Campfire Conversations (Finished)

[Duma]

Duma stared into his campfire, reflecting upon things past. The swordsman had finished his most recent job yesterday. He and two others successfully escorted a young man and his pregnant wife safety to his mountain village near the Sacea Bern border. After resting in the village he had set back out on the path to Bulgar, alone. A gentle breeze passed through bringing the scent of the grasslands and smoke to his nose.

It was early spring out on the plains. Soon the whole of the grasslands would be erupt in a colorful display of flowers. The thought of the plains awash in a sea of brilliant colors brought a smile to his face. Although many men would have made fun of the swordsman for such "womanly" thoughts. Springtime meant more then just flowers though, to him it meant festivals, food, and family.

The swordsman quietly turned over the skewered rabbit he had cooking over his fire. He caught and gutted the thing away from his campsite in order to draw away the attention of coyotes. Bathed it in a little wine and spice to give it flavor. The rabbit would be more than enough to keep the swordsman full for the night.

The swordsman pulled from his bag his whetstone, a rag, and some oil. He quietly began tending to his sword and hunting knife. The knife had no combat purposes but it served well in cutting things like rope, fruit, and meat. Once he finished cleaning the small but sharp blade he sheathed the little thing and stuffed it back into his boot. Then he pulled out his sword. His iron sword was nothing special. It didn’t have a fancy name like the one he heard from a rather loud mouthed myrmidon. It lacked the curved edge like the traditional Sacean blade his escort had. No, his sword was a simple well-worn and well-kept iron sword. But it was his sword, his livelihood, without it he could not protect himself or his charges. So while there was still some daylight in the multi-hued sky, he began his routine of cleaning and caring for his blade.

[Drei]

He couldn't deny that the ride thus far had been far...slower than he would have imagined. Even though the horse was an Etrurian one designed for speedy travel it was slow going with Drei trying to spare it the extra weight; given all he had packed. It wasn't that the horse couldn't handle the burden/load of both him and the pack, yet more simply he did not wish to submit it to it out of a kindness to the horse. It was after all, his only permanent companion thus far. Even with the sky being stained with the light rose reds and pinks associated with approaching evening he had yet to feel hunger take him. Perhaps it had simply been his nature but most of his life his body had seemingly been scarce in wanting for sustenance. He ate less than most, slept less than most; but also did less than most. The use of magic while tiring was a mental activity that plagued not the body but the mind. It was his mental state that became drained when practicing and luckily could be maintained by simply clearing ones thoughts and meditating.

Usually, that was. His slumped over expression that had him leaning against the long neck of his horse with his cheek smooshed against the side of it's white main did little to convince anyone who might have seen that he was not actually tired. Walking along side it while leaning on it was an odd site indeed. However after a few moments he straightened himself as he caught notice to a particular site. A camp-fire. Something he hadn't expected, and partially was grateful to find. He had run out of tinder and since passing the mountains hadn't run into much that could be used as quality tinder. It was with this in mind that he hesitantly started to deviate and begin walking towards the camp-site. All he could see however, upon approach was a single person. Was that..normal? He couldn't be surprised honestly though could he? He himself being but a lone traveler after all. The young white haired Shaman slowly approached closer; until he could smell the small creature being cooked upon the fire. With gloved hands shifting to be hidden in his sleeves the boy spoke quietly upon approach; stopping short of the point where the fire just barely cast a slight orangeish-red glow upon his visage.

"Might I join you at your camp-fire? I've run out of materials to make my own.."

[Duma]

The swordsman was about half way through polishing his sword, checking the thing for any new cracks or nicks. No new ones so far. When, he heard the slow rustle of stepping grass heading towards him. Too slow to be a cutthroat. To heavy to be a coyote. He thought. But the steps are odd. There’s a person yes and some animal. A quadruped… His train of thought was cut off when the steps stopped and a voice spoke.

He glanced up. Oh, it was horse. He stared at the two begins out before him, silently judging if they be friend or foe. The bright haired young man had asked if he could share in the campfire. The swordsman was silent and expressionless for a while. He didn’t detect any malice in the young man’s voice. The young’s man’s steed was also calm. These were two good signs that the young man was probably not a bandit.

