Of course you didn't come to ask me for a shirt," Malik laughs. "I mean, not that I can't help, but that would be rather odd. I -do- miss the days when you were taking clothes -off- though," he teases, watching the paladin's face at the other comment. "Of course it does," he adds, more gently. "I apologize. That one probably hit a bit lower below the belt than I intended." Though the news about Dylan Hunt gets his immediate attention, causing the wizard to sit up and let the other spell blink out of existence. "How did you find him?"

Seldan flushes at the mention of taking clothes off, even as he laughs helplessly at the teasing, his eyes going to the floor. The reaction, though, holds much more mirth than it did a month ago. He lets the comment about the other magic go, instead explaining, "I found mention in the city records of a small community out in the wilds, started by adventurers, and there was mention of the name in their records. It sounds as if he might live there. It would be a journey to get there, though, and we should prepare."

Malik reaches into the bag once more, this time pulling out two apples as he considers Seldan's words. "Did you find any indication of how old he might be? Or what he might look like? Or are we just going in blind and hoping for the best?" He tosses an apple in Seldan's direction. "Do we have any idea what we're even preparing for? Does he show any sign of magical aptitude?"

GAME: Seldan rolls reflex: (12)+12: 24

"I have little to go on," Seldan answers, looking up just in time to see the fruit-missile headed his way! Automatic reflexes take over, and he snatches the apple out of the air. "My thanks." His shivering is slowing down, although the cloak remains pulled around him. "I had thought to begin by talking to the man. A man who lives in such a community is likely to wish a quiet life, and descending on him will not incline him favorably to helping us, you know."

Malik makes a gesture while that spell is still up, and the cloak that Seldan wears becomes noticably warmer, offering a bit more relief to the paladin. "If he knows anything at all," Malik reminds them. "We're talking events from over a millenium ago. If he remembers them, then he's as ancient as Zehier. If he's not, then there's no guarantee that he'll be of any use at all."

"Perhaps," Seldan agrees, spreading a hand palm-down in concession. He nods appreciation for the warming of the cloak, and leaves it pulled around him, relaxing as he does. "My hope is that he might have some of his father's research or notes available to him, or know where they might have been kept."

"Maybe," Malik says. "Though part of me wonders if it would really ever be that easy. If it were, surely someone would have already done it by now." He sits at the table, crunching on the apple as he thinks. "If I were to ask you where your father kept his collection of writings and drawings of a decidedly more -- prurient nature, where would you tell me to look?" Even Seldan can follow that thought easily enough, most likely. "Consider how your mind reacts to this question. Are you angry that I would suggest your father even capable of having such a thing? Do you remember anything about him suggesting that he might? Would you even know how to answer? You saw him, what, less than a year ago? Dylan Hunt might not have seen this man in centuries. We're banking an awful lot on the idea that he would recognize what the notes were, and has accepted that his father is capable of such a thing."

Seldan starts at the mere suggestion, but then shakes his head, chuckling. "There exist good means and less good means of approaching sensitive topics with strangers, Malik. Yours is not one I would choose." He does not eat his own apple, yet, simply holding it in his hand for now. "The man does not wish to be found, I think, for if he did, why would he choose such a remote, small location to make his home? It was very nearly a miracle that we found his name at all. I need accuse him and his father of nothing, to learn what I would learn of him."

Malik nods. "Gentle enough that you can find through casual conversation where his lich of a father, currently responsible for engineering a spell-wrought genocide, kept his notes on the matter? If so, then -- I should really take notes." He sighs, putting his feet up on the table. "Look, all I'm saying is, we need to know what we're up against, in case he's not the friendly type."

"I know, I know." Seldan sighs in exasperation. "I do not mean for it to come to that. I have no information on what sort of man he is, so I deem it best to approach this carefully - which means not opening the conversation with, 'Hello, your father was a lich.'" A smile accompanies the rebuke. "Most men can be appealed to through their better instincts, if they have them. Asking a man for his help fares far better than asking him for his records."

