Private Tales A drink for the long one

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Velle

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Whatever THAT thing was, no diviner wanted to see it, let alone touch it.
Their gods clearly hissing into their ears, it's cursed, it's cursed'.
But nobody would explain why and how. eventually, some of the puzzled priests' acolytes of a gloomy robe mumbled. "There's another diviner, but they don't do in true divination," he warned at least before resuming.
"They're cursed, cursed by a demon so take everything with a hint of grain. They're a sideromancer, so bring some lump of iron with you."

And indeed, any attempt at another priest brought moot results, with the tent of the sideromancer an ever fruitful location.
It's cloth dark purple, almost black lined in orange-yellow tassels. There weren't many people in it's vicinity but once inside, there stood a robed youth amid comfty cushions.
Before them was a stone plate of granite.
 
Capra was on his own currently, he was given time from working as an agent of one of the dragon houses. To say he was on a personal mission would be a bit of a misnomer, but more he was taking part in his passion, the search for power. Divination could be a useful power, and he had heard tale of a sideromancer doing his work.

To that end Capra made his way to a particular tent, iron ingot in his hand.
 
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Surprising for the oracle to be so short. However on the second look, beneath the semi elaborate colours of cloth was a mere preteen or tween child.
He gazed up at Capra, straightening up his back.
»What will it be?«
 
Capra slipped into the tent, and was mildly surprised to see a boy playing the part of the fortune teller. "I'm looking for power." The dragon agent said mildly as he sat down across from the kid, offering a block of iron, and a few gold coins ontop of it. He gave a small smile, and settled in to see what would happen next.

Capra was a youngish man, clearly out of schooling age, but not approaching past his prime just yet. He carried an ornate willow sward on his side, and his hands were slightly scaled, and ended in dragon like claws.
 
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The child oracle perked up a little, straightening their neck as he took on a more serious posture.
»Power? Seek power it is. Quite a request to come out of thin air.« The words of the child seemed unnaturally sweet and alluring. They weren't entirely normal, that was for sure.
The kid waved at one of the servants who took the lump of iron and set it aside for now. Another began to coat the granite tablet in lines of hay.
»I will look into it.«

The servant then dropped the lump of metal onto the oracle's outstretched hand.
The metal began to smoke and singe, turning gold and red as it began to drop to the granite beneath until it was all gone.
The hay singed and burned, dancing beneath the heat of the black molten mass.
 
The dragon-ish man grinned "I know right, it's quite the tall order, as power can come in many forms. Magic, items, money, physical strength, longevity. But for me, any sort would do." He seemed almost greedy as he watched the ingot begin to heat up to near molten.

Capra was a mage, and could heat that fire seven times hotter than what a normal fire could but that might skew the results so he decided to just let the kid do what he did ,and accept the cards where they lay.
 
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Funny enough there was no hint of magic in the child's hand, nor his being.
Not an ounce of channelled energy, as if all that was happening before them was natural as decreed by life itself.

The straws singed and curled beneath the hot metal. The boy sighed.
»Posession, stone.. .. Mountains.«
...
»Must be cleansed...Is here....«
»Hmm«
The child began to mutter, reaching towards Capra.
 
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Capra leaned forward, and listened to the kid as he mummered. He picked at his chin, and waited for things to become clear. The straw singed, and the ingot began to glow.

The kid reached towards him, so the dragon disciple offered his hand to see what might the kid had to offer.
 
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The kid forged an item seemingly out of thin air. Or perhaps it was sleight of hand?

»This might be your's?« It most definitely was not.
It was a small teardrop-shaped black opal pendant, resonating with some kind of magic.
»I see that it is your path to power, but it is... corrupt«