“Fine. Come on over young man, you are free to join in the warmth of the fire.” He spoke casually, and then returned to polishing his sword.

If he had erred in judgement, if this young man was a bandit, he would need to act quickly in and use the sword to save his own life. Unfortunately the young man was a bit too far away from the for Duma to make any assumptions about his profession. Most who use a horse on the plains were nomads. This boy did not look like a Sacean nomad. The boy lacked the usual garb of the plain’s folk or any of the other “traditional” features of the nomads. Intermixing is a thing. Duma stop being ignorant. He placed a hand to his palm in a familiar expression then rubbed back unto his green hair.

[Drei]

It wouldn't have showed upon his face. He was tired. Not physically, but mentally. The weight of the past few weeks had continued to build up until it seemingly overwhelmed him. It was the same feeling as drowning(Which was still pretty bad) in that regard. To see the surface, scramble and flail as hard as one could and stretch out their hands only to see their fingers skim inches from the surface as one's dragged helplessly downwards...except it felt like that coupled with everyone else being able to watch on and smile without seeing anything wrong. He was, in part to blame for that as well however. Without speaking to anyone, without actually addressing them at all the only cue they would have had to know was by body language. In that regard he was almost a flawless performer. He could masterfully play off almost any circumstance with a face of indifference.

It stemmed from years of practice mastering his emotions and learning to still them when needed. A talent to snuff out mental and physical distractions, quiet the mind and narrow his field of vision to only his target. It was essential to keep his magic under control. Lest it control him. As the man granted him permission to join him at the fire, the white haired boy nodded curtly. Though he was slow to move he led his horse to the opposite side of the campfire as the green haired man tending his sword. His white Etrurian steed slowly moved as if to lay down. The boy took one of the two blankets along the horses back and removed it to sit it down before him with his back propping to the other blanket. At first the young shaman simply sat there. However with gaze adjusting he quietly stared towards the camp fire. Crackling sparks and dancing orange lights reflected from it as always, and though he did not speak he shook his head slightly at a realized Irony before shifting his head upwards to linger with a gaze towards the sky. This was all so odd to get used to; traveling alone. It was just..weird.

[Duma]

The swordsman finished tending to his blade. Throughout the polishing and sharpening he would continue to occasionally glance at the young man who had now taken a seat near the fire. Although the light haired one did not show it, Duma could feel the young man's, exhaustion. The subtle clues of stoicism were etched into his body language. The lack of speech and the ever familiar thousand yard stare into nowhere in particular. He had seen the effects of loss hit a human in more ways than one. He had seen his fair share of people delve into the darkest depths of depression after the loss of a loved one. He had seen men go insane from grief or live their lives crushed by the everlasting guilt.

For a brief moment his mind flashed back to the day of the ruin collapse in Nabata where he lost his twin. He spent many months in a similar state as the young man. The swordsman shook his head and dismissed those thoughts. The past cannot be changed. He had to remind himself.

He cleaned up his sword of any excess oil and put away his tools. His sword safely tucked back into the sheath upon his waist, the swordsman wiped his hands clean with a rag. As a precaution he gently put his hands over the fire to burn off any residue that lingered behind. He drew from his bag a cloth which housed some stale biscuits and a single small metal plate. From the fire he grabbed the cooked rabbit, cut it into pieces, and then began dividing out those pieces evenly between the cloth and the metal plate. He placed one of his biscuits on the plate and handed it over to the young man.

“As per Sacean custom, this is your half light-haired one. I've also got a mostly fresh apple for your steed. Perhaps with some food in your belly you could entreat me with your name.” And perhaps your story.

[Drei]

“As per Sacean custom,"

Custom, was it? Drei gazed at the plate for a moment. He extended his hand and clasped the offered food before placing it in his lap quietly. His name? If he was Sacaen, he might have possibly recognized his name. After-all His father's circus had taken Midwestern Sacae as it's primary location, despite their occasion to travel. The boy's gaze clearly indicated atleast that he mulled over the offer as his eyes quietly lingered upon the food. Even so, he doubted word of the circus'es fate from their misfortunes in Etruria had reached Sacae yet. After-all Etruria had lied about it..hadn't they? They weren't saying it was his circus, but a nameless cult of Shamans. That news hadn't reached outside Lycia yet so he couldn't imagine it would have gotten into Sacae with strained relations between the two territories. Giving his name atleast couldn't hurt. Could it?