Malik can't help but grin even more widely at Seldan's comment, raising an eyebrow. "Why, paladin," he teases. "That's downright genius. And almost -sneaky-. I've clearly underestimated you." He picks up one of the discarded scraps of early work paper, tossing it in Seldan's direction. "Now I know who to take with me the next time I go gambling. With a mind like that, we'll clean up."

At that, Seldan snorts, ignoring the paper and letting it flutter to the ground. "I fear you ask the wrong man, if you would engage in such things. Tact is hardly -sneaky-, although if you would learn the way of it, I would aid you."

"Tact is being sneaky in a socially acceptable manner," Malik counters, shaking his head, but clearly in good humor. "You still aren't saying what you really mean, or what you want to say. There's a layer of duplicity to it, still. But I suppose I could use a few lessons in how to be more socially acceptable in this kingdom."

"Mother used to say that words are like a sword. Once swung, it cannot be unswung," Seldan's mirth fades into thoughtfulness. "And that being nice with your words is like pulling the blow, or even staying one's hand. Just as one would not draw one's blade in anger, one should stay one's words. If that is so ..." He crosses his arms, tilting his head a little. "I suppose that tact is mercy with words."

"Mercy. With words." Malik thinks that one over for a minute, turning the idea over in his mind, dubious at first. But eventually, it becomes clear that he's warming to the idea. "I think that I can get behind that. So long as it's treated as any other mercy -- reserved for those who deserve it, and withheld from those who don't."

Seldan's entire bearing is one of quiet consideration of Malik's thought. "There are many who deserve mercy, and do not receive it. Eluna's wisdom bids us consider whether one's mercy, or one's justice, serves the cause of the Light. Will it serve all, to berate a man, no matter how deserving, if doing so will cause nothing to change, or will it cause only suffering? If by giving a man the sharp edge of your tongue, you may cause him to change his ways, then you have served good. If it will only wound, then you have not. Many a time have I wished to speak my mind, only to realize that it would serve nothing save my own satisfaction."

"Perhaps," Malik says. "But what if it isn't them you're meant to change? What if your purpose is simply to show others that sometimes, you have to take a stand? Take Erendriel," he says. "No amount of berating her will change her ways. Like when she caught the docks on fire. She's still convinced that what she did was correct. But if I hadn't said something to her, what would those who saw it think? Would they think that we approved of her actions because we withheld sharp words, knowing that she wouldn't change? Or do they realize there are people in the world willing to take a stand for them?"

"That is so, but the question of whether one is serving others, or only serving oneself, remains, does it not?" Still, Seldan quiets, considering the apple still in his hand. "I ... it is easy to convince oneself that one is doing the first, when in truth one is doing the second."

"If it were a simple matter, you'd pretty much be out of a job," Malik reminds him, smiling warmly. "It seems to me that one of the primary uses of holy men are to help us see a clear path when the night is dark, and the roads foggy. You speak to the gods. Sometimes, the gods even speak back. Or so I'm told. Don't have much experience there, myself."

Seldan looks up again, icy eyes lit up in a smile. "Hardly," he answers. "It is not enough to decide what is right. Some things demand the strength of faith, and the strength of arm, to act upon them, to defend those who cannot defend themselves. I would serve Her, and all of Her people. She has yet to speak to me directly, though." He has by now let go of the cloak edges, letting it hang as it will. "Her road is often shadowed, and not always clear ... but Her light is there when it is truly needed."

Malik nods, considering those words. "I suppose if there's anyone who would know, it's you. You say that she doesn't speak to you directly, but I think she speaks to you well enough. If she didn't, those like me wouldn't have a reason to follow you like we do. It's downright -annoying-, sometimes, the way you can inspire people to act for the greater good," he teases. "Especially when some of us haven't really given a damn about it our entire lives."

The library is quiet, but a pair of male voices, possibly familiar ones, float over from deep amid the library shelves. The pair are by a group of tables, a lot of books scattered over one of them, and Seldan is leaning against one of the bookshelves, his cloak still on and clasped at his throat. "If I can inspire others to the Light and to Her ways and teachings, then will I have truly served Her." He wears a pleased, if shy smile, as he speaks.