Grabbing the roll from the plate he slowly tore it in half. Instinctively he wanted to reach for the black tomes tucked beneath his robe that were fastened by a robe. When ever he thought of his parents he often took to reading through them. He paused, before speaking quietly. His tone depicted no actual sense of loss despite feeling it, flawlessly hiding anything his gaze might have sought to betray as he looked at his plate absently. "Drei. Drei Randus. Yours..?" If the Sacean had heard his name before it likely only would have been as mention of being the son of Zezo Randus and Niu Tao; the two Elder Magic practitioners who had run the circus. "The Traveling Eclipse Circus" was at first a shaman exclusive Circus. A place to show that dark magic needn't always be feared. Great shows of twisting shadows that used tricks of light to make it look as if light cast by torches, candles, or lanterns would bend and dance. It was funny...Most mages always told tales of growing up to dancing lights. He hadn't though..had he?

No, he had grown up to dancing shadows. Squirming dark tendrils that moved like puppets in funny or abstract ways just to look different. Many Shamans who felt outcast by their communities had joined Zezo's circus. However it soon turned into a place where those cast out could find refuge. Women and Men who enjoyed dancing arts but were unable to find regular work turned to them as well. It had eventually turned into a true circus. That had been why they had chosen Sacae as a place to live hadn't it? A land where anyone was accepted as long as their words and deeds true morally. Aye. They had been...

They had been.

[Duma]

He continued to observe the young man with a bit of a keener eye. The young man whom he could now tell was a shaman from the young man's attire, had accepted Duma's plate of food. After a bit of awkward silence the lighter haired sir finally introduced himself. Randus? Not a surname I am not familiar with. Drei simply stared off into his dinner plate with a vacant daze.

"Well met then Drei. I am Duma. Please dig in. No need to worry about dainty dinner manners out here. I won't judge. " He gestured to the plate of warm food. He pulled out the apple he mentioned earlier, leaned over and placed it next to the shaman before returning to his side.

"The rabbit has been prepared with a bit of wine and some herbs. It isn't anything fancy but I hope you find it well." The swordsman finished speaking before lifting a bit of rabbit leg to his mouth and took large bite. Hey it actually came out perfect this time. Much better then the one where I charred it to a crisp. Duma ate rather quickly. Soon there was nothing left on his "plate". This was a pretty common trait among mercenaries. Back when they were still living his whole family could clear out the dinner table in about five minutes flat with the speed eating they did. Mercenaries never knew when the next battle would be or what enemy could be taking advantage of a person's vulnerable moments.

The swordsman tried to keep his gaze off of Drei out of politeness. But despite the effort he would keep shifting his gaze at the shaman. Shamans and Mages in general do not travel alone out in the wilderness. They are usually accompanied by mercenaries, guards, guides, a caravan, someone who can watch their backs. His mind started to put two and two together.

"So.. what brings you out to the plains?" He asked in a calm tone.

[Drei]

Drei slowly put a torn portion of the roll into his mouth, chewing it a bit as he rested the plate upon his lap. He leaned over to grab the apple and turned slowly; extending his hand with it open wide and the apple resting on his flattened palm. The horse took a hesitant moment to notice the boy's snack being offered before quickly snatching it from his hand. The apple was gone faster than it had appeared. Drei gazed back to his plate quietly as he ate. Spending two weeks in almost absolute silence had left him a bit slow to converse. The boy's snowy white hair rustled as he shifted his head to the side while his gaze moved to slowly climb from the plate of food to the fire. Then from the fire to the green haired man across from it. Drei had atleast finished half of the roll before speaking, his fingers lightly tearing another piece off the roll. "Any food is always better than none. I've never eaten Rabbit,"

Displaying atleast a bit of conversational courtesy by speaking in response to his comments Drei looked to the fire again quietly. Every time he looked at something..or even anything it seemed to remind him of that evening. The fires spreading through out the main tent. The large fabric constructed beacon of life he knew as "home" dotted and lined at the top with tens of fires that were spreading gradually. He had already been tired that day, and stress perhaps had intensified where adrenaline should have been present. It had sapped him. Seemingly drained him of energy when he was riding off upon the very horse which crunched into the apple still behind him. Like a stain on his memory he couldn't wash. It was frustrating even, to dwell on it so often. Like a thought he couldn't remove. That was exactly what it was though, wasn't it? His gaze became obscured as he closed his eyes eating the second half of the bread roll. What brought him to the plains? It was home. That's what it was. The young shaman paused for a moment, as always calibrating his response. "I was born on these plains. I'm going to Bulgar. I've a few questions I need answered..." More like he needed to find a purpose. With such a vast land, no tethers and a lifestyle that emphasized freedom? He faltered at the face of it out of a lack of knowing /what/ to do.

[Duma]

"I hope the rabbit is to your liking then. It is one of the most common things to catch out here. The nomads like to turn the meat into jerky. Sometimes they shred it into their stews." He spoke shortly after Drei's comment about this being the first time he had rabbit. Born upon the plains but never had rabbit? Hmm.. sounds like a merchant's son's life. Or perhaps a troupe? Duma slowly tried to profile Drei. Part of him grimaced. Profiling or judging people in any manner before getting to know them was terrible. But in his line of work, meeting so many people, this was a needed skill. A mercenary never knows who or what his next job entails. Having some sort of baseline with regards in dealing with strangers established is crucial. Drei. Doesn't look like the type to kill me in my sleep.

The swordsman silently threw whatever crumbs that were left from his "plate" into the fire. Then rolled up the cloth and stuffed it back into his bag. He made a mental note to wash it later once he found a stream or a river during his travel. Drei seemed to be distracted by something, given the amount of times he peered into the orange blaze of the campfire. I wonder what he sees.

Once again the swordsman put his hands close to the flame to burn off any bits of food from his hands. He rubbed them together a bit to shake off any flakes.

"Bulgar is about a four day march from here, provided if the weather is good. You have about a week.. maybe a week and a half worth of time before the rainy season hits." He commented.

"Uh.. I will try to answer any questions to the best of my knowledge."

[Drei]

Drei had just finished the roll when the man started speaking of rain seasons. What should Drei have replied with? I know? He had mentioned living in Sacae. Then again it would likely come off as rude. Despite his disposition towards people Drei didn't lean towards such tendencies. He wasn't rude towards people, simply indifferent. Though, he /had/ forgotten about the rainy season. It would definately slow down traveling...that's for sure. His gaze lifted slowly once more. No longer looking at the dancing flames of the camp-fire which cast their orange glow to a darkening sky that shrouded the world in it's embrace of nocturne. When he did finally speak it was in the same bland tone that his other statments or questions had been in. "Hmm. I did forget the rainy season. I should make it however with ample time as long as I don't suffer any setbacks. "

Questions for the man? Though Drei could think of two they were both personal ones and restrained by Drei housing an impersonal disposition. His hands lifted from either side of his plate as fingers clasped before running along side one another to form a bridge of fingers upon which he rested his chin as he gazed at the other male. This would be one of the few times he did it; however in part it was to return the kindness of not only allowing him to share his fire but offer him food. Drei was not particularly fond of revealing much about himself; but he was honest. "I don't really have any questions but....I extend the same to you. I'll answer any inquiries as best I can..."

[Duma]

Duma continued to observe Drei for a moment as he spoke. By now the swordsman had drawn up a few possible conclusions to his guest. The young shaman was either part of a group or family and lost them recently. Though he was unsure what kind of "loss" this was, but given the expressionless mask Drei had, he assumed it was the worst kind. He knew shamans in general strive to maintain a "cool head" so to speak. If not they would be absorbed by the darkness and loose their sanity.

But the shaman had spoken with a calm voice, kept his gaze to the flame, and seemed to be lost in his thoughts. Or the young man was an assassin. Given the current state of the world, assassins and thieves come in every age. It was unsettling, the similarities between highly trained killers and Drei. The highly trained kind use tactics like gaining their targets trust before killing them in a vulnerable moment. Most would also remain emotionless in a sense in an effort to maintain professionalism.