"Yeah, yeah," Malik laughs, that melodic accent carrying through the quiet, eyes bright even in the dark of the library. "Don't let it go to your head. It's already hard enough getting you to have a little fun in your life. You make my job any harder and I'm gonna have to start calling in divine favors." He picks up another of those discarded scraps of paper, crumpling the thing into a ball that he tosses Seldan's way. "I like to think that I'm a positive influence in that regard, at least."

Seldan flushes at the teasing, looking down at the floor - which of course means that the flying ball of paper bounces off of his head and lands on the floor at his feet. "What -" The cloak falls open to reveal an uneaten apple in his hand as he looks down at it. "Why are you throwing paper at me?"

Kaelyn has arrived.

Verna enters the library, lack of tome perhaps surprising, though less so in this particular location. None shall float out with her, for certain. The librarian is highly intolerant of such trangressions.

Malik offers a shrug at the question of throwing paper. "Is that not a thing you've done to friends in the past? You should give it a try sometime. It can be very cathartic, having a non-lethal weapon to employ when you need to emphasize a point." It seems that Malik, at least, is not afraid of the wrath of the librarian for being untidy. Or maybe he just knows to clean up when he's done. As Verna makes her appearance, though, he looks over to the hooded woman -- perhaps also noticing the lack of floating book this time. Or perhaps just the lack of a giant metallic otyugh.

Enter, well enter wierd! It's Kae, but she's biiiigaaar! Kae's sporting a riding drake for a whole lower body and is very very taured (Pun intended!) The elf-taur grins cheerfully as she looks around the place, her tail lashing slowly as she slow-canters on inside.

Kae then hmms and pauses, blinking as she notices something new! "Oooh I've not seen this one before! Then again I've not been this tall!" She says happily, and yes she's a liiiitle loud...

Kae oohs and puts a finger over her own lips to shuush her self, before she is grinning again, rearing up and resting a clawed forepaw on the edge of a shelf and then plucking the book she wants, not like she can climb a ladder.

Kae grins again and drops back down to all 4's and begins trotting her way to a table.

Seldan is about to answer, and reaches down to pick up the piece of paper, when the elf-taur trots up and retrieves a book with a clawed forepaw. He -stops-, and straightens up, the paper in hand, making a rather expressive face that holds equal measures of wince and guilt. "I had forgotten that," he admits, watching the elf. "I have ... as a boy." A quiet laugh, half to himself, is both thoughtful and rueful, as he examines the paper in his hand. "I've to find her sith-makar friend, I was to aid them both."

Malik, as well, stops and just blatantly -stares- at the elf-creature, jaw dropping open a bit. He looks like he's going to start to speak, several times in fact, but nothing seems to actually come out. Finally, he just puts his face in his hands, pushing his fingers back through his hair as he slowly exhales. "Mercy, with words. Mercy with words..." Repeating it like it might very well protect him from some evil power, and it's the very last hope he has.

Kae is sooo good at ignoring stares! really! She's now flumping deown on her haunches, tail curling around her forepaws while she begins flipping through the pages of the book. "Oooooh..." she mutters and begins to cheerfully whistle some while still reading.

And here's another bit, she reaches into one of her pouches and pulls what looks like a thin straw-like biscuit, that's obviously been dipped in chocolate.. She slips that into her mouth while she flips another page and cocks her head to the left.

She graduates from whistling to Humming now.

Seldan looks over at Malik, more seriously. "I know a little of this, though only a very little," he explains, setting down the paper ball on the table. "I will find you later, Malik. We should prepare, but I should find her friend and see if I can be of aid. Dreamer's blessings on you." With that, he straightens, and turns to take himself out of the library with long strides.

Malik grabs his satchel, clearing his throat as he looks to Seldan. "I think it's suddenly time for me to go get dinner," he tells the paladin. "Pretty sure that I've lost whatever focus I had for the evening, and I should eat something before my mouth wanders too far ahead of my brain. If you'd like to join me, I'm sure we can talk about preparations."

-End