His eyes narrowed slightly. His mind created a list of those who might have it out for him. The swordsman had made his fair share of enemies due to bandit killing. But none that were competent enough to send a trained killer after him, Right?

"Very well. I do have some questions for you Drei." His voice shifted lightly. it still maintained a sense of calm but now held a slight undertone of seriousness.

"You see in my line of work I meet many people. And people tend to follow certain patterns." He paused watching Drei's expression. Watching for any shift of movement that might lead to hostility.

"Judgeing from your attire, I can tell you are a mage of some kind. You are quiet and reserved. Too reserved for my taste. Now I understand that it's wise to excersise caution when meeting strangers. Especially those whom you meet out of the blue in the middle of no where." He continued.

"Most mages never travel alone. They usually travel in caravans or groups with all sorts of hired help or guards. Unless something ugly happened." He cleared his throat slightly.

"Or... You could simply be an elaborate ruse... a distraction.. to lower my guard while someone sneaks around and murders me while my guard is down."

He kept his sword hand at the ready just incase. If the latter proved to be true Duma could close the distance in an instant.

"Who are you and why are you here?"

[Drei]

Drei's face was almost impossible to read as the man spoke. He made no noise or otherwise hitched expressions, and seemed to pensively stare at the dancing orange flames. Though he had spoken in truths, they were bare bones. Technicality brought him accuracy. Technically he was indeed Drei Randus and he was going to Bulgar. Those where his "who" and his "why". However it seemed with this man he would have to be more specific. Drei's gaze though lingering upon the flames did not go without observation. He had indeed noticed through peripheral perspective the older man's hand cease to clean the blade and instead rest upon it. Drei blinked twice before he spoke. However he felt like but a husk. A shadow or empty corpse as he slipped his hand into his robe. It was the only way he could talk about it in earnest, implement his training as a Shaman to suppress his feelings and state things as they were. Merely fact. This way, he felt not the anguish. Nor the loneliness. Nor the rage, or even sorrow.

"I have told you my name. I have told you where I wish to go. These were both true. I am a Shaman. Like my parents before me, and I practice Elder Magic."

His hand slowly removed the Ruin Tome his father had slipped into his bag. His eyes fell to gaze down upon it. As he prepared to show his trade, he was able to stifle the pain in his chest at seeing the tome his father had loved so much. Perhaps...that was why he enjoyed practicing his magic when thinking of his parents. It helped the pain never register fully. Though he held a ruin tome, as he lifted his hand and let the magical essence flow from his finger tips it did not project powerful explosively dangerous dark tendrils like the Ruin tome's legacy. Instead, a sphere of darkness began to mold and sculpt within the confines of his fingers. Shadows gathered to his palm and darkness formed at his whim. A simple Flux spell. However as Drei manipulated it he continued to speak. Quietly. Blankly, as if he was stating something simple. Like the weather.

"My family was the Traveling Eclipse Circus. Stationed in Sacae initially, my Father and mother started it and had run it for all of my life and some time beyond. We were performing in Etruria, when the guard set upon us. My parents forced me to flee, all the while helpless from atop this horse I watched my family killed and home burned before my eyes. Screams of my aunt and uncle as they were burnt or killed; which came first I couldn't say. My entire childhood and home taken from me in brief few minutes; I'm coming here to figure out where to start next. A merchant in Bulgar knew my father well, and was a long friend of his. I'm hoping he can point me in the right direction. Does this satisfy your curiosity?"

As he spoke, he flawlessly manipulated the shadows to alter and shift. A perfect blend of discipline and willpower. He guided the dancing shadows further, gazing to the man quietly and without expression. As deadened an expression outside as he felt within, save for the dull ache throbbing away quietly that he could do nothing to suppress. Far more manageable however, than if he were to talk about it conventionally.

[Duma]

Duma watched as Drei manipulated the shadows into art. He had never seen anything like it before. The swordsman relaxed his shoulders and demeanor as Drei continued to speak about his story. The shaman's skill with the shadow manipulation was proof enough that his story checked out. And the swordsman now felt like an ass for prying into something so deep. But at least I know now.

"You have great control over the shadows. I can only imagine how it was with the entire troupe. You can stop now. I do not wish to dredge up any.. lingering memories if your loss is fresh. And.. you have my apologies. I know how hard it is to lose family." Even as he told him to stop, Duma kept staring at the ball of shadow in Drei's hands. He recalled once Mila preforming a similar trick with a ball of flame. She was still an apprentice mage at the time, but he could recall the memory vividly. How she struggled to keep the ball of flame hovering over her hand and manipulate it into something that faintly resembled a five pointed star. The grin on her little face when she thought she had it. And then she dropped the ball of flame and nearly turned the storage shed into cinders. The scolding and punishment their parents gave them as a result. Gods above he missed her.

"I.." His voice trailed off a bit. As more memories of his child hood started to dredge up from his mind. He shook his head and dismissed them. He cleared his throat.

"I've escorted many merchants in my lifetime so who knows perhaps this merchant may be one of my old clients. Since, I am heading towards Bulgar allow me to escort you at least part of the way. I have to stop on a village just short of the city." 

[Drei]

His words were not rude, but the chill of cold hard reality bitterly evident in them. His expression did not so much as shift despite the words he spoke; his Elder Magic dissolving into nonexistence by shriveling up in his palm until it winked into wisps. The wisps were lost in the faint breeze that carried them along with it, naught but memories now. A chill lingered in his palm from the void's presence mere heartbeats ago. "It was two weeks and a day ago now. Long enough to move on. Your questions have brought up no such issue so do not fret."

It was true enough, wasn't it? Though by move on, for him personally it become more of "Live with," which even then was so skewered it wasn't close to a fair assessment. His gaze drifted to the fires dancing lashes of orange as the Sword-master spoke of traveling under his escort. The entire way; he would have said no. Drei did not like the idea of traveling with strangers so openly in earnest. He had no idea how the man would react to his practicing of Elder Magic. He had seemed indifferent about him using it prior but he knew well the charades people could put fronts of. However only some of the way? he could work with that. Drei quietly mulled it over. His gaze betrayed neither hint of one answer or another. After a somewhat lengthened pause he spoke, the ice in his tone slightly lessened. However easily possible due to the brief wave of fatigue from using his magic so suddenly. Normally he had to prepare himself first mentally. Having jumped into it so suddenly did not give him this time. "It would do no damage to accept your offer. If it is only to a village near Bulgar then I accept."

[Duma]

"Very well then." Duma nodded. He would escort Drei to a village before Bulgar. The village was about a day, day and a half away from the capital. The swordsman was hoping to reunite with some friends and arrange for some lodging during the Sacean festivities.

"You told me a bit about yourself. It is only fair that I speak a bit about myself. I am not a Sacaen. My birth place lies in Lycia." The swordsman rubbed the back of his neck. His palm brushing up against the brand of his birth. He sighed softly and continued.

"My family made our living as Mercenaries traveling between Eutria, Lycia, Sacae. Our base of operations was located in Taras. When I was about 17 my twin sister and I went out on our own as mercenaries. I believe I was either 19 or 20 when I lost my sister in Nabata." He lowered his head. His mind flashed through the memories of that day in the desert, there was nothing he could have done to stop the cave in. Nothing he could do to silence the screaming of the others who were trapped. Just him pressed against the wall of rubble screaming for his sister on the other side. The other guards had to pull him away, then the rest of the ruins fell. The emotions of helplessness, guilt started to swell into, what felt like an uncomfortable knot in his chest. He turned his head up to look at the darkening sky and took a deep breath. He returned his gaze to the fire. He hoped that the warm air would dry his newly forming tears before they became noticeable.

"We were on a job to explore some ruins. She and her scholarly friends went into the ruins. They.. the ruins.. collapsed."There was nothing we could do. Come on Duma. Regain your professionalism. Remember your image. He subconsciously rubbed his face with his sleeve.

"Under my 'uncle's' advice" He lifted his hand in finger quotes when he spoke the word uncle. "I went to travel the world."

"It's been.." He started to count on his fingers. "Oh.. wow. It's been five years."